"Professor, but—"
Hermione seemed unable to help herself.
"We aren't supposed to be studying werewolves yet. We should be starting hinkypunks—"
"Miss Granger,"
Snape said in a voice so calm it was frightening,
"I seem to recall that I am the one teaching this lesson, not you. Now I want every one of you to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."
He swept his gaze over the entire class again.
"All of you. Quickly."
The students rolled their eyes resentfully, muttering under their breath as they flipped open their books.
"Can anyone tell me how to distinguish a werewolf from a true wolf?"
Snape asked.
Everyone sat still and silent.
"Well?"
Snape's eyes bore down on the students in the front row, especially the black-haired one.
"Surely Professor Lupin didn't fail to teach you the fundamental difference between the two—"
The Sean being stared at felt someone jab him in the arm again.
"H-hey, Se-Sean, he's not looking at me, is he?"
Sean heard Ron's voice stuttering.
So Sean nodded.
Ron's vision nearly went black on the spot.
Snape had walked over and was now looking down at both of them.
Ron could barely breathe.
Then Sean raised his hand.
A sharp wave of gasps went through the room.
Very few people dared raise a hand at a time like this and ask for Snape's attention.
Hermione had tried it before, and was rewarded with either open mockery or thinly veiled scorn.
"Speak."
To everyone's surprise, Snape's expression softened by at least a few degrees.
"In animal form, a werewolf is outwardly almost identical to a true wolf, though the snout may be slightly shorter, the pupils smaller, and the tail tufted rather than thick and bushy.
The real distinction lies in behavior. True wolves are not aggressive by nature, and wizarding authorities now consider the old folk tales that describe them as mindless predators to have actually referred to werewolves, not real wolves.
Wolves do not usually attack humans except under unusual circumstances. Werewolves, however, almost exclusively target humans and pose little threat to other creatures.
That is because werewolves generally reproduce by attacking non-werewolves. For centuries, the discrimination surrounding them has been so severe that few ever marry or have children."
Sean answered.
"So at least someone still knows something, hm?"
Snape let out a cold laugh.
"Have your idiotic heads become useful for nothing but looking around? Write that down. Now."
No one dared make a sound for the rest of class.
They sat there copying down notes on werewolves from the book while Snape prowled between the desks, checking the homework Professor Lupin had assigned them.
"This is explained very poorly… inaccurate as well, kappas are far more common in Mongolia… and Professor Lupin gave this eight points? I wouldn't give it three…"
He slammed a parchment down onto Ron's desk with a crack. Ron didn't dare breathe.
He still lost three points in the end.
He figured it was probably for breathing anyway.
Of course, Harry lost even more. The two of them exchanged a look that carried a real sense of shared suffering.
At long last, the bell rang through the suffocating room—but Snape didn't let them go.
"I want a parchment on how to recognize and kill werewolves. Two full rolls of parchment. Monday morning. This class is badly in need of discipline."
As he strode out of the classroom, he shot an especially dark glare at the first row.
Ron went pale, convinced the sigh he'd just let out must have been too loud.
"Why is Snape making us study werewolves? It's not like we're actually going to run into one, are we?"
he muttered to Sean once he finally caught his breath.
For a moment, Sean didn't know what to say.
"Ron."
he said quietly, as a warning.
Ron seemed to snap awake and followed behind him.
The two of them walked faster and faster until they reached a hidden room inside Hope Cottage.
It was filled with antiques from the last century, along with all kinds of paintings.
What convinced Ron it was Sean's room was the mountain range of books piled everywhere.
"Can you actually read all of these…?"
Ron craned his neck upward, mouth hanging open as he stared at the towering stacks.
"Eventually. If everything goes smoothly."
Sean replied, taking out the Marauder's Map.
Ron immediately crowded in beside him.
Following Sean's gaze, he could see a name moving back and forth in his dormitory:
Peter Pettigrew.
"Who's that?"
Ron frowned in thought, and then suddenly his expression became wildly exaggerated.
"The wizard who got the Order of Merlin, First Class! The one Sirius Black killed! Harry's parents' best friend!"
Sean nodded.
Then, just as quickly, he shook his head.
"What are you trying to say, Sean?"
Ron swallowed hard.
He could barely make sense of why a dead man's name would be appearing inside his dormitory.
Was he really dead? Was he a ghost?
…But the map didn't label ghosts, did it…?
So he was still alive?
"Pettigrew was Harry's parents' Secret-Keeper."
Sean said.
"Oh, I know that. Harry's parents trusted Sirius to become the—wait…"
Ron startled himself with the thought.
"There was a switch. When Harry's parents were preparing to make Sirius the Secret-Keeper, he suggested Peter instead. He thought that would make it foolproof…"
Sean spoke quietly, almost like he was telling a story.
The candlelight flickered with his voice, and Ron's head felt like it was swaying too, dizzy and unsteady.
"What he didn't know was that Peter had already betrayed them."
A hoarse voice came from inside the room.
Ron slowly turned his head and saw a gaunt-looking man staring at him.
Even though his face was the same one from the newspapers—the face of the fugitive Sirius Black—fortunately, he didn't look quite that mad.
"Y-you've got to be joking…"
Ron's body went rigid.
He gaped at Sean, then at Sirius, who was wearing what could only generously be described as a "gentle" expression.
Maybe he was gentle, Ron forced himself to think, doing his best not to dwell on the fact that he'd apparently blown up an entire street full of Muggles.
Maybe he just really liked fireworks?
"That explosion wasn't my doing. After I cornered Peter, he shouted so the whole street would hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James.
Then, before I could cast a spell, he used the wand he'd hidden behind his back to blow the street apart, killing everyone within twenty feet—and then he escaped into the sewers with the other rats…"
Sirius said, then looked at Ron.
"Ron, Mr. Green's friend—have you really never thought about your rat?
You don't know that a rat can't possibly live twelve years, do you?
You don't know what's missing from its body?
Mr. Green told me you heard all that.
Ron, think. When they found Peter, what was the largest piece of him they recovered?"