Argus could easily guess what was churning in Snape's mind. The Potions Master figured that with a bit of scrutiny, he'd uncover something off about the wolfsbane potion—and from there, trace it back to Lupin's secret. The worse off Lupin was, the better Snape liked it.
Snape didn't hold back with Lupin the way he did with Harry, where Lily's memory stayed his hand. No, this grudge ran deeper. Forget the schoolyard bullying; the night Lupin nearly sank his teeth into him in the Shrieking Shack was grudge enough for a lifetime. That Snape hadn't already stirred up trouble during Lupin's rough patch spoke volumes—they were both in the Order of the Phoenix, after all.
But a Hogwarts professorship? Fat chance.
Argus watched as Snape stirred in extra ingredients, each one more revolting than the last, until the cauldron bubbled with a foul sludge. He couldn't help but pity Lupin, imagining the man's grimace as he choked it down.
Half an hour later, the batch was done. Snape decanted it into three vials and thrust them at Argus. "Deliver these to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office."
As if I wouldn't notice, Argus thought. It was practically a shout: "Werewolf alert!"
Under Snape's impatient glare, Argus grabbed the vials and headed to Lupin's office.
A knock, and the door creaked open to reveal Lupin's gaunt, weary face. Surprise flickered in his eyes at the sight of Argus.
"Mr. Filch? Come in. What brings you here so late?"
"No need, Professor Lupin. Professor Snape sent these—medicine for you." Argus handed over the vials, noting how Lupin's expression tightened, a forced smile masking his unease.
"Thank you for the trouble," Lupin said, taking them. "It's for an experiment—a nasal suppository. Professor Snape was kind enough to help."
Argus matched his smile. "I'll pass on your thanks. Good night, Professor. Sweet dreams."
As Argus turned away, Lupin slumped into his desk chair. He uncorked a vial, tilted his head back, and downed the contents. The instant bitterness exploded—sour, nauseating rot that clawed at his throat. He gagged but forced it down, years of scraping by on worse things steeling his resolve.
Slouched in his seat, he waited for the queasiness to pass. "That greasy git's up to no good," he muttered. "Wolfsbane's never this vile."
Lupin knew the potion's true taste all too well, poverty be damned. Snape had tampered with it—deliberately. After a moment to steady himself, he drew his wand, cast a quick Disillusionment Charm to blend into the shadows, and slipped out.
Unseen nearby, Argus smirked. "Finally cracking, are we? The Black family secrets won't stay buried long."
…
Lupin didn't head straight for Sirius beyond the castle grounds. Too many secret passages had faded from memory after all these years, and pinning down Peter Pettigrew's hideout would take more than guesswork. First, he needed the Marauder's Map they'd crafted as boys.
But the Weasley twins had nicked it from Filch's stash and passed it to Argus. A fruitless rummage through Filch's cluttered office turned up nothing, so Lupin abandoned the search.
Slipping through the passages he still recalled, he reached Hogsmeade. Argus, watching from afar, opted not to tail him. Nabbing Sirius Black held no real appeal; better to let the fugitive roam, driving the Marauders to desperation in their fruitless hunt for Wormtail. That chaos would serve Argus's interests best.
Meanwhile, Sirius scavenged shop doorways for scraps. In the old tale, he'd hunkered down in the Shrieking Shack for cover, surviving on whatever Crookshanks smuggled him—starvation's doorstep otherwise. With Lupin now in play, though, why risk it? Sirius just waited.
Lupin prowled the dim streets until he spotted his old friend rooting through bins. Ducking into a late-open shop, he grabbed bread, cheese, and meat, then led Sirius to a shadowed alley.
Sirius shifted back to human form and tore into the food like a man possessed, nearly choking in his haste.
"So, Moony—did you snag the Marauder's Map?" he mumbled through a mouthful.
Lupin thumped his back, sighing. "No luck. Filch must've squirreled it away better. I'll try again soon."
Sirius swallowed hard. "Without it, tracking Wormtail's a nightmare. Hogwarts crawls with students—if we miss our shot, he'll lash out. Remember that Muggle street he leveled to save his skin? He won't hesitate to target kids here."
"We can't put Hogwarts students in the crossfire for our revenge," Lupin agreed firmly.
Sirius nodded, then punched the ground in frustration. "That rat—how did we never see this betrayal coming?"
"There's more," Lupin added grimly. "My secret's unraveling fast."
Sirius froze, fork midway to his mouth. "What? You've barely started at Hogwarts—how?"
"It's that snot—"
Sirius exploded before Lupin could finish. "Snape? He ratted you out? I knew he was scum!"
"Padfoot, easy!" Lupin soothed. "Snape didn't expose me directly. But tonight, he had Argus—er, Filch—deliver wolfsbane potion to my office."
"With that kid's nose for trouble and the acolytes pulling strings, they'll sniff me out soon enough."
Sirius's eyes blazed, fixated on Snape—old prejudices blinding him to the bigger picture. "All his scheming! If not for him..."
"We'll manage," Lupin said, though doubt weighed on him. "One step at a time—priority's grabbing Peter."
Sirius fell quiet, then leaned in. "Third years get Hogsmeade weekends, right? Harry goes."
"I'll corner him then," Lupin replied. "Clear the air."
---
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