The werewolf who had taken the previous potion hesitated.
The other one, however, stood up, took the Galleon Harry offered, and, with a determined expression, grabbed the vial of potion.
He took a deep breath and swallowed it.
"It could use some potatoes," he muttered instinctively, smacking his lips as he gave his evaluation.
Potatoes?
Snape's eyelid twitched at the word. With a flick of his wand, he sealed the werewolf's mouth shut.
Foolish creatures—turning a carefully brewed potion into nothing more than soup.
"Potter, begin," Snape ordered, his voice laced with cold impatience.
Harry flicked his wand, isolating the first werewolf in a separate enclosure.
Then, with another flick—
The barrier that had divided the room crumbled away, reverting into a simple chair, while the artificial moon on the wall radiated its eerie glow.
The werewolf who had just taken the potion suddenly widened his eyes, his body stiffening as he collapsed to the ground, his gaze locking onto the illusionary moon.
His transformation accelerated.
Faster—faster than a normal transformation.
Within the blink of an eye, fur sprouted, his snout elongated, his ears sharpened, and his fangs gleamed menacingly. A primal, ferocious aura exploded from his body, suffocating the room.
Awoooo—!
A long, piercing howl rang out.
The werewolf sprang up from the floor in an instant, shaking his head wildly before lunging—
Straight at Snape.
To its heightened senses, the younger, smaller figure posed a greater threat. The instinct of a predator was to eliminate the greater danger first.
Attacking the weak was a beast's natural instinct.
"Impedimenta!"
Snape flicked his wand.
The werewolf crashed headfirst into an invisible barrier.
A sickening crack echoed—the sound of his nasal bone breaking. At the same time, the barrier itself let out a faint cracking sound.
With another flick of Snape's wand, chains conjured by a Transfiguration spell shot out toward the werewolf. "This reaction is wrong," he murmured. "The transformation should be painful, not like this—"
Before he could finish—
The werewolf snapped the chains apart.
And lunged again.
Snape's eyes flickered with surprise.
Harry immediately thrust his wand forward. Another Transfiguration spell wrapped around the werewolf's legs, while the shattered chains flew back, coiling around the creature again.
Snape added several more layers of magical restraints.
"He's stronger," Harry observed, raising an eyebrow.
Snape let out a cold sneer. "I'm not blind, Potter."
Harry stepped forward, scrutinizing the frenzied werewolf. "Judging by his magical aura, his strength has nearly doubled—this is beyond what Hermione and Neville could handle."
"The potion formula… no changes?"
Snape shook his head. "I only replaced the flesh. This time, I used werewolf flesh."
The two fell silent.
"Maybe," Harry hesitated, recalling something Dumbledore had once told him, then waved his wand to dispel the moon illusion. "Maybe the same flesh carries different properties—human-form flesh inclines a werewolf toward their human side, while werewolf-form flesh enhances their beastly nature?"
Snape stilled, glancing at the parchment on his desk. With a flick of his wand, he summoned it.
"Could that be it…?"
"It's not impossible," he admitted.
"That might explain why ancient texts often describe lycanthropy as a curse rather than a mere magical disease."
"A magical disease wouldn't behave like this."
Snape's gaze darkened as he looked at the now subdued werewolf, deep in thought. "Last time, when we had Lupin consume his own flesh, it had no effect. But perhaps that's because we gave him werewolf-form flesh. What if we gave him his human-form flesh instead?"
The influence of the moon illusion slowly faded.
Harry waved his wand, dispelling the effects of the transformation magic. The frenzied werewolf collapsed to the floor.
Gradually, his form reverted back to human.
His skin was paler than before, his face gaunt, and his limbs and neck appeared slightly deformed.
"It seems gaining strength puts an extreme strain on the body," Snape muttered, casting a glance at the cowering werewolf in the corner. He barked coldly, "Raise your arm."
The werewolf hesitated, then numbly obeyed.
Snape slashed his wand through the air, slicing away a fresh piece of flesh before immediately beginning the next batch of potion.
Harry, meanwhile, tended to the unconscious werewolf's injuries.
At some point, Greyback stirred—
But before he could even groan, Harry casually flicked his wand, knocking him unconscious again.
Moonlight streamed through the window.
Snape finished brewing the third batch of potion, tossed a Galleon into the werewolf's lap, and—before the creature could react—thrust his wand forward, forcing the potion down his throat.
"Potter!" he called out.
Harry, already prepared, raised his wand and conjured the artificial moon once more.
The werewolf staggered, knees buckling, but managed to stay upright by bracing himself against the floor.
This time, something was different.
The potion's effects took hold, altering his transformation—
It was slower, much slower than usual.
His fur sprouted gradually, each strand growing from his skin like budding grass.
His ears, snout, claws, and fangs extended at a pace that seemed almost deliberate, as if time had slowed to a crawl.
His body was not in agony—
But his mind was.
Tears welled up in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.
"Aha," Snape murmured, nodding as he scribbled notes with a quill. "Just as we suspected—"
"Human-form flesh retains humanity. Werewolf-form flesh amplifies beastiality."
"Which means…"
"The Wolfsbane Potion is a failure. More than half of its ingredients contribute nothing to its effects."
Harry frowned. "Then Greyback's flesh… had no real effect?"
"It only worked because it was from a werewolf's human form?"
Snape shook his head. "Not necessarily."
"The transformations were different."
His sharp eyes studied the partially transformed werewolf. "This batch slowed the process—you saw it yourself. It helped him retain his humanity, suppressing his bestial nature, delaying the transformation."
"But Greyback's batch… shattered something."
"I don't know what exactly—but you saw the results. It was agonizing. Perhaps it was breaking down his beastiality entirely."
Snape clapped his hands together lightly. "Fascinating."
"I'm starting to enjoy this subject."
"Potter, let's—"
Harry cut him off. "Professor Snape, I should remind you—it's already midnight."
He lifted his arm, flashing the watch Hermione had given him. Its glowing face shone brightly, nearly blinding in the dim light.
Snape scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Potter, you don't have to show off—"
"Hmm?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Professor Snape, does checking the time offend you? How delicate—I never knew you were so fragile."
Snape flicked his wand, and with a loud boom, the office door slammed open.
"Potter! Get out and go rest!"
"For disrespecting a professor—Gryffindor, minus twenty points!"
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Powerstones?
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