Chapter 14: A Philosophy Without Feeling

November 5, 1995

Harry Potter

Going to sleep at 2 am didn't do much to exhaust three strong young men who were used to living off a few hours of sleep a day, but the events from the night before did leave them all quite contemplative. Word went around the school that Snape was sick with the flu and that Dumbledore was teaching Potions temporarily. Typically, Harry would have received this news with a beam and a sigh of relief, but since he had seen firsthand the actual ailment under which Snape was languishing, he found it difficult to respond naturally when Ron gave him the information.

"'Ey, what's wrong with you mate?" Ron slapped him on the arm. "No greasy bat for Thursdays' Double Potions! Ain't that just wicked?"

"Yeh, great." Harry grimaced a smile.

"Just picture Snape with his big nose red and dribbling snot, it's beautiful…"

Harry turned green, picturing Snape bloody and broken instead. "Oh, shut up." And he strode on down the hall, leaving Ron to trip after him with his book-bag.

"What flea got in your ear?" he panted.

"Got information on the Sherlock case." Harry said bluntly, staring straight ahead. "Get 'Mione and meet us in the Northern Tower once final class is over."

After locating Fred and telling him to bring the medical logbook, Harry rambled his way through his final class before finding himself in the North Tower, more by way of mental reflex then by any conscious thought.

Hermione could tell that something was up, and was looking nervously guarded as she set down her enormous stack of text books and sat up on a window seat. "You and the twins stole some of Snape's school records, or something, didn't you?" she stated more than asked.

"It's more than that." Harry said solemnly, hoping that she at least would be able to make sense of the information he had gathered; and of his whirling emotions.

Once Ron and the twins arrived, Harry (interrupted frequently by Fred and George), told the two absent from the midnight adventure all of the proceeding events. Hermione was visibly quite upset when they described the horrors witnessed in the hospital wing, and finally, Harry finished by turning towards the medical records, which as yet had been unopened.

Hermione seemed to indicate that she wasn't ready, but Harry, eager to force the image of a bloody, screaming Potions teacher out of his head, quickly opened them up.

Organised as ever, Madame Pomfry had alphabetised each student according to year of school entry, and it wasn't hard to find Snape's records, beginning in 1971.

"Read it aloud, Harry." Fred urged, leaning his lanky frame against the stone wall.

Harry adjusted his glasses and began, reading verbatim the blunt, abbreviated script.

"'1971, September 6… Severus Snape, 1st Year, House Slytherin, treated for a broken femur and scraped skin on leg, vestiges of gravel in skin. Treated with Wound-Healing Potion, applied, and Bone Repair Draught, ingested. Also examined in student signs of malnourishment. Prescribed Vitadrops and advised student eat more meat at meal times'."

Harry paused. "There are actually… a lot of entries here. It will take ages to read."

"Pass it over." Hermione ordered, putting out her hand pertly. "I'll skim read and give you the gist…" but upon scrutinising it, her mouth fell upon. "Gracious… there really are a lot of entries." She flipped back and forth. "There are at least 6-8 entries for each of the first five years of his schooling…"

"Guess he must have been a right clumsy sprog back then." Ron volunteered.

Hermione didn't answer, flipping through the pages. "So, here we go, in 1971, we have… five, six, wait… nine different entries. As Harry said, the first is for a broken leg, the next is for a broken nose and swelled up eye, next we have… um… it says here 'treated for a jinx that sealed the skin over the mouth. Student said nothing the whole way through examination. Understandable.'"

"Doesn't sound fun." Again, Ron appeared to have taken on the role of commentator.

Hermione paused… "So, hex which causes nose to produce copious amounts of mucus, hex which covered body in hair of 7 cm length, treated for multiple stinging hexes, treated for consumption of magical product that covered skin with pustules…"

"Wow, this is giving me so many ideas for the joke shop." Mused Fred absently, and, to Harry's surprise, George passed him a disgusted look.

"What are you talking about? Some of those are just horrible. Not even funny."

"C'mon, Snape as hairy as Snuffles?" Fred poked his twin. "It's a little bit funny, admit it."

"Kind of hard to laugh after what we saw last night." Harry said repressively. His stomach was turning summersaults. "Does it say who did this to him?"

"Maybe just Gryffindors." Ron speculated.

"Maybe." Hermione's mouth was screwed up in an ugly manner. "It goes on. The next year, um… treated for noxious gas producing jinx, next entry, fingernails removed, regrowth required, shattered coccyx- yikes…"

She read out further injuries and hex or jinx related conditions that continued all the way up until around the end of fifth year, and then she stopped, and looked around her.

Everyone looked a little sick.

"Jeez, no wonder he didn't give a hoot when Godfrey swiped his finger off." Ron frowned. "This guy knows how to take a beating."

And uncalled for, the memory of Snape's agony-drenched scream filled Harry's ears once more. "Who the hell was he getting into all these fights with?"

George turned to Hermione. "Does it say in that 'Hogwarts: A History' book of yours anything about house warfare being this brutal?"

Hermione shook her head resolutely. "No. Of course, it was worse than it is today. After the Wizarding War, a lot of hexes and jinxes were outlawed at the school, whereas before they were tolerated, although looked down on. But I have never read anything that says it was this bad. I will compare some of the other student records- they should be here, right?"

"Look at my mum's record!" Harry urged.

Hermione obliged by turning to the relevant record, but then she paused, blushing faintly. "Um… not sure that is a good idea, Harry. You might not appreciate learning about some of your mother's more… uh, female medical issues. At least, I know Ron won't." she added, flicking an irritable eye towards Ron's revolted expression. "Honestly, grow up- come to think of it, I believe I shall read it now."

"NO!" All four boys at once roared.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys." Flicking forward through the book, she opened up to a new entry. "All right, James Potter then. '1971, September 6… James Potter, 1st Year, House Gryffindor.' -wait… isn't that the same day as Professor Snape's first injury?" she flicked back to confirm. "Yes, same day. Odd. Anyway, James Potter, treated for… hex that… that…" Hermione broke off, the blood draining from her face.

"Hex that what? Go on." Harry was intrigued.

Hermione took a deep breath, and recited the entry. "'Treated for an unknown hex that caused the foot on the left leg to become a right foot, and the foot on the right leg to become a left foot. Treatment had to be obtained from the hex's caster, one Severus Snape, also 1st Year, who was treated for a broken femur. As it took several hours to convince the student to provide the counter-hex, Potter had to be bed-ridden until then, as he kept trying to walk, scraping his skin and bruising a knee-cap. The Headmaster had to order Severus Snape to provide the counter-curse. The counter-curse has been logged with the Magical Healer's Board of Knowledge for any future cases.'"

The air became very still in the stone tower.

Feeling as if a pound of gobstones were stuck in his throat, Harry said quietly, "Please keep reading the entries, 'Mione."

Hermione looked reluctant. "There are less of them here. But even up until fifth year, they keep going. Some of them are Quidditch injuries. Some of them are interesting hexes- this one here in 3rd year is for your dad's hair being transfigured into a heavy metal. It mentioned here again that Professor Snape was… ordered by Dumbledore to provide the counter-curse. A couple more hexes, a gash on the cheek in 5th year…"

"What about Sirius?" Harry's voice was tight.

"Umm… well, he had the same metal-hair-hex, and a couple of really gross jinxes, one of them here says that…"

"And Remus?"

"Um… nothing except lots of flesh wounds and some broken bones around every full moon- for obvious reasons…"

Another silence prevailed.

"I think… I need to talk to Sirius." Harry sat down on the stone staircase, fighting the urge to put his head in his hands.

"But you can't do that, mate, you know it." Ron reminded him. "Umbridge has already attacked Hedwig and is watching the fireplace like some dementer."

Fred stood up, trying to look upbeat. "Anyway, it just sounds like serious house warfare, and maybe Snape just wasn't that good at duelling, which is why he ended up in the Medical Wing so many times more than Sirius and your dad…"

Hermione cleared her throat disdainfully. "You heard some of those curses. They were downright nasty."

"And turning someone's feet the wrong way 'round isn't?" Ron demanded. "Besides, no one knew the counter-curse for Snape's stuff. Maybe it was dark magic."

"If it was dark magic, then Pomfry would have said so." Hermione argued. "Actually, what this looks like is either an extremely old, unknown spell, or a very new one. Which either means that Snape was researching things literally no one else researched, or… designing spells."

"A spell crafter?" Fred looked interested. "You really reckon so? Surely Potions is his gig."

"No… I have been thinking about what you told me he was doing in the forest…" Hermione closed the book, eyes screwed up in calculation. "You said he kept casting a spell on a bird, and between each time he tried the spell he kept saying lots of words? That could have been componentizing… freeform spell creation… rare… if that was what it was."

"Speak English, if you can, 'Mione." Ron was perplexed.

"I think he was in the process of creating a spell!"

"What spell then?"

"I don't know, but I plan to find out." Hermione said with determination. Then, looking towards Harry, said in a softer tone, "Are you okay, Harry? You had to have known your father and Professor Snape were rivals."

Of course Harry had known this, but he had been affected by what was written inside the medical book. It had described some really brutal injuries that Snape had incurred… surely if his father was the better dueller, than he would have been able to make sure Snape didn't get quite so badly hurt… Harry couldn't imagine giving Draco so many severe hospital visits, as much as he hated the blonde snake. There had to be some kind of explanation.

Harry took the book from Hermione's unresisting hands, and flipped through it, frantic. His friends watched him helplessly as he re-read all of Snape's medical information, all of Sirius's… he went through all the Slytherin's and Gryffindors of Snape's Year, hoping to find a pattern, but the days of Snape's injuries or of Sirius's and James's were the only ones to constantly, consistantly match up. Grasping at straws, he went through his father's records again. Hermione had only read up to the fifth year, as there was only one page separating that gash from his fifth year and the next student's entry details… Harry nearly missed reading it. Nearly.

"Merlin…" he drew in a sharp intake of breath as he read the cold clear writing in front of him.

'May 21, 1978, James Potter, 7th Year, House Slytherin. Treated for serious lacerations all over the flesh, severe bloodloss, distinctly dark magic. Wounds would not close. Once again required the perpetrator, Severus Snape, to heal the wound. He refused to do it until threatened with expulsion as it was considered that Potter's life was in danger. Countercurse was not revealed. Due to bloodloss, Potter must be kept on bedrest for a full three days, minimum.'

Harry wordlessly passed it around to his friends.

"Holy hell." Ron whistled.

"Vicious." Fred pronounced.

Hermione looked at the ground. "But still, this is one serious injury, think about all the other ones they gave the Professor."

But Harry's feelings of horror and disgust gratefully readjusted in the correct direction- that of Snape, and not Harry's beloved, departed father. "This is dark magic, Hermione." he said coldly, "This just proves it. He's evil. Maybe he hasn't had a good school life, whatever, who has? But what he did to my dad? I will never forgive that."

"But what about in the hospital wing, what he suffered for the Order?"

"Who knows if it was for the Order? I don't care. He did this to my dad. He deserved whatever he got last night." Harry said savagely, shoving the book into George's chest. He had to get away, into the open air, he had to think. Too many emotions, too much anger and confusion. He called up all the hatred he had ever harboured towards Snape and sent it charging through his veins. But still, try as hard as he might, that flicker of doubt still remained, uncomfortable and unmovable, like a splinter under the skin.

November 6, 1995

Severus Snape

To be locked down within the limitations of one's body when one feels themselves to be soaring with limitlessness from within is indeed a cruel feeling. Of course, the pain that wracked Snape's every movement was also a cruel feeling, but the helplessness and frustration in his inability to do anything was much worse. He wanted to work on the Imperious curse, but Lupin was being a frightfully irritating nanny, and wouldn't even allow him his papers.

"You have to stay in your bed, Severus." He said stoutly. "Pomfry nearly hexed my ears off when she heard you removed all your bandages and reopened your wounds. Considering you teach Potions, you should have known that would happen."

"You forget I was a Healer, wolf." Snape had snapped crossly. "Don't treat me like a foolish child."

"Then you would do well not to act like one." Lupin returned, but despite his light tone, Snape could detect a weary irritation beginning to form. Transformation was soon upon him, and apparently it could crack even his solid temperament. "Don't misunderstand, Severus, I appreciate what you did in making me the potion, but you only delayed your healing by doing so."

"I need to work!" Snape grouched. "Don't imagine I intend to pass my time until full moon in conversation with you." Wordlessly, wandlessly, he 'accio'ed the storm of research papers off his desk, and picked up a muggle pencil on his bedside table. Then, leaving Lupin to stand thwarted in the middle of the room, he lost himself in the final completion of the spell. Only to alter the tonal alarm quality and prepare the spell sequence in a manner comprehensive for the average Auror, and that was all there was to it. It was finished. He set down the paper and lay his pounding head back on the pillow. Now the question was- how to introduce it?

The solution was right in front of him, literally. Lupin, who had settled down himself with a book he had found on Snape's shelf, now spoke up, having noticed Snape's cessation of study. "Severus… the Imperious detector you spoke of last night… do you think you will really be able to pull that off?"

Snape had entirely forgotten his premature revelation divulged under the heat of the Conquistador's Tonic- but now perhaps his embarrassing behaviour could be put to a good purpose.

"Yes, I do rather, Lupin; considering that I have just finished it." He answered coolly, still staring up at the ceiling.

"Great Merlin, are you quite serious?" Lupin leapt up from the chair, the book bouncing off his lap and landing heavily on the ground.

Snape winced. "Have a care of that which you do not possess, wolf! And yes, I had mostly finished it before my encounter with the Dark Lord. And now it is done."

Lupin picked up the book carefully, but his typically wan features were flushed in excitement. "Why, this is revolutionary, Severus! This could turn the war. Any Order member could be screened with the test- and is it safe?"

From beneath his bed's duvet, Snape bounced his thin shoulders up to his chin in a shrug. "I have only tried it on owls, and it seemed fine. I don't seem to get many human volunteers to be Imperioused, you see."

Snape could tell the hesitation in Lupin's eyes as he realized that Snape would have had to Imperious an animal in order to design the spell. But the wolf had some bravery in him, apparently.

"Severus… if you are confident to try, after my transformation- and once I recover from it- I am happy be your test subject."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Indeed Lupin? Only yesterday, if I recall right, you were suspecting me of dark shenanigans. Do you really trust me to cast an Unforgiveable on you?"

Lupin looked reflective. "If you had asked me a few months ago if I had trusted you… I think I would have been forced to say 'Yes, because Dumbledore trusts you.' But… although I have had my personal doubts, recent events have really given me no recourse but to trust you, especially now, after what you have just been through for us all…"

"Lupin, if you are to trust me, it would make things a lot easier for me." Snape felt the urge to be candid. "But if you hear something and see something that I have done in my assumed role as Death Eater, I highly doubt that this 'trust' you claim to have will hold steady."

"Maybe not. I can only judge you on your actions, since Dumbledore never told me what your motivation was in switching sides all those years ago."

Snape tilted his head. "There is reason in what you say, wolf. Maybe my philosophy changed."

"Philosophy?" Lupin leaned himself forward in his chair so as to be closer to Snape. "Severus, forgive me for my question, but what were your political opinions- and what are they now? I don't think I ever truly asked you back at Hogwarts- we just assumed your opinions."

"Yes, based on my House, of course."

"No need to be like that, Severus. For, to be fair, you were all about the dark arts, and you used blood-purist slurs."

Snape flinched slightly. "Those insults I only used in my last years."

"Well- what do you believe now?" Lupin insisted, appearing to be genuinely intrigued.

Snape paused, carefully tracing his index finger around the curve of his mouth.

"That is a complicated question. You and the Order, Voldemort and his Death Eaters… you all think it is either one side or the other. I dislike social politics for this very reason. Common sense does not prevail, it's all about emotion."

"Come now, Severus, surely some things have to be about emotion! Killing Muggles, for instance, is wrong. Do you dispute that?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "We all know the effect that wanton murder has on the soul. It is an irrational thing to do, because of the consequences it has on oneself."

He could tell he had shocked Lupin. "What about the consequences it has on the Muggle?"

"I can't speak for the effects it has on the Muggle. I am not the Muggle." Snape returned peevishly. "But I know it is 'wrong' as you term it, because it helps no one. It does no good. What point is there in killing a Muggle? Unless the Muggle is a terrible criminal and can do nothing good and has no one who would miss them, all one accomplishes is the damage to their own soul and the waste of precious time. Additionally, they could cause all kind of unnecessary disturbance by alerting Muggle authorities, leaving Muggle children orphaned and bereaved, or depriving Muggle society of a cog in their economic machine, which would have trickle down effects onto our own society."

"Oh, this is all very esoteric, Severus." Lupin said impatiently, "But if you have ever seen a Muggle killed, which I am sure you have, what kind of feeling does it give you?"

"Feelings, again. How patently Gryffindor. Educational influence is now very much emotion based, thanks to the decades long power Dumbledore has held over Hogwarts. He forgets the other values of the houses in his constant pursuit of feelings."

"Could you perhaps answer the question?" Snape was amused to hear a touch of heat in Lupin's voice, although, again, it may have been due to the coming transformation.

"Of course I feel horror, sympathy, a whole range of emotions." Snape said brusquely. "Every sound human has the capacity for them. It is simply a matter of how much control I give those feelings." And even as he said that, he had to control and fight down the urge to feel disgusted with his own falsity. There had been many times in his own life that said feelings had nearly strangled him. But Lupin was not to see any chink in the armour, any crack in the Occlumenic shields.

"But is it wrong?"

"You keep pressing on with that question. It is impractical. I suppose, for the boorish masses, so as to keep them in order, someone was required to develop morality, but I myself do not need to be constrained by such a limiting term." Liar, liar. Said his conscience. Shut up. Returned Snape silently.

"All right then, Severus, in what cases do you consider violence to be justified?"

"In cases of defence."

"Define defence."

Snape lay back and stared at the ceiling once more, and with flippant indifferent, said, "Someone wants to attack you; so you attack them. Someone knows about a planned attack on your people, and won't tell you; so you torture them. Someone destroys your life. You destroy theirs. You understand…"

"You have a broad definition of defence." Lupin said with a grave kind of humour. "What about when someone insults you? Do you attack them?"

Snape had been caught out, and he knew it. "That depends on who they are."

"That isn't exactly logical." Lupin pointed out.

"Maybe not." Snape snapped, floundering to avoid the question. "Sometimes I lash out. Especially with that mutt. But he can defend himself."

"Which makes it defence, you think? Because someone strong is 'attacking' you, so to speak? Wouldn't you say they are only attacking your feelings though? I thought you said you didn't have those."

Lupin was really beginning to annoy him.

"You are quibbling over Grindylow droppings, wolf. What I mean to say is that me pointing my wand at Black is different than pointing it at a student, for example. Even if I am angry with a child, to harm them would be…"

"Wrong?" suggested Lupin with a flat smile.

"Unjust. You can't help the physical weakness of your body if it is injured, and you lose control. Everyone should be given the ability to control their own persons."

"So, you won't hurt children, but you will be unkind to them?" Lupin's tone was tipped with steel, obviously the sentimental wolf had Potter in mind.

"Words, for the most part." Snape waved his hand dismissively. "Children are strengthened by having their feelings hurt if they decide to control themselves to the point where they can be made stronger by it. You can only but be weakened from a Crucio in the gut. That is the key difference between words and violence."

"You don't think words affect children negatively?"

"Of course they do." Snape scoffed. "That is what they are there for. But like I said, any person has the choice to allow words to either weaken them or to strengthen them. Don't try and make children think they are helpless, a slave and victim to their emotion. It is this weakness that I so detest in boys like Potter."

"Don't pretend you behave unkindly to Potter because you want to make him stronger."

"Of course not. I behave like that because he is an odious toad. You asked for my philosophy- not my personality. It doesn't necessarily follow that those two will be constantly bound together."

Lupin looked like he was about to argue, but he stayed silent for a time. "Then, given what you have just revealed to me about both of them, Severus… I suppose that I trust you."

Snape wasn't sure what to answer to this. He wasn't sure how to feel about it either. No one except Dumbledore and possibly the Dark Lord trusted him, although how complete either trust was, he couldn't know. If Lupin truly did trust him… but time would be ill spent dwelling in hypotheticals. So Lupin trusted him... the question was- did he trust Lupin?

He cleared his throat, swallowed his pride and said, "Well then, if you trust me, will you assist me in introducing my inventions to the Order? We would be well served by them, considering our shortcomings in wizards and weaponry right now."

"I agree completely." Lupin said, looking eager. "I will be at the next meeting before I have to go off to try and recruit the Scottish goblins. We can try it then."

We. What an unusual word to hear in context to himself the wolf. He should probably stop calling Lupin that… but a habit is too much work to break.

"Very well then. That will be Saturday."

"Are you going to be well enough by then?"

"I am well enough now." Barked Snape. "If it were not for you and Madame Pomfry's infernal flutterings."

"Very well then, why don't we tell Dumbledore now?" Lupin said cheerily, ignoring Snape's irritableness.

"No. Not Dumbledore."

"Why ever not?"

Snape rubbed his forehead, perplexed at how to explain this to the Dumbledore-worshipping Gryffindor. "He is satisfied with my position as spy at present. I doubt he wants my role in the Order to be any more than that."

"But your inventions could cripple Voldemort's forces!" Lupin insisted.

Snape's mark burned violently and he cringed. "I'd rather you didn't say that name when I am in the room, Lupin. It activates my mark, which can be rather unpleasant for myself."

"Really?" Lupin looked appalled.

Snape nodded shortly.

"But about Dumbledore… I really feel that it would be for the best. But if you insist, then I would like to suggest asking Kingsley for support also before introducing your inventions. You know how Mad-eye Moody and Sirius can be." Lupin trailed off apologetically.

But Snape was delighted. It was a perfect plan, considering how he had already taken steps to get Shacklebolt on board. Getting tortured into oblivion obviously had a few benefits- how he had been able to get this far without too much undue grovelling was beyond explanation.

"I agree, wolf. Kingsley has an intelligent mind, unlike other Order members I could speak of."

Snape found that he couldn't say much else after that, considering the sheer quivering exhaustion that enveloped his limbs. Lupin, probably realizing that, tactfully returned to his book. What Snape really wanted to do was to sleep, but after having already done it once or twice- actually, now four times- in Lupin's presence, he felt rather guarded about putting himself on exhibition yet again. So Snape picked up a book from his bedside table and settled back in his bed. 'De Officiis' was the title of the book he was reading. For all Lupin's Muggle wanderings, Snape doubted he would have recognized the author's significance. At first, he had resolved himself to continue to be annoyed with Lupin, heightening his senses to every slight breath or flick of a page in order to fabricate an excuse to be bothered. But soon he was so absorbed in his book that he forgot all about Lupin's presence, and it was only upon coming to the third section of the work that Snape was aware of it once more. But this time, soothed by the calm of that ancient Muggle's rudimentary wisdom, Snape found himself enjoying the peaceful side by side sharing of silence.

Then of course, it was time to make the Wolfsbane again. No Conquistador's Potion this time, sadly, but when Lupin's back was turned, Snape made sure to take a strengthening draught. Then back to bed. But Lupin was still there.

A few hours later, Pomfry came in and tried to get Snape to eat something. It wasn't very successful until, being the wise woman that she was, she persuaded Lupin to take his dinner with her, so Snape could eat alone, and finally drift off into the sleep he so longed for.

When he awoke, Lupin was there again. Snape wasn't as bothered as he thought he might have been. It seemed that he finally had an ally… and while it was humiliating that his alliance should have been attained at a time where Snape was in a state of extreme weakness, he knew that this was not a power dynamic that would be maintained. In any case, Lupin wasn't exactly in the best of health at that time either, as all the next evening, he became whiter and wearier, and although they said very little to each other the whole time, Snape could tell that Lupin was grappling against his pent-up agitation.

The last cup of Wolfsbane, and then it would be time for Lupin to transform. Snape hauled himself out of bed once more, and laboured over the brew, trying to ignore the fact that there was a beast in a man's skin just waiting to crawl out- and that it would in just a few hours. Even after so many years, it was difficult to shake the fear he had of Lupin's bestial side.

Snape handed him the potion, eying him carefully to make sure the last drop was consumed. "You will be going somewhere safe to transform, I trust?"

"Of course, Severus. Sirius's house comes complete with a dungeon."

"Then you'd better go." Snape said bluntly.

Lupin didn't look offended. "I am on my way, if I may use your floo once again."

Snape, limping, led the wolf into the living room, and with a flourish of his wand, unlocked the floo.

Just as Lupin was about to depart, he paused. "I don't know if I bothered you a great deal over the last few days, Severus, but I am grateful to you for sharing your thoughts with me. You are quite an interesting man."

Snape felt awkward. He couldn't say the same at all. But he could at least say one thing- it was only fair. "Well… I suppose I should thank you for… taking care of me, since you and Pomfry seem to think that was what you were doing this whole time."

Lupin just laughed. He seemed to be doing that with increasing frequency. It was really quite annoying. "Any time at all. Enjoy your night, and rest up."

Their gazes met- for a moment it seemed almost with a mutual respect. And Snape, as sometimes happened when locking eyes with another's, unconsciously brushed across Lupin's mind. Unbidden, he sensed the sound of cracking bones, of stretching skin, of scratching against wood, he felt the agony of being pressed in and pushed inside out, and then an emotion… a particular emotion that he recognized. The faint vision that his unintentional Legilimancy extracted made him stiffen, but he held his gaze with Lupin, and for that flickering second, Snape understood why Lupin was so afraid. Snape had fought against that fear his entire life; against the fear of the monster within.

Author's Note;

Hello, my long-suffering friends (who may have quite rightfully vanished into whips of smoke, never to be seen near this fanfiction ever again). I am once again returning after 12+ months to pick up this poor fanfiction. I thought I might do it because I know there are people stuck at home right now probably bored, and if this fic can give someone a bit of diversion then that's only a good thing. I have had a crazy little life of late, and it's getting crazier, with uni about to start, and COVID19 and the economy felling people down around our ears.

I told myself firmly that I wouldn't start to publish again and let everyone down until I had;

a.) Edited out the entirety of what I have already written. Removed all my satirical disclaimers, and put the writer notes down the bottom instead of at the top. No plot changes, mostly grammatical error fix-ups, and I did swap out Snape's 'happy memory' in the first chapter for something more appropriate and also edited out the erroneous statement in Chapter 11 that Harry only had one picture of his parents, since I believe as plutoplex pointed out, Hagrid did indeed give the boy a whole album of photos.

b.) Figured out precisely how long it will take to finish this fic with the ending I want... time still unknown, so partial success, but it will require at least 500,000 words. It was meant to be a little fanfiction, not bloody War and Peace! I will do what I can, and try and make sure real life doesn't become interesting again, but… we shall see?

Additional Author's Note;

I realized that Rowling's dates don't correctly correspond to the actual calendar days of the year, so while I will try to be accurate historically, in fan-fiction, it is important to remember that history is more relevant for the original fiction that for reality. So I am using a timeline on the Harry Potter Lexicon as my guide instead of the calendar, because it is becoming too confusing. It looks like in November, the fictional account is about one day out of the calendar dates, so November 5, instead of being a Sunday, is, for the purposes of this narrative, a Tuesday.