Harry woke up early the next morning, keen to start his training even though he knew it wouldn't start until after breakfast. He filled the time with his Charms homework, and met Remus and Snape down in the kitchen for breakfast.
"Now will you tell me what the plan is for today?" he pleaded, turning hopeful green eyes on Remus. The werewolf sighed.
"I suppose," he agreed, a smile creeping across his lips. "Unlike last summer, we won't divide the day into subjects; there are too many different things to teach you, and they all overlap. After lunch we'll start you off with some duelling practice, see where you stand there. But this morning I'm going to test you on Arithmancy and Runes. You have been keeping up your study, haven't you?"
"I have." Harry had spent a lot of time in the last week of school working on them; it was a good way to keep his mind busy. "So, duelling? What else?"
"If you are going to be fighting Death Eaters, there are many curses you will need to become familiar with," Snape said. "They won't stick to stunning and disarming you. I'll be teaching you to recognise some of the more common dark curses by sight and feel, and even to cast many of them yourself. There may be times when you don't want to risk your opponent escaping unharmed."
Harry swallowed sharply. He got the feeling it was going to be a very different duelling practice to the ones he'd had last summer. "I can do that."
"I will also be trying to drill some strategy into your Gryffindor skull," Snape continued. "If you are going to be leading the resistance against both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, you need to learn to think like they think, to beat them to their mark. You will not win this war if you are one step behind the whole time, on either front."
"You're going to teach me to be a Slytherin," Harry realised with a smirk. Snape's eyes glittered.
"You keep insisting you would have done well in my house. It's time for you to prove it."
Harry could hardly wait.
.-.
He passed Remus' Arithmancy and Runes tests with flying colours, and the werewolf beamed with pride when he handed Harry back his papers shortly after lunch. "Well done, cub. If you keep it up, you'll get Os in your OWLs with no problem."
At last, Snape took Harry into the duelling room, rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt. "Your duel with the Dark Lord was a mockery," he declared. "He was toying with you. You won't be so lucky next time. You need to learn to protect yourself from all sides, from whatever spell they may send your way — the Dark Lord may insist that he be the one to kill you, but that won't stop his servants trying to harm you, or your friends."
Harry drew his wand, readying himself at the end of the duelling strip. In all his practice for the third task, he'd gotten pretty good at both defensive and offensive magic. Nowhere near the level of Snape, but he was fairly confident he could hold his own. He'd been doing well at the end of last summer.
Snape faced him, bowing over his wand. "Let's see how much you remember."
The duel began and ended in less than a minute flat. Harry was on his back, staring at the ceiling and wondering how he'd gotten there. A hand appeared in his vision. "Get up, try again."
"You were going easy on me last summer," Harry accused, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. Snape smirked.
"Of course I was, you were thirteen. Things are different now. Death Eaters won't go easy on you because you're a child."
The second duel, Harry managed to last almost five minutes. "Better," Snape approved, hoisting him up again. "Tell me what the problem here is."
"You're still using schoolyard spells." Snape hadn't sent anything stronger than an Impediment jinx his way. The Slytherin nodded.
"I will continue to do so until I can be confident you know how to dodge. Several of the darker hexes cannot be blocked by your average Shield charm. I will, of course, teach you more advanced shields, but should you find yourself in battle with an unfamiliar spell headed your way, it's always safer to dodge than to shield and hope it works." Snape's smirk widened. "Your quidditch reflexes will come in handy here, Potter. Again."
.-.-.
Harry and Snape duelled until dinner, by which time both of them were sweaty, but Snape actually had an expression on his face that Harry might generously consider a smile. They had taken breaks, to let Harry catch his breath, but even those had been spent with Snape demonstrating some of the curses and hexes Harry might come across in a real battle. By the end of the session, Harry was getting pretty good at dodging most of the spells Snape sent his way.
"Tomorrow I will show you a variant of the Shield charm that will work for stronger spells, but takes more concentration to cast, which is why it's not commonly taught." Snape passed Harry one of the glasses of water Ceri had brought, and Harry drank deeply. "Have you been keeping up your Occlumency shields?"
"Yes, sir." Harry didn't dare let them waver with Dumbledore about.
"Good. Being able to clear your mind and compartmentalise is an essential skill when duelling; a true battle requires you to be paying attention to a dozen things at once. Emotions cannot get in the way — a split second of distraction is all it takes to kill you."
"Have you ever duelled against Death Eaters, sir?" Harry asked curiously. Snape's lips thinned.
"We were often encouraged to duel each other to sharpen our skills. The Dark Lord didn't like us holding back on each other; he said if we were weak enough to die, we didn't deserve to serve him. I learned not to be weak."
Harry sincerely doubted Snape had ever been weak, but he held his tongue.
They bumped into Remus in the kitchen when they went to put their glasses away, and the werewolf sniffed the air, then made an exaggerated face of disgust. "You two smell like you've been busy. Good session?"
"Potter isn't as terrible as I'd feared," Snape replied, the closest thing he'd give to a compliment. Remus grinned.
"Glad to hear it. Go wash up for dinner, both of you; I'll lose my appetite if I have to smell that while I eat. Worse than James and Sirius after quidditch."
Harry laughed, obediently heading out of the kitchen to take a shower. Snape didn't follow, and he refused to think too hard about why. .-.
Training continued the next day, though it finished early due to another Order meeting. Snape set Harry the task of reading up on the pros and cons of different types of shields, so he happily whiled away the hour in the library, with Ceri occasionally popping in to check on him while she made dinner. She took the responsibility of looking after Harry while he was home alone very seriously.
Remus and Snape returned just in time for dinner, and Remus took something out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of Harry. It was a smooth grey stone, about the size of a chicken's egg. "Uh… thanks?"
"It's from the twins," Remus said, as if that explained anything. "They said it should solve your owl problem, at least. It's supposed to take on your magical signature strongly enough that it'll fool owls into thinking your delivery address is wherever you set it. They've been working on it for a while, apparently; ever since Ginny got all that hate mail from that Skeeter article. You can charge it up, then we'll have Ceri pop it over to the Dursleys, and any owls sent to you will go there, so your watchers won't wonder why you aren't getting any post."
"But what about all the people I want to owl me without Dumbledore knowing about it?" Harry asked, thinking of Draco and all the heirs. Not only would it be terribly inconvenient to have all those owls going to the Dursleys, it would raise far too many questions.
"Sirius had an idea about that. He said you should write to the twins and Ginny, telling them the Dursleys have forbid you from getting letters all summer. It'll tie in nicely with the story that you're locked in your room. Then we can give it a week or so, and if owls stop coming, we'll pick up the stone and deactivate it, then you can get mail here instead. It just means you can't owl any of your other friends until you're clear."
"I didn't know for sure if I'd be able to owl them at all," Harry pointed out. He picked up the stone, running his fingers over it. "This is brilliant! I knew they'd figure something out." He pocketed the stone. "I'll write to them after dinner. Although," he faltered, "if I tell them not to write to me, does that mean I won't be able to write to them all summer? Surely they're not allowed to send owls off to whoever, living at Order headquarters."
"Severus and I can play delivery owl for any letters you want to send them." Snape cleared his throat pointedly. "Oh, alright, I'll play delivery owl," Remus corrected exasperatedly.
After dinner, Harry followed Remus' instructions to push his magic into the stone until it glowed faintly, then they sent it off with Ceri to put in his room at Privet Drive. "How will we know if it works?" Harry asked.
"Ceri can keep an eye out for any approaching owls, and just pop you back there when you need to open the window. That'll help convince your watchers you're still there, too. Your aunt and uncle never have to know," Remus said. "And if owls show up here, well, we know it hasn't worked, and we'll think of something else."
Harry had faith in the twins. The stone would work.
He grabbed his writing supplies and brought them down to the living room, biting his lip as he thought about what to write. It was a letter that the Order would definitely read; he had to make it believable.
Dear Fred, George and Ginny,
I hope you're having a good start to your summer! Mine has been… not great. The Dursleys are off with me again, so I'm stuck in my room for the foreseeable future. It's not so bad — it's too hot to go outside much anyway.
Speaking of the Dursleys, they're not happy about the idea of me having owls coming and going — they said some of the neighbours noticed last summer, and they got too many questions. The only reason they're letting me let Hedwig out now is that I promised to send her to you asking you not to write to me this summer. It won't be forever; hopefully I'll get to come stay at the Burrow soon. We just might have to celebrate my birthday a bit late.
If you're with anyone else who might want to write to me, could you pass on the message? I don't want a repeat of the summer before second year.
Hopefully see you all soon!
Harry
That should do it. The reminder of the summer before second year would also be a good way to convince people the Dursleys would lock him up all summer; and maybe make a few people think twice about the kind of conditions Dumbledore was willing to leave a teenage boy in. Harry hurried up to the Owlery, where Hedwig flew down to perch on his shoulder, butting his cheek with her face. "Yeah, yeah, I've finally got some work for you." She hadn't been out except to hunt since he'd left Hogwarts; she'd be glad for the chance to really stretch her wings. "Here you go. Fly safe, girl." He secured the letter and let Ceri transport Hedwig to leave from Privet Drive, then went back downstairs to write the letter he really wanted to send the three Weasleys.
Dear Fred, George and Ginny,
As you can probably assume, I'm not at the Dursleys' house. I'm somewhere a whole lot better. I hear you're not in your usual place, either. Hope that's going well for you.
Fred, George, the stone is in place and hopefully we'll test it with your return letter with Hedwig. Maybe Sirius can send one too with whatever owl he's got with him, just to see if it works for owls other than her.
If you can convince everyone not to write to me, I'll turn it off and be able to write to some of our other friends without anyone questioning me. Remus has agreed to be the go between for any letters between us. He's living here too, when he's not where you are.
I speak to Sirius most days through other means, and he keeps me pretty well updated on what's going on there, but let me know if anything interesting happens. What are Ron and Hermione up to these days? Have you seen much of Dumbledore?
Ginny, if the twins haven't suggested it already, you should try and learn Occlumency over the summer. Ask them to explain it to you. But it'll be safer if you know it, with Dumbledore around. Until then, don't look him in the eye.
Give Sirius a hug from me. I hope you're all doing well.
Love,
Harry
He rolled it up, sealing it with a tap of his wand. "Would you give that to the twins next time you're at headquarters?" he requested, holding it out to Remus. Remus nodded, tucking it into his cardigan pocket.
"Will do. I'll probably be over there tomorrow for a bit; check up on how your guard is doing. I'm awfully concerned about you, y'know, you never leave your room," he said with a wink, making Harry grin. "Fifteen more minutes, then off to bed, alright? It's getting late, and you need your sleep."
The gentle chiding was so normal, so automatic, that Harry was breathless with emotion for a second. He imagined a life in which he'd grown up like this; with Remus and Sirius and Snape, in a house full of love. He'd thought he was over that childish wish. Apparently not.
He took a steadying breath, hoping Remus hadn't noticed. Snape was eyeing him with an unreadable look, and Harry didn't meet the man's gaze.
At least he had it now. Better late than never.
.-.-.-.
A few days later, Harry was surprised by Sirius' arrival shortly after lunch, the man bursting into the library and interrupting Harry's lesson with Remus. "The Order think I'm sulking in my room about not being able to bring you to headquarters," he said by way of greeting, ruffling Harry's hair. "I reckon that gives me at least two hours. Mind if I take over, Moony?" He pulled a book from the pocket of his robe, and Remus' eyebrows rose, a smirk flitting across his lips.
"It's time, is it? By all means, go ahead; we can pick this up tomorrow."
"Time? Time for what?" Harry asked, trying to see the title of the book. Sirius hid it behind his back.
"You remember last summer, when you promised you'd keep up your grades? You didn't have exams this year, but Severus assures me you're doing well in all your classes, and Moony showed me your Arithmancy and Runes tests from the other day. I think it's time I held up my end of the bargain."
It took Harry to remember the exact promise he'd made, but when it clicked, his jaw dropped. "You'll teach me to be an animagus?" he asked excitedly. Sirius tossed him the book, and Harry caught it reflexively.
A Complete Guide to the Animagus Transformation. It looked old, the edges a little worn. "This is the book your dad and I used when we learnt. There's a few more books in the library here on the subject, but this should teach you everything you need to know."
Harry's heart stuttered; his dad had used this book. His dad had studied these pages, read it over and over, maybe even made notes inside. His touch became even more reverent. "Can we start now?"
"That's what I'm here for!" Sirius agreed, dropping into the chair beside Harry. "I'll warn you, it's a bit boring at first. Finding your form can take a bit of time, though it's easier if you've already got a good base in Occlumency." He reached to open the book to the first chapter; Finding Your Form.
Harry read quickly. Finding an animagus form involved a lot of meditation to prepare, and then entering some sort of trance with some potion fumes in the air to actually find the form itself. "Moony brewed the potion for us last time, but Severus said he'll do it," Sirius informed him. "So it should be ready by Saturday. Think you can meditate enough by then?"
Harry would meditate continuously until Saturday if it meant finding out his animagus form.
Sirius explained the basics to him, and sat opposite him to help him through it to begin with. "You can't just think about being an animagus," he said softly, his hands in Harry's. Harry's eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady. "You have to let your magic do the talking. Breathe into it, let it search your mind until it can find the form waiting to be unlocked. Everyone has one; some are just a bit shit." Harry snickered, his concentration broken, and he opened one eye to glare at Sirius. "Oops, sorry," he said with a grin.
"Don't expect it to happen instantly. These things take time," Remus murmured.
Harry tried to focus, do what Sirius and the book said; let his magic reach within him. But it was a lot easier said than done. After a while, he began to get a headache, so he opened his eyes and told Sirius as much.
"Good, that means you're doing it right," Sirius assured. "Like Moony said, it takes time. You've got five days before the potion will be ready, and we don't have to do it as soon as it's brewed; it'll keep for a month. There's no rush to this, Harry." He glanced over Harry's shoulder, and frowned. "You alright there, Moons?"
Harry turned around, catching Remus quickly wiping at his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," he insisted. "It's just… Merlin, it's like looking in a pensieve." Sirius' mouth twisted in a grimace, but he covered it with a smile.
"It can't be, I was way better looking when I was sixteen," he insisted jovially. "And Prongsy was never that short." He got to his feet, striding over to Remus and pressing their foreheads together for a minute. "If James can't teach him, he'd be happy to know we are."
"Do you think I'll be a stag, like my dad?" Harry asked softly, not wanting to interrupt their moment. Both men turned to look at him.
"I don't think so. James needed those antlers to hold his massive ego," Sirius joked, making Remus choke on a laugh. "It wouldn't surprise me if you're something with wings, the way you are on a broom."
"That would be cool," Harry agreed, but it didn't feel quite right. Privately, he hoped he was something that could run with Moony and Padfoot on full moons. He wanted to be part of that.
Sirius insisted that Harry shouldn't push through his headache to continue, so they gave up on the meditation for now. Instead, Harry pleaded for stories about Sirius and his dad learning to transform.
"When you start working on the transformation itself, it comes in stages, yeah?" Sirius said, grinning. Remus groaned; he knew where the story was going. "So your dad, right, he was dead set on transforming before me, so he'd work on it any spare minute he got. Including in the dorm between meals. And one day, I hear a crash, so I run up to the dorm thinking he's become a great big stag in the middle of the room, only to find him perfectly human but for the massive set of antlers on his head, all tangled up in his bed curtains!" Sirius howled with laughter at the memory, shaking his head. "It took me and Moony both to get him out of there, and then he could barely stand up, the antlers were so heavy. We had to go to dinner like that and pretend it was a prank gone wrong."
"He didn't manage to get rid of them until about one in the morning," Remus added, chuckling.
"Not as bad as the tail I got stuck with for about two days," Sirius pointed out ruefully. "It was a nightmare! I couldn't sit properly in class, people thought I had some sort of medical problem."
"Nah, Robin Waters just told everyone he shagged you bow-legged," Remus informed him. Sirius' eyebrows shot up.
"Did he, now? That explains so much." He snickered to himself. "Anyway, Harry, the moral of the story is, be careful when you practice, and make sure you've got an alibi if you do get stuck with unexpected animal parts. Preferably a better alibi than I apparently did." He flushed at that, and Harry laughed.
"Noted." He couldn't wait to start working on the transformation itself. Saturday couldn't come soon enough!
.-.-.-.
Severus should've known the peace wouldn't last. When the first week of July passed by without so much as a twitch from his Dark Mark, he thought he'd managed to avoid it, but then it burned when he was in the middle of brewing a potion, and he swore softly.
He took the coward's way out, telling Ceri to let Remus know where he'd gone. Then he donned his robe and mask, walked to the property line, and disapparated.
It surprised him, how easy it was to fall back into that role. He'd expected difficulty clearing his thoughts, drawing up that darkness within him that had drawn him to Voldemort to begin with. There was so much light in his life these days. But with the knowledge that that light was on the line if he should fail, by the time he walked up the steps to Malfoy Manor he was a perfect loyal Death Eater, and always had been.
Seeing the Dark Lord again was an eye-opening experience. Harry had described his twisted, snake-like appearance, but Severus hadn't realised it was so grotesque. He didn't look human anymore.
"I have stayed close to Dumbledore, my Lord. The old fool believes me loyal to him, but I only serve you. I knew when you returned you would need someone at the school, someone in the headmaster's good graces. I positioned myself where I thought it best to turn young minds to your cause." The words came easy. The screams came easier. Even when the Dark Lord was pleased with your work, he'd still Crucio you just to remind you of what could happen should that change.
"It's a shame you weren't able to save my loyal servant from the dementors," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes surveying Severus as he kneeled on the floor, shaking. "But he told me how much Dumbledore trusted you. He even began to doubt you himself, but I knew the truth. You have always been one of my most loyal servants, Severus."
"I am honoured to remain so, my Lord."
The meeting was short, and Severus was glad for it. The Dark Lord just wanted to reconnect; assess Severus' loyalty, and instruct him to report back with any information on Dumbledore or Harry Potter. Severus felt he got off rather lightly, all things considered. He could still walk away under his own power, after all, even if he was bleeding from a few places.
Remus was waiting on the lawn when he apparated back to Seren Du, his dressing gown wrapped around him and a worried frown on his tired face. It was dark, but the lights were still on in the house. "Oh, Severus," the Gryffindor murmured, hurrying to wind Severus' arm over his shoulders and help him inside.
"Where's Potter?" Severus didn't want the boy seeing him like this.
"In his room, I sent him to bed. What do you need?"
"Nerve Tonic. Regular strength." The line of Remus' shoulders relaxed slightly; Severus wasn't in need of the extra strength tonic yet.
"Ceri." At Remus' soft call, the house elf appeared. "Run a bath for Severus, please, and fetch a bottle of his Nerve Tonic." Ceri nodded, and moments later small hands were pressing a vial into Severus' empty palm. He checked the label, then downed it, not even flinching at the taste. It had been a while since he'd needed one of those.
They stumbled up the stairs together, Remus using his werewolf strength to keep Severus upright, and by the time they made it to the bathroom the bath was full and steaming. Severus rolled his eyes when Remus' hands began to work at his robe. "I can do it," he insisted, but Remus gently smacked his fingers away.
"Let me take care of you." His voice cracked. Severus' heart clenched. It couldn't be any easier for Remus to watch him go than it was for him to leave himself. "Merlin, I'd hoped we were done with this the first time around."
"Sadly not," Severus bit out, wincing when several of his bleeding wounds were exposed to the open air as Remus unbuttoned his shirt. "Careful."
Remus' nostrils flared, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Soon," he vowed softly, helping Severus step out of his clothes. When he was naked, the werewolf's eyes roamed over him critically. Severus resisted the urge to cover himself. Remus had seen him nude more times than he could count, but Severus couldn't bear it when it was like this. Shaking and bleeding and still feeling filthy from kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet.
A murmur of spells, and his wounds healed. Remus nudged him towards the bath. "Go on, it'll help."
It did, the hot water soothing Severus' aching muscles, releasing some of the tension that had gathered from the curse. Remus stayed out of the bath, though his hands trailed soothingly over Severus' shoulders. "Oh, my love," he breathed, kissing Severus' cheek. "My brave, brave love."
"It wasn't even a bad one," Severus insisted. Remus shot him a chiding look.
"And I'm grateful. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about letting you go off to him. Merlin, Severus, when Ceri came to me… it was like the first war all over again." Severus remembered it well; by the time he and Remus had reconciled, the war was well underway, and Severus was being summoned every few days. Neither of them ever knew what state he'd return in; sometimes, it was a bloodied heap on the doorstep. Every time, Remus picked him up and healed what he could and ran him a bath, just as he was doing now. Every time, he held Severus, loved him, soothed him until he felt human again.
Severus did not deserve Remus Lupin.
Remus reached for the shampoo, and Severus was treated to the sensation of skilled fingers massaging his scalp, washing the blood from his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, his own hands trembling too much to do anything but rest on his thighs and wait for the aftershocks to stop. He was out of practice at taking the Cruciatus. He'd have to build that back up.
Water poured over his head, careful to stay out of his eyes. Remus stood, dropping his dressing gown to reveal his bare chest. He looked healthier these days than he had even when they were in their youth; at peace with his wolf, well-fed by Ceri, reunited with at least some of his pack. The sentimental part of Severus liked to think he was a little responsible, too. Remus was beautiful. "May I join you?" the werewolf asked. Severus nodded. There were some times, after a meeting, that he couldn't bear to be touched by gentle hands. This wasn't one of them. He needed Remus' skin like he needed air.
Remus unselfconsciously shed his pyjama trousers, stepping into the water. Remus had chosen their room because it was closest to the largest bathroom; the one with the bath big enough for three people, let alone two. The Gryffindor settled down and pulled Severus into his arms, his hands running up and down Severus' chest. Lips pressed against his shoulder. "I love you," Remus murmured, the words so earnest they rattled Severus' soul. "I'm proud of you. You're so, so brave."
Severus couldn't have said how long they sat there in the bath, Remus' hands and words drawing him back to himself again, back to his humanity. He was almost embarrassed; such a minor meeting shouldn't have sent him into such a state. He was about to face far worse in the coming months.
But Remus wasn't the only one who'd thought they were done with all this, for so long.
Severus relaxed into the embrace an inch at a time, letting his hands shift to settle on Remus' knees where they bracketed him. Remus' soothing murmurs paused. "Are you mine again?"
"I am always yours," Severus whispered fiercely. The words came harder to him, they always had, but for as much as Remus Lupin was devoted to Severus Snape, Severus was twice as devoted in return.
Lips pressed against his jaw. "Shall we go to bed?"
"Please."
One spell had the bathtub draining, and another had them both dry. Remus shrugged on his dressing gown and wrapped a towel around Severus' hips, just in case Harry happened to be wandering the halls. Severus left the towel on the floor as he crawled into bed, Remus joining him without bothering with new pyjamas. On nights like this, both of them preferred as much skin as possible.
It had been almost a decade and a half since Severus' last meeting, but the routine was still as familiar as breathing to them both, as automatic as Remus' post-moon rituals. Before the light went out, Severus met Remus' gaze. "I will always come back to you," he vowed, fingers still trembling ever so slightly as he cupped Remus' jaw. "He will not have me."
"Damn right he won't," Remus agreed, eyes flashing gold. "You're mine." Remus' mouth met his, and Severus lost himself for a moment, Remus' body covering his own, his tongue sliding languidly between Severus' lips. They were both too tired to do anything more, but Severus needed to ground himself, and Remus needed reassurance. When they parted, Remus turned off the light. "Sleep," he urged, settling into his preferred sleeping position, sprawled on top of Severus. Severus set a hand low on his partner's back, letting the weight of him anchor him back to reality. The Dark Lord couldn't touch this, couldn't have this part of his life. Voldemort, Dumbledore; neither of them could have Severus, truly. His soul belonged to one man only.
.-.-.-.
Harry awoke with a gasping breath, his chest heaving and his pyjamas damp with sweat. He sat up, reaching for his glasses. His pulse thudded in his ears. When he squeezed his eyes shut, he saw Cedric Diggory's empty grey eyes.
It wasn't the first nightmare. Harry doubted it would be the last. They took various forms, but they all ended the same; Cedric dead, and Harry unable to do anything about it.
At least he'd stopped having the ones where Cedric blamed Harry for his death.
A quick glance at his bedside clock told him it was almost seven; a little early for breakfast, but not by much. He grabbed clean clothes and hurried across to his bathroom to rinse off the sweat and try and make himself feel human again. It only sort-of worked, but he felt a little better.
To his surprise, Remus and Snape were up as well when he entered the kitchen, both with mugs in front of them. Snape's copy of the Prophet sat on the table beside him, unopened. Both of them looked weary, too.
Remus glanced up when Harry arrived, his honey eyes quickly taking in the bags under his eyes and his damp hair, the hunch to his shoulders and half-curled fists. The gaze quickly became knowing. "Which one?" he asked, and it took Harry a minute to parse the question.
"Cedric," he said eventually. He hadn't had a trip into Voldemort's head since that one Divination lesson. Remus relaxed a little, though his lips pursed.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Harry replied honestly. He accepted the arm that wound around his waist for the brief moment he walked past, heading for the teapot. Ceri floated a mug out of the cupboard for him. "Were you expecting it to be the other one?"
"Severus was Called last night," Remus told him. Harry froze. "I was worried you might have seen it."
"Are you okay?" Harry asked quickly, turning his gaze on the Potions Master. Now he knew what to look for, he could see Snape's night had been even worse than Harry's own.
"I am fine, Harry," Snape replied. He had to be tired if he was using Harry's first name.
"Will I train with Remus today?"
"For this morning, yes. We will return to duelling in the afternoon," Snape said, raising his mug to his lips. His hands didn't shake.
"Unless you need a break," Remus added, still watching Harry with concern. "If you need more sleep…"
"No, I'm fine," Harry insisted. The last thing he needed was more sleep; more of an opportunity to see Cedric's face.
"If we're ever pushing too much, just tell us," Remus said, tone serious. "This is still your summer holiday. The situation might be… escalating, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to say no."
"If I was at the Dursleys I'd be shut away with no wand, no contact and no idea what's going on in the world," Harry pointed out. "I might as well do something worthwhile since I have that freedom. I'm happy to train; I'm still having fun. This is way better than anything else I could be doing." He still got to fly and swim some evenings, and had even ridden Buckbeak once, though he'd had to stay inside the tree line. "But it's not all about me, so if either of you need a break—"
"If we need a break, we will tell you," Snape cut him off curtly. "But I am fine. I can handle meetings with the Dark Lord; they're likely to become a regular part of my week, now." Over his shoulder, Remus grimaced. "Then nobody needs a break, and everyone's fine," Harry surmised, daring Remus to say otherwise. The werewolf snorted.
"I can't tell if you're picking up Severus' habits, or they're habits you both got from Lily," he remarked in amusement, eyes darting between his partner and his godson. Harry stared at Snape. Snape stared back.
If Harry was picking up habits from the Potions Master, the world really had gone mad.
.-.-.-.
Having seen Severus off to a meeting with Dumbledore — the lesser evil of the two masters he pretended to serve — Remus went back into the house in search of Harry. He found him in the living room, sprawled out on the floor surrounded by parchment, a quill in hand. Remus eyed the scene curiously. Harry seemed to be writing about five different things at once, occasionally humming thoughtfully. "What are you up to, cub?"
Harry startled, glancing over his shoulder at Remus. "Writing letters," he explained, turning back to his parchment. "I want to start reconnecting with people as soon as we can turn the twins' redirect stone off. I've got a letter for Draco, obviously, but I need to write to Neville and Susan and the other heirs, see who I can get away with writing to — I've got a feeling Cassius' uncle might be checking his mail. I really hope he's okay. And I promised Cho I'd write to her. And Fleur and Viktor, though those two can probably wait; Hedwig will be gone for a while with those journeys."
Remus' eyebrows climbed higher with every name. "Well, you'll certainly be keeping the owls busy. Let me know if you need to borrow Horatio, he doesn't get much work these days." He was getting on a bit, but still in fine condition to deliver within Britain.
"Really? Thanks." Harry smiled. "I probably won't keep up with everyone all summer, but I missed my chance to talk to everyone in the last week what with… everything that happened. I need to catch up on some stuff. We need to make plans for next year."
There was one piece of parchment that looked more like a list than a letter, and Remus gestured to it. "What's that?"
"Oh, that's a list of current Wizengamot seats," Harry said. "I'm working out which are currently held by Death Eaters, and more importantly, which of those have kids that I know don't want to follow Voldemort. I'm also trying to figure out who holds the neutral seats, and see where they're likely to fall on matters. I've been reading through the voting records for the last five years or so, and there's a few that really shouldn't be allowed to keep their seats once the war's over. But half of them haven't publicly revealed their heir, so there's not much I can do about it." Harry swung himself into a sitting position. "I thought if I could get the list to Susan, she could start asking around; she's way more connected with this sort of stuff than I am."
"Wow," Remus said, for lack of any other words. "That's a lot of research, I'm impressed." Here Harry was, a few weeks shy of fifteen, and planning a political revolution while he wrote letters to his friends.
Harry shrugged self-consciously. "It's all public information. I'm just compiling it. Susan will know what to do with it all."
"Still, it's no small feat." Remus thought Harry was giving the Bones girl a little more credit than was due. "You're starting your career in politics early, I see."
"Oh, no, I'm just a figurehead," Harry insisted. "I don't really want to go into politics. I mean, I'll take my Wizengamot seats of course, and do what I can there, but it won't be my full-time job."
"Oh? And what will that be, then?" Remus asked, half expecting him to declare he wanted to be Minister for Magic, or Head Auror, or even Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry's grin turned a little lopsided.
"I'd like to play professional quidditch," he said, just a touch of hesitation to his words. "Viktor said I'm good enough. And I like quidditch. I think it'd be fun. I could get ten or fifteen good years playing once I graduate, then I'll figure out something else to do." His grin faltered. "If I survive the war, at any rate."
"You're going to survive the war," Remus said reflexively, refusing to even contemplate any other options. He thought over Harry's words; having seen him fly, even with dementors in the mix, he had no doubt that Harry could indeed go pro if he wanted to. Perhaps it wouldn't satisfy the wizarding world's ideal as a career for their saviour, but quite honestly they could go fuck themselves. "What team would you want to play for? The Harpies will never sign you." They'd been women-only since their inception.
Harry paused, then brightened up significantly. Remus wondered sadly if he'd expected to be told not to have such frivolous goals. Hell, Remus didn't care if Harry snapped his wand and lived as a muggle, as long as he was happy. "I thought maybe the Magpies, or even Puddlemere, especially if Oliver's still playing with them by then. It'd be great to play with him again. But I'm happy with whoever, really." He bit his lip. "Viktor said I could make the national team if I wanted."
"Viktor knows better than most," Remus agreed. "Though honestly, that's not saying much; the England team is a bit of a joke these days. Maybe if you joined it they'd actually be able to win a match."
Harry laughed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking so much like James for a second Remus' breath caught. "Yeah, maybe. I dunno, it's all a ways off yet. I've got other things to focus on." His face grew so serious, so much older, and it made Remus' chest ache. He wished he could wrap the boy up and smuggle him away, far from Dumbledore and Voldemort and anyone that might harm him, so he could be a normal teenage boy instead of worrying about duelling and politics and whether he might die before he finished school. But he was Harry Potter, and the war would follow him wherever he went.
"Doesn't mean you can't have goals," Remus said, smiling in encouragement. "You need something to fight for, a future to look to. I think becoming a professional quidditch player is a fine idea."
Harry beamed at him. "Thanks." He looked down, fiddling with one of the letters nearby. "I was going to ask Susan to tell her aunt a little about my… situation. About Dumbledore. I think it's time to start building a case."
Remus almost asked if Harry was sure, but he held his tongue. Amelia Bones was a savvy woman, and if anyone could secretly start building a case against Albus Dumbledore, it was her. "Would you want to deal with him before or after Voldemort?"
"Ideally, after," Harry replied. "As much as I hate him, he's a useful person to have around in a fight, and so are his connections. But I wouldn't want it to be long after; I don't want to risk him getting hold of the Ministry. And there's a fairly good chance I won't be able to wait that long — I don't know how long it's going to take to get rid of Voldemort, and it's only a matter of time before Dumbledore realises I'm onto him. I want to be ready, just in case."
"That's smart." Dumbledore no doubt had several backup plans and contingencies in place. You didn't get to where he was without being very crafty, and very paranoid. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Remus could hardly believe how natural it felt to defer to Harry on matters of politics and war — he was fourteen. James and Lily's boy! But he knew what he was doing, and he was far more capable than Albus Dumbledore had any idea of.
Looking at Harry, working so hard in so many different ways, and still finding time to worry about those he cared about, Remus felt a wave of confidence overtake him, his faith sinking into his bones. They would win this war, and Harry would be the one to do it.
They just had to get him there, first.