He had previously examined the place with his Divine Sense. It was where Lupin shut himself away on full-moon nights, and the entrance was beneath the trapdoor in the kitchen storeroom.
He should be there now.
With that thought, Gerald extended his Divine Sense underground. It penetrated the trapdoor, the stone steps, and the thick layer of earth, presenting the basement clearly to his perception.
The basement was small, with rough stone walls and no windows. Only two dim oil lamps flickered in the corners.
Gerald soon spotted Lupin, who was gradually transforming into a werewolf.
Lupin was a full size larger than usual, his limbs elongated, his body covered in grayish-brown fur, and his face already entirely wolf-like.
Heavy iron chains bound his hands and feet, their other ends secured to the walls. His limbs looked about to become those of a wolf.
He lay on the floor, his eyes blood-red and his mouth open to reveal sharp fangs, letting out low growls of pain.
"Damn it, the Wolfsbane Potion from Knockturn Alley is getting less and less effective."
Black crouched beside Lupin, pressing one hand against his shoulder in an attempt to steady him, while holding an empty potion bottle in the other.
Watching Lupin struggle in pain and gradually lose his reason, he grew increasingly agitated.
"Damn it, damn it! What's happening to you, old friend? You used to lose your reason, but you were never this weak!"
He had asked Snape for help several times, and on one occasion they had even come to blows.
But Snape had remained unwilling to help, and there was little he could say about that.
After all, he really had gone too far when he was young and had nearly gotten Snape killed. That grievance could not be erased with