Hogwarts i am snape

After bidding farewell to the Headmaster, the two left his office, the oak door softly closing behind them.

Silence fell once more.

As they reached the Entrance Hall, Lupin suddenly spoke, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because I'm fond of fluffy things," Snape paused for a fleeting moment, a faint smile gracing his lips as he looked at Lupin.

Lupin stared at him, startled, his grey-green eyes wide.

"Not you in that way, of course!" Seeing Lupin's suddenly stiff expression, Snape quickly added, "Get those notions out of your head at once! My preferences are straighter than a ruler!"

Lupin's expression shifted from shock to bewilderment, finally dissolving into a light chuckle.

"Alright, Severus. Well, thank you for the potion, anyway." He hesitated, seemingly considering whether to extend his hand, but ultimately decided against it. "See you around."

"Let me see you change, Remus," Snape said, turning and striding towards the castle doors. "Don't expect me to always be so benevolent."

Stepping out of the castle, a gentle summer breeze greeted him, carrying the distinctive scent of earth and green grass from the grounds.

As Snape walked towards the Forbidden Forest, he felt the inside pocket of his robes. The two portions of Wolfsbane Potion still lay quietly there.

"Severus."

Just then, a squeaky voice from behind interrupted his steps. He turned to see Peter Pettigrew scurrying from the direction of the castle.

"Something the matter?" Snape asked coldly.

Pettigrew flinched, as if Snape had struck him.

"I—I just wanted to ask," he panted, his round eyes darting nervously, "if I could join your Society of One Mind?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, blinking slowly as he processed the absurd request.

"Why, Wormtail?" he asked mockingly, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Because I'm stronger than your friends now? Tell me, what would your joining bring me?"

"I—" Pettigrew's Adam's apple bobbed, sweat glistening on his forehead. "I thought you'd accept anyone—"

"Do your friends know?" Snape abruptly changed the subject, his eyes fixed on Pettigrew's face.

"No," Pettigrew replied quickly, then, as if realizing his slip, added, "I mean—I haven't told them yet."

Snape took a step forward, looking down at the small Gryffindor.

"Ordinarily, we would accept any witch or wizard, no matter their skill," he said deliberately, watching the spark of hope ignite in Pettigrew's eyes. "However—I'm sorry, Wormtail, you're not included."

"Why?" Pettigrew looked up, his face a mix of confusion and hurt.

"Why?" Snape repeated with a sneer. "How could you ask such a question, Wormtail?

"Let me ask you this: Would you be willing to tell me all of Potter's and Black's secrets, and help me against them?"

"No," Pettigrew recoiled as if scalded. "I wouldn't betray them."

"You wouldn't betray your friends?" Snape's voice suddenly grew unusually soft. "Oh, quite right. You only want my favor, don't you? Although I am now more powerful than your friends, I haven't threatened you, nor would I kill you."

"I don't know—what you're talking about, Severus—" Pettigrew mumbled, his gaze flickering. "If you won't let me join, then don't—" He turned to leave, then stopped, cautiously glancing at Snape. "You—you won't tell James and them, will you?"

"That's an internal matter for you to resolve," Snape said. "Farewell."

Pettigrew immediately turned and walked back towards the castle.

Snape stood still, speaking to the retreating, hurried figure: "Peter, remember what you said today. I hope you truly can manage not to betray your friends."

The evening breeze carried his words to Pettigrew's ears. His footsteps barely faltered, only his shoulders stiffened imperceptibly before he sped up, running towards the castle.

Snape shook his head and turned to continue his walk towards the Forbidden Forest.

The edge of the Forbidden Forest was now very close. Tall trees cast long shadows, as if welcoming him. Snape stepped into the shadows, immediately feeling a pleasant coolness crawl up his spine.

About ten minutes after entering the Forbidden Forest, Snape felt a certain restriction lift from him—he had left Hogwarts' anti-Apparition ward.

Without hesitation, he spun on the spot, and with a soft pop, vanished.

The next moment, he appeared in a clearing deep within the Forbidden Forest. This spot was still some distance from the werewolf camp. He straightened his robes, which had been ruffled by the Apparition, and walked in the direction of the camp.

In stark contrast to the ruins he had left last time, the werewolf camp was now completely revitalized.

Tall wooden fences enclosed a safe area, and several makeshift watchtowers stood at key points. Snape's lips curled into an involuntary smile—Lyca had done even better than he'd expected.

Two werewolves were chatting on a watchtower.

"Why hasn't the sun set yet today?" a younger werewolf asked, nervously scratching his furry arm.

"Indeed," another, older one agreed. "Usually it's dark by now. It's rather odd."

Hearing Snape's footsteps, the two werewolves immediately grew alert. The younger one raised a rough wooden bow, an arrow aimed towards the sound.

"Who's there?" he demanded sharply, his voice strained with tension.

Before Snape could answer, the older werewolf had already reached out and pushed his companion's weapon down.

"Put it down quickly," he said, squinting at the visitor in the shadow of the fence. "This is our most esteemed friend." Then, he shouted beyond the fence, "Please wait, Mr. Snape, I'm coming down now."

Snape watched the older werewolf's agile descent from the watchtower.

Before long, he reached the camp entrance, opened the heavy wooden gate, and bowed respectfully to Snape.

"You've finally arrived, Mr. Snape," his voice was somewhat excited. "Last time, I didn't even get a chance to thank you for your help."

"You are?" Snape scrutinized the scarred werewolf.

"I'm the injured one you saved last time," the werewolf said, gesturing to his abdomen. "Here, do you remember? A long gash that you healed."

"I recall you," Snape nodded with a smile. "You were the one on the brink. What's your name?"

"Kyle Kaufman," the werewolf grinned, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth. "Oh, right, you must be looking for Lyca."

Just then, the younger werewolf also climbed down from the tower and came to the wooden gate.

"I apologize, Mr. Snape," he said, rubbing his hands. "I didn't see you last time."

"Don't worry about it," Snape said. "You're doing well; don't let your guard down." The young werewolf nodded quickly.

"Aaron," Kyle turned to him. "Go call the leader—oh, no," he changed his mind, "I'll take you in directly, Mr. Snape, and show you our new home."

He extended a warm inviting gesture.

Snape stepped into the camp, and the sight before him made his eyes widen slightly—aside from a collapsed wooden hut and a torn tent remaining in the center as a memorial, the entire camp was a scene of thriving prosperity.

Several new wooden cabins were neatly arranged, and a bonfire burned in the central clearing, where several young werewolves were chasing and playing.

Most striking was the large stone house near the ruins in the center of the camp.

Seeing Snape's curious gaze, Kyle explained, "Thanks to your wand, Mr. Snape. We're doing much better than before."

"This is all thanks to you," he raised the bow and arrow in his hand and pointed to the fence at the edge of the camp. "Lyca made them piece by piece with Transfiguration."

"This stone house," Kyle pointed to the sturdy building, his eyes shining with gratitude, "is where we all stay before the full moon. It's so much better; this way we don't have to worry about making a mess of our homes."

"You're welcome," Snape chuckled. "This time, I've brought you other good things."

"Thank you so much!" Kyle said, surprised, his eyes lighting up. "This way, Lyca is tending to some volunteers."

He quickly led Snape towards a tent on the other side of the camp.

Along the way, werewolves continuously greeted Snape—men, women, young, old. Many of their faces Snape didn't remember, only a few felt vaguely familiar. He nodded continuously, returning their enthusiastic greetings.

Although Kyle told the werewolves, "Mr. Snape has important matters to discuss with Chief Lyca," they still wanted to shake his hand. One young girl even handed him a bunch of wildflowers.

"It's quite alright, quite alright," Snape said, his face flushed with pleasure, actively stepping forward to exchange pleasantries and shake hands, his voice much warmer than it usually was at school. "I'm relieved to see you all doing well; things will only get better."

As he spoke, he pulled out a pile of daily necessities from his bag—medicine, food, fine wine, and even a few bags of sweets.

These were originally his reserves, but at this moment, he was more than happy to share them with these werewolves.

Finally, they arrived outside the tent.

"Lyca," Kyle cleared his throat, stepped forward, pulled back the tent flap, and called, "We have an honored guest."

"What is it, Uncle Kyle? Why is it a bit noisy outside?" A clear female voice came from within the tent.

"Look who it is," Kyle said mysteriously.

After Snape entered the tent, he thoughtfully closed the flap, standing guard outside.

Inside the tent, Lyca was examining the condition of two volunteers. She had her back to the entrance, a wand in her hand, uttering healing spells over the wounds on their arms.

Hearing the movement, Lyca turned—her two pointed wolf ears perked up alertly, and her amber eyes lit up the moment she saw Snape.

"Mr. Snape!" she exclaimed, immediately dropping her work and rushing forward.

Lyca was in much better condition than when he had last seen her; her chestnut-brown hair was no longer dry and frizzy but had become soft and lustrous. The only thing that remained unchanged was the blood-red canine tooth necklace, still hanging at her pale chest, gently swaying with her movements.

"Are you well?" she asked, her surprised expression lasting only a moment before turning to guilt. "I'm sorry—about the werewolf transformation experiments, I haven't succeeded yet. Organizing the camp took up too much of my time—"

"There's no hurry," Snape waved a hand. "You certainly have the right to live well too." His gaze swept over the injured volunteers—they were looking at him with awe. "Besides, it hasn't been that long. I didn't expect you to succeed so quickly either."

"However," his fingers delved into the inner lining of his robes, pulling out a crystal vial filled with Wolfsbane Potion, "this time, I bring you another piece of good news."

"What is this?" Lyca asked, her nose twitching slightly, as if trying to sniff out the potion's ingredients.

"Wolfsbane Potion, two doses," Snape replied, extending the vial to her. "It will allow werewolves to retain their minds during transformation."

"This is what you mentioned last time—" Lyca's voice suddenly dropped, though her eyes never left the vial.

"Yes," Snape frowned. "What are you waiting for, Lyca? Take it."

"But it's too precious," Lyca hesitated, her fingers nervously curling and uncurling at her side. "We—"

"What's wrong?" Snape's voice deliberately took on a hint of impatience. "Didn't you swear last time that you would obey my commands? What, is such a simple instruction impossible to follow?"

Lyca took a deep breath and finally accepted the potion.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape," she said softly. "I truly don't know how I can repay your kindness—"

"Don't dwell on it too much," Snape's expression softened. "This is our first time successfully brewing Wolfsbane Potion. You two try it and see how it works. Starting today, drink it for seven consecutive days, until the night of the full moon. Remember, no sugar." He paused. "Later, I'll have Dobby—the house-elf you saw before—bring you the potion."

"You won't be coming here anymore?" Lyca's voice suddenly dropped, her ears twitching restlessly.

"Probably not generally," Snape said. "If you need anything, you can tell Dobby, and he'll contact me."

"Would you like to tour the camp?" Lyca asked eagerly. "This was all built with the help of the wand you gave me."

"No need," Snape waved a hand. "Kyle has already given me a general overview."

"Alright," Lyca lowered her head, her pointed ears drooping. "Would you like to eat before you go? We just hunted a deer—"

"I've already eaten," Snape patted his stomach. "No, thank you. You all enjoy."

"Okay—" Lyca said softly. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she rushed to a wooden chest near the tent and carefully took out a long, soft, and sleek bundle of white hair.

She ran back to Snape, holding it out to him with both hands.

"Mr. Snape," she said, her eyes sparkling, "this is for you. It's unicorn tail hair, plucked from their tails. They sometimes catch on branches in the forest, and we can collect them."

Snape took the bundle of pearlescent hair and tucked it into an inner pocket of his robes.

"Thank you, Lyca," he said sincerely. "This is quite valuable."

"No, we should be thanking you," Lyca's face flushed, and her tail wagged gently behind her.

"Alright, I must be going," Snape said, checking the time.

"I'll see you off," Lyca immediately said. She pulled back the curtain, allowing Snape to leave the tent first.

The lingering rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the camp, bathing everything in warmth. Werewolves gathered in small groups around the bonfire, preparing dinner.

Lyca followed Snape all the way to the outside of the camp, still looking reluctant to part.

"This is far enough. Farewell," Snape waved a hand and turned to walk into the shadows of the trees.

After a few steps, he looked back—Lyca was still standing at the camp entrance.

He raised his hand and waved again, then disappeared into the tree shadows.

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