Lupin's Secret
Chapter 1: A Curious Assignment

Groaning under the weight of their assignment the third year Gryffindors hurried from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom before Snape could tack anything onto the homework. While Harry and Ron grumbled and complained, Hermione was quietly considering the curious absence of their regular teacher, Remus J. Lupin, and Snape's odd choice of subject matter. Werewolves were far beyond their current level after the disastrous tenure of Gilderoy Lockhart; Lupin had been steadily correcting his predecessor's failures and they were moving along at a fair pace. But to suddenly jump to something as important as werewolves was not something Lupin would have done.

Odd that it would happen during the full moon.

Odd that Lupin was ill at the full moon.

"Impossible…" Hermione muttered to herself and thought back through the lecture on werewolves. Even though they shouldn't have been learning about the interesting, if dangerous, creatures so early in the term, she had already read the chapter on them. Between the lecture and what she had read, she already knew what she was going to write for her essay on recognizing werewolves. As she walked, she started applying the list of indicators to her professor.

Remus J. Lupin was covered in scars as many werewolves were from when they were attacked by the wolf that infected them or from the damage they did to themselves when under the influence of the moon. That wasn't necessarily an indicator, however, as Lupin was clearly well-versed in the defensive arts and had probably squared off with many dangerous creatures. The scars might well have been from a dragon. No one had ever asked and he had never brought them up.

She was struck by the fact that no one, not even outspoken Lavender Brown, had mentioned his scars. Surely facial scars would be something worth asking about… yet no one had.

'Curious,' she thought before moving on.

He had grown thin as the moon waxed to full. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now she recognized it as an indicator of lycanthropy. Few studies had been done, but research did indicate that a lycanthrope began to feel the pull of the moon as early as the waxing crescent. The older the person, the more control he or she had, but it was clear that a werewolf was affected well before the waxing gibbous rose in the night sky.

"Perhaps it increases metabolism," she considered aloud. "There has to be a reason for weight loss."

"What was that?" Ron asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Nothing," she replied and didn't even bother chiding him about speaking with his mouth full. "Actually, Harry… did you get a look at that potion Snape made for Lupin?"

"Yeah," he said and worry pulled at his face. "You think it made him sick?"

She shook her head. "What did it look like?"

"Nasty," he wrinkled his nose up remembering the smell. "It stunk and had blue smoke coming off it. I wouldn't have drunk it even if Dumbledore had made it. Lupin's mental for trusting anything Snape makes."

She nodded and added that to her list of curiosities – a potion with a foul taste and smell and blue smoke. There were no brews like that at their level; she would have to check the library. She finished lunch in a hurry and ran to the library while Harry and Ron shared a look that indicated their thoughts that she was as mental as Lupin.

Hermione found the books on werewolves in the open sections of the library, but all of them were over one hundred years old and had nothing about a potion to stave off the effects of lycanthropy. None of the advanced potions books had any reference to it, either. Her eyes fell to the heavy bars guarding the Restricted Section of the library. Surely, if there was a potion to aid a werewolf it would be in there. Frowning, Hermione considered her options for gaining access to the books. Despite her excellent academic record, most teachers would not readily grant her permission to peruse the complicated and dangerous books.

A thought struck her and she sat up a little straighter.

"Snape," she said with a smile. The man clearly had it in mind to reveal Lupin's secret… if that really was his secret. She snatched up her notebook and bag and ran from the library.

Her fist knocked persistently on the door as her teeth worked her bottom lip. 'The worst he can do is take a few points and tell you to go away,' she told herself, though any dealings with the taciturn professor made her nervous beyond reason.

"What?" he demanded in a clipped tone.

"Professor, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you might give me a pass to access the Restricted Section of the library," she said in a rush.

His eyes narrowed until they were practically closed. She thought maybe he hadn't understood her, but he spoke after a moment. "Why?"

"I wanted some additional information on werewolves for the assignment," she said. It wasn't entirely untruthful.

The corners of his mouth pulled up in something very close to a smile. It worried her. Snape only ever smiled when something unpleasant was happening to other people. "Very well," he said and spun around and vanished into his office to write her a note of permission.

She followed him as quietly as she could, worried he might grow annoyed and change his mind. Instead he sat and took up a quill. A minute later he held a small piece of parchment for her to take, but as she tugged on the note he refused to relinquish his hold on it. "This will only allow you access to the books on werewolves, Miss Granger… was there anything more specific you were looking for?"

"Um…" she wasn't sure what she was supposed to know. "I was looking to see if there was a potion that helped them."

He definitely smiled then. "In that case, you will need Pettrian's Book of Elixirs. It is also in the Restricted Section." He added the name to the note and let her take it from his hand.

"Thank you, Professor," she said quickly and fought to keep her feet at a reasonable pace as she left his office. Questions consumed her thoughts as she walked at what felt like a painfully slow rate. Why had Snape given her permission? Why was he making sure she knew about the potion? Was it really the same potion he had brewed for Lupin?

As her mind raced, her brain surrendered its hold on her feet and she began to run up the stairs and through the corridors back the way she had just been until she was standing before the pinch-lipped Madam Pince, panting and holding out the note. The woman eyed it and the girl with suspicion and dislike, but led the girl to the gate, unlocking it with a flick of her wand and escorting Hermione into the forbidden stacks. The air crackled with magic more powerfully than in any other location in the castle. Hermione could feel the hair rising on her arms, and received a nasty shock when she accidentally brushed against a book she had no permission to touch. Voices whispered hoarsely, though no one was there to speak. The girl imagined a frightful scenario where a witch or wizard had been absorbed into one of the books and was calling out for help centuries later. She shivered and hurried to keep pace with the librarian.

"Thank you," she said as the woman handed her the last book on werewolves and topped the stack of restricted tomes in the girl's arms with the Book of Elixirs. She went to a small table and began reading Pettrian first. According to Snape, it was the book she needed most. Flipping through, she found the page she wanted.

"Wolfsbane Potion," she muttered. As well-read as she was, she had never heard of it. She read quickly about the history of its recent discovery and the controversy surrounding the distribution to the lesser members of wizarding society. She sniffed at the wording. This Pettrian fellow obviously didn't care for werewolves, but Hermione didn't see how it was their fault that they had been bitten. Maybe one or two were crazy or just violent and intentionally bit people, but most, she was sure, were careful to keep away from people.

So Lupin drank Wolfsbane Potion just before the full moon. A healthy man wouldn't take it, and a smart man wouldn't accept anything from Snape unless he knew what it was. According to Harry, Lupin commented that the potion was a complex one, so he knew what Snape had given him.

That was probably proof enough, but Hermione wanted more. The physical signs weren't definitive. And she truly didn't trust Snape enough to believe he wasn't playing with her. Many potions looked alike. Surely there was another potion with a foul taste and blue smoke, another potion that had absolutely nothing to do with lycanthropy.

What she needed, Hermione decided, was visual proof.

It would have to wait.

The full moon was last night. If Lupin was really a werewolf, then he would have changed back by now. The only thing she would find would be a very tired man, which was hardly proof of anything. Sighing, she returned the books to Madam Pince and went to a quiet corner of the library. She sat in the dim corner for hours, planning. She needed to learn where Lupin's quarters were and what wards he had erected. If the man was a werewolf, there were sure to be wards.

It was dinner time before she finally had a list all made up. As soon as Lupin was back in class, she would begin pestering him for information as subtly as she was able. Lying was never her strong suit, but she couldn't trust Harry or Ron with this. They were better liars, but they might also slip up, or worse, accuse the man outright.

If Lupin was a werewolf, the last thing he needed was to be outed in class.

She sighed and considered throwing her list away. So what if Lupin was a werewolf? He was a fantastic professor and clearly a very nice man. If he turned into a beast monthly, who did it affect other than him? No one.

"Oh, but I have to know," she whined and tucked the list into her bag. She ran to the Great Hall and sat down beside Harry.

"Where've you been?" Ron asked rudely. "You missed class!"

"And why is Snape looking at you like that?" Harry asked, worried.

She glanced over Ron's shoulder and saw Snape was looking her way with a rather satisfied smirk on his face like the proverbial cat that got the canary. "I don't know…" she said quietly and started eating before they noticed she was lying.

As she ate, her mental list expanded – How did Snape know? Why was he trying to tell the students? Why wasn't Dumbledore stopping him?

Hermione hated when the questions outnumbered the answers. By the next full moon she would have as many of them answered as she possibly could.