When Harry walked into the Defence classroom to see Snape stood at the front, he knew it was going to be a bad day.
When Snape had them open their books to the page on dementors, he realised just how bad it was going to be.
Almost everyone in the classroom turned to look at him when Snape introduced the topic. He could hear several of the Slytherins sniggering in the back, including Malfoy. Pointedly ignoring them, he looked down at his textbook, reading the introduction.
Dementors feed off positive emotion, sucking away any happy thoughts or feelings and leaving a person with only their worst memories remaining. Many are driven mad by prolonged exposure to a dementor. Some people can have particularly adverse reactions to a dementor — those with strong negative memories are more sensitive to a dementor's aura.
Harry thought about the sound of a woman screaming, his stomach churning. Strong negative memories. That definitely counted.
Much to his surprise, Snape's lesson was actually somewhat informative. When he wasn't busy insulting them, or making thinly veiled comments about Harry's fainting spell.
After dinner, Harry went up to Professor Lupin's office, hoping to catch the man for a talk if he was feeling any better. The office was empty, and Harry sighed. Another time, then.
On his way back down to the dungeon, he walked past a pair of Slytherins in his own year. Ducking his head, he planned to just head straight past them, not in the mood for a fight. His plan was ruined when one of them stepped in front of him. He eyed Blaise Zabini warily, keeping his hand ready to flick his wand from its holster.
Zabini faced him, palms open, and slowly bowed his head. "Well met, Heir Potter."
Harry couldn't believe it. The other Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, was doing the same thing. He blinked at them in astonishment, but returned the greeting to each in turn. When Greengrass straightened up, there was a coy smile on her face. "Maybe you're not so bad, Potter. For a Gryffindor."
So much for things being secret. How many other people knew? He hoped they were all as good at Occlumency as Neville assured him they must be. "There are more important houses than just Hogwarts ones," he said eventually.
"And more important enemies than each other," Zabini said quietly, his dark eyes knowing. Harry's jaw tightened. Was he talking about Voldemort, or Dumbledore?
They parted ways without another word, and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room — just in time to hear another explosion from Ron about Crookshanks going after Scabbers.
Honestly, the sooner that rat died, the better it would be for everyone. They could finally get some peace and quiet.
.-.-.
Harry should've known better than to expect quidditch to brighten his spirits, the way his term was going so far.
He hardly thought it was necessary to keep him in the hospital wing for the whole weekend, but he didn't argue too hard — it kept him away from prying eyes, at least. And once Neville brought him some books, it wasn't too bad. He appreciated the attempt at cheering him up, at least.
He hadn't told anyone about the Grim, yet. He was pretty sure he was actually imagining things. One thing he definitely wasn't imagining was the voices he'd heard right before he'd passed out, the voices the dementors had brought into his memories. He'd known already, deep down, but know he really knew. That was his mother he was hearing — her last words, as she begged Voldemort to spare him. Her dying screams.
Weeks ago, he would've given anything to hear his mother's voice. Now, he'd give anything to make it stop. It was all he could think about, echoing in his ears every time he tried to sleep. The visitors were a nice distraction, but every time he was left alone, the voice returned.
"Potter, are you, uh, alright?" He was snapped from his thoughts by an unfamiliar voice, and looked up into the cautious face of Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker.
"Diggory," he greeted, confusion clear in his tone. Diggory edged closer.
"Hi. Uh, I brought you this. From dinner. Madam Pomfrey never lets me have sweets when I'm in the hospital wing, so I thought you'd like it." The Hufflepuff awkwardly thrust out a napkin-wrapped bundle, which turned out to be a slightly misshapen slice of treacle tart. "I asked the twins, they said it's your favourite."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." He took the treat, still entirely baffled by the other seeker's presence.
"Look, Potter, I just wanted to come say I'm sorry. I didn't notice what was happening until it was too late— I'd never have caught the snitch if I'd known."
"It wasn't your fault," Harry assured him, grimacing. Stupid, noble Hufflepuffs. "It's fine, you won. It's just a quidditch match."
"Don't let Wood hear you say that," Diggory retorted, making Harry snort. "Are you okay? You fell so quickly. For a minute, we all thought…" He trailed off, glancing away. Harry knew what he'd been about to say. They all thought he was dead, at first.
"I'm fine. Barely even hurt." He was tired and sore, and still a little shaky, but he'd had worse injuries from quidditch before. "Wish I could say the same about my broom." He glanced over at the pile of splintered twigs, and Cedric winced.
"I heard about that. Merlin, I'm sorry. It was a great broom, that. Hopefully you can get something good to replace it."
Harry couldn't even think about replacing his broom right now, though he knew he'd need to before the match against Ravenclaw.
"Well, anyway, I'm glad you're alright. And I'm still really sorry about the match. I tried to get a rematch, but Hooch wasn't having it. I just… I wanted to beat you fairly, y'know? Not because the dementors made you faint."
The reminder made Harry scowl. "You won fair enough. You were already on your way to the snitch when I fell."
"That doesn't count! I've seen you fly, Potter, you could've easily beaten me to it." Diggory ran a hand through his hair, a frown on his handsome face. "Whatever; I've clearly lost the argument anyway, so it doesn't matter. I just… I didn't want you to think I was happy about the way things turned out."
"I wouldn't blame you if you were," Harry replied. "But thanks. And there's always next year, right?" That made Cedric grin.
"Next year, you're on," he agreed, shaking Harry's hand. "I'll leave you to your evening. Hope you get all patched up soon, Potter. See you around."
"Yeah, see you, Diggory."
"Cedric," the older Hufflepuff corrected, a faint flush to his cheeks. "It's Cedric." It took a beat too long for the two of them to stop shaking hands.
"Then call me Harry."
Cedric grinned, and Harry could see why all the girls got so flustered over him. Something in his gut flip-flopped. "Later, Harry."
The Hufflepuff turned away, and Harry sunk back against the pillows, shaking his head as he processed the bizarre interaction. At least something good had come from the whole disaster; he'd sort-of, maybe, made a new friend?
.-.-.-.
If he thought the visit from Cedric was weird, he was utterly bewildered by the person who crept into the hospital wing shortly after curfew. "Malfoy?"
"Shut up, Potter! I don't want to get caught," the Slytherin hissed, glaring. The moonlight bounced off his hair, making it practically glow in the darkness. He looked almost ethereal.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "If you didn't want to get caught, why are you here?" There was a long, pregnant silence. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy bit out again. Harry grinned. He was! Malfoy was actually concerned about him. "Maybe I'm here for Pomfrey. My arm hurts."
"We both know that's not true. Your arm is fine."
"Yes, well. After the way you fell, I'm surprised they weren't scooping you into a cauldron to get you off the pitch. The girl Weasley is going around acting like you'll never walk again."
Harry grimaced, glancing at Ginny's home-made get well card, wedged firmly shut under his fruit bowl. "I'm fine, really. It's just the dementors…" Harry trailed off. "You heard what Snape said in class. They're worse for people with bad memories."
"Plenty of people have bad memories, Potter. They're not fainting all over the place. Are you sure there's not something else wrong with you?" Malfoy eyed Harry suspiciously, like he was about to announce that he actually was dying. Harry glared at him.
"Those people don't hear their mum begging for mercy as she's murdered, do they?" he snapped in retort, watching Malfoy's already pale face drain of colour. Harry abruptly remembered who he was talking to. "Don't you dare tell anyone I said that."
"I hear my father torturing my mother," Malfoy blurted suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth and turning red as soon as he'd spoken. Harry gaped.
"Malfoy, I—"
"Don't," Malfoy bit out sharply, his eyes flashing. "Goodnight, Potter. Glad you're not in as many pieces as your broom is."
Before Harry could say anything more, the blond was gone, and Harry was alone once more, staring wide-eyed at the back of the door.
"Shit," he breathed into the darkness.
How the hell was he supposed to deal with a revelation like that?
.-.-.-.
He'd never been so glad to go back to classes as he was on Monday, after a whole night of sitting awake thinking about his mother, and the Grim, and Malfoy. He was yawning all through class, and Hermione gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you're well enough to be up and about, Harry?"
"Yeah, fine," he insisted. "Just didn't sleep well. Too quiet in the hospital wing."
"I suppose you didn't even have Professor Lupin for company. I'm glad he's feeling better, though."
"Yeah," Ron cut in. "No more lessons with Snape."
"Except Potions," Harry pointed out dryly, earning a wounded look.
"Don't ruin it, Harry."
Professor Lupin shot them a pointed look across the classroom, and Harry sheepishly turned back to his work.
After class, Harry made an excuse to his friends and lingered at his desk, waiting for the rest of the class to file out. Lupin raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Can I help you, Harry?"
"So, uh. The dementors. You, uh, saw what happens to me when they come near me."
"It's understandable, Harry; there are horrors in your past that others haven't experienced," Lupin soothed. Harry shook his head.
"I know, I know, but I still don't want to be fainting every time I see one."
"If it helps, Professor Dumbledore was furious with them — I don't think he's going to let them get close again."
"Why did they come the first time?" Harry asked bitterly.
"They're getting hungry," was Lupin's response. "They're used to being in Azkaban, with all that emotion to keep them going. Being out here, unable to go near anyone, and then feeling all the joy and excitement from the match… they couldn't resist."
"When they come close, I can hear my mum dying," Harry admitted. Lupin froze.
"Lily?" he said eventually, the lines on his facing making him look older than his thirty-three years. "Oh, Harry." He reached out, hesitating for only a moment before squeezing Harry's shoulder.
"I want it to stop," Harry breathed desperately. "When S— when Professor Snape covered for you, he said something about a spell that can be used to ward off dementors. Is that the thing you did on the train?" Lupin nodded. "Can you teach me?"
"Harry, the Patronus charm is an incredibly advanced bit of magic. Many adults can't do one, let alone a third year student."
"Try me," Harry retorted. His magic had been buzzing under his skin since the goblins had removed the block. Maybe some advanced magic was just what he needed.
"I don't want to make any promises…" Harry stared Lupin down, determination in his face, until the man sighed. "Fine. We can work on it over Christmas, if you're staying."
"I am," Harry confirmed. "I always do. The Dursleys don't want me there unless I have to be."
"You live with your muggle relatives in the summer, then, do you?" Lupin asked, an odd tone to his voice. Harry nodded.
"Unfortunately. I usually get to spend some of it at Ron's house, but Dumbledore — Professor Dumbledore, sorry — says I have to be at my aunt's house for most of the summer. I guess it's supposed to be safer." He grimaced, showing exactly what he thought of that. It certainly wasn't going to be safer when he got home in July, and Uncle Vernon decided to teach him a lesson for what he did to Aunt Marge. If only the Ministry had wiped their memories, too.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said, and he sounded like he truly meant it. "I only met Petunia a few times, and her husband just the once, but they were certainly… difficult people to get along with."
Harry snorted. "That's an understatement." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Professor? If you and my parents were such good friends… why couldn't you raise me, when they died?" Surely that would've been better than growing up with the Dursleys. Anything would've been better than that.
Lupin looked at him, a heartbroken expression in his eyes. "I wanted to," he confessed. "But there were… circumstances. The Ministry never would've allowed someone like me raise a child. And Dumbledore insisted you were in the safest place you could be— not that he ever told me where that was. He said you'd be protected as long as no one magical came near you. I couldn't even write." His voice cracked, just a little bit. Harry wondered what it would've been like — in the space of twenty-four hours, to lose two of your best friends, be betrayed by the other, and then have their child taken away from you forever. His heart twisted painfully.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, wishing there were more he could do. "For what it's worth… I think it would've been pretty cool, living with you. Better than Aunt Petunia."
The smallest smile managed to creep its way onto Lupin's face, though the hurt still shone in his golden eyes. "Thank you, Harry. That— that means a lot, coming from you."
Harry wondered what Lupin meant, that 'someone like him' wouldn't have been allowed to raise Harry, but he didn't dare ask. Not when Lupin looked like the wrong word would set him off crying.
"You should get going, Harry," the professor said eventually, straightening up and releasing Harry's shoulder. "You'll miss lunch, at this rate."
"Right, yeah," Harry murmured. "I'll see you later, Professor. And I'm glad you're feeling better."
Lupin smiled sadly, the light through the window highlighting the grey in his hair. "Thank you, Harry. It's good to be back on my feet."
.-.-.
Deep down, Harry wished Ron and Hermione had gone home for Christmas. He felt awful for thinking it — they were his best friends, and he'd barely even seen them so far this term! — But so much had changed, and he was keeping so many things from them; the gap was getting harder and harder to bridge. If they were going home, he could just spend the whole break reading his books and practicing spells without any awkward questions. He was getting pretty good at that privacy charm, now.
Neville was going home, though, and he promised to talk to his gran about finding someone to test Harry's Occlumency progress. Harry thought he was doing an alright job, but Neville was no Legilimens, and they couldn't risk checking by letting Dumbledore root around in his brain.
He was a little more morose than he let on when they went to Hogsmeade the last weekend before Christmas break. Not because he wanted to go overly much; he just felt so cooped up in the castle. It was ridiculous — the last two years, he hadn't even known about the option of going off the grounds. Now, he felt like he couldn't survive without it.
Of course, it didn't help that any time he so much as tried to leave the castle, someone was herding him right back inside. Harry couldn't even go to quidditch practice unsupervised. He felt like he couldn't breathe, he was so sick of being monitored. Part of him wanted Sirius Black to just attack him and get it over with.
Deciding to enjoy his time alone and work on some spells, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione in the entrance hall and started the journey back up to Gryffindor Tower.
"Psst! Harry!" A freckled arm reached out, yanking him into a hidden space behind a tapestry. He stared at the twins, eyebrows raised.
"What's the matter? Need an alibi for something?" he asked, eyeing them over as if he could tell what sort of prank they were about to pull.
"Nah, but thanks for the offer," Fred said with a grin. "We just wanted to give you a bit of an early Christmas present."
"Couldn't stand to see you moping around by yourself!" George agreed. He thrust out a hand, showing Harry… a blank bit of old parchment.
"I don't get it," Harry said flatly. Both twins beamed.
"This, dear Harrikins, is the secret to our success," they said in unison, clearly expecting him to be dazzled.
It still looked like a blank bit of old parchment.
Harry said as much, and George mock-swatted him on the arm. "Don't be so insulting! It might hear you. Explain, Fred."
The pair of them told Harry the story of the parchment's discovery, finishing with Fred whipping his wand out and touching it to the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
All at once, the parchment exploded with life. Harry watched in awe as the lines of the map unfurled, revealing Hogwarts in its entirety.
"The Marauders' Map," he breathed, reading from the greeting at the top of the page. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs… why did that sound so familiar? "Who are they?"
"No idea," Fred told him.
"Previous pranksters—"
"Masters of mischief long gone from these halls—"
"Absolute geniuses, mind—"
"The map shows every inch of the castle—"
"Every passage, every secret, every person—"
"Everything," they finished in unison. "Look, there we are." They pointed at the map, showing Harry three little dots labelled 'Fred Weasley', 'George Weasley', and 'Harry Potter'.
"We've learned everything we know about the school from this map," Fred said, voice filled with reverence.
"And now, we're giving it to you," George told him. "It's time to pass on to the next generation."
"Your need is greater than ours," Fred agreed. "Not only can you use it to keep out of trouble on your little late night wanders—"
"It shows you all the secret passages into Hogsmeade!" The twins gave him a run-down of all the options, and Harry grinned up at them incredulously.
"This is amazing," he declared, watching their grins widen.
"We know," they agreed.
"All you have to do to clear it is tap it and say Mischief Managed," Fred instructed, doing just that. The parchment cleared quickly, becoming blank once more. George pushed it into Harry's grasp.
"Use it well, little brother," he said mock-solemnly, winking. "We'll see you in Honeydukes."
"Thanks, guys." They both offered him extravagant bows, doffing imaginary top hats.
"Our pleasure, Heir Potter," they said cheekily, disappearing from the passageway before he could say anything. Harry looked down at the map, blank in his hands. He grinned.
Time to see what Hogsmeade was all about.
.-.-.
He didn't look for Ron and Hermione when he slipped out of the Honeydukes cellar, covered by his invisibility cloak. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell them about the map, yet. Ron would probably get jealous that the twins gave it to Harry and not him. Instead he just wandered, alone and invisible, thinking fondly of his time back in Diagon Alley. He could sort-of see what the fuss was about, but there wasn't anything truly remarkable there. He supposed just the freedom to go there without adults was enough.
He took a brief look in the Three Broomsticks, but it was far too crowded for him to sneak around invisible without getting bumped into. Besides, he couldn't exactly order a butterbeer. He saw Ron and Hermione in there, hands wrapped around their mugs, and smiled softly to himself. They seemed to be having fun.
He looked around the shops for a while, imagining what he might buy if he weren't hiding under his invisibility cloak. Perhaps he'd come back another time. Some of the things in Honeydukes did look delicious.
He was back in the castle before dinner, writing his Charms essay in the common room when Ron and Hermione returned, none the wiser to his little adventure. They practically ran towards him. Hermione's eyes were red, like she'd been crying. "We need to talk to you," Ron said gravely, dragging him over to a secluded corner of the common room. Harry looked at them, bewildered. Quietly, Hermione explained to him the conversation they'd overheard in the Three Broomsticks, where Fudge and the teachers told Madam Rosmerta about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Harry scowled before he could help himself — what right did they have to be bandying private information about like that in the middle of the pub? — Then he remembered this was supposed to be brand new information to him, and made himself look horrified. It wasn't hard; he still was, every time he thought about Black too much.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione murmured. "We had no idea."
"Yeah, well, neither did I," he muttered angrily. "I'm going upstairs."
He figured it was something the old, impulsive Harry Potter would do, stomping up the dormitory stairs and throwing himself down on his bed. He reached for his trunk, for the photo album Hagrid had given him, flipping it open to the photo of his parents' wedding. Sirius Black was there, happiness shining in his grey eyes, looking barely older than he had in his yearbook photo. Was he lost to Voldemort already, then? Did he know what he was planning to do?
Harry tore his eyes away, scanning the rest of the photo. In the background, hiding half out of sight, was Remus Lupin. His dress robes were a little worn at the elbows, but he was young and beaming, his dark blond hair neat and his face clean-shaven, a shallow cut healing across his cheekbone. He certainly had no idea what was coming.
He wondered if any of the other people in the picture were Peter Pettigrew. He vaguely remembered the boy's picture in the yearbook; chubby, mousy-haired, looking a little like he would jump at his own shadow. Harry remembered being surprised he was a Gryffindor, with that kind of fear in his eyes. That cowardly boy had stood up to Sirius, and paid the worst price for it.
The album fell shut with a loud noise, and Harry tugged his curtains closed with a flick of his wand, setting his privacy charm. He wasn't angry at Ron and Hermione. He wasn't sad about his parents, or angry at Sirius Black; they were all emotions he'd processed the first time he'd heard about it. The main feeling twisting him up inside was the overwhelming sensation of guilt. That was one less secret to keep from his friends, but they still didn't know the truth of how he'd heard about it. They didn't know about the map.
The secrets were just piling up on top of each other, and Harry was dreading the day they all came crashing down.
.-.-.-.
Remus knocked on the door, nudging it open and smiling a little at the scowl that greeted him. "I just got rid of the students, Lupin, and I was hoping to get at least a little peace and quiet. What do you want?"
Easing the door shut behind him, Remus strode towards Severus' desk, perching on the end of it and ignoring the glare it earned him. That had stopped working on him years ago. "What do you know about Harry's home life, Severus?"
Severus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Potter? What does it matter. Albus sent him somewhere safe. Probably some squib family that turned him into a pampered little prince, filled his head with stories of the Boy-Who-Lived, making him think he's something special."
Honey-brown eyes stared incredulously. "You don't know Harry at all, do you?" Remus remarked, shaking his head. Pampered little prince… that didn't sound anything like the Harry he knew. "He's not James, Severus. Believe me. Yes, he has his moments, but…there's so much of Lily in that boy. It actually hurts me to see it sometimes." The way Harry had reached out to him almost immediately, desperate for some kind of connection to his parents, trying to cheer Remus up even when he'd just given the boy some of the worst news of his life. His determination not to let the dementors get the better of him.
Severus leaned back in his chair. It was clear from the look on his face that he had no idea what Remus was talking about. "Watch him," Remus suggested. "Don't think about James. Look for Lily, and you'll see it. You'll see it in spades. Merlin." Having those green eyes fixed on him sometimes felt like he'd gone back in time. It was almost too much to bear.
"If you insist," Severus droned. "What does it matter where he lives, anyway? Going to steal him away in the night?"
"Albus sent him to Petunia." That got Severus' attention. The Slytherin stiffened, his shoulders hunching the barest fraction just at the woman's name.
"What?"
"Harry told me he lives with his Aunt Petunia and her family." Harry had inadvertently admitted quite a bit more than that. Remus' protective instincts roared when he thought too much about it.
"What in Merlin's name was Albus thinking?" Severus said, eyes sharp. "Petunia? That woman hated everything to do with magic!"
"He didn't know anything about his parents. Didn't know about magic before his Hogwarts letter." Remus swallowed harshly. "Severus, he said he didn't even know his name until he was five years old. I don't think he realised I heard him, but— imagine the sorts of things they must have called him instead. You knew Petunia better than I did, and her husband."
"The worst example of muggles I can think of," Severus agreed. He looked up, his face unguarded for once, his displeasure clear. "You're sure? Albus took him to her?" Remus nodded.
On the other side of the desk, an inkwell shattered. "Lily must have been spinning in her grave for the last twelve years," Severus growled, cleaning up the mess with a jab of his wand. "If she were here, she'd kill us both for never checking on him."
"Albus never let me," Remus supplied. He didn't doubt that Severus had never tried. His hatred for James Potter was a strong, strong thing. "He said it was safer if no one magical went near him."
"Of course he did," Severus sneered. He met Remus' gaze knowingly. "Keeping his precious golden boy nice and hidden away and downtrodden, starving for information — probably starving for food, too, by the look of him."
"Ready for the day that Albus Dumbledore swoops in and takes him away from that awful place, showing him a world of magic and becoming his true saviour," Remus finished grimly. "Severus, you don't really think—"
"That Albus would manipulate a boy so young? If it benefited the greater good, I have no doubt he would."
"But why?" Remus asked plaintively. "What does he have to gain from making Harry rely on him?"
Severus grimaced, glanced at his office door, then pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. Remus flinched. Last time he'd seen it, the Dark Mark had been vivid and black, an ugly mar on the pale skin. Now it was so faint it was barely even there unless you knew what to look for. The barest whisper of skull and snake. "If he were dead, it would be gone completely," he declared bluntly. "As you can see, that is not the case."
Remus felt the blood drain from his face as he met Severus' dark eyes. Deep down, behind that icy facade, he could see fear. "No…"
"The Dark Lord will one day return," Severus told him. "And I believe the Headmaster has plans for Potter when he does. Remind me to tell you what happened at the end of Potter's first year, sometime." He shoved his sleeve back down, shaking his head. "Petunia Evans. Salazar, it's a bloody miracle the boy made it to school alive. No wonder he has so little regard for his own safety."
Stomach turning to lead, Remus reached out and gripped Severus' hand with his own, surprised the Slytherin didn't automatically pull away. "We can't let that happen. Whatever Albus wants, whatever he's planning… we can't let him have Harry." Severus met his gaze, and Remus waited, wondering if he would have an ally in this. He'd had questions about some of Dumbledore's decisions in the past, but this… this was too far.
"I promised to protect the boy, for Lily's sake," Severus said eventually. "The afterlife would not be worth reaching if I failed that task."
Remus relaxed, leaning towards Severus for just a moment before he remembered he wasn't allowed to do that anymore. He let go of the man's hand. "Good," he murmured, gripping the edge of the desk to try and ground himself. "That's— good."
"Lupin… Remus," Severus said, sounding like the name caused him physical pain. "Are you well?"
"I'm fine," he insisted, not wanting to get into the specifics of how his heart was shredding itself inside his chest for so many reasons he could barely count them. "I think— I should go. It's late." He slid from the desk, taking an awkward step away from the seated man. "Thank you, Severus. I know we've had our differences, but… Harry needs all the help he can get. Thank you." "Be careful, Remus," Severus called when Remus had one hand on doorknob. "Changing loyalties is a dangerous game, no matter which side you're on."
Remus grit his teeth. "I can handle it. Goodnight, Severus."
He'd have to handle it. For Harry.
.-.-.
Wrapped up in the threads of so many lies and secrets, Harry had entirely forgotten about Buckbeak until he went with Ron and Hermione to visit Hagrid, only to find the man crying into his enormous teacup. The guilt piled higher in Harry's gut. He was being a terrible friend. Hell, the only reason they'd gone to Hagrid in the first place was that Ron and Hermione seemed to think he wanted to go hunting down Sirius Black. The old Harry probably would have, under that Compulsion curse. The new Harry had bigger things on his mind.
Still, he put in a good attempt at helping do the research to start putting a case together for Buckbeak. Ron lasted all of four hours in the library before he made an excuse and bailed out, while Harry stuck around for six. It wasn't the research that was the problem, or even the time spent with his nose in books — Hermione's preferred style of studying was a little… overwhelming for those around her. She was much better suited to independent research. Eventually, Harry got tired of her yanking the book out of his hands every time he said he might have something interesting, and just left her to it.
He didn't see much of his two best friends in the run-up to Christmas. Sure, they were around, and they hung out in the evenings in the common room. But honestly Harry couldn't remember the last time the three of them had had a proper conversation, especially not one that wasn't related to some disaster or another. Sometimes it felt like they only came together to solve problems. Whenever there was quiet time between the three of them, it would promptly get ruined by Crookshanks existing in Ron's presence and Ron going off on one about how the evil cat was out for blood. It was better for Harry to just… not.
Luckily, Professor Lupin had agreed to start Harry's Patronus lessons. Harry was practically vibrating with excitement the first time he approached Lupin's office, and his eyebrows rose at the enormous packing case sitting on the man's desk. It was rattling. "What's that?"
"Another boggart. It's the closest we'll get to a dementor without actually inviting one into the castle, and, well," Lupin said with a wry smile, "this is far easier to deal with."
Harry thought about having to face a real dementor, and his stomach turned over. Yes, the boggart was a much better idea.
He listened attentively as Lupin explained the Patronus charm to him, going over the incantation in his head. "Expecto Patronum," he murmured, wrapping his tongue around the sounds. "It just needs a happy memory?"
"The happiest one you can think of," Lupin confirmed. "When you think you've got one, give it a try."
Harry stood, lips pursed in thought. As tragic as it sounded, he didn't have an abundance of happy memories. He rolled a few through his mind — the moment Hagrid told him he was a wizard, maybe? No, that was mostly just confusion. His first Christmas at Hogwarts? That didn't feel right either.
Eventually, he settled on the first time he ever rode a broom. Simple, uncomplicated, breathless joy. He held the memory in his head, grasping his wand tight. "Expecto Patronum!"
Nothing happened.
He focused harder on the memory. "Expecto Patronum!"
A burst of silvery wisps shot out of the end of his wand, and Harry almost dropped it in shock. "Look! I did it! Sort of." It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Well done, Harry!" Lupin enthused, his grin making him look so much like the young man in the back of the Potters' wedding photo that Harry's breath caught for a moment. "Are you ready to try it on a dementor?"
"Yeah," Harry said, squaring his shoulders and facing the desk. "Let's do it." His blood roared in his ears, the happy memory at the forefront of his mind. Only… it wasn't entirely there, the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that he was about to hear her again. His mother. The only time he ever heard her voice. Lupin opened the packing case, and before Harry could truly brace himself the room went cold, a dark figure looming up above him. Harry's hand shook as he tried to gather his happy thoughts. "Expecto Patronum!" The dementor grew closer, the world starting to go fuzzy around the edges for Harry, the scream building in the back of his mind. "Expecto Patronum!"
Lily, take Harry and go! It's him!
It was a new voice. A male voice. White fog filled Harry's vision. I'll hold him off!
There was a crash, like a door bursting off its hinges.
"Harry! Harry, wake up!" The room was slowly warming. Harry became aware of two things; he was sprawled on the floor of the office, and Lupin was tapping him hard on the face. "Harry! Merlin, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I should've eased you into it more, I—"
"It's fine. I'm fine," he croaked, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He still felt shaky. Lupin thrust a chocolate frog towards him.
"I didn't expect you to get it the first time. I would've been astounded if you had," Lupin told him, still looking concerned.
"It's getting worse," Harry mumbled, thinking about what he'd just heard. That had to be… his father. James Potter's voice. He'd never heard that before, either.
"If you want to stop, I completely understand—"
"No," Harry insisted, biting the head off the chocolate frog. "I can do this. Let's go again."
Lupin made him wait until his hands no longer trembled, then helped him to his feet and moved towards the packing case. "You might want to try a happier memory," he suggested. "It's possible the one you were using wasn't quite strong enough."
Harry rolled through his limited stash of happy memories, finally choosing the memory of winning the house cup the year before. He nodded. "Do it."
The lights dimmed and the room went cold, the now-familiar rattling breath echoing through the office. Harry clenched his jaw, forcing the memory to the forefront of his mind. "Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" This time, an enormous silver shadow burst from his wand, sending the dementor reeling back several steps. Harry stood wide-eyed, and Lupin jumped in with a sharp Riddikulus, sending the boggart back into the case in the shape of a silvery orb again. Harry's patronus vanished. The lamps re-lit, and Harry sank into the chair behind him, panting. "I did it!" He felt like he'd run a mile, but he was beaming, and Lupin returned the expression.
"Excellent, Harry! Fantastic first start."
"Let's go again," Harry urged, and the professor sighed. "Please, sir. Just one more."
Once again, Harry managed a silver shadow big enough to cut the dementor off before the screaming started. It probably wouldn't help against a real dementor, but it was a start. Lupin insisted that was enough for the day.
"It's a large amount of magic, I don't want you overdoing it," he warned. On the contrary, Harry's magic felt better than it had in weeks, finally able to start levelling out the extra burst from his newly-freed core. But he couldn't say that, so he allowed himself to be herded into the chair and given a large mug of hot chocolate. "I have to say, I'm impressed. You're picking it up far quicker than I expected."
Harry grinned, pride growing in his chest. "Thanks." He sipped at his hot chocolate, relaxing as the warmth slowly flooded through his body. He glanced up at the man opposite him. "I heard my dad." Lupin frowned at him, puzzled. "When the dementor… usually I just hear Mum, screaming for Voldemort to leave me alone. This time, before I passed out… Dad was there. He said he'd hold Voldemort off so Mum could take me and run away. I'd never heard his voice before."
Lupin's shoulders had tensed. "James would have done anything for you and Lily," he said eventually. "Since we were kids, he always said he'd never love another soul as much as he loved Lily Evans. Then they had you." He met Harry's gaze, tears shining in his eyes. "You were his whole world, you know? You and your mother. He was never so happy as he was when he was with you."
A lump rose in Harry's throat, and he drank more hot chocolate. "What— what was it like? When they had me?" The only experience he had of a wizarding household was the Burrow, and that was an entirely unique brand of chaos. Lupin seemed to understand what he was asking. "At first, James was terrified. He was an only child, see, and he hadn't had much experience with babies. It took Lily ages to convince him to hold you without her supervising — he kept insisting he'd drop you." He chuckled softly. "After about two weeks of him putting your nappies on backwards, he started getting the hang of it. Always said he was no good — told me the cat was actually watching you, he was just helping. But he doted on you, Harry. Every second since you were born. Even when times got dark, and things were difficult, there was so much love in that house."
Harry's heart ached when he tried to imagine it. "We had a cat?" he said eventually, not wanting to dwell too much on the thought of being loved. Of being happy.
"Sergeant Pepper," Lupin told him, lips curling in a smile. "Lily's cat, from when we were in school. He didn't like James at first. Warmed up to him eventually. We knew Lily had finally given in to her feelings when Pep started leaving dead mice on James' pillow. Well, once we realised it wasn't Sirius doing it as a joke," he added with a snort. A flash of pain crossed his features when he realised what he'd said. "No one found Pep when… after Voldemort. The house was in quite a state, we never knew if he'd run for it or…"
Harry hoped the cat had run. Hoped he'd found a new home, with a new family who loved him. That would make one of them, at least.
"So Dad wasn't great with babies?" That made Lupin laugh.
"Not exactly, but he muddled through. Lily, on the other hand, was a natural from day one. Took to motherhood like a duck to water. She, uh, she said she wanted at least one more. Said that being an only child sounded lonely, and even an awful sibling was better than none at all." Lupin set his mug down. "Sirius said the same, and he hated his brother. The rest of us were only children. Severus didn't understand it, not after— well. Never mind." His cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head.
"Why did Snape never tell me he knew my parents?" Harry blurted. That was the second time now that Lupin had talked about Snape and his parents like they knew each other better than just being classmates. "Professor Snape, Harry," Lupin corrected automatically. "He… James and Severus never got along. I think it's safe to say they hated each other, actually," he said wryly. "I'll admit, James didn't help the matter. He was always jealous that Lily and Severus were friends, so he… well, most of the pranks he and Sirius played were on Slytherins, and Severus in particular. I tried to stay out of it, but… things happen. They were my friends."
Lupin sighed, rubbing at a scar on the bridge of his nose. "It's a very long story, Harry, that isn't entirely mine to share. Perhaps one day… Suffice to say, Professor Snape has a difficult relationship with his memory of your parents, and I don't think you make it any easier. Not that it's your fault," he added hastily. "He's just working under some… mistaken assumptions."
Harry slowly finished off his hot chocolate, pondering the man's words. He supposed he could understand it. If Snape and his dad hated each other when they were kids, and then Harry showed up looking exactly like James Potter; no wonder Snape didn't like him. It was hardly fair, being judged against a man he didn't even remember, but he could get it.
"You loved him, didn't you," he murmured, watching Lupin with a knowing gaze. The man choked on his hot chocolate, going wide-eyed. "My dad, I mean. And Mum. And… Sirius Black, and Pettigrew."
"I… yes. I loved them very, very much." Lupin's voice was hoarse. "They were my family."
In that moment, a burning hatred flickered deep inside Harry — hatred for Voldemort, and everything he'd taken away from Harry. Everything he'd taken away from all the people he'd hurt. For Sirius Black, and all those like him, who ruined so many lives; shattered so many families.
He wouldn't wish the dementors on his worst enemy, but Black deserved everything he got.