Phoenix Rising Part 3 Continued

Early on the morning after Christmas, while everyone was still sleeping, the house-elf Dobby ventured into the dungeon and slipped an envelope under the door of Professor Snape's quarters. He was more than happy to do a favor for a friend of Harry Potter's, the nice girl who had knitted him a scarf and mittens for Christmas.

A few hours later, Lupin was fixing a pot of tea when he noticed the envelope lying on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to Snape, saying, "Here, Severus, I think this is for you."

Snape looked startled. "I wonder who it could be from?" he said, staring at the blank envelope.

Lupin grinned. "Perhaps it's a Christmas card, delivered a bit late."

Snape snorted; he was unlikely to be receiving Christmas cards from anyone except perhaps the Slytherin parents, and he had already received all of his obligatory Christmas bribes. He tore open the envelope and read the note inside: "Thank you very much for the book, Professor Snape". There was no signature, but he recognized the Granger girl's very neat and precise handwriting.

Lupin saw the look of horror that crossed his lover's face, and asked with avid curiosity, "What does it say, Severus? Who is it from?"

Snape saw Lupin leaning over his shoulder to read the note, and hastily crumpled it up and tossed it into the fireplace, where it quickly turned into ashes. "Just some, ah, junk mail," he said. "Nothing important."

"It's a bit early for an official mail delivery," Lupin said skeptically.

"I said it was nothing, Lupin!" Snape snapped, flushing a little. "But if you'd care to act as my secretary, you can handle my mail from now on!"

Lupin had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself. "No need to be so grumpy, Sev," he said mildly, and kissed Snape on the cheek. "But I suppose you haven't had your morning dosage of caffeine and sugar yet." He poured a cup of tea, mixed in some cream and a great deal of sugar, and handed it to Snape.

"Thank you, Remus," Snape said, relieved that Lupin seemed willing to let the matter drop. He returned Lupin's kiss, accepted the cup of tea, and silently resolved that he would absolutely, positively not buy any Christmas presents for any of the Gryffindor brats next year. And if the sarcastic little voice in his head scoffed at that, Snape pretended not to notice.
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During the first week of Christmas vacation, Snape had been teaching the Death Eater offspring Dark Warding, which was the least dangerous thing he could think of, and it tied in nicely with what Lupin had been teaching them before the holidays. It was similar to the protective wards Lupin had shown them in class, but taken a step further: rather than simply blocking out an intruder, Dark Wards ensnared or inflicted damage on said intruder. The strongest of the Dark Wards would kill someone who tried to bypass them without the proper consent, but Snape didn't intend to teach the children those, and they weren't ready to handle such powerful spells yet, anyway. Draco seemed to be enjoying the lessons, and Crabbe and Goyle weren't as incompetent at it as Snape would have expected. Perhaps all the time and energy Lupin had expended on them had not been completely wasted. Theodore and Serafina seemed to enjoy the intellectual challenge the lessons provided, although he knew the reason behind the tutoring sessions made them nervous. At least Theodore trusted him a little, but Snape was still not sure how to win over Serafina. It was extremely unlikely that she would be hexed by her father and then inadvertently reveal that fact to Snape as Theodore had; such coincidences rarely happened more than once, and besides, it was more Theodore's fear for Blaise than for himself that had made him turn to Snape for help. Serafina did not seem to care about anyone that way, except perhaps her mother, and there was very little that Snape could do to help Delia Avery. But he caught Serafina staring at him thoughtfully once or twice, as if she were not quite sure what to make of him, which he supposed was better than outright contempt.

He gave them their main lessons in a group, but spent some time with each of the children in individual tutoring sessions, figuring that it would be easier to win their confidence if he spent time alone with them. Draco, as always, seemed pleased to receive praise and attention from his teacher, but his face took on a very odd look one day when Snape casually mentioned, "I am sure that Lucius will be pleased with your progress." All the emotion seemed to drain out of his face, except for just a hint of wariness and resentment in his eyes. Then he smiled and said, "Thank you, Professor," fixing his face in a polite mask, which worried Snape because Draco usually didn't bother to conceal his emotions.

Theodore looked tense and nervous during their sessions, but he smiled timidly when Snape praised his efforts. That vulnerable smile reminded him of Dylan's, and Snape nearly broke out in a cold sweat at the thought that he was just about the only thing standing between these children and the Dark Lord. Well, Lupin and the Order (or some of the Order, at least) would step in if anything happened to Snape, but if something did happen to Snape, the Order probably wouldn't find out about it until it was too late to save the children, and none of the children other than Dylan were likely to trust the Order, in any case. It was bad enough being responsible for Draco, Serafina, Crabbe, and Goyle, even though they didn't know it, but Theodore and Dylan were counting on him personally to protect them, and the thought of failing them filled him with terror and despair. This was ridiculous; he was a hardened former Death Eater and the bane of the students at Hogwarts. He had never before become personally attached to any of his charges during the fifteen years he had been teaching, but now he had, and he wondered, not for the first time, if his father was right about sentiment being a weakness.

Theodore was still worried about Blaise. He told Snape that Draco was cultivating Zabini and Pierce and some of the other students who, having little wealth or influence, might welcome the chance to advance themselves. And while Draco was eager to learn combative magic, Theodore seemed to be grateful for the warding lessons. Snape suspected that was because the boy was desperate to learn how to defend himself and his friend, and he promised to privately teach Theodore more protective spells, which earned him another grateful smile from the boy.

Unlike the boys, Serafina was not moved by Snape's praise; she performed all her assignments efficiently but emotionlessly. Wracking his brain for a way to win just a fraction of trust from her, he finally offered to teach her the same protective spells he was teaching Theodore.

A hint of surprise flickered in her violet eyes. "I thought that was what Professor Lupin's class was for," she said.

Did she sound just a tad offended, or was it Snape's imagination? He knew that Lupin had been trying hard to win over the Slytherins, although he had reported having little success with Serafina. But perhaps he had made more of an impression on her than he realized... Snape debated with himself for a moment, then decided to take a small risk. "I admit that the werewolf is not as incompetent as he seems," Snape said in a haughty manner, but Serafina stared at him in shock, because he had never before said anything remotely complimentary about Lupin, at least not around his Slytherins. "While I am sure that he has been able to teach you a few useful tricks," Snape continued, "only one who is familiar with the Dark Arts can truly defend against them. But if you are not interested..." He almost called her "Miss Avery," but changed his mind and said, "...Serafina, then I won't waste my time."

Serafina blinked in surprise at hearing him call her by her first name, which he rarely did with anyone other than Draco and Dylan. She stared directly into his eyes for a long time, which surprised Snape, because very few of his students had the courage to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds, but he stared back at her, silently entreating her to trust him.

When she finally spoke, her voice and face were as expressionless as always, but she said, "I am interested, Professor. Thank you."

"Very well, then," Snape said. "Return at the usual time for your lesson."

When Dylan returned to Hogwarts, Snape stepped up the pace of the lessons and shifted the focus to more serious spells. He knew that this was dangerous, but it was necessary because Lucius and the Dark Lord would not be satisfied with him teaching the children purely defensive spells, and as nasty as the Dark Wards were, they were essentially defensive and not aggressive magic. So he began teaching them Blood Magic, a subcategory of the Dark Arts in which power could be gathered from the spilling of blood. He cast the Aperio spell so that the children could see the magical energy being released, and tried to teach the children how to cast it themselves. Serafina picked up on it quickly, and Draco and Theodore were reasonably successful at it, although it would obviously take some time for them to completely master the spell; Crabbe and Goyle, not surprisingly, were hopeless at it.

But Snape knew he could not spend too much time on the Aperio spell when he was supposed to be teaching them the Dark Arts, so he moved on to the main lesson. He killed small creatures--frogs and mice and rats--and showed the children how to gather the energy released by their deaths. Although he slew the animals quickly and cleanly, and although they had been destined to become potion ingredients or food for the school owls, he still felt guilty about it. He tried to console himself a little by pretending that the rats were Pettigrew--he should have killed that treacherous piece of scum when he'd had the chance, back in the Shrieking Shack nearly three years ago, and cursed himself once again for not believing Lupin's story--but it didn't really help. It was not really so much the animals' deaths that troubled him, as it was the purpose those deaths were being put to. The children watched his demonstration with combined interest and revulsion, and as Snape had feared, Draco showed the least revulsion and the most interest.

"The bigger the animal, the more power released, right?" Draco asked, his eyes gleaming eagerly. "And the death of a person releases the most power of all, more than any animal."

"That is correct," Snape replied coolly, keeping his face and voice calm although he felt sick with worry inside. Maybe Moody was right; maybe in trying to save the children, he was only corrupting them further...but there was no point in dwelling on such thoughts now; he was the one who had come up with this plan, and now that the Dark Lord had ordered him to carry it out, there was no turning back. "But you will practice only on small animals under my supervision until I say otherwise." He gave them his most intimidating glare, the one that made his students quake in fear, and they all turned a little pale, even Serafina; it was nice to know that he hadn't lost his touch. "You are not to experiment outside of these lessons, most certainly not on any of your classmates, not even the Gryffindors. It would be most awkward to explain the disappearance of a student, not to mention that the penalty for carrying out a blood sacrifice is death or a Dementor's Kiss. Well, death only now that the Dementors are gone, I suppose." He gave Draco a hard stare. "Is that clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied obediently, but Snape suspected that the boy didn't fear him as much as he should--the result of all those years of spoiling him and catering to Lucius Malfoy's wishes, no doubt. He decided he needed to emphasize his point, if only for Draco's sake; the other students looked properly cowed. "If you disobey me," Snape hissed, "it is not just my wrath you will face, but our Master's." All the children, including Draco, turned sheet-white. "He will be very, very cross if someone disrupts his plans by arousing the Ministry's suspicions with a foolish and impulsive act. Such an act might put the Death Eaters, including your father, in jeopardy, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't worry, sir!" Draco said, with a great deal more fervor and sincerity. "I won't disobey you!"

"Good," said Snape, with a dark expression on his face. "Because compared to the Dark Lord, I would seem as soft as the werewolf." Draco paled further at the thought of someone who made Snape look soft, and Snape decided that he had frightened the boy enough. In fact, he hoped he had not alarmed the other children too much; he did not want to undo what little progress he had made with Serafina by talking too freely about the Dark Lord, but he had to make sure Draco didn't run around practicing Dark Magic on his classmates. Serafina's eyes flickered with brief surprise, then narrowed slightly when he made that comment about "the werewolf". He would have to watch himself carefully around the girl; it was difficult to tell what she was thinking, but he suspected that she was as perceptive as Dylan, and this was the second time he had referred to Lupin in front of her within the past week. She stared at him intently for a moment, as if trying to take his measure, then her face went blank again as Draco happened to glance in her direction.

Snape continued the lesson with the children much subdued. "What're we supposed to do with this energy we're gathering?" Crabbe asked.

Draco gave his henchman an impatient look, but Snape explained calmly, "Casting spells uses up energy. You may not have noticed before, because the spells you have learned at Hogwarts so far are relatively simple and easy ones. But performing a very powerful spell--say, summoning a Greater Elemental, healing a person near death, or conjuring up a storm in clear weather--will drain you of energy and make you as tired as if you had worked a full day of hard physical labor. You can take the energy released by blood sacrifice and use it in place of your own to fuel such a spell, or use it to replenish your own strength if you are tired or injured." This was partly why the Dark Lord had been so intent upon killing Muggles and Muggle-born, although Snape did not mention this to the children. It was not just his hatred for them--although that hatred seemed to be sincere--but his desire to gain power from their deaths that had motivated his murderous rampage. "However," Snape continued, "you must learn to properly channel this energy or it will be useless to you. And that is what the spells I am teaching you are for."

"Oh," Crabbe said, looking surprised that Snape had explained all this to him without berating him for being an idiot. Snape noticed that no one other than Crabbe and Goyle seemed to find his lecture particularly enlightening. Draco, Dylan, Theodore, and Serafina all listened attentively and nodded occasionally, but it was clear that they already understood the concept of Blood Magic even if they hadn't practiced it before. But they were Slytherins and the children of Death Eaters; it was only natural that they would have much more knowledge of the Dark Arts than your average Hogwarts student.

Crabbe and Goyle were surprisingly squeamish about killing the small sacrifices, although they did as they were told, and found the lessons rather frustrating, because most of the spells required a subtle touch that they lacked. Dylan, Theodore, and Serafina, although they were adept enough at the spells, seemed to be repulsed by them. But Draco enjoyed the lessons a little too much for Snape's taste, and he worried once again that he had made a big mistake by proposing to tutor the children in the Dark Arts.

"I'm worried about you, Severus," Lupin said one night. "You're running yourself ragged with these lessons."

"I work harder than this during normal classes," Snape said dismissively. "I'm only teaching six students, after all."

"That's not what I meant," Lupin said gently. "It's taking an emotional toll on you, Severus; you can't deny it."

"I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing," Snape admitted. "I think I'm making progress with Theodore and Serafina, but I'm afraid that I'm only pushing Draco closer to the Death Eaters. He enjoys the lessons too much."

"You're doing the best you can, my love," Lupin said, stroking his cheek. "It was important to keep Theodore and Serafina safely away from their parents."

"But what if it turns out that I'm sacrificing Draco for their sake?" Snape asked, his black eyes looking haunted. "On the other hand, how could I sacrifice Theodore and Serafina for Draco's sake? What if I can't save them all? How can I choose which of my children to save, Lupin?" He didn't seem to notice that he had referred to them as his "children" and not his "students," and Lupin didn't think that now was the right time to point it out to him. Snape laughed bitterly. "I let Dylan's father and Lyall Wilkes die for the greater good--"

"You didn't 'let' them die, Severus," Lupin interrupted in a firm voice.

"I didn't try to save them," Snape said. "It amounts to the same thing. I didn't try to persuade them to leave the Death Eaters because it would have jeopardized my cover, and innocent people might have died. But I'm still not sure I made the right choice."

"You did the best you could, Severus," Lupin said gently, although he knew that his lover would not be comforted by his words. "You can't take all the blame. Evan and Lyall were grown men with minds of their own. You made the choice to renounce the Death Eaters; they could have done so as well, but they chose not to."

"But Draco's still a child," Snape whispered. "A spoiled, selfish child, but still, a child. He's not responsible for his actions in the same way that you can argue Evan and Lyall were. If by saving the others, I must give him up to the Death Eaters, should I do it?"

"We will save them all," Lupin said fiercely, throwing his arms around Snape and holding him tightly. "We won't sacrifice any of them!" He told himself that there was no other option. The guilt Severus felt over Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes was bad enough; he was afraid it would break Severus completely if one of his Slytherin children fell to the Death Eaters. And besides, Lupin had come to care for the Slytherins as much as Severus had. He cared for his other students as well--the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws--but the Slytherins seemed especially needy and vulnerable somehow. Crabbe and Goyle, so eager for a little praise and a kind word. Dylan, who had grown up too fast, being forced to live a lie for nearly all of his young life. Theodore and Serafina, always so guarded and distrustful, because they had long ago been betrayed by the people who should have loved and protected them--their parents. Even Draco, who despite his arrogant and insufferable manner, was a child who longed for his father's approval. He wanted to protect all of them and smother them with love. Maybe he was as motivated by guilt as Severus was; maybe he was only projecting onto them his wish that he had tried harder to love and protect Severus when they had been children themselves. Maybe he was trying to atone for his own sins, but whatever the reason, the Slytherin children had become dear to his heart, and he would do whatever he must to protect them. "We will save them all," Lupin repeated, no longer sure whether he was trying to persuade Severus or himself of that. "Even Draco. I reached him once; I can do it again. We just have to show him that we care about him."

Snape knew it wouldn't be as easy as Lupin made it sound, but his lover had that stubborn look on his face that Snape knew so well, and suddenly he felt much better. Whenever Lupin got that look on his face, he inevitably got his way; little Draco Malfoy was no match for a stubborn werewolf, Snape thought to himself with amusement.

Much to Lupin's surprise, Snape suddenly grinned, kissed him soundly, and said, "I love you, Remus!"

Lupin smiled at him, looking confused but pleased, and replied, "I love you, too, Severus."

"We can do it," Snape said confidently, and when Lupin gave him another confused look, he added, "I'm counting on you, Remus. You broke down my resistance, despite a grudge held for nearly two decades. And these children are nowhere near as tough as me."

Lupin threw back his head and laughed. He knew that this was not the end of their worries and doubt, but for now, he felt confident that they could save their Slytherin children. He simply would not allow himself to picture any other possible outcome.
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Dumbledore called an Order meeting shortly before school started again, and they were joined by a new member.

"You!" Moody snarled in disbelief as Ariane walked into the room.

"She is Mathias Donner's representative," Dumbledore said sternly. "Whatever she may have done in the past, she is on our side now."

"How can we be sure of that?" a furious Moody asked. "How can we be sure she will not betray us?"

"The Dark Lord has threatened her life and her son's," Snape answered curtly. "She will not betray us."

McGonagall gave Ariane a wary look. "How do we know that she will not betray us for the sake of her son?" she asked quietly. "A mother might do anything to protect her child if, for example, the Death Eaters should suspect she is working for us, and threaten Dylan if she does not help them..."

Ariane met the eyes of her accusers without flinching and said, "My uncle has put me under Geas." A murmur of surprise rippled around the table. "I cannot betray you. If I try to speak of this meeting to anyone outside of the Order, the words literally will not come out of my mouth."

"What if You-Know-Who tries to rip the information out of your mind by force?" Shacklebolt asked suspiciously. As an Auror, he had seen some of the victims Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes had tortured and killed, and he was not inclined to be forgiving.

"Geas cannot be broken, not even unwillingly or unintentionally," Ariane replied in a steady voice. "If the Dark Lord tries to take the information from my mind with his magic, I will die."

Silence fell over the table. Snape was certain that no one had explained this piece of information to Dylan and he profoundly hoped that he would never have to.

Moody still glowered at her, but no one voiced any further objections as Ariane took her seat at the table. Branwen broke the silence by asking if Goewin was still having any prophetic dreams or visions.

"Yes, but her dreams are vague," Ariane replied. "Math says that is because the baby is not fully formed yet. They will probably grow clearer as her time of birth draws near."

Sirius drummed his fingers on the table nervously. "I wonder why the baby is so important?" he said. "Does Miyako's prophecy mean that Goewin will have some vision vital to winning the war while she is pregnant, or must we wait for the child to grow up and become a seer?" The first might mean that the war was coming very soon, but the second would mean that the final battle would not come for at least several years.

"Goewin sees the children in her dreams," Ariane whispered, her silver-gray eyes suddenly growing fearful. "She sees Dylan and Draco and the other Death Eaters' children fighting on the battlefield, although she cannot tell which side they are fighting for. And she sees the Potter boy and his friends. They look the same to her as they do now, teenagers, not adults, so if the dreams are true, the war cannot be more than a couple of years away at most. Probably less."

Silence fell over the table again, a particularly gloomy one. Finally Tonks cleared her throat and asked, "Does Goewin see the outcome of the war?"

"Not always," Ariane replied. "Mostly she just sees the battle and not the conclusion. But sometimes she sees the Dark Lord falling to the Potter boy, and at other times the Dark Lord triumphs and we all die."

The other members of the Order stared at her in horror, and Dumbledore said softly, "The future is not set in stone. There were two possible outcomes from the first Prophecy, and Voldemort sealed his fate and set events in motion by trying to kill Harry. A seer does not necessarily see what will be, but rather the likeliest of all possible futures."

"There are only two possible futures here," Moody muttered. "Either we win and the world is saved, or we lose and the world as we know it is destroyed. I don't need a seer to tell me that."

"Miyako said the child is important," Lupin insisted, "and that she would help turn the tide of the war. It must be that the child, either directly or through Goewin, will give us some hint that will help us win the war."

"Fine," Moody said skeptically. "But I don't think we should sit around waiting for visions."

"No one is saying that we should, Alastor," Dumbledore said patiently.

"How are your little Death-Eaters-in-training doing, Snape?" Moody asked sarcastically.

Snape glared at him, but before he could make a retort, Mrs. Weasley snapped in a sharp voice, "Alastor!" It made Snape regard her a little more benevolently than he usually did, and it pleased him that she seemed to care about his Slytherin students despite the fact that she had produced a passel of annoying Gryffindor brats.

"These children don't give their trust easily," Snape said in a cool voice, "but I believe that I am making some progress. They aren't like their parents; all of them save Draco are a little afraid of the spells that I am teaching them."

"I'm not sure that Mr. Malfoy has the good sense to be scared when he should be," McGonagall muttered, looking a little worried.

"We are making progress," Lupin said firmly. "All the Slytherins, even Draco, are gradually becoming accustomed to working and cooperating with the Gryffindors, thanks in great part to Branwen's project. There are even a few tentative friendships blossoming among them. We will prevent them from making the same mistakes their parents did."

"All well and good for the children," Shacklebolt said, although he didn't look as though he believed Lupin. "But they aren't our main problem; their parents are. Winning over the Slytherin children won't matter if You-Know-Who wins the war."

"It might make a difference," Tonks said thoughtfully. "Ariane said that Goewin saw the children fighting in her dreams. It's possible that which side the Slytherin children choose to fight on could make a difference in the outcome of the war."

Ariane looked very unhappy, though she said nothing, and Molly Weasley cried out, "We can't involve the children in a war!"

"They're already involved, Molly," Branwen said gently. "Voldemort has been trying to kill Harry ever since he was a baby."

"My Slytherins are involved, too," Snape said grimly. "The Death Eaters intend to hand their children over to the Dark Lord unless we stop them."

"How could anyone do such a thing to their own children?" Molly whispered in horrified disbelief.

"The Malfoys are doing it because they believe that Draco will have a position of honor and power in the Dark Lord's world," Snape replied, although her question was probably rhetorical. "And Crabbe and Goyle are doing it because they do whatever Lucius Malfoy does. Andreas Avery and Thaddeus Nott see their children as possessions, pawns to be manipulated in a game of power, and sacrificed if necessary. At best they see their children as a means by which to carry on the family name, but I assure you that they have no tender feelings for their offspring." Molly shook her head, looking more stunned and horrified than ever, and Snape marveled at that typical Gryffindor idealism and naivety. He both scorned her and envied her for it at the same time; a world in which it was inconceivable that a parent could harm a child seemed like something out of a fairy tale to him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and changed the subject, although he gave Molly a sympathetic look. "The Japanese emissaries have met with the Ministry officials, with only limited success, I am sorry to report. They are willing to accept whatever aid the Japanese wizards will offer, but were less receptive to our allies' suggestion that they grant equal rights to the non-humans."

Sirius groaned, "Those idiots! They won't realize the danger until Voldemort shows up on their doorstep! He already has, come to think of it--shown up on their doorstep, I mean--and they're still more worried about their pride and their stupid prejudices! It's hopeless!"

"Maybe not," Dumbledore said. "They didn't outright refuse--"

"No, let me guess, they decided to form a committee and debate about it endlessly," Sirius said sarcastically.

"That's uncomfortably close to the truth," Dumbledore sighed. "But still, at least they're willing to acknowledge the possibility, which is a slight improvement. They were a bit shaken by the, ah, exotic and unusual nature of the emissaries, but perhaps once they calm down, they'll be more sensible." Sirius rolled his eyes in disbelief. "In the meantime," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Kamiyama and his friends have sent along these protective charms for us." He passed out charms that resembled the omamori charms Kamiyama's temple sold, except that the little brocade bags were strung on loops of black cord so they could be worn like necklaces. The Order members accepted them, although a few, like Moody, looked at them a bit skeptically.

Branwen examined hers closely. "There is a very strong enchantment upon them," she assured Moody, and everyone put them on, tucking the charms out of sight beneath their robes.

"I have also arranged for the emissaries to meet select groups of non-humans," Dumbledore said. "Discreetly, of course--and I have obtained permission for them to teach as guest lecturers at Hogwarts for the coming term."

"Well, this should be interesting," Snape muttered.

"It sounds like fun, Severus," Lupin said in a bright, chirpy tone, and Snape gave him a sour look.
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When school started again, Dumbledore cheerfully announced that three guest instructors, on loan from the Japanese school of magic, Mahou Gakkou, would be teaching at Hogwarts for the rest of the school year "in order to promote friendship and an exchange of ideas between our peoples". An excited buzz of hushed conversation broke out across the room, and Dumbledore motioned for quiet, but he looked pleased. "Professor Chizuru will be teaching healing and weaving magic." Most of the boys stared in awe at the beautiful woman who rose from her seat, smiled, and bowed slightly in the direction of the students. "Master Karasu will be teaching physical defense and martial arts, and Master Satoshi will be teaching illusion." To the students' further shock, the Headmaster explained that their new teachers were all shapeshifters--Chizuru was a crane maiden, Karasu was a tengu, and Satoshi was a tanuki. Satoshi demonstrated this most dramatically by transforming himself into his true form, a plump raccoon dog, right at the head table. The students gasped in surprise, then giggled as he waved at the crowd of students with one paw, and picked up his tea cup with the other and took a sip from it. He transformed back into his human form after McGonagall gave him a stern look usually reserved for her students rather than a fellow teacher.

"'Friendship and exchange of ideas,' hah!" Draco said to Dylan at the Slytherin table. "The old man's trying to make some new allies!"

"We shouldn't talk about such things here," Dylan whispered, letting his eyes dart over in Snape's direction, and Draco fell silent. He hated to admit it, but Rosier was right; Snape would have a fit if he caught Draco talking about Death Eater business in public. Meanwhile, Dylan was laughing and making harmless small talk with the girls, who were fawning over him as usual, and admiring his new silver hair clasp.

"My mother gave it to me for Christmas," Dylan said happily.

"The rose design is so beautiful," gushed Pansy.

"It's the crest of my father's family," Dylan replied.

"Oh yes, I see, it matches the design on your ring!"

Draco scowled. Dylan was the only boy he knew who could get away with wearing a hair clasp--one engraved with flowers, no less!--without looking like a sissy. Draco's hair wasn't long enough to tie back, but even it was, he knew he'd look ridiculous if he tried such a thing.

Damien Pierce, not surprisingly, was drooling over the new female teacher. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he asked dreamily. Most of the other boys nodded in agreement, looking just as spellbound.

"She's a non-human, you dolts!" Draco snapped. "Are you telling me you'd like to mate with a bird, for Merlin's sake?!"

"If she looks like that, yes!" Damien laughed, then blanched a little when Draco glared at him.

"You're disgusting!" Yvonne squealed. She had not been particularly happy to come back from touching up her makeup and gossiping with some other girls in the restroom to find her date dancing with a Gryffindor girl at the Yule Ball. She still hadn't forgiven him, but Damien didn't particularly seem to care.

"It's not that big a deal," Dylan said in a mild voice. "She's a teacher; it's not like she's going to be messing around with any of the students. There's no harm in admiring a beautiful woman from afar, is there?"

"Exactly!" Damien agreed hastily. "It's an...ah...aesthetic appreciation of beauty!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't argue further, and the conversation quickly moved on to safer subjects. But after breakfast, he hurried over to talk to Snape.

"We both have class in a few minutes, Malfoy," Snape said impatiently.

"Do we really have to take lessons from those non-humans?!" Draco asked in an outraged voice.

Snape sighed, looking annoyed and a little weary. "We can't talk about such things here, Draco; let's go to my office. You'll be late for your first class, but I'll write you a note."

As soon as they were alone, Draco burst out, "It's unthinkable, to force us to take lessons from animals!"

"You're already taking lessons from the werewolf," Snape pointed out in a dry voice, "and unpleasant as that must be, you have managed to survive it." Draco flushed. "And as much as I hate to admit it, he seems to have taught you a few useful spells; I heard that you were able to summon a full Patronus. Quite impressive for someone your age, in such a short period of time."

Draco flushed again, but this time with pleasure. "Yes, sir," he said, in a calmer voice. "But what's the point of all these extra lessons? Besides Dumbledore trying to forge new alliances, that is. Does our Master know about--?"

Snape cut him off sharply. "Our Master knows all he needs to know, Malfoy! Neither he nor I need to be instructed in our business by a schoolboy!" Draco fell into a sulky silence, and Snape added in a more benign voice, "However, I am pleased that you were able to infer the implications behind the Headmaster's little gesture of 'friendship'."

"Thank you, sir!" Draco said proudly, forgetting his sulk.

"As I have told you before, Draco," Snape continued, "my position here is tenuous at present. I cannot afford to draw suspicion to myself by opposing Dumbledore on this matter. Think of it as a test or challenge of sorts, Draco." Draco gave him a confused look, and Snape explained with a sly smile, "Play along with the Headmaster, Draco. Play the role of the studious, obedient schoolboy and lull the suspicions of our enemies. Let them think you harmless for now; perhaps you can even pretend to be won over by these new 'friends'."

"Sort of like being a spy?" Draco asked thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Snape said. His mouth was still smiling, but his black eyes were cold and hard. Draco shuddered a little, but he felt flattered at being given such an important role to play.

"All right, sir," Draco said in a determined voice. "I'll do my best."

"Good," Snape said, relaxing a little. The cold look left his eyes, and he smiled at Draco almost indulgently. "Human or not, our new guests are experts in fields of magic rarely taught at Hogwarts; take this opportunity to learn what you can from them. Think of the irony, Mr. Malfoy--Dumbledore's allies educating his enemies."

Draco laughed maliciously. "Someday, maybe we'll be able to use what we learned against them!"

"Exactly," Snape said. "Now, you had better run along, Draco--I believe Incantations is your first class of the day, and Professor Blackmore doesn't approve of tardiness." Draco shuddered again, and Snape wrote him an excuse note.

Draco took the note and hurried off to class; he was only a few minutes late. Blackmore raised an eyebrow as she read the note, but she simply ordered him to take his seat without handing out punishment or asking for any further explanation.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The new teachers settled in at Hogwarts, and soon became quite popular with most of the students. Both the male and female students were in awe of Chizuru, who never seemed to hurry; rather, she moved with an air of very slow, deliberate grace. She never raised her voice, either; she spoke in a very soft, slightly accented voice, but she never had any trouble making herself heard. There was something in her voice, as quiet as it was, that made even the rowdiest students fall silent and listen in rapt attention.

There was a reason, it turned out, why healing magic was not taught at Hogwarts: only those born with the Healing Gift could practice true healing magic. Since so few people were born with that gift, a budding healer was usually apprenticed to a more experienced mentor rather than being taught such skills in the classroom.

"How can you tell if you have the Gift?" Hermione Granger asked.

Chizuru smiled. "A true healer can tell. I will examine each of you, and see whether you have the Gift or not." The "examination," as far as Draco could tell, consisted of Chizuru holding a student's hand, closing her eyes and meditating for a minute or two, then pronouncing them Gifted or not. Of the sixth-year Slytherins, only Zabini had the Gift, although a very minor one, Chizuru said. He blinked and looked surprised. "But even a minor Gift can be useful, if properly trained and utilized."

Draco later found out that among the fifth-years, Dylan also had a minor Gift. "Why am I not surprised?" Draco muttered to himself. Dylan Rosier was good at everything; why not healing, too? But what was surprising was that Serafina Avery had the Healing Gift, a full and true one, according to Chizuru. "Avery?" Draco muttered incredulously when he heard the news. She obviously had a gift for hexing; healing seemed antithetical to that. In fact, it seemed inappropriate for a future Death Eater to have a Healing Gift, somehow.

Among the Gryffindors, Lavender Brown and Neville Longbottom both had minor Gifts; Draco found that even more shocking than the news about Avery. "Longbottom is Gifted at something?" Draco exclaimed in disbelief. The Gryffindors glared at him, but Professor Chizuru just smiled at him serenely and said, "Everyone is gifted at something, Mr. Malfoy."

For those who were not Gifted, their class time was not wasted. She taught them more mundane healing methods--such as how to set broken bones and bandage wounds. It might not be magical, she told her class, but in an emergency such knowledge might save the life of a victim until a healer could be summoned. Draco chafed at performing such Muggle-like tasks, but recalling Snape's instructions to "play along," he gritted his teeth and did as he was told. The beautiful crane maiden rewarded him with one of her gentle smiles, and he found himself smiling back without thinking. He berated himself a moment later, reminding himself that it was one thing to play the role of the obedient schoolboy, but that he couldn't fall into the trap of being beguiled by a pretty face like that skirt-chaser Pierce or those idiots Crabbe and Goyle, who stared at her with a befuddled, almost worshipful gaze. Draco would berate his two henchmen in private about going soft, and they would promise not to do it again, but every time Chizuru smiled at them, they would get that glazed, adoring look in their eyes again. Most of the boys in all the Houses looked at her that way; sometimes Draco had to stop himself from doing it, and wondered if she could be projecting some sort of glamor.

She also taught them how to prepare healing salves, poultices, and elixirs, somewhat different from the ones Professor Snape was teaching them. Draco spoke in private to Snape, who confirmed that the Japanese healer's concoctions were effective, if a bit exotic. In fact, Draco noticed them discussing healing potions at the dinner table sometimes, and she stopped by his office every now and then when she needed a particular ingredient for her classes. If the crane maiden did possess the ability to beguile men, Snape seemed to be immune to it, treating her with a kind of cool politeness, although that oaf Hagrid was as tongue-tied and befuddled around her as Crabbe and Goyle were.

She also set up a loom in the classroom to teach what she called "weaving magic". Her people, she said, were expert weavers. She asked if anyone had ever heard of an old Japanese folktale called "The Crane's Gift"; not surprisingly, Granger raised her hand and recited the story:

"An elderly couple found a wounded crane in the snow, nursed it back to health, and released it. Not long after that, a young woman showed up on their doorstep, begging for shelter. The kindly couple took her in, of course, and having no children of their own, soon came to look upon her as a daughter. The couple was very poor, and their adopted daughter said she would weave cloth for them to sell, but told them that they must promise never to look in on her while she wove it. To their amazement, she wove the most beautiful cloth they had ever seen. They were able to sell it for a good price in gold, and soon they were living comfortably. Whenever they needed more money, the daughter would retreat into her room and weave more cloth. The old couple grew quite curious about how she wove such magnificent cloth, and one day they could not resist, and peeked in on her. To their surprise they saw a crane, plucking feathers from her own breast, and weaving them into cloth on the loom. It was the crane they had saved, who had come to repay their kindness. But now that they had seen her true form, she could no longer stay with them, and flew away forever."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Chizuru said with a smile, and Granger beamed at her. "Weaving is the Gift of my people, you might say. I cannot teach you to weave with feathers, of course." She laughed gently, and the class--or most of them, anyway--smiled at her adoringly. "But I can teach you how to weave magic into the cloth. Spells of healing can be woven into bandages, to help wounds heal faster, and spells of protection can be woven into cloth to make healing charms or garments. A Master class mage can make a robe that will provide as much protection as a suit of armor. Such things are beyond the scope of this class, of course, but I can teach you to weave small magics of healing and protection. There are also practical spells that can be woven into cloth to make them stronger or to repel stains, and spells of no practical value save to make the cloth more beautiful, to make it shimmer and glow."

Chizuru told them she had woven the cloth for her own kimonos; she usually wore one of plain white silk bordered with black, but sometimes she wore ones that seemed to made of the magical cloth in the fairy tale of the Crane Daughter, in beautiful lustrous colors and intricate patterns of birds or flowers or waves. She made the weaving look easy, but it was really quite difficult. Working the loom was not as easy as it looked--more Muggle work, Draco thought disgruntledly--and working the spells into the cloth took a delicate touch, not to mention that it was difficult and to weave and cast a spell at the same time. Chizuru could work her weaving magic without a wand, but the students could not, and the magic worked best, their instructor told them, when it was being cast upon the cloth as it was being woven. So they found it was easier to work in pairs, with one person weaving and one person casting the spells. Crabbe and Goyle had the most difficulty in this class, with both their cloth and their spells turning into a knotted, tangled mess, but Chizuru never scolded them, and always encouraged them and praised their hard work (if not their talent), and despite the fact that they found the lessons rather frustrating at times, they were always eager to come to her class.

She also started an informal sort of social club, where she gave lessons on origami (the Japanese art of paper folding), flower arranging, and the Japanese tea ceremony, or sometimes simply talked about the customs of her homeland. It was an extracurricular club, so no one was required to attend, but these sessions were quite popular, as most of the boys were infatuated with crane maiden, and most of the girls idolized her and wanted to emulate her. Draco attended a few of the meetings, but he found the flower arranging boring, and all the complicated rituals that went into making and drinking a simple cup of tea (and bitter tea at that) for the tea ceremony rather pointless. The origami folding was mildly amusing, though, and she taught them a useful little enchantment: how to make the little origami cranes fly. One could write a brief message on a square piece of paper, fold it into the shape of a bird, and send it flying off to whomever the message was intended for. The enchantment lasted only briefly and had a very limited range, so it would never replace the owl post, but it was useful for sending notes to friends within the school, and it soon became all the rage for sweethearts to send each other love notes via the little paper cranes. The students soon learned not to send them during class, though, after one crane found its way into Snape's third-year Potions class. He plucked the crane out of the air, unfolded it, and read it aloud in his uniquely scathing voice as the Slytherin half of the class howled with laughter, and the intended recipient of the message (a Gryffindor girl) turned beet-red with humiliation.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Karasu held his class in a large, empty room with no desks, only wooden practice weapons hanging in racks on the wall and padded mats lining the floor. Draco grumbled under his breath that it was a waste of time for wizards to be learning physical combat. The crow-man, it seemed, had very keen hearing, because he overheard that remark.

"So, young Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "you feel you have no need for my lessons?"

Draco hesitated, torn between the desire to voice his scorn, and Snape's orders to play the role of the obedient schoolboy. He tried for some middle ground: "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I don't understand how any warrior, however skilled, could stand against a trained mage. What good is a sword or a staff, when the mage can disarm, stun, or even kill the warrior with a flick of his wand?"

Karasu stared at him for a moment, his brown eyes unreadable, then he smiled, but it was not a gentle or reassuring smile like Chizuru's; even when he was being pleasant, the tengu warrior looked fierce and dangerous.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "let us make a wager. I will attack you using no magic, armed only with my staff; you may use your wand and whatever spells you please against me. If you can defeat me, I will excuse you from these lessons. However, if I defeat you, then you will take the lessons and follow my instructions without complaint."

Theodore eyed their new teacher warily. Draco was smiling confidently, but Theo knew that the tengu would not have offered such a bargain if he didn't think he could win. "Um, Draco, maybe this isn't such a good idea--"

"Done!" Draco said to Karasu, ignoring Theodore. He took out his wand, and Karasu took a long wooden staff down from the wall. He bowed to Draco; Draco bowed back.

"On the count of three, then," Karasu said. "One...two...three!"

Draco lifted his wand and shouted, "Expelli--"

Moving with lightning speed, Karasu lunged across the room, striking out with his staff. Draco cried out in pain as it cracked hard across his knuckles, and he dropped his wand. He felt the tip of the staff touch his throat and he froze in place.

"If this were a spear, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, with no hint of smugness or gloating in his voice, "you would be dead now. Actually, even with a blunt wooden staff such as this, I could have killed you if I wished to. So you see, magic is indeed a powerful weapon, but it is not an invincible one. That is your first lesson: never underestimate your opponent."

Draco rubbed his sore hand sulkily, and Ron Weasley snickered. "You find that amusing, Red-Hair?" Karasu asked in a cold voice, and Weasley blanched and gulped. "You have just volunteered to help me demonstrate my next lesson to the class." He set aside his staff, and explained to Weasley and the class that he was going to start them off with basic lessons in unarmed combat before teaching them to use weapons. "And the first thing you need to know is not how to attack, but how to defend yourself." He demonstrated some simple evasive and blocking maneuvers--at least, they looked simple when he performed them. Weasley and the rest of the class soon found out what the mats were for--to soften the blow of being thrown to the ground. Draco's hurt pride was somewhat salved by the sight of Weasley being knocked on his arse, not once, but several times.

Draco and the other students soon found out that Karasu's lessons resulted in a lot of aches and bruises; the salves and poultices they made in Chizuru's class came in quite handy. Not all the tengu's lessons were violent, however. On some days, they played board games like Shogi (a sort of Japanese version of chess) to teach them strategy. "You must learn to predict what move your opponent will make," Karasu told them. "If you can determine far enough in advance what the enemy will do, the battle will be won before it is even started."

Draco reluctantly agreed that made sense, and he turned out to be quite good at the strategy games, winning a curt but approving, "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," from his teacher one day, and he could not help but feel a little surge of pride; Karasu tended to be taciturn, and blunt when he did speak, and handed out praise almost as sparingly as Snape did.

"It figures that a Slytherin would be good at being sneaky," Weasley muttered. Draco had won this current match over Weasley by subtlety and deception; he had feigned a frontal attack and sacrificed several pieces while quietly maneuvering another piece into position to capture Weasley's king. The Gryffindor boy hadn't even seen it coming. Of course, it didn't take a great deal of brains to defeat someone like Weasley, but Draco had not held back (remembering Karasu's admonition never to underestimate your opponent) and had played to the very best of his ability. Karasu seemed to be mildly impressed by his strategy, at least, even though it was probably wasted on Weasley.

"It figures that a Gryffindor can't appreciate a little subtlety," Draco retorted, but he was in such a good mood that his voice had little sting to it. In fact, he almost pitied the Gryffindors; they were always so straightforward, wearing their hearts on their sleeves ("Like fools," his father would say if he were here), that most of them could not appreciate or master the finer arts of guile and trickery. He detested being forced to work with them (Potter and Weasley were still his partners in Blackmore's class), but he was gradually growing accustomed to their presence, as annoying as it was. At times, the insults tossed back and forth between them almost became perfunctory.

"Mr. Weasley," Karasu said in an almost amused voice, "it is much less dangerous, not to mention much less painful, to defeat your enemy with your wits rather than hand-to-hand or sword-to-sword on the battlefield. And Mr. Malfoy, it is wise to never let success make you complacent."

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused. Each settled for giving the other a brief glare, then shrugged off the other's insult and started a new game. Subtlety and deception were required traits for a Death Eater, Draco mused to himself; perhaps Karasu's lessons would serve him well when he was finally allowed to take his rightful place among the Dark Lord's followers. Snape was right; Draco resolved to learn what he could from his new teachers, and someday the Headmaster might regret bringing them here when Draco and his friends joined the Death Eaters and used that knowledge against the old man and his allies...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Satoshi, unlike his two comrades, did not wear traditional Japanese dress, but rather wore robes similar to those of the other Hogwarts teachers; he even feigned an exaggerated British accent, much to his students' amusement, although it tended to slip when he forgot to concentrate. "We have survived all these years by being able to blend in among the humans," he told his students. "All that practice, I suppose, has made us talented Illusionists." He told them that his type of magic was similar to Transfiguration, but that only the appearance, and not the actual substance of the object, was changed. "For example," he said, "I could turn myself into a tea kettle." And in the blink of an eye, a fat, round black iron tea kettle sat on the floor in place of their teacher. He transformed back and added, "But if you placed me upon the fire, it would burn the fur off my poor tail." He sprouted a tail from his otherwise human form, and feigned beating out imaginary flames on it with a frantic air as the children laughed.

"Of course," Satoshi continued, "small, subtle changes are easier to make than large, dramatic ones. It is easier, for example, to change the color of Miss Patil's hair than to change her into a tea kettle." He lightly tapped his wand on Parvati's head and her dark hair suddenly changed to golden-blonde.

The class burst into laughter again and Parvati indignantly shouted, "Change it back!"

"Your hair is still black, Parvati," Satoshi replied calmly. "I have only put a kind of glamor upon it; if you look closely, you can see through the spell."

Parvati frowned at her blonde braid, and the other students stared at it closely as well. Her hair seemed to shimmer, and they rubbed at their eyes; suddenly they could see through the illusion, as if it were transparent, to the real color of Parvati's hair that lay beneath it.

"Do you think you can break the spell?" Satoshi asked.

Parvati took out her wand, tapped her braid with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum!" The illusion vanished and her hair returned to normal.

"Very good, Parvati!" Satoshi said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "It is traditional to hand out points for a job well done, is it not? Five points to Gryffindor. As you can see, an illusion is easy to break if one is expecting to see it. Also, a wizard can see through an illusion more easily than a--ah, what do you call them? Than a Muggle. In order to create a convincing illusion, you must build it carefully, paying attention to detail. Beginners often make careless mistakes that render the illusion worthless. For example, tanuki cubs, when first learning to shapeshift, often forget little details--like their tails, for instance." He transformed himself into a tea kettle again, but this time there was a fuzzy striped tail growing out of it. The students laughed, and Satoshi became human again. "You see, no one would ever believe that was a real tea kettle!"

He set them to work changing--or more accurately, giving small objects the semblance of things approximately the same size and shape. Changing a twig into a pencil, for example, or a bottlecap into a coin. He also taught them not to transform an object completely, but to merely alter part of its appearance, such as changing the color of their hair, as he had done to Parvati, or changing the pictures on a deck of cards...

Which eventually led to trouble. Although Satoshi was very popular with the students, he was soon in hot water with the teachers, or at least with McGonagall.

"Headmaster!" McGonagall shouted, bursting into Dumbledore's office, dragging Satoshi along behind her like an errant student. Chizuru and Karasu trailed along after them. Dumbledore and Snape looked up with a start. "I'm sorry, Albus, Severus, I didn't mean to interrupt, but this is important!"

"My business can wait," Snape said in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice, not out of any charitable feelings towards McGonagall, but rather out of curiosity. He eyed the tanuki, wondering what mischief the trickster had gotten himself into. Satoshi hung his head down, looking shamefaced and properly cowed, but Snape, with his fifteen years of experience teaching annoying Gryffindor brats, could see a mischievous little twinkle in the tanuki's eyes.

"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"He's been teaching the children to counterfeit money!" McGonagall said indignantly. "And to cheat at cards!"

Satoshi grinned sheepishly. "It was only an example," he protested in an innocent voice. "A simple class exercise; I didn't know that they would use those spells outside of class."

"Oh, don't play dumb, Satoshi," Karasu snorted. "It's an old tanuki trick, turning leaves into money. Of course the spell is only temporary, and the hapless shopkeeper is left with a pile of worthless trash, by which time the tanuki is long gone."

McGonagall glared at the tanuki, and Chizuru smiled a little. "The tanuki are tricksters and pranksters," she said. "It is their nature."

"I don't care; he's setting a bad example for the children!" McGonagall snapped. "That is unacceptable behavior for a teacher!"

Dumbledore affected a stern look, but there was a certain twinkle in his eyes as well. "I think it would be best if you do not show the students anymore tricks that can be so easily abused. Is that clear, Master Satoshi?"

"Yes, sir," Satoshi replied meekly.

"Is that all?" McGonagall asked in a tone of outrage, and Snape smiled with a sense of malicious satisfaction. After all, he had asked the same question in the same outraged tone of voice whenever the Headmaster let off McGonagall's Gryffindors with a mere slap on the wrist.

"Well, I would advise the staff not to play cards with Master Satoshi," Dumbledore added in a mild voice. "Especially not for money." Snape was hard put to stifle his laugher as McGonagall spluttered indignantly. "As for the students involved, give them detention to discourage them from such misdeeds in the future."

"I most certainly will!" McGonagall declared in a tone that boded ill for those students, and swept out of the room in a huff. Chizuru smiled, Karasu sighed and shook his head, and Dumbledore winked at Satoshi, who winked back at him. Snape thought to himself that if the tanuki had been a student, he probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor, and resolved to keep a close eye on him from now on.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape was summoned to the Dark Lord's side one night, although Dylan was not, much to Snape's relief. He had actually been expecting a summons; he had recently completed another batch of the Mind Restoration Potion, and he knew that Voldemort would want a report on the new teachers at Hogwarts.

Snape's guess was correct. "Tell me about these new allies of Dumbledore's," Voldemort ordered him. "Gwydion tells me that they have had private meetings with the Minister of Magic and his top advisors, so I know that they are more than mere teachers. What is the old man's purpose in bringing them to Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore has not confided his reasons to me," Snape replied, "but I think it is no coincidence that all three of these new 'teachers' are non-humans. I believe that he wishes to set an example, not just for the students, but for their parents and the Ministry, to show them that non-humans can live and work on an equal level with humans. The Japanese wizards do not discriminate against those with non-human blood, it seems. In fact, according to my new colleagues, most of the Japanese wizards believe that their powers are derived from non-human ancestors."

"Animal blood," Gwydion muttered distastefully.

Snape refrained from reminding him that he had once been an animal himself, during the three years he and his brother had spent in beast form as punishment for Goewin's rape; the Dark Lord probably wouldn't take kindly to his Death Eaters sniping at one another in the middle of a meeting. So all Snape said was, "They do not regard the shapeshifters and other non-humans as beasts, but rather as semi-divine beings. To them, possessing non-human blood is not a taint, but a badge of honor."

"So," Voldemort said speculatively, "Dumbledore is still trying to build alliances with the non-humans?"

"It appears so, my Lord," Snape replied. "Though he does not seem to have had much success. Hagrid's mission with the giants was a failure, as you know, and the centaurs refuse to ally themselves with humans, except for Firenze, who has been exiled from his people for proposing to do just that. And it seems that the other non-humans are loathe to help Dumbledore unless--"

"Unless the Ministry grants them equal rights under the law," Voldemort finished smugly. "Dumbledore can parade all the exotic foreign non-human allies he wishes before Cornelius Fudge and his Ministers; their pride will never let them agree to such a thing, at least, not until it is too late!" Snape nodded respectfully. "And how did Dumbledore persuade the Japanese wizards to ally with him?"

"It seems that he has convinced them that you will eventually become a threat to them if--" Voldemort frowned and Snape hastily changed his words to, "--I mean, when you win the war here."

Voldemort smiled maliciously. "We have enough to occupy our attention at home right now, but eventually, yes, we will expand our reach outwards. And someday I will punish Dumbledore's little friends for daring to oppose me." Snape forced himself to remain calm and show no sign of fear or dismay at the thought of Voldemort taking the war to Japan and perhaps harming the Kamiyama family, who had treated Lupin and himself so kindly. "So what are your new colleagues like, Severus?" Voldemort asked curiously, apparently sensing nothing out of the ordinary from Snape. "Do they pose a threat to us?"

"I don't think so, my Lord," Snape replied in a scornful voice. "The tanuki is a clever trickster, but not the sort to risk his hide in a battle. The crane woman is a healer, with no offensive magic; she would be useless in a war, save to tend to the wounded. The tengu is bold and brave enough, but he relies too much on physical strength. He might be able to take down a single mage if he caught him by surprise, but there is no way he could stand against a group of wizards."

"Good," the Dark Lord said with satisfaction. "But keep me apprised of the situation, and alert me if anything changes."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And how did your young charges fare with their 'special tutoring' over the holidays, Severus?"

"Very well, my Lord. I am quite pleased with their progress."

"You taught them Dark Warding and Blood Magic, I believe?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, being careful to show no surprise. No one other than Dumbledore, Lupin, and the children knew what spells he had been teaching them, so as Snape suspected, Lucius must have been secretly keeping in contact with Draco.

"The Blood Magic is useful, of course," Lucius said. "But as for the Dark Warding...I had thought you would be teaching them more combative spells, Severus."

"There will be time for that later, Lucius," Snape said calmly, "though of course I must be discreet. But I thought it wise to teach the children some protective magic; the more they prepare to assume their adult responsibilities as full-fledged Death Eaters, the more they will need to conceal, from their classmates, from the other teachers, and most of all, from Dumbledore. I thought it best to take the precaution of making sure that they can ward out eavesdroppers and spies. After all, Lucius, you wouldn't want anyone to stumble across--for example--whatever device Draco is using to communicate with you, would you?"

Voldemort laughed a little, sounding amused. "Clever Severus; your thinking is sound as always. Continue as you have been doing."

Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord. Yes, my Lord."

"And speaking of the children," Voldemort continued, "I hear Avery's girl has the Healing Gift?"

"Yes, my Lord, she does, although it came as something of a surprise to everyone in the school."

Andreas Avery scowled. "I don't want my daughter learning healing! Whoever heard of a Death Eater who was a healer? The very idea's ridiculous!"

"It could come in useful," Snape pointed out. "A trained healer could have healed Bellatrix without a Sanguis Sanatio spell." Bellatrix glared at him, and several of the other Death Eaters, the ones who had contributed their blood to the spell, shifted uneasily. "Besides, she cannot withdraw from the class without drawing undue attention to herself. Let her learn what she can from the crane woman, and put it to use on our behalf."

"I thought that little Serafina had a talent for hexing," Lucius said thoughtfully as Avery shot him a resentful look. "It seems rather odd that she would also turn out to have a talent for healing."

"I did some research," Snape said; he had also consulted with Chizuru, but he did not tell the Death Eaters that. "Miss Avery is particularly adept at casting hexes that deal with pain and wounding. I believe that she may have been using her Healing Gift in reverse--unconsciously, of course."

"What?!" exclaimed Lucius, and even the Dark Lord looked startled. "Can such a thing be done?"

"Theoretically," Snape said with a shrug. "Of course it runs counter to the mindset of most healers, who abide by the Hippocratic oath to 'do no harm'. But logically, if one knows how to heal, one should be able to reverse the process and inflict harm just as easily. More easily, in fact; it is always easier to destroy something rather than repair it. Of course, to use one's powers in such a way would be considered Dark Magic, and is punishable by death or a sentence in Azkaban, depending on the severity of the offense."

Voldemort looked intrigued. "Very interesting," he said in a musing tone. "Yes, Miss Avery must continue her lessons with the healer. And I wish for you to tutor her in this opposite method of healing."

Snape, of course, having no Healing Gift of his own, could not tutor Serafina in the way that Chizuru did, but one did not tell the Dark Lord that something was impossible if one wished to live. Besides, it should not be impossible; although Snape could not cast such healing or anti-healing spells himself, he had enough theoretical knowledge to at least be able to guide her along in her studies. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.

"And by the way," Voldemort said casually, as if in afterthought, but Snape knew that almost everything the Dark Lord did was very carefully planned, "I heard you were quite friendly with our old friend Professor Blackmore at the Yule Ball."

{Dammit, I knew that would cause trouble,} Snape thought to himself sourly. Aloud, he said, "She asked me to dance, my Lord. I tried to refuse, but she was most insistent; I feared further refusal would draw more attention than giving in would."

"And just why was she so insistent upon dancing with you, Severus?" Voldemort asked skeptically. "Can it be that the infamous Branwen Blackmore is enamored of you?"

The Death Eaters laughed mockingly; Snape ignored them. "No, my Lord, not enamored, but the years seem to have made her softer than I ever thought possible. Her motivation was not precisely romance, but it was sentiment that moved her."

"Explain, Severus," Voldemort said with a frown.

"She harbors regret and guilt, my Lord," Snape replied. He did not like giving the Dark Lord such personal information about Branwen, but she had consented to it, and moreover, made it necessary by that impulsive dance at the Ball. Or perhaps it was more than impulse; he needed to pass along information that Voldemort would consider valuable in order to retain his position as the Dark Lord's "spy," and this, Branwen had told him almost smugly, would certainly qualify. Although he was an adult now and didn't really need her protection, she still seemed determined to mother and protect him, along with Lupin and Black. "She suspects that I am still a Death Eater, but she wants to believe that I have changed. She mourns the loss of the students she could not save, such as Rosier and Wilkes, and even the ones sent to kill her, Foley and Riggs. She believes, I think, that if she had said or done something differently, she could have prevented us from entering your service, my Lord."

The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters laughed loud and long. Snape joined in, of course, though he felt no mirth. "How disappointing," Voldemort said, "that Branwen Blackmore should, in the end, turn out to be merely a foolish, sentimental woman after all! She cannot possibly have demon blood; no demon would ever be so soft!"

That was not true, of course. Branwen was part demon, and existed only because her demon forefather had fallen in love with a human woman. Even apart from Branwen's ancestor Araqiel, there were tales and legends of demons falling in love with mortals, although such stories rarely ended happily for the mortals involved. But Snape knew better than to contradict the Dark Lord.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was still chuckling. "Very well, Severus. Continue to cultivate your old Professor, and try to convince her that you are a good little reformed Death Eater."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said obediently, bowing his head.

Voldemort handed over the Mind Restoration Potion to the Donner brothers and dismissed his Death Eaters after that, but motioned for Snape to remain behind. "I would like you to prepare a batch of Strengthening Solution, as well as some Elixir of Vitality."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, without expressing any of the curiosity he felt.

"You may leave now, Severus," Voldemort said, and Snape Disapparated.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alone in his private chambers, the Dark Lord relaxed and let down the glamor he had been projecting, and his form became even more pale and gaunt than usual. The body he had conjured up with Wormtail's help was not a true body, but a magical construct that had to be maintained, and his strength was draining at a more rapid pace than he had anticipated. The potions he had ordered Snape to make would help stave off his degeneration, but it was merely a stopgap measure. He had not yet sent his Death Eaters on a killing spree, because their numbers had fallen, and they were in a weaker position than they had been in the past, but soon they would have to gather sacrifices for him, in order for him to sustain his body and his strength. This was why his research on Dylan's roses was so important: he not only wanted to control them as a weapon without the Rosier boy's help, but he also wanted to harness the vampiric powers of the roses themselves. He wanted to find a way to feed off the blood and strength of others as easily as the roses did; blood sacrifice accomplished more or less the same thing, but it required a great deal of time and preparation and many complicated rituals to perform correctly. It would be so much easier if he could suck out a victim's life-force and transfer it to himself with a mere touch...

And he suspected that part of his weakness had something to do with the way he and the Potter boy were bound together by the prophecy and the rebounded Killing Curse. The boy had vanquished him once; he needed to return the favor in order to restore himself to full power. And Potter was the only one who could kill him...once the boy was dead, there would be no one to stop him from ruling the world, and whatever he needed--blood, power, even a new body, perhaps--would be his for the taking.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape reported on Voldemort's request at the next Order meeting.

"What does You-Know-Who want with those Potions?" Shacklebolt wondered aloud, a frown creasing his forehead.

"I don't know," Snape replied. "I'm not even sure whether he wants them for himself or for one or more of the Death Eaters."

"Helpful as always, Snape," Moody muttered sarcastically.

"What exactly do these potions do, Severus?" Tonks asked.

Snape heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I see you have forgotten most of what I taught you in Potions class, Miss Tonks," he said, and the young witch flushed in embarrassment while Black glared at him. Snape smirked a little; it was so easy to bait a Gryffindor, like taking candy from a baby, really...but Lupin was also giving him a stern look, so Snape cleared his throat and continued. "Strengthening Solution, as the name implies, gives the imbiber added strength and stamina. It can be used to give one enough strength to perform some task that would otherwise be impossible--lifting an impossibly heavy object or running for miles without rest, for example. It can also be used to temporarily sustain someone who is weakened through illness or injury, but it's no substitute for a healing potion--in fact, it's dangerous to consume it too frequently or in too great a dosage. The potion imparts great strength to the imbiber, but the human body is not meant to sustain such strength. No harm is done with only a small dose and a very short period of heightened strength, but using it for too long can inflict permanent damage on the body. The Elixir of Vitality is a weakened but much safer version of the Strengthening Solution. It imparts a feeling of energy and good health, and contains herbs that help to strengthen the immune system, leaving one less susceptible to small illnesses such as colds or the flu."

"My Great-Aunt Martha swears by it," Dedalus Diggle said musingly. "Has a draught of it once every week. She's still hale and hearty, so I suppose it works."

"That's very nice for Aunt Martha," Sirius said impatiently, "but I'm more worried about what Voldemort wants it for. Could he be planning some mission for the Death Eaters requiring a great feat of strength?"

"Not that I know of," Snape replied, "though of course he does not tell me everything. And that does not explain the Elixir of Vitality. I wonder..." He frowned thoughtfully.

"Care to share your thoughts with us, Snape?" Shacklebolt asked irritably, when Snape did not continue.

Snape shot him a glare, just on principle, but he was too worried to really take offense. "The Dark Lord's current body was built out of blood and bone and Dark Magic. I am just wondering if he requires magic to maintain it."

There were startled exclamations from around the table. Branwen thought it over for a moment, then said, "It's possible. My father taught me that power always comes with a price, and the greater the power, the greater the price. This is especially true of Dark Magic."

"But he's had that body since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, nearly two years ago!" Sirius protested. "And he's never asked Snape for those potions before!"

"I could be wrong," Branwen said with a shrug. "Or perhaps the spell he used to create his body is beginning to deteriorate."

"It isn't permanent?" Tonks asked, looking shocked.

Branwen shrugged again. "No one has done such a thing within living memory; I'm not sure that anyone, even Voldemort, truly understands how such a spell really works. Dark Spells with a long-term effect usually require blood or magic--or both--at regular intervals to sustain them."

"If that's true," Sirius said excitedly, "if old Voldie's losing his strength, then that means he's vulnerable! We might have a chance to defeat him!"

"That also makes him very dangerous," Snape warned. "It could make him desperate. He's kept a low profile since his return, but if he needs to sustain the spell keeping him alive--or embodied, rather--he might start killing victims again in Blood Magic rituals. Or he might get desperate enough to try and strike out at Potter."

Sirius went pale, and Lupin reminded him in a quiet voice, "And Harry is the one who must defeat him. We can help fight the Death Eaters, but Harry is the one who must face down Voldemort, one-on-one, and I'm not sure he's ready for that yet."

"I'm certain that he's not," Snape declared firmly.

Molly Weasley's face was as pale as Sirius's, and she looked terrified; her husband looked grim and worried. They reached out without looking and tightly clasped each other's hands.

"Very well," Dumbledore said in a grave voice. "We must be on guard, and we at Hogwarts must watch over Harry very carefully. Severus, please inform us if you hear anything more from Voldemort or the Death Eaters."

"Of course, Headmaster."

The meeting disbanded, with a very gloomy air.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hagrid led his fifth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class into the Forbidden Forest one day, his students reluctantly following behind and wondering what he had in store for them today. Something nasty with a lot of of sharp teeth, they thought gloomily, because the Gamekeeper was carrying a side of beef on his shoulder.

"I thought it was forbidden for us to enter the forest," Damien grumbled. "Hence, the name 'Forbidden' Forest."

"I'm with yeh, so it's fine," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Yeh don' have ter worry about gettin' detention."

"Well, that's very reassuring," Damien muttered sarcastically, and despite the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, most of the Gryffindors looked like they agreed with him.

If Dylan had been paying closer attention, he might have guessed what was coming and been able to prepare himself better. But he was distracted by thoughts of the secret Dark Arts lessons from Snape (which had tapered off after school started, but he was still tutoring them, just less frequently), which in turn reminded him of the Dark Lord and the Mark on his arm. Snape had said that the Dark Lord wanted them to learn these spells, and he was worried that meant Voldemort intended to Mark the other Death Eater offspring soon. He didn't really care so much about Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, although he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but he was very worried about Theo, who often looked frightened and tense these days, and to a lesser extent about Serafina, who seemed like a decent sort despite her odd ways. It was clear that she didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps, so she couldn't be all that bad. And on a more mundane level, he was irritated because Valentine's Day was coming up soon, and he didn't dare send a gift to Hermione. Well, maybe he could send it through Lupin, but she shared a dorm room with Parvati and Lavender, so it was probably a risk he shouldn't take, because they might happen to see her open his gift and wonder who it was from. He had seen her wearing the charm bracelet he'd given her for Christmas (minus the rose charm; it was a long shot that anyone would connect it with him, but she was probably wise to leave it off), which cheered him up slightly, but Weasley had been gazing at her with a doe-eyed look ever since the Yule Ball, and Dylan had overheard him making plans to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione and Potter. It wasn't quite a date, but he suspected Weasley was trying to work up enough courage to finally make his move. It was absolutely ridiculous for Dylan, the most popular boy in the school (at least among the girls), to be jealous of homely, scruffy Weasley, but he was...

So, because he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the arrival of the Thestrals took him completely by surprise. Hagrid threw the side of beef to the ground and let out a loud, shrieking cry. A few moments later, a nearly skeletal black horse with leathery bat-like wings appeared, stared at the children with pupil-less white eyes, then bent down and tore into the meat with long, pointed fangs. Dylan gasped and took a step back; so did a Gryffindor girl named Melissa. The other students gave them a puzzled look, then they too gasped with fear and surprise when saw strips of meat being torn away from the side of beef and vanishing into thin air.

"Thestrals!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Very good, Ginny!" Hagrid said, beaming at her. "Five points ter Gryffindor."

"You can see them!" Damien exclaimed sharply, his eyes widening in surprise, and Dylan cursed himself for being so careless; he should have feigned ignorance. He had never been able to see the Thestrals before, but now he could, because he had seen Karkaroff die on Halloween night, slain by Dylan's own roses on the Dark Lord's orders.

"It figures that a Death Eater would be able to see the Thestrals," a Gryffindor boy said in a loud stage whisper. Dylan glared at the boy, but he was even more irked that Hagrid pretended not to hear the remark. Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore would have given detention or deducted points for such a remark, and McGonagall and Flitwick would at least have reprimanded the boy, but the Gamekeeper did nothing. He often caught Hagrid giving him suspicious sidelong glances, and he knew that Hagrid had been one of the staff members who had argued against admitting a known Death Eater's son to Hogwarts. In fact, Hagrid was giving him one of those sidelong glances right now. {Probably wondering who I've killed,} Dylan thought to himself darkly.

The Gryffindors were quietly asking Melissa who she had seen die, and she replied, "My great-grandmother, last summer. She was at St. Mungo's, she had been sick for a long time..." No one, not even any of the Slytherins, asked Dylan whose death he had seen; they were probably afraid of what the answer might be.

Later that night, alone in their dorm room, Damien asked hesitantly, "I didn't know you could see the Thestrals. Whose death did you see?"

"An old family friend," Dylan replied. It was not quite a lie; Karkaroff had been a comrade of Dylan's father, after all, although he didn't know if Evan Rosier had actually considered him a "friend". "He, um, had a terminal disease." Which was only half a lie; Karkaroff had not had a disease, but he had been marked for death when he tried to run from his Master and escape the Death Eaters. For all that it had taken over a year before he was actually killed, Karkaroff had been a walking dead man from the moment he fled the Triwizard Tournament.

"Oh," Damien said, looking as though he didn't quite believe Dylan's answer. But he dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hermione sat with Ginny in a secluded corner of the library; she wanted to get some advice from her friend, and she didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "I think Ron, well, likes me," she said in a halting voice, reluctant to voice the words aloud, as if that would make them true. Besides, it was a little awkward saying such things to Ron's sister, but she didn't have anyone else to confide in. "I mean, as more than a friend..."

Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "That's been obvious ever since your fourth year, when he got so jealous of Viktor Krum. You only just now realized?"

Hermione flushed, looking a little chagrined. "Well, I...we've been friends since first year...I never thought..." she stammered.

Ginny laughed, but in a kindly manner. "I guess it's harder to see when you're personally involved. Okay, so we know that Ron likes you. The question is, do you like him?"

"Of course I like him," Hermione said, looking a little distraught, "but as a friend! I never thought of him that way! I never even considered it a possibility..."

"Well, now that you know, is there any possibility that you could return his feelings?" Ginny asked. "Or..." She gave her friend a shrew look. "Perhaps there's someone else you like?" Hermione blushed. {Bingo,} Ginny thought.

Hermione bit her lip and began tugging nervously on her charm bracelet. "Well, sort of. But it's not...we can't...I mean, it wouldn't really work out, at least, not right now..."

When the other Gryffindor girls had admired her new bracelet, Hermione had told them that her mother had given it to her, but because Ginny had been with her when she opened the present at Sirius's house, she knew who it was really from. "Is it Dylan?" Ginny asked quietly. To her surprise, Hermione looked more frightened than embarrassed.

"You can't tell anyone that!" Hermione said in a hushed but frantic voice. "It could get Dylan in trouble!"

Ginny frowned. "I know Malfoy doesn't like to see the Slytherins associating with Gryffindors, but Pansy and Millicent seem to have become chummy with Parvati and Lavender, and Damien danced with Parvati at the ball--"

"This is different!" Hermione insisted, still whispering. "I can't talk about it--but it could be dangerous for him!"

"You can't tell me why?" Ginny asked, still frowning.

"I promised--someone--that I wouldn't tell anyone about it," Hermione said miserably.

"Okay," Ginny said, touching her hand briefly. "I trust you, and I know you have to keep your word."

"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully.

"A star-crossed romance sounds really romantic in books," Ginny continued, "but it doesn't seem like it would be very satisfying in real life. I won't try and push Ron on you just because he's my brother, but wouldn't it be more practical to go after a guy who's attainable?"

"You're so practical, Ginny," Hermione sighed.

Ginny grinned. "Funny, that's what people usually say about you!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "And here I am mooning over some boy I can't have!" She touched the bracelet again. "I know Ron's a great guy, and he's one of my best friends, but...you can't make yourself fall in love with somebody just because they'd be good for you."

"I suppose you're right," Ginny said ruefully. "Though it sure would be a lot easier if we could pick and choose who we'd fall in love with! Poor Ron...try and let him down easy, okay?"

Hermione blushed again and changed the subject. "So, what about you and Harry?"

It was Ginny's turn to flush. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, you two got along so well at the Yule Ball..."

"Yeah, but he hasn't treated me any differently since then..."

"That's not really true," Hermione said. "He gets a little flustered and tongue-tied around you now."

"He's just embarrassed that I gave him that goodnight kiss," Ginny said, but she looked pleased. "Besides, I'm totally over him. I mean it was just a crush; I was infatuated with 'Famous Harry Potter,' not the real person. I didn't even really know him at the time..."

"But you know him now," Hermione pointed out. "As a real person, not the Boy Who Lived. And he knows you."

"I'm not going to waste my time chasing after some unattainable boy," Ginny said stubbornly.

"He's not so unattainable," Hermione said in a casual voice. "He's over Cho, you know. He told Michael Corner that he hoped they'd be happy together, and he seemed to mean it." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I think he might be holding back because of Dean. They're friends, so I think he feels it would be disloyal to go after Dean's ex-girlfriend. You have to give him some time, Ginny. Boys can be so dense sometimes..."

Ginny sighed. "No kidding."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin sang out as he entered Snape's quarters through the fireplace, carrying a large heart-shaped box of candy.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus," Snape said, accepting the gift and giving him a kiss, then presented Lupin with a box of his own.

Lupin opened the box and exclaimed with pleasure, "Homemade chocolates?"

Snape grinned, looking a little sheepish. "Yes, I made them myself in my workshop."

Lupin grinned back, remembering the prank Severus, Evan, and Lyall had played on James back in third year. "These don't have any Swelling Solution in them, do they?"

Snape laughed and put his arms around Lupin, pulling him close. "No, I like your body just the way it is..."

As Lupin returned the embrace, he caught a glimpse over Snape's shoulder of a small box wrapped with a ribbon lying on Snape's desk. "What's this, Severus?" he asked in mock-suspicion. "Is someone else giving you Valentine's Day presents? You know how jealous we werewolves can get..."

"Oh, knock it off, Lupin," Snape said, stepping back with a scowl. "It's from Chizuru; you probably got one just like it. It's the custom in Japan, for women to give chocolates on Valentine's Day, not just to their sweethearts, but to their male colleagues. 'Girichoko'--'duty chocolates'. I'm sure she gave them to all the male teachers."

Lupin laughed. "Yes, I got one, too; I was just teasing you." He kissed the tip of Snape's beaky nose. "Hagrid was quite thrilled with his gift."

"Someone should have warned Chizuru that the big oaf might take it seriously," Snape said with a frown. "The way he's been drooling over her..."

"Karasu seems quite protective of her," Lupin said, unconcerned. "I'm sure he'll keep Hagrid from getting out of line." He growled playfully and bared his teeth at Snape. "Now, as I said before, werewolves tend to be jealous, and the wolf is feeling a bit neglected, what with all this talk about Chizuru..."

"You're the one who brought it up," Snape complained, then gasped as Lupin began nuzzling his throat. Lupin growled in his ear, and he completely lost his train of thought. "Uh...what were we talking about?"

"How jealous and possessive werewolves are," Lupin said in a low, husky growl, his breath tickling Snape's ear.

"Oh...right," Snape said, wrapping his arms around Lupin again. "Well, then, I suppose we'd better take care of the wolf's needs; we can't have a werewolf tearing around the school on a rampage, after all..."

"Sometimes, Severus," Lupin said affectionately, "you talk too much." He cut off Snape's words with a firm kiss, and there was no talking in the Potions Master's quarters (unless one counted wordless moans or cries of passion) for quite some time.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The three friends strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, but the atmosphere was a bit tense. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet, and kept fidgeting nervously, putting his hands in his pockets, then taking them out, then putting them back in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. Meanwhile, Hermione kept chattering in a falsely bright voice about nothing in particular. "It's a nice day, isn't it? So bright and sunny; a perfect day for a Hogsmeade outing. Oh, let's stop at Scrivenshaft's; I wanted to get a new quill. The black-and-gold one I bought from them last year was so nice--"

"Er, maybe later," Ron said, turning down the street heading towards Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, the customary location for trysting couples. "Why don't we, uh, stop at Puddifoot's for a, um, coffee or something?"

"You don't drink coffee," Hermione pointed out.

"For a cup of tea, then!" Ron snapped. Then blushing, he added in a milder voice, "Just for a bit. I'm, um, really thirsty."

Ron glanced at Harry, who quickly said, "Oh, I forgot I was supposed to...to...um, drop off something at the post office!"

Hermione gazed at him suspiciously. "Why don't you use Hedwig?"

"It's not my letter," Harry said, thinking frantically. "It, uh, belongs to a second-year who doesn't have his own owl. He, ah, asked me to drop it off for him. Look, why don't you two go on ahead and I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Hermione heaved a sigh of resignation and entered the tea shop with Ron. Harry wandered off, thinking that maybe he'd stop at Zonko's or Honeydukes to kill some time. He was a little worried; he didn't think Ron's "date" was off to a good start, judging by Hermione's reluctance, and he wondered what this would do to the friendship the three of them shared. As he paused outside of Zonko's, he heard someone say, "Hi, Harry."

He looked up and said, "Oh, hi, Ginny."

"Where're Ron and Hermione?"

Harry gestured vaguely in the direction of the tea shop. "At Madam Puddifoot's."

"Poor Ron," Ginny sighed. "I hope she lets him down easy."

"You knew?" Harry asked, startled.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was only so obvious. But she doesn't feel the same way about him."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling completely out of the loop. He hadn't even been aware that Ron liked Hermione as more than a friend till the Yule Ball, but then again, he didn't think that Ron had been aware of that himself--consciously, anyway--for much longer than that. Besides, between his regular schoolwork, his Occlumency lessons, and worrying what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to, Harry had little time to ponder his friends' love lives.

"Maybe we should go check up on them," Ginny suggested.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Harry said, but Ginny was already heading towards the tea shop, so Harry shrugged and followed her. They looked through the window, and saw the pair sitting at a nearby table. Hermione was speaking, with an earnest and worried expression on her face, and Ron looked crestfallen. Harry was feeling very sorry for his friend, when he saw Ginny's eyes widen in surprise and move towards another table across the room. He looked over and saw Dean Thomas sitting at a table with Susan Bones from Hufflepuff; they were smiling and leaning across the table to talk to each other, their faces almost, but not quite, touching. He looked anxiously at Ginny, but she looked more relieved than offended.

"Good!" she said. "He's finally moved on."

This made Harry feel surprisingly lighthearted, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Ron's expression changed from crestfallen to angry. "I suppose you're hung up on Dylan Rosier, like all the other girls!" he shouted, loud enough for Harry and Ginny to hear. The other couples in the shop looked up at them.

"Don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione retorted, beginning to look angry herself.

"It's not like he'd ever look at a Gryffindor girl!" Ron continued, as if he hadn't heard.

"I'm not going to sit here and be shouted at!" Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I'll listen to you when you're ready to be reasonable and stop talking nonsense."

"Nonsense?!" Ron spluttered, but Hermione was already stalking out of the shop. Ginny went off with her to try and comfort her. Harry tried to console Ron, without much success.

"Women," Ron said in a disgusted voice. "Why's she so hung up on a guy who doesn't want to be seen in public with her?"

"I don't think that she and Dylan--" Harry started to say.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?!" Ron asked indignantly. After that, Harry just listened without saying anything more, nodding sympathetically at suitable intervals.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the Slytherins returned from Hogsmeade, the girls were giggling and Draco was smirking smugly.

"What's so funny?" Dylan asked, looking up from the card game he was playing with Theo and Blaise in the common room.

"You're so popular, Dylan," Pansy said in a singsong voice.

"Weasley and Granger were having a fight over you!" Damien said with a grin.

"Ginny and Hermione?" Dylan asked in shock.

"No, you dolt!" Draco said, still smirking. "RON Weasley!"

"He was pouring out his heart to her in Madam Puddifoot's--" Millicent said.

"Where you and Miles were getting a little cozy yourselves," Pansy said coyly.

Millicent blushed. "Never mind that now; we were talking about Weasley and Granger. So he's confessing his feelings for her, but she tells him that she only thinks of him as a friend."

"Ouch!" Damien said, wincing. "I hate the old 'lets just be friends' speech."

"Don't interrupt," Millicent scolded. "Then he starts shouting at her about how she's hung up on Dylan like all the other girls."

"ME?!" Dylan exclaimed. "Er...what did she say?"

"Oh, that he was being silly and talking nonsense, and then she walked out on him."

"I love it," Draco crowed. "Potter's two faithful sidekicks, fighting over one of us! Never thought Granger cared about anything but her homework, but I guess even she can't resist your charm, Rosier!"

"She's too much of a bookworm for my taste," Dylan said scornfully, and Draco and the girls laughed. His heart was pounding with fear, but he was careful to keep his face calm, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Eh, I don't blame her for not liking Weasley, though," Damien said, making a face.

"Well, of course," Pansy said, as if pointing out the obvious. "How could any girl, even a Gryffindor, prefer Weasley over Dylan?!"

To Dylan's relief, it never crossed anyone's mind that he might actually return Hermione's feelings, and Draco, far from being annoyed, was actually pleased at the turmoil Dylan was causing--however unintentionally--in Gryffindor House.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

After a few weeks of Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other, Harry was at the end of his rope. He didn't know what to do, but Ginny had a very practical solution. One nice, sunny Saturday morning when everyone else was out of the dorm, Ginny brought Hermione to Ron and Harry's room.

As the two feuding friends glared at each other, Ginny said in a stern, no-nonsense voice, "This has gone on long enough! Your friendship is too valuable for you to throw it away over a petty quarrel!

"But he--" Hermione said indignantly.

"But she--" Ron protested.

"I don't care whose fault it is," Ginny interrupted. "You two are staying here until you work things out!" Then she dragged Harry out of the room--he flashed his friends a helpless, sympathetic look--and slammed the door behind her, sealing it with a ward that could only be removed from the outside of the room.

"The door's locked!" Ron said, jiggling the doorknob.

"I think she's warded it," Hermione said, sounding both annoyed and curious at the same time.

"Can't you dispel it?!"

Hermione tried, without success. "I think you have to be on the side of door on which the spell was cast. It's probably the same spell Professor Lupin taught us in class."

The two friends stared at each other. "Well..." Ron said reluctantly.

"Well..." echoed Hermione.

"Look, I'm sorry," they both started to say at once, then stopped and laughed a little despite themselves. "You first," said Ron.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Ron," Hermione said. "You're my best friend, and I really, really like you, but--"

"But not that way," Ron finished in a resigned tone. "I know; I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's not because you yelled at me that I was so mad," Hermione explained. "But that you said in front of all those people that I like Dylan. I told you before, Dylan would get in trouble if people found out he has a Gryffindor friend!"

"He's Snape's pet," Ron said sullenly. "Snape's not going to let him get expelled just because Malfoy gets into a snit."

"I'm not talking about that!" Hermione snapped.

Ron stared at her in confusion. "Then what are you talking about?"

Hermione bit her lip; Snape had made her promise not to tell anyone what he had told her about Dylan being in danger, but she had to make Ron understand. "Look at it logically," she said cautiously. "Dylan is a Death Eater's son. The Death Eaters are on the loose now."

"So?" Ron said, uncomprehendingly. "He should be jumping for joy."

If the door hadn't been locked with a warding spell, Hermione might have stomped out, but it was, so she took a deep breath, silently counted to ten, and tried again. "Suppose, just for one minute, that Dylan doesn't want to be a Death Eater like his father. Just for the sake of argument."

"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "Just for the sake of argument."

"How do you think his father's old friends would feel about him getting cozy with the enemy?"

Ron's eyes widened in shock and--finally!--comprehension. "They...they wouldn't like it. Maybe they'd even..." He turned a little pale and swallowed hard. "But that's assuming he doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps."

"People aren't always what they seem, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "Snape isn't."

"Yeah, well, I'm still not convinced about him, either," Ron mumbled. Hermione glared at him, and he hastened to add, "But I won't talk about you and Rosier in public anymore, okay? I promise."

"Thanks," Hermione said. "There's nothing to talk about, anyway. There's nothing going on between us. Even if we wanted to...be more than friends...we couldn't. Because of the danger."

She looked so sad that Ron found himself saying, "I'm sorry," much to his surprise. But he was glad he did, because she smiled at him warmly.

"Friends?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand.

"Friends," Ron said, and shook it.

Ginny, her ear pressed against the door, grinned and gave Harry a thumbs-up, then released the warding spell.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Goewin was about five months pregnant, her belly now forming a visible bulge beneath her robes. She finally understood how Dylan and Ariane must have felt, being virtual prisoners on the estate for so many years; she had not left the house since she had found out about her pregnancy, and felt like she was going to go stark raving mad from boredom and staring at the same walls day after day after day. Of course her family tried to support her: Dylan sent her letters every week from school; Ariane was being kinder to her than normal; and Math hovered over her so solicitously, not wanting her to exert herself in the slightest, that she had to remind him that she wasn't made of glass. She occupied herself with reading, decorating the baby's nursery, and, of course, trying to interpret the visions her unborn daughter was sending her.

The morning sickness had ceased, and Goewin was trying to get enough food and rest to keep the baby healthy, but the nightmares she had almost every night made that difficult, and she could not take a sleeping draught, because Severus and Madam Pomfrey said it would be bad for the baby. She dreamed of blood and battles, dreamed of Dylan and his friends fighting on the battlefield. Sometimes she saw Math and Ariane there as well. But recently she had begun to have different dreams...

"You look so pale, my dear," Math said in a concerned voice one morning. "Another nightmare?"

Goewin nodded. "I saw a serpent and a lion entwined together--as if locked in an embrace or in combat, I'm not sure which. Both, maybe."

"Gryffindor and Slytherin?" Ariane guessed. "Or the Dark Lord and Harry Potter, perhaps, locked in a deadly embrace?"

"I don't know," Goewin said wearily. "But I suppose you should pass it along to the Order."

"We will," Math said. "Did you See anything else?"

"No," Goewin lied. Lately she had begun having dreams even more disturbing than the earlier ones: herself, lying bound on an altar in a dark room, or on the ground in the middle of a circle inscribed with the runes and symbols meant for a blood sacrifice. In her dreams she was surrounded by chanting Death Eaters; sometimes she could see her nephews' gray eyes through the slits in their hoods. Sometimes Voldemort killed her and her baby, which was bad enough, but in the very worst ones, he took her baby from her dying body, and her dream-self knew that he was going to raise it as his own, twisting the innocent child to his own evil purposes. Those were the dreams that caused her to jerk awake, soaking in sweat; once she had woke up screaming, but when Math asked her what was wrong, she had said only that she had seen Voldemort winning the war in her dream. What would be the point in telling him the truth, after all? This estate was one of the most well-guarded residences in Britain, and her husband was one of the most powerful mages in the world. There was little more anyone could do to make her safer than she already was, so telling Math about the dreams would only make him worry needlessly. She would mention them only if she saw some way in which they could be prevented. Maybe as the baby grew older, the dreams would become clearer...although Goewin was not sure if she wanted to see them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the weeks passed, Snape was kept very busy with his duties to the school, to the Order, and to the Dark Lord; it was not easy, sometimes, serving two masters. In addition to his normal lessons, he was still tutoring Potter and Dylan in Occlumency, and the Death Eater offspring in the Dark Arts, although he had reduced their lessons to no more than once every week or two--for fear of arousing suspicions, he told Draco when the boy began chafing at the slow pace of those lessons. He and Dylan had been summoned a couple of times, when the Dark Lord wanted Dylan to harvest more of the rose blossoms for him, and the last time, Voldemort had also wanted to "harvest" Dylan's blood. He nicked the boy's wrist with a knife, and filled a small flask with the blood; enough to make Dylan go a little pale, but not enough to make him faint. The boy had borne it without flinching or otherwise showing any fear, which made Snape proud of him, but he worried about what uses the Dark Lord might put that blood to. Most likely to try and harness the power of the roses himself, but as any experienced mage knew, it was dangerous to allow part of your essence to fall into the hands of an enemy. A simple strand of hair had caused Tonks so much trouble when a Death Eater had used it in a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate her, and blood could be put to even worse uses; there were many Dark Spells that allowed the caster to inflict harm upon someone if he had a little of the victim's blood. But there was nothing Snape could do except to worry, and wait. Sometimes the waiting drove him crazy; he had been waiting for over fifteen years for the war to reach its final conclusion. Yet at the same time, he dreaded the day of the final battle, because no one, not even a seer such as Miyako or Goewin, knew how it would end.

He was kept very busy brewing potions in his workshop; there was the Mind Restoration Potion to be brewed for the Donner brothers, and Voldemort continued to request a steady supply of Strengthening Solution and Elixir of Vitality. In addition to this, he of course had to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, and the Headmaster had requested that he begin brewing it in greater amounts. He was trying to win over the non-humans--or at least the werewolves--with a gesture of good faith, it seemed. Snape was beginning to feel stretched thin, so he drafted Dylan's help. Since his uncles' status among the Death Eaters was no longer a secret, it was safe for Snape to explain to Dylan about the Mind Restoration Potion and how it was brewed--although Snape smiled a little at the irony of turning their work for the Death Eaters into a lesson. But the boy might as well learn something while he was working; no knowledge was ever wasted, so the saying went. He also had Dylan help him with the Wolfsbane Potion.

The boy found the work challenging and enjoyable, but as always, he was quick to pick up on details that other students might have overlooked. "Why are we brewing so much of this?" Dylan asked. "Surely Professor Lupin can't drink all this in one month! It looks more like a year's supply!"

Snape sighed, torn between pride and irritation at the boy's quick wit; he really was too clever for his own good sometimes. "It is shortsighted, Rosier," Snape said in his usual cold voice, "to make only enough to last for the current month. What would happen if I fell ill and could not brew next month's supply, or if the current batch was somehow ruined? Unlikely, you might say, but I prefer to be prepared for the unexpected. I want to always have a more than adequate supply on hand; the consequences of Lupin missing his potion could be devastating."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan said meekly, looking properly chastised, and asked no more questions about the Wolfsbane Potion. But Snape had no doubt that behind that meek look, the boy's mind was still puzzling over the matter and drawing its own conclusions--possibly even the correct one.

Snape also tutored Serafina in her anti-healing lessons, as Voldemort had ordered. At their first session, Snape explained how she had been using her Healing Gift in reverse.

"Professor Chizuru also told me that, sir," she said quietly. "She was most distressed. She said a healer must never use their Gift that way, that it's evil."

"Evil is relative, Serafina," Snape said in a dry voice. "I'm not saying that you should use it lightly--and indeed, I shall punish you most severely if I catch you using your Gift to play pranks on your classmates." It wasn't very likely that the girl would abuse her Gift in such a way (although no doubt Draco would if he had it), but the warning came out of his mouth almost automatically. Serafina just nodded obediently. "But," Snape continued, "if your life were in danger, I wouldn't advise you to ponder the morality of using your Gift to inflict harm--at least not until after the danger had passed."

Serafina gave him a thoughtful look and then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Did Professor Chizuru explain how healing magic works?"

"Yes, sir. Energy flows through the body in a certain pattern; she calls them 'meridians'. When a person is ill or injured, the healer directs the flow of energy to the sick or injured parts of the body, thereby encouraging the body to heal itself faster."

"Very good. And if you should disrupt this flow of energy?"

"Depending on how severely and how long you disrupted the flow of energy, it could cause any reaction between mild discomfort and death," Serafina replied in a toneless voice.

"Demonstrate for me upon this rat," Snape instructed her.

She cast the spell, one similar to the Aperio spell, that enabled her to see the natural energy of a living being. She was still a beginner at healing magic, but she was able to disrupt the energy flow, sending it off in random directions. The rat began to tremble, then make little squeaks of distress. As it began to go into convulsions and a tiny thread of blood began to leak out of its mouth, she asked in an expressionless voice, "How long do you want me to keep this up?"

"You may stop now," Snape said, watching her carefully. Serafina immediately broke off the spell, and the rat lay on its side, gasping for breath. "You didn't like doing that," Snape observed in a conversational tone.

"No," she replied, almost defiantly, and Snape blinked in surprise at that rare hint of emotion. "But I am able to do things I do not like."

Snape smiled, just the slightest upward curving of one corner of his mouth, but Serafina noticed, and it was her turn to stare at him in surprise. "Good," he said.

"Good that I don't like doing it?" Serafina asked, staring at him intently. "Or good that I'm able to do it even though I don't like it?"

"Both," Snape replied, and the girl's eyes grew even wider. This was deadly serious business, but Snape felt pleased that he'd broken through her shell a little. By now he was certain that she had no wish to join the Death Eaters, but she could still put his cover and his life in jeopardy if she let it slip to her parents that Severus Snape did not revel in pain and torture like a good Death Eater should. However, he could not win her over without taking certain risks, and she wasn't really the type to go gossiping carelessly about it; he had never observed the girl at her home, but he was quite sure that she was just as taciturn there as she was at school. "I don't wish for you to enjoy it, but neither do I want you to be so squeamish that you can't perform these spells if it becomes necessary." She remained silent, so he continued, "You did very well, but of course it is much easier to perform these spells on a small creature like a rat than on a human. And you are much more likely to need to protect yourself from a human than a rat."

"And you are teaching me these spells solely for my protection?" Serafina asked, with just a hint of sarcasm. Snape was pleased rather than annoyed, because it was a sign that she'd begun to trust him, or at least he hoped so. She had never let her guard down this much before.

"It is one of the reasons," Snape said softly.

"And the others?" Serafina persisted.

"My reasons are my own," Snape said, quietly but firmly. "As what you do with these spells is up to you."

For just a second, the girl's mask slipped, and he saw shock, hope, fear, and suspicion all mingled on her face. Then her normal blank expression was back on her face. She looked down at the rat and said in her usual toneless voice, "I think it will die unless I heal it," as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other.

"It was destined for the Owlery," Snape said casually, but he was very interested to see what she would do next. "However, you may heal it if you wish."

"No point, if it's just going to be eaten," she said; she seemed to be watching for his reaction just as carefully as he was watching for hers.

Snape shrugged. "Then put it out of its misery. Or...you can keep it, if you like. Losing one rat won't cause the owls to die of starvation."

He had startled her into showing an emotional reaction. "Wh...what would I do with a rat?" she asked, looking a little flustered.

"You don't have a familiar, do you? Every student is allowed to bring a toad, rat, owl, or cat to school."

She stared down at the rat, then lifted her wand and cast the healing spell. It sniffed at her hand, seeming to understand that she had relieved its pain, and she hesitantly stroked it with one finger. Then she suddenly jerked her hand away and said, "No! I can't keep it!"

Snape was startled to hear such a vehement response from her. "Why not?" he asked.

She looked visibly upset for the first time in all the years he had been teaching her. "Because...because...I can't keep a pet! It would make me look soft! If you care about something, people can use it against you as a weapon!"

Snape felt a sudden stab of pain at hearing her words, so similar to the words his father had drilled into his head as a child, that only weak people were ruled by sentiment. He had spent most of his life fighting his feelings for Lupin because he had feared being weak and giving someone else control over him, because Slytherins were taught that emotions were a weapon to be used like any other. He wondered despairingly if every Slytherin child held that belief, that loving someone created a hostage to fortune that an enemy could use against you. No, some of his Slytherins were soft and spoiled, but Draco was probably the only one among the Death Eater offspring who had not yet learned that lesson firsthand.

"We are talking about more than a rat, I think," Snape said in a gentle voice that none of his students other than Dylan had ever heard. Maybe that was what shocked her into opening up to him, or maybe she was simply near her breaking point. Snape knew better than anyone what it cost to always keep your emotions hidden, showing nothing to the outside world, no matter how much you wanted to shout or scream or cry...

"When I was seven," Serafina said, shaking a little, "the neighbor's cat had kittens, and they gave me one. A proper familiar for a young witch. He was all black except for a white spot on his chest, and I named him Grimalkin, Grim for short. He followed me around everywhere, slept on my bed at night. He loved me, and I loved him, and I made the mistake of letting my father see that. One day I was petting Grim while he lay in my lap, and my father came and snatched him up. He said that a familiar wasn't a pet to be babied and coddled, and that I'd never become a Death Eater if I could go so soft, especially over a stupid beast. Then he broke Grim's neck with his bare hands. I wanted to cry, but I didn't, because I was scared he'd kill me, too."

Snape wanted to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder, as he might have done for Dylan or Theodore, but she was looking spooked and skittish, like a wild animal, and he was afraid such a gesture might scare her off. So he settled for saying softly, "I'm sorry, Serafina." It seemed completely inadequate; all these years, Nott and Avery had been tormenting their children, and Snape had done nothing about it. The fact that there was not much he could have done was of little comfort to him.

Well, he was trying to help them now, however belatedly, and there was one small thing he could do. He picked up the rat, and Serafina looked up in alarm. "Don't worry, Miss Avery, I'm not going to feed it to the owls," he assured her. Then he scowled at the rat; what was he going to do with the creature? It wasn't as if he could be caught having a pet anymore than Serafina could. "I'll give it to the werewolf," he decided. "Lupin is such a soft touch, he'd feel sorry even for a scrap of owl bait."

Her eyes flew open wide for a moment, then narrowed in thought. This was now the third time he had mentioned Lupin in her presence, and this time he had done it deliberately. He was not ready to come out and openly declare that he was not a true Death Eater, but he knew that she was smart enough to figure out that if his relationship with Lupin was not as hostile as it seemed to be, then Snape was probably not quite what he appeared to be on the surface, either. After a long silence, she finally said, "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome," Snape replied, and she gave him a very small smile, but considering who it was coming from, he considered it something of a miracle.

Later, he snuck into Lupin's office to give him the rat. Lupin stared at it dubiously. "I don't know, Severus; whenever I look at a rat, I can't help but think of Peter. Guilt by association, I suppose, and not fair to the poor rat, but still... Why on earth did you feel the need to save this particular rat from the owls or your Dark Arts lessons, anyway?"

Snape explained about the tutoring session with Serafina, and Lupin's blue eyes went wide with shock. "My goodness!" he exclaimed, looking down at the rat with new respect. He took the animal out of the wire cage Snape had carried it in, and gently stroked it. "You're certainly a little miracle worker. Hmm...I think I'll name you 'Kiseki'--'miracle' in Japanese."

Snape grinned. "I knew you were a soft touch, Lupin."

"You owe me one, Severus," Lupin retorted.

"Very well, Lupin," Snape responded readily. "How would you like me to return the favor?"

Lupin put Kiseki back in his cage and warded the room. "Well," he said, grinning back at Snape, "You could start by taking off your robes..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lupin had begun asking his students to take turns remaining behind after classes to help clean up the room (making sure to teach some spells that created a mess). Draco and some of the other Slytherins complained that this was house-elf work, but Lupin insisted, and they did it, because by now Draco had figured out that Snape wasn't going to oppose Dumbledore and his pet teachers on "trivial" matters. Lupin also made appointments for each of his fifth, sixth, and seventh-year students to see him privately in his office so that he could discuss their progress and make sure they were ready for their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. It was all an elaborate excuse, of course, for him to be able to spend some time alone with the Slytherin students he and Severus were trying to save. When Draco was not around, Crabbe and Goyle were surprisingly agreeable; as bulky and intimidating as they must appear to be to the younger students they bullied (he had heard them being compared to mountain trolls more than once), to Lupin they seemed like overgrown puppies, eager for a kind word and a bit of praise. Theodore was much more reserved, but Lupin felt the boy was very gradually beginning to warm to him; he even smiled once, when Lupin had complimented him on his progress.

Draco kept up his sneering, arrogant act, but he seemed almost happy to sit in Lupin's office and accept a cup of tea. Lupin didn't say much, just said that he was very pleased with Draco's progress (and indeed, he was doing very well in class), talked about the kinds of questions that might appear on his N.E.W.T. exam, and complimented him on the Slytherin Quidditch team's success. (Buoyed by their win over Gryffindor, the Slytherin team was playing better than ever, and had won their match against Ravenclaw.) Then, as Draco preened with pride, Lupin listened to the boy brag about his prowess on the Quidditch field and in the classroom. It was the sort of thing that would make his Gryffindor classmates roll their eyes, but beneath the bravado, Lupin could hear the insecurity of a child looking for some praise and attention. In fact, Draco was much more loquacious than Lupin had anticipated, and he heard a hint of loneliness in the boy's voice; he suspected that Draco really wanted to be telling all these things to his father, although he knew (and he suspected that Draco did, too) that Lucius would not be particularly interested in the mundane details of his son's activities at school. So Lupin merely smiled and listened attentively. There was one detail about Draco's ramblings that intrigued Lupin; he was taking pride in performing well in Master Karasu's class, which for the most part didn't even involve magic. Lupin found it quite interesting that Draco, who was usually the epitome of the pureblood snob, took pride in his work in a non-magical class, and more than that, clearly took pride in his non-human teacher's compliments. Lupin smiled inwardly; he had never thought that the fierce, blunt-spoken tengu warrior would be able to win over Draco Malfoy, but perhaps Karasu was more subtle than he appeared at first glance. Draco seemed to be surprised at how long he had been sitting in Lupin's office, when he finally noticed that his tea had grown cold, and flushed and muttered something about needing to leave. Lupin smiled and said, "I've enjoyed our little chat, Draco. Please feel free to stop by and have some tea with me again sometime."

Draco scowled, and gave Lupin a sharp look, as if trying to determine whether his teacher was making fun of him or not. He finally seemed to decide that Lupin's offer was genuine, and growled, "Maybe." Then he left, slamming the door behind him. Lupin grinned, feeling almost cheerful; that was progress, after all--certainly better than an outright refusal. And Lupin was both stubborn and patient; it had taken him nearly two decades to win over Severus Snape, but he had done it. By comparison, his progress with Draco was positively speedy.

Serafina sat quietly in his office during her conference, not volunteering any information, and offering only monosyllabic answers to his questions. But Lupin noticed that her eyes kept darting over to Kiseki where he sat in his cage on Lupin's desk. No one among the staff or students seemed to think it strange that he had adopted a pet rat that managed to escape from the Owlery at feeding time (for that was the story he had put out)--proof that Severus was not the only one who considered him softhearted. It was rather amusing, actually, that people who would once have feared him as a monster now thought he was a bit of a soft touch. That was progress of a sort, Lupin supposed.

Lupin took the rat out of its cage and allowed it to climb on his shoulder. He handed it a treat and stroked it affectionately; he had become quite fond of his pet despite its unfortunate resemblance to Peter. Well, actually Ki was much sleeker and less mangy than Scabbers had been, so he didn't really resemble Lupin's traitorous friend that much, after all.

Serafina watched him with an odd look in her eyes that Lupin couldn't quite read. He knew from what Severus had told him that she feared becoming emotionally attached to anyone or anything, yet she had saved the rat. She reminded Lupin of Severus, and it broke his heart to see how some of the pureblood families had raised their children to view love as something to be feared and despised.

"Where did you get your new pet from, Professor?" Serafina asked.

Lupin blinked in surprise at hearing his uncommunicative student actually speak without being prompted. He hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell her; he had not told anyone that Severus had given him the rat, but Serafina already knew who it came from, of course; she was probably testing him to see if he would tell her the truth, or maybe she was trying to find out how much Severus had told him. Lupin smiled pleasantly and replied in a casual voice, "Oh, Professor Snape gave him to me. Leftover from one of his experiments or something. He knew I was the only one other than Hagrid softhearted enough to adopt it, I suppose, and Fang would make a mouthful out of poor Ki."

Serafina's eyes narrowed. "I thought you told Draco that you got it from the Owlery."

Lupin continued to smile and said cheerfully, "Well, of course Severus would have a fit if I let anyone think he was softhearted enough to spare the life of a lab rat. He has a certain reputation to live up to, after all, while I have none." To his amusement, Serafina looked positively dumbfounded; he was quite sure that none of the Slytherins had ever heard anyone refer to their Head of House as "softhearted" before, even in jest.

She recovered her composure quickly. "You named it 'Ki'?"

"Yes, short for 'Kiseki'. It means 'miracle' in Japanese."

"Why would you name a rat 'miracle'?" Serafina asked sharply.

Lupin smiled at her calmly. "Why, isn't it obvious? He ought to be owl food or potion ingredients, yet by some miracle he survived to live out a life of leisure as the pet of a softhearted werewolf."

"Why do you care what happens to a rat?" Serafina demanded. "Why do you care what happens to us?"

{My, my,} Lupin thought, {she's quite talkative today.} Aloud, he said, "'Us'?"

"The Slytherins," she replied, with a look that said she knew that he knew perfectly well what she meant.

Lupin petted Ki and said softly, "Perhaps because as a werewolf I know how it feels to be a misfit and an outcast."

"We don't need your pity," Serafina snapped.

"There is a difference between pity and understanding, Serafina," Lupin said, still in that quiet, serious voice. He wasn't sure if it was trust so much as it was stress that was causing her to open up to himself and Severus; the Death Eater offspring were under a great deal of pressure. From all the things Severus had reported to the Order, Lupin had the uneasy feeling that the final confrontation with Voldemort was coming soon, and he suspected that the children sensed it as well. "I would never pity you, Serafina. Rather, I admire your courage."

"Courage?" she asked suspiciously.

Lupin repressed a sigh. The Gryffindor children were so open and trusting, while the Slytherins were so wary; whenever they saw a smiling face, they seemed to look for a dagger hidden behind the back. But it only increased Lupin's desire to love and protect them. "I know things must have been difficult for you," Lupin explained, "with your father being arrested, and the way some of the other students have taunted you. No one could blame you if you responded in kind, but you did not, and kept your temper and your dignity." And he also admired the strength it must have taken to survive her abusive childhood, but of course he could not tell her that, since he was not supposed to know about it. Then he smiled and added, "Except for that incident with the Hufflepuff boy who ran afoul of a wart-hex."

"There was no proof that I did it," Serafina replied calmly.

"No," Lupin admitted, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Just as no one could prove that he was the one who caused your ink bottle to explode."

"Three of my books were ruined!" Serafina said, so indignantly that Lupin had to suppress a laugh. She might be afraid to love people, or even a rat, but she did love her books with a passion. That craving for knowledge also reminded him of Severus.

"You were able to replace them, I hope?" he asked mildly.

"Yes, sir," she replied a bit sullenly. "But it's still a waste of a good book."

"You're right," Lupin agreed. "I couldn't afford to buy many books as a child, so I treasured the ones I had. As a werewolf, I was denied contact with other children until I came to Hogwarts, so I had no friends. But through my books I found escape; I could imagine myself to be a brave knight on a quest, or the servant boy who is actually a prince in disguise..."

"My father doesn't approve of novels," Serafina replied. "He says they're a waste of time that would fill my head with nonsense."

Despite his earlier words to Serafina, Lupin had to fight back a surge of pity. But he did not let it show on his face; instead he grinned and winked at her, saying, "Somehow I doubt you let that stop you." He was rewarded with a very small, nearly imperceptible smile. "For all that they are fiction, there is an inner truth in the old tales that resonates within our hearts, or they would not have survived for so many generations: the stories of the Greek gods and heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey, the legends of King Arthur, Shakespeare's plays of love and betrayal." He reached out and plucked a book from the shelf behind him. "Here; this is a book of legends dealing with Japanese shapeshifters. It is technically fiction, but you can still learn something about how their magic works from it, so I would consider it quite educational, especially in light of the fact that you are being taught by three shapeshifters. Well, four if you count me."

She hesitated, but he could tell by the longing in her eyes that he had found her one weakness; if Dylan's was his father, then Serafina's was her love for books. {Severus would tell me I'm being as devious as a Slytherin,} Lupin thought in amusement. It was too bad that the Gryffindors couldn't see that Slytherin traits were not always a bad thing.

Serafina gave him a suspicious look, as if wondering if there were some kind of catch attached to this gift, but in the end, she could not resist, and accepted the book. "Thank you, Professor. I'll take good care of it."

"I'm sure you'll guard it fiercely from exploding ink bottles," Lupin replied with another wink, startling her into another smile, a wider one this time. She was really quite pretty when she smiled, especially with those extraordinary violet eyes; it was a pity she didn't do it more often. "Keep it as long as you like."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Thank you. May I be dismissed?"

"Of course. But please feel free to stop by anytime, to talk about class, or just to discuss a good book over a cup of tea."

Serafina nodded and left. Lupin fed Ki another treat and said, "I think you are a good luck charm, my little miracle worker."
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Between teaching classes and worrying about the Slytherins, Lupin still had certain duties to perform for the Order. One day, accompanied by Arthur Weasley and Karasu (who had reluctantly agreed to trade his Japanese clothing for more conventional wizards' robes in order to avoid attracting attention), Lupin ventured into a seedy section of London located near Knockturn Alley, carrying a large basket. A number of shifty-looking characters eyed them as they passed by, making Arthur very nervous, but a glare from Karasu would cause them to turn away and shrink back into the shadows. Although Lupin was capable of defending himself, he still felt glad that the tengu had insisted on accompanying them as a bodyguard.

Arthur glanced at the scrap of paper in his hand, then looked at the number on a dilapidated apartment building. "This is it," he said. "Our...friends...are in the basement apartment." They descended a rusty staircase, and Arthur knocked on the door, calling out, "It's me, Arthur." A yellowish-green eye peered out through the peephole in the door, then they could hear the sound of locks turning and a chain being pulled back, and the door opened. They entered the room, which was filled with a number of people who looked no less shifty and dangerous than the ones they had encountered on the way here; the man who had opened the door was particularly dangerous-looking, with a lean, wiry build, greasy shoulder-length blond hair, a couple days growth of beard, and feral-looking eyes.

The man nodded curtly at Lupin. "Remus."

Lupin nodded back, in a more polite manner. "Hello, Lukas."

One man looked less dangerous than the others, a young man with dark brown hair, dressed in clean but shabby robes, who seemed a bit afraid of his companions. Lupin recognized him as the patient who had shared Arthur's hospital room, the one who had been bitten by a werewolf.

"Hello, Brian," Arthur said cheerfully. "You remember Remus, don't you?"

Brian smiled bitterly. "Yes, I remember. So that's why you were so nice to me--because you were a werewolf, too. For all I know, it was you who bit me."

"Brian!" Arthur said indignantly.

"It wasn't him," Lukas said, locking the door and leaning casually against the wall. "Don't be an idiot. You told me the wolf who attacked you had black fur; Lupin's hair is brown, and thus his fur would be, too."

"Well, it might just as well have been him--or you, or any of your 'pack'!" Brian retorted.

"Remus is a good little wolf," Lukas said, with a faint hint of contemptuous amusement in his voice. "He always takes his potion, like a good tame dog."

"Yes, I do," Lupin said with a pleasant smile, not allowing the other man to bait him. He had plenty of practice, after all; Lukas was pretty good at insulting people, but nowhere near as good as Severus. He set down the basket on the table that the other werewolves were gathered around. "And I have brought the potion for you and your friends, as promised."

"They're not my friends," Brian muttered.

One young woman with short, spiky black hair snapped, "Then what are you doing here, if you're too good to hang around with the likes of us?"

Brian glared at her. "I have nowhere else to go, and you know it, Kyra!" He turned to Lupin and said, "I had everything--a family, a good job, a beautiful fiancee--and now I have nothing! I lost my job, my fiancee left me, my family wants nothing to do with me...the only people who will associate with me are other outcasts and monsters like me!"

"Oh, stuff it, you little whiner!" Kyra snapped. "At least you have a job!"

"Yes, I suppose I should thank you for that, Arthur," Brian said grudgingly. "It probably wasn't easy finding a person willing to hire a werewolf."

"You're welcome," Arthur said with a smile. He had gotten Brian a job in a used bookstore; the owner was a former classmate who owed him a favor. "How are you getting along?"

Brian shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Mostly I work in back in the stockroom; they don't want the werewolf scaring the customers out front..."

"Whine, whine, whine," muttered Kyra.

"It's not a bad job," Brian admitted. "But I'm a stockboy, for Merlin's sake! I was a young partner in a good firm, eventually set to inherit my father-in-law's business and now--"

"Yes, yes, your dreams for the future went poof, just like the rest of us," Lukas said in a bored voice. "But of course we have Remus as a shining example of how a werewolf can get a respectable job--as long one has a powerful patron, of course. Have you come to make us more promises you cannot keep, Lupin?"

"I have made you no promises, Lukas," Lupin replied in a level voice. "Dumbledore and the Japanese emissaries have been trying to persuade the Ministry--"

"To grant us equal rights, but they still have not," Lukas finished. "So tell me, why should we fight and die for the people who despise us?"

"Not everyone despises us," Lupin said quietly. "Though I will admit that most of the Ministry officials are ignorant bigots. But there are people like Arthur and Dumbledore who have stood by me as my friends no matter what."

"And Remus's students love him," Arthur added in a hopeful voice. "Even if their parents are prejudiced, the younger generation is learning to look beyond those prejudices."

"Lovely," Lukas said. "Come see me in ten or twenty years, when those children have grown up, and maybe I'll change my mind."

"We don't have ten or twenty years," Lupin said. "Voldemort will strike before then." Arthur, Brian, and most of the other werewolves flinched nervously at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but Lukas didn't even bat an eye. "If you think life under the Ministry is bad, Lukas, it is nothing compared to what life will be like if the Dark Lord rules the world. There will be nothing but blood and death and terror. He will kill all those oppose him and enslave the rest. Do not think that you will be spared this fate just because you do not fight on our side; Voldemort despises fence-sitters."

"Then maybe we should join the Dark Lord's side," one of the werewolves said defiantly.

"Go ahead, if you want to become his lapdogs," Lupin retorted.

That finally got a reaction from Lukas, whose head jerked up, an angry look in his eyes. He bared his teeth and snarled at Lupin, "We are no one's lapdogs! Not Dumbledore's and not the Dark Lord's!"

Karasu, who had been watching all this silently, finally spoke. "Go ahead and fight amongst yourselves. This Dark Lord will destroy you all while you do so. If we do not stop him now, we never will. He will conquer your country, then extend his reach outwards until it reaches even my corner of the world. That is what our seers have seen."

"Seers," Lukas snorted dismissively, but he looked at Karasu with a certain respect in his eyes, one predator recognizing another.

"Do it not for the Ministry," Karasu said, "but for yourselves and for your children, who will die if you are lucky, and live as slaves if you are not."

"Maybe the Dark Lord would treat us better than the Ministry," said the werewolf who had spoken before. Lukas cuffed him sharply, and the werewolf subsided, sullenly rubbing his ear.

"We are no one's slaves!" Lukas snapped.

"The Dark Lord might make you promises," Lupin said in a quiet voice to the werewolf who had suggested joining Voldemort's side, "but he will not keep them. He despises all who are not pureblooded, and we have tainted blood--at least in his eyes, and the eyes of his followers. I may not have been able to offer you much, but remember that at least I have been honest with you and offered no false promises."

"Yes, that is true," Lukas acknowledged, with grudging respect. "I will think upon your words, Remus, but I still do not intend to spill my blood or the blood of my people if I get nothing in return."

"You will get something," Karasu pointed out. "Your lives and your freedom."

"I am not sure that I would call what I have now 'freedom,'" Lukas said. "Perhaps we will run off and live in the woods as wolves, and thus escape both your Ministry and the Dark Lord." He spoke in a light, almost joking tone, but his eyes held no laughter, and were blank and unreadable.

"You would never do that, Lukas," Lupin said gently. "If you were the type to go feral, you would have done it long ago. You value your humanity, or you would not have clung to it for so long, despite the monthly transformations and the self-mutilation. If you were not more man than wolf, you would not have gathered these people to you, to give them a sense of family and belonging."

"Perhaps that is the wolf in me," Lukas retorted. "Perhaps I am merely gathering a pack around me."

"Perhaps," Lupin agreed. "But that is one of the good traits of the wolf--loyalty to the pack. I have my own pack, Lukas, and I would give my life to protect them."

Lukas just grunted, looking annoyed and a little embarrassed. "Well, thanks for the potion, Lupin, but it won't make me change my mind."

Lupin smiled. "I will continue to bring it, no matter what you decide."

"Unless the Dark Lord kills him," Karasu pointed out sardonically. "Think upon that, Pack Leader. If Remus and his friends are killed, who will make your Wolfsbane Potion?"

"We can manage without it if we must," Lukas said, but he seemed a little taken aback.

"Yes, but it's much nicer to pass the full moon without being chained or locked up, isn't it?"

"Enough!" snarled Lukas. He unlocked the door and held open it for them. "Good day, Remus. Perhaps you can leave the crow at home next time."

"Not a very pleasant man," Arthur observed after they left. Lupin started to say something, then decided it was better not to discuss these things in public; one never knew who might be listening.

When they reached the safety of Grimmauld Place, Lupin told Arthur, "You are right; Lukas is not a pleasant man. Years of hardship and prejudice tend to make one bitter. But deep down, I believe he is a good person. He gathered those werewolves together, gave them a home and a place to belong. They all work to support each other, sharing food and shelter with those of the pack who are unemployed. And the companionship they share seems to ease the stress of their transformations slightly."

"He is a strong leader," Karasu observed, "to have gathered all these people together, to have won the trust of people not normally inclined to trust anyone."

"Yes," agreed Lupin. "He is the one we must convince. The Pack Leader, as you so astutely pointed out. The others will follow his lead. He is stubborn, though, and distrustful, not without cause."

"Providing them with the potion was a good start," Karasu said.

Arthur shook his head. "It's criminal that the government won't provide it to anyone who needs it!" The Wolfsbane Potion was available through St. Mungo's or apothecary and potion shops, but only to those who could afford it. And since most werewolves had difficulty finding steady employment, many of them could not afford it, and had to undergo their monthly transformations under restraint, rending their own bodies with teeth and claws.

"Yes," Lupin agreed quietly. "I am very fortunate to have access to the potion myself." Then a thought occurred to him. "Even if the Ministry is balking at granting us equal rights, perhaps they could be persuaded to provide the Wolfsbane Potion to all the werewolves who need it. That, Lukas might find worth fighting for. I'll mention it to Albus."

"I'll support your idea, Remus," Arthur said. "Not that I have much influence, though more than I used to when Lucius Malfoy worked at the Ministry. It's a practical suggestion; werewolves who are taking the potion are unlikely to attack anyone. The problem is, it would cost money to subsidize such a program."

"And the Ministry doesn't like to shell out gold for the likes of a few mangy non-humans," Lupin said bitterly. Even his good nature had its limits, or perhaps Lukas's cynicism was rubbing off on him.

Arthur patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Don't give up, Remus. Perhaps Albus can find some sponsors to help finance the program, or volunteers willing to help brew it, for free or at a reduced cost."

"I'm sure Naoto would be willing to help, too," Karasu said. "We did offer aid such as healing potions to the Order. He can't brew enough for all the werewolves in England by himself, but he and some of the teachers at Mahou Gakkou could at least help brew some potion for your friend Lukas and his pack."

"Severus has several promising young students who are capable of at least assisting with the brewing," Lupin said, cheering up a little. "Perhaps we could start some sort of program at Hogwarts." Then he laughed. "Though I'm sure Lukas would complain about being the guinea pig for some wet-behind-the-ears cub's homework assignment!"
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Dumbledore badgered the Ministers until he got some grudging and halfhearted cooperation; the Ministry agreed to finance half of the necessary funds for a Wolfsbane Potion distribution program if Dumbledore could find sponsors willing to put up the other half. It took a great deal of time and effort to do so--many businesses made charitable donations to benefit their public image, but helping werewolves was not a very popular cause. Still, with a little persuasion and a little bullying, Dumbledore managed to scrape up--just barely--the necessary funds. A few people did offer their help willingly: Lupin's inventor friend--who had created the magical music boxes and recording spheres--was flush with new wealth, and eager to support Dumbledore's pet project; and Mr. Jigger, the owner of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, offered to sell them ingredients at cost, with no markup.

Snape was quite impressed when he heard that. "Jigger always drives a hard bargain; never thought he was the charitable type."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind their half-moon glasses as he smiled and said, "People are not always what they appear to be, Severus, as you should well know. Besides, Hogwarts is a good customer of Mr. Jigger's; he probably feels it wouldn't hurt to earn my goodwill. After all, even if he's not making a profit on the ingredients, he isn't losing money on them, either."

"Now that makes more sense," Snape said with a cynical smile.

"You should have more faith in human kindness, my boy," Dumbledore said, and Snape snorted.

But whatever the hidden reasons were behind the sponsors' generosity, they managed to get the distribution program working. Snape put some of his more talented Advanced Potions students to work brewing the potion, "On Dumbledore's orders," he said sourly, complaining loudly about the Headmaster's softheartedness to his classes.

Lukas was mildly impressed, but more with Lupin's and Dumbledore's tenacity than by the Ministry's show of goodwill, which he knew was lukewarm at best. "I know this is more Dumbledore's work than the Ministry's," Lukas said.

"It's a start, Lukas," Lupin told him. "Whatever the reasons, whoever is behind it, at least our people are benefiting from it."

Lukas's eyes softened slightly as he regarded his pack, who looked much healthier and relaxed now that the Wolfsbane Potion was easing their transformations. "A start," he agreed. "But only a start. It's a grudging gift, like a bone tossed to a dog. For that I should send my people out to fight and most likely die? You know, don't you, that going up against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters is tantamount to suicide?"

"There are fates worse than death," Lupin said quietly. "You must do as you think best, Lukas. For myself, I will fight, to protect my loved ones."

Lukas nodded, looking thoughtful. The werewolf leader was still not ready to commit, but Lupin felt they had made some progress with him.

Evidently, the Dark Lord thought so, too. Not long after the potion distribution program went into effect, the Death Eaters sent messages to Lukas and his followers, promising power and glory if they joined the Dark Lord's side, and a painful death if they did not. This did not sit well with Lukas, who did not take kindly to threats, but he gave them the same answer that he gave Lupin, that he would think about it. The Dark Lord was not pleased with that, and his anger caused him to act rashly and make a major mistake.

The body of one of Lukas's pack members was dumped on the doorstep of their apartment building one morning. Ironically, it was the young werewolf who had suggested joining the Dark Lord during Lupin's earlier visit. His wrists and ankles were bound with silver manacles, and his clothes were torn and soaked with blood although the only visible wound on his body was his slit throat. Lukas felt a surge of rage when he saw that, and nearly transformed on the spot, for all that there was no full moon in sight. Lycanthropes healed nonfatal wounds quickly, and he knew that the Death Eaters must have tortured the werewolf before inflicting the fatal blow. The pain would probably have provoked a transformation even though the moon wasn't full, which explained the silver manacles, which they must have used to restrain the wolf. Lukas threw back his head and howled in anger and mourning. From the apartment windows, the other residents of the building looked out in surprise and then fear, and quickly retreated, drawing back the curtains. Lukas didn't care what they thought; this place was no longer safe, and they would have to move, anyway. That same day he sent Lupin a message that said only: "We will fight."
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