Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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Recently, Severus Snape has been in a remarkably good mood. This could be gleaned from the hourglasses in the Great Hall: in less than a week since the term started, Gryffindor's hourglass held more than ten rubies! Such an achievement was unprecedented—thanks to Snape. In previous years, that number would only be reached by the end of the first week.

However, some inattentive Gryffindor students didn't notice this and, consequently, failed to observe Snape's recent changes. If someone with exceptional Legilimency skills could peer into his thoughts, they might even catch him humming a jaunty tune.

Though he served as the Potions Master, Snape had always harbored a desire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. While his expertise in Charms was slightly less pronounced than in Potions, his knowledge was still profound. During his student years, he even developed the exceptionally powerful spell Sectumsempra. By all accounts, he was a genius in the field of spellwork.

Gilderoy Lockhart's dismissal had provided Snape with some measure of satisfaction. Dumbledore had given Lockhart two additional days to teach one class to each year group, but even if Lockhart had possessed a modicum of actual ability, he wouldn't have avoided the abysmal 98% negative course feedback rating he received. Even his most devoted fans couldn't, in good conscience, grant him an "O" (Outstanding).

Lockhart had utterly failed to prepare any lessons related to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, he meticulously crafted a 54-question quiz centered entirely on his personal interests, a loyalty test for his fans that had no connection to the subject at hand. Humiliated, he was forced to leave Hogwarts in disgrace, taking with him hundreds of brand-new copies of his autobiographical textbooks. As for the financial losses? Naturally, Lockhart himself had to foot the bill, a compensation amounting to over ten thousand Galleons—enough to completely drain his savings.

---

"Shouldn't this be a case of 'thoroughly rooting out evil,' Professor Dumbledore?"

In the Headmaster's office, Harry idly played with Fawkes while curiously questioning Dumbledore. "Those stories were stolen, weren't they? Wouldn't it be better to expose him, ruin his reputation, and send him to Azkaban?"

"Leaving loose ends like this might come back to bite us one day."

"Yes, I understand," Harry replied.

Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes, who was happily nibbling on a wisp of pale blue fire. That wasn't just any flame; it was Gubraithian Fire, an eternal flame created through advanced alchemy. Even Dumbledore himself struggled to produce it. Yet here it was, being fed to Fawkes as a snack, courtesy of Harry.

Watching Harry use his resources to pamper his phoenix gave Dumbledore a pang of exasperation. He looked away, only to find himself drawn back to the scene repeatedly.

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore tried to dismiss his irritation. "Sometimes, it's best not to act too hastily. If we resolve everything here at Hogwarts, those driven to desperation might do unpredictable things. We'll deal with him when the time is right. After all, some of those stories he stole belong to friends of mine."

"Well, that's good to hear."

Once again, Dumbledore's actions revealed his pragmatic streak, far from the benevolent image he often projected. Still, Harry had to admit, the old man's thoroughness was impressive.

"Why do you harbor such hostility toward Lockhart?" Dumbledore suddenly asked.

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want that useless fraud wasting the precious time of the entire student body. Didn't I say so already?" Harry gave Dumbledore a quizzical look. Was this a test?

"Is that all?" Dumbledore pressed, smiling.

"Alright, fine," Harry relented. "I just can't stand the sight of him. Some nobody I've never even heard of, trying to ride on my fame to boost his reputation. If I don't stomp him into the ground, can I even call myself Professor Grindelwald's proud student?"

"I'm the top candidate to succeed him as an outstanding Dark Wizard, you know, Professor Dumbledore."

"You're incorrigible."

Dumbledore chuckled helplessly. Grindelwald's judgment hadn't been wrong; Harry was indeed strikingly similar to him. What concerned Dumbledore, however, was this: Grindelwald had Harry, but who did Harry have?

Such unfettered freedom and defiance could lead to disaster if left unchecked.

"Still," Dumbledore mused to himself, "by then, I'll likely be long gone." 

He gave a slight sigh. "Let him be. Children grow up eventually." 

---

Back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, inside the Potions Master's office, Severus Snape mulled over his latest work.

Snape was likely a "cat person," and his patience for canine creatures—wolves included—was almost nonexistent. This wasn't entirely due to his animosity toward Sirius Black, though that certainly didn't help. His relationship with Remus Lupin was slightly better, as Lupin often mediated during Snape and Black's clashes.

When Harry first approached Snape about improving the Wolfsbane Potion, Snape initially refused. Though he considered Harry his godson and treated him like family, he wasn't about to jump at the boy's every whim. His authority as a godfather had to be maintained, after all.

But after some thought, Snape reconsidered. Many of the people tied to his past were gone, and for their sake, he reluctantly agreed to work on improving the Wolfsbane Potion. For someone of his skill, the task wasn't particularly challenging, and he quickly made progress.

By sacrificing its already unpleasant taste, Snape was able to refine the potion significantly. The revamped Wolfsbane Potion was no longer the rudimentary half-measure it once was. When consumed before the full moon, it allowed werewolves to maintain their sanity without the previous side effects of physical weakness.

The original version had worked by suppressing a werewolf's strength to curb their animalistic instincts—a method Snape found utterly flawed.

The root cause of lycanthropy, simply put, lies in the unique and contagious werewolf curse. With this understanding, Snape, well-versed in the study of dark magic, quickly developed insights into combating curses.

The werewolf from the Forbidden Forest was dragged out by Snape, and after two months of careful, meticulous research, he uncovered the essence of the curse. The werewolf curse resembled a sinister variant of the Animagus transformation.

This curse siphons magic from a wizard's body and stores it. When the full moon arrives, the "switch" activates, triggering an intense phase of the curse. The werewolf transformation forcibly alters the wizard's physical form into a hybrid of human and wolf. However, Snape found himself puzzled. A simple physical transformation wouldn't cause the afflicted to lose their rationality. The condition of werewolves more closely resembled an Animagus who had been trapped in their animal form for so long that they completely forgot their human identity.

This contradicted the basic principles of transformation. Even if someone was born with the werewolf curse, transforming during every full moon would only lead to about twelve transformations a year, each lasting roughly six hours. That totals seventy-two hours annually—seven hundred and twenty hours over a decade. Even if all that time was spent transformed, it shouldn't be enough to eradicate rationality and replace it with primal instincts.

Peter Pettigrew, after all, had spent a decade as a rat. He had become rat-like but had yet to lose his sense of self entirely.

"The only plausible explanation," Snape mused, rising from his armchair to scribble on a nearby blackboard, "is a blood-curse: a Lycanthropic Beast Curse."

"The origin of the werewolf curse likely traces back to a derivative of the beast-blood curse. Alternatively, whoever created the werewolf curse may have crudely copied the curse from a blood-cursed individual who had fully transformed into a wolf, turning it into a plague and spreading it worldwide."

Snape's tone turned disdainful as he continued, "Interesting as it may seem, abandoning bloodline transmission has given the werewolf curse greater infectious power. Yet, transformed werewolves cannot cast spells, lack intelligence, and act only on bloodthirsty instincts. There's no way for this 'plague' to spread efficiently on a large scale."

"What an utterly graceless curse—so dreadfully dull."

"Wait, Godfather," Harry interrupted, eyes wide with astonishment. "Are you saying... you can solve the werewolf curse?"

Seeing Harry's stunned expression, Snape gave a small, smug nod. His godson's unabashed admiration was almost too gratifying.

Harry flashed him a thumbs-up. "Brilliant!"

Although Snape didn't quite understand the gesture, the admiration in Harry's expression was undeniable, and he found himself quite pleased.

"Don't celebrate too early," Snape said, dampening Harry's excitement. "I'm not the first to discover these details. The creator of the Wolfsbane Potion also noticed them. Unfortunately, their skills weren't advanced enough to craft a potion that directly suppresses the curse. They could only create a brew that weakened physical strength to maintain human rationality."

"So... there's no hope for Lupin to become fully human again?" Harry asked, his expression dimming.

"Hardly any," Snape replied, dousing Harry's optimism. "The werewolf curse has already taken root in him. If it were caught early, there might have been a chance. But now, it's too late. Like a malignant tumor, the curse, once deeply entrenched, is irreversible. While it doesn't kill, it remains a lifelong affliction."

"All I can do," he added, "is allow him to maintain his human form during full moons after taking my improved Wolfsbane Potion. He'll be able to live among society, pretending to be normal."

"That's already a miracle, Godfather," Harry said earnestly. "For them, this could mean everything."

"Only if they can afford it," Snape countered dryly. "My improved Wolfsbane Potion is effective, but most werewolves are destitute. Many can't even scrape together a single Galleon. Not all werewolves can afford the potion. Even at its base cost, it's equivalent to a month's salary for a Ministry employee."

"Fifty Galleons," Snape said, holding up his hand as though clutching countless bleak and sorrowful lives. "Most werewolves don't even have lives worth selling."

Harry sighed but showed no sympathy. "That's a shame. If they had any value, we could trade Wolfsbane for their service. But most werewolves are destitute and uneducated. Few are as lucky as Lupin."

"But whatever. At least Lupin can afford it. Defense Against the Dark Arts professors earn five hundred Galleons a year, after all."

"You're oddly considerate of him," Snape remarked, a trace of bitterness in his voice. It was the first time he had seen Harry care so much for someone.

"He was a good friend to my mother, wasn't he?" Harry said with a sly smile, feeding Snape a sweet truth he couldn't refute. "If Mom knew you'd done something this incredible, she'd be thrilled."

Snape paused, then nodded softly, his voice gentle. "Yes. Lily was always a kind and thoughtful woman."

"As for the captured werewolves," he added, "I'll use them for my experiments. The ones in the Forbidden Forest weren't suitable for... specific methods. But these ones? If they die, no one will care."

"And we'll keep Lupin's condition a secret?" Harry asked.

"Of course. As long as he takes the potion regularly, no one will know," Snape replied. "He'll be indistinguishable from any other wizard."

Relieved, Harry nodded. Without Snape's improved potion, he'd have to make more arrangements for Lupin. If Lupin's werewolf identity were exposed, his tenure as a professor would be short-lived.

Harry raised his bottle in mock celebration. "A toast to your future Order of Merlin medal?"

Snape scowled at the bottle of alcohol in Harry's hand. "Order of Merlin? The first-class medal might have some value as a collectible. But honestly, I'd rather spend my time adding another star to my Potioneer certification."

"There's nothing worth celebrating," Snape said dismissively, waving Harry away. "I still need to prepare for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lupin should've started sooner."

As Snape turned to his lesson plans, Harry quietly left, muttering to himself, "Who actually preps for substitute lessons?"

Deciding his godfather was simply a responsible teacher, Harry strolled through the castle, sipping his drink leisurely.

(End of Chapter)