See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Thank you to all my reviewers!

Chapter 10

Dear Qin,

I have already received your daughter's application, and I would be honoured to have her as my potions apprentice. Please tell her so; I have already enclosed the Portkey, courtesy of some of my acquaintances in the Russian government. It will automatically activate on the first of January next year, at noon.

I would very much appreciate it if Ming-yue could draw up a full summary of the projects in potions which she has been working on over the past years, and the course of study she wishes to pursue as an official apprentice of mine. As I have not taken an apprentice in some time, I prefer to have some knowledge of what area of potions your daughter specialises in, and to make sure that our work is compatible (for instance, if she were to study sleeping potions while I study corrosion potions and ward-breaking potions—as you well know, I do not see how we could reconcile these two drastically different fields of expertise in the art of potions brewing.). At present, I am conducting research into the medicinal and healing properties of potions. I am fully confident that your daughter will be just as good an apprentice as you were back then, and as good a Potions Mistress as you are now.

Congratulations on wrangling some more funds out of the government for your institute! Unfortunately for us here, the government has not been as accomodating as I would have liked. The Chairman, Oleg Kuznetsov, has always had more of a tendency to favour the law enforcement department, which we have nicknamed the "Politeia," and we at the St Petersburg Conservatory for Theoretical and Practical Magical Studies have seen our budget decreased ten percent this year, greatly affecting us and the research. So I thank you for your thoughtful gift of potions ingredients. Alina Koroeva—do you remember her? Her office is down the corridor a few doors away from mine—was delighted with the sprigs of native Mediterranean rosemary—especially considering all of it was pure and unadulterated by any other irritants. You always were one to choose good specimens. But then again, your young age gives you an advantage over your ninety year old former Potions Master, does it not? Ah yes, the halcyon days of youth.

I hope that Yan-shui is all right; he really does not deserve the curse he is afflicted with. Give him my greetings. Now, in answer to your query about wolfsbane: I don't believe that any research has ever turned up the precise reason why it is poisonous to werewolves. Quite frankly, and no offence, Qin, but no-one has ever really cared to do so. I suppose that this perception of wolfsbane only being deadly to werewolves could be considered a myth. If you recall the helmet flower, that lethal plant Aconitum napellus, it is fatal to about almost anyone who is fool enough to digest it. In small, perhaps moderate amounts—allow me to quote from Zamyatin's The Family Ranunculaceae: "… roots produce symptoms of restlessness, salivation, nausea, a weakened and irregular heartbeat, chest pain, prostration, and frequently death within hours." Of course you already know this, but the curious thing with werewolves is that even the touch of wolfsbane is poisonous to them, and the symptoms and subsequent death occur at a quicker pace. I am pained to say that no-one knows why; all we know is that wolfsbane is toxic to werewolves. That is a "law," which describes, not a "theory," which explains. Among the Russian publications at least, no explanation has yet to emerge. But obviously you already know this.

What a thoroughly depressing topic. If only someone could find out why… but I digress from my original point, and so I will end this letter, in anticipation of Ming-yue's arrival at the start of next year. Please have her send her synopsis as soon as possible.

Yours truly,

Sergei Larionov

Senior Potions Master

St Petersburg Conservatory for Theoretical and Practical Magical Studies

oOo

"Mother, you seem to find that article very interesting."

Wang Qin, the Head of the Chinese Potions Institute, potions researcher, eminent figure in the wizarding Chinese academic circles, and whose tests often resulted, sooner rather than later, in at least half the class hyperventilating and collapsing due to the high levels of stress, lowered the newspaper and glanced at her daughter over it. "Yes, it is very interesting," she murmured calmly. "Why don't you look at it?"

She placed the newspaper neatly on the table. Squeezed in between page four and five, there was a tiny blurb in the "In Other Countries" section. Zhonghua Baozi, which was to the wizarding world of China as the Daily Prophet was to wizarding Britain, tended to marginalise events that occurred outside Chinese boundaries, but even it had decided to put in some noteworthy events that were occurring in the United Kingdom, courtesy of a certain Dark Lord.

Ming-yue read the blurb. "Destroying Dementors? How… unusual." Her brows furrowed in thought; she continued, "I would not have thought that possible."

"Anything," said Wang Qin, "is possible." Her hand came to rest at the table, fingers curling around the handle of a cup of tea. She seemed to inhale the warmth that rose from the cup. "By the way, when is the professor arriving?"

"In around half an hour," said Ming-yue. "The last time I wrote to him, he agreed to bring his werewolf acquaintance."

Wang Qin nodded. At first, Professor Severus Snape had been rather adamant about keeping Remus Lupin in Great Britain, in a secure location, but then Wang Qin had proceeded to gently—and pointedly, as well—note that the Potions Institute's grounds were probably much more safe for werewolf transformations than wherever he had chosen. After a rather long debate, the professor had finally agreed. Wang Qin personally felt that it was not so much the fact of security as it was that Professor Snape appeared to prefer to work by himself. Not like that is any surprise, she thought, especially with his very precarious position.

She had not been very amused when Professor Snape had told her the place he had first decided upon was named the Shrieking Shack (which brought to mind images of a run down tiny little… structure which did not deserve to be called anything at all…), and that it happened to be located right on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Then they had begun to argue about how they would observe the transformed werewolves. Professor Snape said he would rather observe through magical means, but Wang Qin had, rather forcefully, said that she thought perhaps Legilimency might help to penetrate their minds and see what it was like for a werewolf, and that certainly couldn't be accomplished by scrying a mile away. Professor Snape had finally given way, although he hadn't looked very happy about it.

Ming-yue picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the table, smoothing out the creases. She tapped the paper with her left forefinger, pointing to the name at the top, written in Chinese characters with ruthless slashes. Her next words struck out upon a different train of thought, jerking Wang Qin out of her musings. "And Mother, have you spoken to Zhang Hong yet? About her application to the Institute? She absolutely insists that she must be allowed to enroll, but I've been looking at her records, and her history with potions is so abysmal—"

"Well, then, don't let her in."

"But her father—"

"She has to get in on her own merits," said Wang Qin, shaking her head. "I have said that so many times. And she does not have the concentration for brewing potions, nor the aptitude."

"You're not the one who has to listen to all of her father's Howlers."

"I tell you every time, cast a Silencing Charm the moment one comes. Zhang Han-su means best, I'm sure, but although he is an excellent apothecary, his daughter is not. And won't ever be. She is the type of unfortunately hapless person who would think wolfsbane and aconite are two different things."

The corners of Ming-yue's mouth twitched with amusement. "Perhaps," she said. "But when I hear his voice, I feel like I am going to scream sometimes, he's so loud."

Wang Qin watched Ming-yue, and could not help feeling pleased with her daughter. She was intelligent and creative, and she possessed a memory which had been cultivated from birth, through practice and hard work. Ming-yue could rattle off the steps for most potions, including the rarer ones, and she was efficient and used her time well. Wang Qin had already agreed to Ming-yue going off to Russia for her apprenticeship. It was best to let her have different experiences in different countries, and Ming-yue needed to prove herself to someone other than her own mother. Wang Qin's gaze passed over Ming-yue once again, and she ignored the white light that indicated Ming-yue's soul. Several months of having to see them had made her accustomed to her newfound ability, and nowadays she was able to at least disregard them somewhat, without affecting her sight too much.

And speaking of apprenticeships…

"I will be loud as well if you've been neglecting anything important, Ming-yue," she said, "I hope that you have been working on the summary Master Larionov asked for." She looked meaningfully at her daughter.

"Yes, yes, I am," replied Ming-yue, running a hand through her black hair. "Don't worry about it, I'm working on the abstract."

"By the way, how did you decide upon Master Larionov? I was under the impression you were going to apply elsewhere—certainly not my old Potions Master. It isn't trying for favouritism, is it, Ming-yue?"

Ming-yue looked appalled at the very suggestion. "Of course not! How could you think such a thing? At first, I was going to go to Nadine Lennox, in the United States, but then she was nearly run over by a Muggle car—"

"Oh, I heard about that, her injuries sounded horrible."

"They were. She contacted me and told me that the hospital said she wouldn't be able to teach for at least a year, not without overexerting her heart, which they had said she couldn't do, and in any case she wanted to retire. So then I had to decide among Master Ioannis Tsaldris in Greece, Mistress Pilar Estravados of Spain, and Master Sergei Larionov, in Russia. But then Tsaldris replied to say he already had an apprentice—and you know how he only takes one at a time, because he's so busy, and Pilar Estravados told me that since she's just starting an in-depth study on potions from the ancient African societies for several years, she thought that my studies wouldn't be compatible. So I contacted Master Sergei Larionov, in St Petersburg, and he said yes." She grinned.

"Well, you've made a very good choice. He knows practically every wizard and witch in St Petersburg—he's quite brilliant, and he's been there for a long time. When you submit the synopsis, what are you going to have for your main topic of research during the apprenticeship?"

"Wolfsbane, of course. Its role in potions." Ming-yue paused, as the mention of wolfsbane followed its path to other problems. "Is Father in bed?" she continued.

"Mm-hmm. I told him he might as well go and have some rest—this night will not be merciful to him."

"When is it ever?" Ming-yue sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. "We haven't even got that far yet in fiddling with the Wolfsbane potion."

Wang Qin frowned. "True. I am beginning to think that maybe, in order to get rid of the lycanthropy, we ought to try different tactics. Other fields of magic… You see, it was very kind of Professor Snape to send us all those books, even some from their Ministry library. You have been reading them, right?"

"Of course I have."

"Well, you see that the lycanthropy was probably created through an experiment with wild magic gone wrong. I've been tracing all reports of lycanthropy back over the centuries. Here, let me show you."

The Potions Mistress pushed her chair gently back and stood up. She walked over to one of the shelves stacked with books nearby, running her gaze over the titles before finally choosing one that was bound with brown leather and stamped with black lettering. As she flipped it open, some faint dust rose from the yellowed pages, before settling down again. She withdrew a folded piece of parchment from the book and set the large tome back on the shelf. Striding back to the table, she unfolded the parchment, which turned into a very large chart.

"Oh, for the love of Wang-mu," Ming-yue said, staring wide eyed at the chart, "how long did that take you?"

"Long enough so that I never want to read records on lycanthropy again," replied Wang Qin sardonically. "I'm sorry, Ming-yue, but I am a bit touchy today. Look down here. For instance, let's say this is the lycanthropy family tree, all right?"

Ming-yue put her hand over her mouth, and it seemed that she was trying hard not to laugh out loud. Instead, all she said was, "Well, I don't think that the family members particularly like each other if they're always fighting. A regular family quarrel."

Wang Qin's answer was a "hmm" she made in her throat, and a reprimanding glance sent Ming-yue's way. "This is no joking matter, Ming-yue," she said. "I started from the recent, so here—" she pointed to the bottom of the chart "—is where your father happens to be, and I went from there."

Hai Yan-shui was written in black ink near the bottom, and a red line linked it to Fenrir Greyback. Most of the more recently turned werewolves were at the bottom as well, and as the thin spidery lines spun upward, the amount of space that they took up compressed until it trailed to question marks. The name nearest the top, the earliest werewolf she could trace, said Thorvald ap Sirideainn.

"I have only been able to trace it back to the early part of this millenium," Wang Qin said. "Beyond that, there are no more records. I don't know if it stretches further on back, or if lycanthropy began at that time. The research… it is a daunting task, Ming-yue, you know that. If you want to spend your time on other things, you can, of course. You know that I will not be able to contribute as much as I have during the summer—when the next school year at the institute starts, I will be too busy to do much about it. So will Professor Snape. I know that you usually study at home—I wouldn't want you to neglect your studies for this, especially since the chance of a cure is such a slim one—"

"It's all right. I'll do it."

And then there came a knocking. Wang Qin lifted her head to look at the door which led into the entrance corridor, and said aloud, "Who is it?"

Only someone who was there in the flesh would have seen the jet black Chinese characters appearing on the demure blue wallpaper. Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape. Remus Lupin. "Thank you," said Wang Qin, and the characters faded back to blue.

"Let them in, Ming-yue," Wang Qin said. Ming-yue got up and left the room. She returned moments later with the Professor, and—

Wang Qin observed Remus Lupin in a circumspect and subtle way. As it always happened to be, her eyes were drawn towards the upper body, where the soul rested. It was not exactly in that location—there were smoky coils of it spreading throughout the body, but she found it easier on the eyes if she envisioned it near the heart. Wang Qin saw at once the black tendrils which entwined themselves within him. Oh dear. His situation is worse than Yan-shui's. But perhaps he has been a werewolf longer than Yan-shui. Then she looked at his face. It was a little worn and lined; his eyes, a warm amber brown colour, nearly smiled at her, if eyes could smile, and his light brown hair was shot through with streaks of grey. All in all, Wang Qin thought, he seemed to be a mild person.

But never let it be said that Wang Qin neglected politeness. She smiled civilly and rose from her chair, nodding to her visitors. "Professor Snape. Remus Lupin. I am glad you're here." Behind the two men, Ming-yue looked at her mother, and jerked her head towards the corridor. Wang Qin gave the slightest of nods. Go wake your father up, Ming-yue. Ming-yue quietly left.

Professor Snape returned her greeting with a short, respectful nod and the words, "As am I, Wang Qin." His soul—his xin, his anima—was as bright as the day she had spoken to him in Johannesburg, even as his left arm was as black as night. Remus Lupin smiled at her, albeit somewhat nervously. Wang Qin supposed that he was not used to dealing with others who, knowing of his lycanthropy, did not promptly back away. She turned to him. "And it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Lupin," she said.

"Likewise," Mr Lupin replied. "Please, just call me Remus."

Wang Qin acknowledged this. "Remus."

Professor Snape shifted rather impatiently. "And now that the courtesies are past…" he said pointedly.

The smile slipped from Wang Qin's face; it took on a studious look and she gestured toward the table, inviting them to sit down. "Yes. I received the research you so kindly managed to procure for us. My daughter Ming-yue has agreed to begin to read through all of it, since I am aware that you, like me, must be busy when the students arrive for the school year. Remus, I've managed to obtain a monthly Portkey for you."

Remus blinked. "Er, a Portkey?"

Professor Snape looked like he was about to say something cutting, but he didn't. Instead, he managed the undeniably difficult feat of looking exasperated without so much as a muscle twitching in his face. He said in a neutral voice, "Of course a Portkey. You'll be coming here for your transformations every month."

Wang Qin picked up where the professor had left off. "And my daughter will be observing," she said. "Of course, if you feel uncomfortable transforming in front of her—"

"Your daughter?" At this, Remus looked vaguely surprised. "She—she doesn't mind?"

"She doesn't mind her father being a werewolf," Wang Qin replied. "Why should she be frightened of you?"

"Her father?"

Wang Qin looked at Professor Snape, who said, "Three years ago, her husband was turned. By Fenrir Greyback."

"Ah," said Remus. "I see." For the first time, he showed some sign of emotion. His mouth thinned. "Yes. He was the one who bit me too, except he did it when I was six."

The Potions Mistress thought, So that is why the lycanthropy is so much more firmly tangled with himself—he has been living with it for a very long time, I suppose. She nodded; said, "It must have been terrible, being so young."

Remus looked down at the table. "Yes, well, it was such a long time ago that I've forgotten what it was like before the bite." He paused, and the line of his jaw tightened a little. "Excuse me," he said. "But—I think that it's nearly time."

Wang Qin knew what he meant. "Come along," she said.

The Chinese Potions Institute had its own holding row for the werewolves, of course, but its Head had gone ahead and had an annex built onto the house, with more cells just in case. Now, she led the two men to a small door set into the back of the house, turning the knob and opening it.

A bright light fell across their faces. As Remus Lupin hesitantly stepped forward, Wang Qin stepped to the side to allow him a better look at the place where he would be transforming. It was a short corridor, the walls painted stark white. The cells—and Wang Qin knew, although she did not say, that they were cells for containment and imprisonment, no matter what it looked like—were padded with cushioning charms. Extensive magical wards and panels of glass, strengthened by spells, would keep the transformed werewolves from breaking out.

Then her husband emerged from one of them, his face wan but still smiling. "Wang Qin! Who are your guests?"

Hai Yan-shui was a tall man, with his short black hair turning the salt and pepper kind of grey and neatly parted in the middle. His dark brown eyes gleamed with perpetual amusement behind his gold frame glasses; a straight long nose, a thin, placid face. "Oh, never mind, I know you two. Professor Snape and Remus Lupin, am I not right?"

"Correct," Professor Snape replied, stepping forward and shaking Yan-shui's hand.

"Well, thank you for coming," Yan-shui said amiably. "But there's really no time for pleasantries, you see." He looked briefly at his watch for a moment, then removed it from his wrist and set it down on a nearby stool. "It's almost time for the transformation." He made a grimace. "Mr Lupin, come along, I'll show you the facilities. Qin, if you don't mind…"

Wang Qin led Ming-yue and Professor Snape out of the annex, closing the door. "They prefer to be alone during the actual transformation," she said to Professor Snape. "Don't worry—Yan-shui knows how the cells work, he checks all the security precautions ten times over."

Professor Snape's face looked oddly drawn and pale. "I see," he said. "So now—we wait."

They waited.

oOo

Severus wasn't afraid of Lupin. No, he thought, not Lupin.

No, it was the werewolf side. The raging lycanthropy.

This is ridiculous, he told himself. I was reckless enough as a student to go down into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and face a werewolf and pretend it was a murder attempt, so I could say to the Death Eaters that I hated the golden Gryffindors and I wanted to kill them because they had tried to kill me. And I was calm enough to pull it off. But now…

He inwardly cringed at the prospect of entering Lupin's mind through Legilimency. He was not quite sure what he would find there, but he didn't think it would turn out to be chocolate and flowers—Honeydukes and snowdrops and roses and the wizarding gourmet L'Delicieux.

The three of them once again entered the annex. Severus felt eerily unsettled by the noise. There were muting charms on the cells, he supposed, but it was still odd to see the werewolves snarling and slavering and hurling themselves against the walls—and hear only soft sounds.

He did not look to the left. Wang Qin and Ming-yue were already heading towards the cell on that side. That would be Yan-shui. So instead, he stepped over and peered into the cell on the right.

Lupin—but it wasn't Remus Lupin anymore, not Remus Lupin, but a werewolf—lunged towards him, sharp jaws snapping. Severus hurriedly stepped back, but the werewolf slammed into an invisible wall and slid, whimpering, to the ground. It was a medium sized wolf, mostly grey but with a bit of white on the paws, tail, and muzzle. Twisting around, it snarled and paced around in the cell, occasionally throwing itself against its confines and growling. Its head turned sharply, its muzzle opening and closing in a series of snaps that failed to reach Severus. He got down on his knees, sitting back and watching the werewolf.

It had been much the same all those years ago, except Severus had caught only a glimpse of the werewolf in the dark before he decided it was a good time to run for his life and hope like hell that he could make it out. He hadn't seen much of Remus Lupin, the werewolf; only the harsh breathing and the snarling and the glint of flashing lupine eyes before Severus was hastily scrambling—no, being pulled out of the Whomping Willow by James Potter (That, he hadn't expected.). It had been a gamble, a huge gamble on his part, even though a spell was on the tip of his tongue, ready to cast a silver shield that would stop the werewolf. It had been a gamble, his speed and magic against Lupin's ferocity.

It had been a gamble, but it had succeeded in its purpose.

The werewolf's head swung around sharply, its upper lip curling to show its protruding canines, and it started again towards Severus.

Severus met the werewolf's eyes, and thought silently, Legilimens!

His mind pushed into the golden brown feral eyes, and he…

—fell—

The darkness spread out around him in clouds of black black black, the mind was dark, and he—

—fell—

The darkness reached out for him with inky black tendrils, and surged towards him—

—fell—

He crouched down on the ground, trying to ignore the raging storm that screamed and snarled and was simply wild. This is the epitome of wild, thought Severus, and how does Lupin survive this?

Vaguely, he became aware of something, someone near him. He lifted his head and glanced around in the werewolf's mind, and he saw the wolf.

It was gleaming brilliant ebony black, and it was nosing at the ground, as though it were following a scent. Then it raised its head and looked straight at Severus. The wolf's hackles seemed to raise abruptly. Its ears twitched, and it sprang towards Severus.

Severus swore violently, and his mental self dove out of the way. As they both wheeled around to face each other—the wolf and Severus, Severus and the wolf—he saw something else: wisps of black, very much tangible, that surrounded its paws and danced along the ground, trying to reach him—

Instinctively, Severus lashed out with his own magic. It was black as well, black fire that flared up and enclosed the threat in a large circle. He backed away, thinking that he really had better get out of the werewolf's mind before he was attacked. He could see the vines that were now spiraling from the wolf's body and straining to overcome his flames. It's trying to reach me, he thought. He felt his magic storming around him, and frantically directed it toward the black wolf.

Another thought occurred to him. It's trying to pass on its lycanthropy.

With that, he turned sharply on his heel and ran. But the blackness was all around him, and his magic shivered and lashed angrily at the wildness, and he ran. He couldn't see anything in front of him, and briefly he had the fleeting thought that he ought to just pull out of Lupin's mind, except he needed to find out about the lycanthropy—

He ran.

The black vines arched overhead, twisting with something that Severus thought was white, and he slid to a halt and looked back towards the encroaching darkness. Then he looked ahead, and he saw the bridge.

It looked as though it were made of shining translucent glass, and the lycanthropy reached across it, twisting into the cracks and holding tightly to it. He looked back again, back at the wolf chasing him, and stepped onto the bridge.

It broke with an ominous crack, and he gasped out loud as he plummeted down—

Except he wasn't down, he was standing. He was standing in a pure white room—or, it would have been pure white if it weren't for the black tendrils twisting around a small boy next to the wall. The boy looked impossibly young, only around five or six.

Severus cautiously walked over to him. The boy lifted his head to look momentarily at Severus; his hair was light brown, his eyes a golden brown. And Severus realised with a jolt, This—this was Remus Lupin, when he was bitten. Merlin, he's young.

Then the boy opened his mouth and said, "Hello, Severus."

Severus stared at him.

"Surprised to see me this way?" the boy continued, bitterness lacing every word he said. He strained against the blackness holding him. "It's the damn lycanthropy, that's what!"

"Lupin?"

The boy blinked; smiled. It was not a kind one. "Not Lupin," he said. "Not exactly—I'm his… unconscious, so to speak. His unconscious emotions and whatnot." He shrugged nonchalantly. "When he transforms, his mind is smothered and he loses all conscious thought. This is what he does experience, I'm what's left. Trust me, we're having this conversation, but he won't remember a thing. All he ever knows is pain." He laughed loudly. It was a cacophonous noise that clashed strangely with Severus's silence.

"Do you know how to get rid of it? The lycanthropy, I mean." Severus had the distinct feeling that it was best not to insult… Lupin's unconscious. He has had his rage suppressed for so long—that's not healthy. I don't want to be the one around when he explodes.

"Hell, if I knew how to get rid of it, wouldn't I have done that a long time ago?" the boy snapped; he strained against his bindings, but they only held on tighter to him, and Severus watched in astonishment as the black wisps seemed to press into the boy's body for a moment before reappearing around him. The boy followed Severus's gaze and said, "Oh yes, it's trying to push itself into me. The lycanthropy, you see, it's trying to be part of my soul. To combine together and become one. Right now, all it has is control of my body and it manages to black out my mind, and it's sort of beginning to twist into my soul, but when my soul and the lycanthropy finally merge—hello world, another Fenrir Greyback." He gave Severus a sardonic grin. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Severus said curtly, "No."

"No?" Then the grin vanished, and the boy slumped, held up by his smoky chains. "It's always the strongest at the time of the full moon," he said darkly. "Any other time I can fight it off, keep it at bay, but at the full moon, it gains so much power and I can't keep it away—and so…"

"Is there anything I can do?" Severus asked simply.

"Yes," the boy replied. He looked straight at Severus. "You can help me. Separate the lycanthropy from me, lift its control from me. Free me."

There was a sudden snarl that seemed to come from nowhere, and the walls gradually began to be covered with smoky black wisps. The boy glanced around, then said, "The lycanthropy's not happy. It thinks you ought to be its next victim. You'll have to get out of here for now."

Severus opened his mouth to say something, but the boy said in a sharp tone, "Now!"

He knew when to follow directions.

Severus pulled away, forced himself out of Lupin's mind—the lycanthropy's mind?—and then—

He was kneeling in front of Lupin's cell, staring at the werewolf which paced inside and flung itself at the walls. He looked into the wolf's eyes for any trace of the intelligence which Remus Lupin possessed (albeit perhaps only a little), but he found none. There was only wildness, and rage, rage against being caged and held, and ruthlessness.

The werewolf sat back on its haunches, lifted up its head, and howled.

oOo

"Politeia" is Greek for "civil organisation, the state." And wolfsbane—aconite—belongs to the family Ranunculaceae; the information supposedly from "Zamyatin's book" (who was a Russian author, but nothing to do with botany) is actually from Encarta Reference Encylopedia 2005.

Zhonghua Baozi is simply translated from Chinese into English as "Chinese newspaper." Not the most imaginative of names, I know…

"L'Delicieux" is rough French for "delicious."

This was a hard chapter to write. That letter alone... well, it was hard to write. And I hope I've adequately captured the sensation of being inside a mind controlled by lycanthropy.

So, as always, please review! It makes me feel very warm inside. : )

Talriga