The Wolfsbane Potion was an incredibly complex, volatile concoction to brew. The required precision was astronomically high.
Even a skilled potioneer like Maurise was forced to dedicate his absolute, undivided focus to every single step of the process. The slightest miscalculation in temperature or stirring direction would instantly ruin the entire cauldron.
Fortunately, he only managed to ruin two separate batches of expensive ingredients before successfully completing a flawless cauldron of the potion.
Staring down into the bubbling, gently smoking liquid, Snape offered a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
"Barely passable," Snape drawled softly.
Maurise didn't bother offering a verbal response. He merely picked up a long-handled silver ladle resting nearby, scooped up a tiny fraction of the bubbling potion, and raised it to his lips to take an experimental sip.
'Hmm.'
'Absolutely perfect consistency.'
The texture closely resembled thick, viscous mud scraped from the bottom of a stagnant pond. It possessed a peculiar, distinctly pungent aftertaste that went straight to his head.
"What exactly are you doing?" Snape's voice was dangerously low, his eyes narrowing sharply.
"Do not concern yourself, Professor," Maurise lowered the ladle, his expression completely unbothered. "I was merely curious regarding the exact flavor profile."
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched violently.
He was perfectly aware that consuming the Wolfsbane Potion would yield zero negative side effects for an individual who wasn't afflicted with lycanthropy.
However, no sane, rational human being would voluntarily choose to ingest the foul-tasting sludge.
He elected not to press the issue. He reached over, retrieved a large glass goblet, and filled it entirely to the brim with the steaming potion.
Maurise asked out of genuine curiosity, "Who exactly is this specialized potion intended for?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics with you," Snape stated smoothly. He pushed the heavy glass goblet directly in front of Maurise, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a malicious smirk. "However, I would appreciate it if you could assist me with a brief errand. Please deliver this goblet directly to Professor Lupin. He should currently be residing in his office."
'Not at liberty to discuss the specifics?'
He had literally just spoken Lupin's name aloud. How on earth was that any different from slapping the correct answer directly across his face?
"So," Maurise paused for a fraction of a second, his tone casually analytical. "Are you implying that Professor Lupin is—"
"Do not ask unnecessary questions," Snape cut him off sharply, though the satisfied gleam in his dark eyes betrayed his true intent. "Your singular task is to deliver this potion."
"Understood, Professor."
Maurise tactfully clamped his mouth shut.
Snape's blatant, transparent directive was practically a neon sign explicitly broadcasting Lupin's true identity.
'As expected. Everyone Dumbledore hires to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts possesses a severe, life-threatening defect.'
---
Leaving the damp dungeons behind, Maurise carried the steaming glass goblet up to the third floor, eventually halting outside Lupin's office door.
Knock, knock.
"Please, come in."
Upon receiving permission, Maurise pushed the heavy door open.
Lupin was standing near the far wall, holding a large fish that had been violently cleaved cleanly in half. He casually tossed the bloody remains into a massive glass water tank resting on a sturdy wooden table.
Inside the murky tank, an aggressive, sickly green creature was thrashing wildly in the water. It possessed sharp, pointed horns, rows of razor-sharp teeth, and incredibly long, spindly fingers. It snatched the bloody fish mid-sink and began tearing into it with terrifying ferocity.
"Is that a Grindylow?" Maurise stepped closer, observing the aggressive water demon with genuine academic interest.
"Ah, yes it is," Lupin turned around, offering a warm, tired smile. "Have you encountered them before?"
"I have," Maurise nodded. "There is a rather shady establishment deep within Knockturn Alley that occasionally sells dehydrated Grindylow fingers as a bar snack. The proprietor claims they taste remarkably similar to dried chicken. I have never personally verified the claim, however."
"Er..." Lupin's face twisted into an expression of profound disgust. "I doubt their fingers are fit for human consumption."
"Who can say?" Maurise shrugged casually. He carefully set the steaming goblet down on the wooden table right next to the water tank.
Lupin's gaze instantly fell upon the glass goblet.
"What is that?" his voice suddenly grew incredibly tight, his entire posture stiffening.
"The Wolfsbane Potion," Maurise answered candidly.
Lupin's expression shifted drastically. The warm smile completely vanished, instantly replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated panic. "Who instructed you to deliver this?"
"Professor Snape."
Hearing that name, Lupin completely froze.
He stared at Maurise, his eyes wide with absolute, terrifying disbelief. "He... he actually told you?"
Observing the man's horrified reaction, Maurise instantly pieced together the exact political dynamic at play.
Dumbledore had undoubtedly ordered Snape to maintain absolute, ironclad secrecy regarding Lupin's highly classified identity.
Unfortunately for Lupin, Snape possessed zero intention of honoring that agreement.
"Professor Snape did not explicitly state anything," Maurise clarified smoothly. "However, the contextual clues were hardly subtle. Professor Lupin, you are currently afflicted with lycanthropy, are you not?"
Lupin let out a long, shuddering sigh. He slowly wiped his fish-stained hands on his worn robes.
"Your deduction is entirely accurate."
At this point, attempting to deny the glaringly obvious truth was simply an exercise in sheer futility.
"I see," Maurise noted calmly, his expression completely neutral. "Please remember to consume your medication, Professor."
Lupin stared intently at the boy, his voice laced with profound caution. "Are you not terrified? To discover that a fully matured werewolf is actively serving as your professor?"
Maurise shook his head slowly. "I am entirely unbothered."
While he had never actually encountered a fully transformed werewolf in close-quarters combat, he was confident that his current magical capabilities were more than sufficient to absolutely pulverize one.
'Ah, wait a moment. Isn't the full moon scheduled to occur in exactly two days?'
He possessed a mild academic interest in the biological mechanics of lycanthropy. Perhaps he could utilize the Disillusionment Charm to secretly tail Lupin and carefully observe the complete physiological transformation sequence from a safe distance.
The raw data might prove highly beneficial for his future necromantic experiments.
Maurise began mentally drafting a surveillance plan.
At that moment, Lupin flicked his wand toward a dark corner of the office. A sturdy wooden chair slid smoothly across the floorboards, halting directly behind Maurise.
"Please, have a seat, Black," Lupin requested, his tone incredibly sincere. "I believe we need to have a brief discussion."
"Certainly."
Maurise sat down.
Simultaneously, Lupin reached out, picked up the glass goblet, and took a massive, heavy gulp of the thick potion.
The exact instant the viscous liquid hit his throat, his brow furrowed deeply.
'Why exactly does the flavor profile differ so drastically from yesterday's batch?'
'Did Severus deliberately alter the brewing process?'
'Surely he wouldn't intentionally contaminate the potion with something highly toxic...'
As Lupin wrestled with his paranoid suspicions, Maurise calmly explained, "I personally brewed today's batch of Wolfsbane Potion."
A flash of profound shock rippled across Lupin's tired eyes. "You actually possess the capability to brew this specific potion?"
"Indeed."
"I suppose that perfectly explains why Severus holds you in such high regard," Lupin muttered. He tilted his head back, downing the remainder of the foul-tasting sludge in a single, prolonged gulp.
There were perhaps a mere handful of fully qualified potioneers within the entirety of Great Britain capable of successfully brewing the Wolfsbane Potion.
Even he was forced to swallow his pride and rely entirely on Snape's expertise.
Lupin set the empty goblet down on the table. He turned his full attention back to Maurise, his expression growing incredibly serious. "I must ask you a highly personal favor. Can you please keep this information entirely confidential?"
"To what information are you referring?"
Lupin blinked in surprise. "My true identity."
"Ah, that," Maurise nodded in understanding. "I had absolutely no intention of publicizing the information regardless."
From a purely pragmatic standpoint, exposing Lupin's secret yielded absolutely zero tangible benefits for him.
"That is a profound relief."
Lupin let out a heavy sigh, releasing the tension from his shoulders. Suddenly recalling their earlier interaction during the Boggart lesson, he added, "Furthermore, Black. If you genuinely possess no desire to attend my lectures, I am perfectly willing to grant you the exact same academic privileges as your other professors. As long as you manage to achieve an 'Outstanding' on the final examination."
"Thank you, Professor," Maurise nodded politely.
However, he fully intended to continue attending the Defense classes.
Lupin possessed a remarkable talent for sourcing obscure, incredibly fascinating dark creatures for his practical demonstrations.
It was highly entertaining.
---
October 30th. Exactly one day prior to Halloween.
However, for Remus Lupin, today held a vastly more significant, terrifying meaning.
It was the night of the full moon.
As the sun began to set, casting long, dark shadows across the castle grounds, Lupin quietly slipped out of his office.
As he walked down the quiet corridors, several animated portraits offered him polite evening greetings. He returned every single greeting with an exhausted, incredibly strained smile.
The impending night was going to be an agonizing ordeal.
Fortunately, he had diligently consumed his prescribed dosage of the Wolfsbane Potion. While the excruciating physical transformation was utterly unavoidable, the potion ensured he would completely retain his human consciousness and logical reasoning throughout the ordeal.
Most importantly, he would pose absolutely no physical threat to the student body, the faculty, or himself.
Prior to accepting the teaching position at Hogwarts, he had lived a harsh, entirely nomadic existence. Every single month, as the full moon approached, he was forced to isolate himself deep within a deserted cave or an abandoned Muggle shack, enduring the agonizing transformation entirely alone, terrified of what he might do if he lost control.
It was a miserable, soul-crushing existence.
Pushing those dark memories aside, Lupin quickened his pace, crossing the massive entrance hall and heading directly toward the heavy oak side doors leading out onto the grounds.
The moon had not yet crested the horizon, but he could distinctly feel the violent, aggressive biological shift beginning to stir deep within his blood. The time was rapidly approaching.