Bonus points to anyone who can spot the lines I *graciously borrowed* straight from the Harry Potter books. Enjoy!
It felt extremely funny to be sat at the grand staff table at the head of the Great Hall. Now he was sat here, however, Harry thought that it really didn't seem that grand at all. The great glass window through which the sun shone as it rose early in the morning and the moonlight glinted late at night wasn't as impressive close up as it was staring in awe at it from the house tables below. The feast on the table didn't seem as majestic, the place settings not as splendid as he'd expected, and the staff really didn't seem that scary. Harry had been invited to give a lesson to the seventh years on how to produce a Patronus. He had no desire to be a teacher- he was more than happy as an auror- but every now and then he enjoyed coming back to Hogwarts to give a talk in one of the Defence against the Dark Arts classes. Hogwarts still had trouble finding a dark arts teacher- even though the curse had long been broken everyone still seemed wary of the position. He'd also been invited to stay for the evening feast- an invitation he felt it would be rude to decline.
He glanced down along the table. Professor McGonagall sat in the middle, in what Harry always regarded as Dumbledore's chair, deep in conversation with Hagrid. Flitwick and Trelawney were there as well, as were a few teachers Harry didn't recognise. Next to Harry sat Professor Longbottom. Neville waved at a few students who were walking along the middle of the hall, looking for a seat at their table, and then turned back to Harry. He had been telling Harry something about one of his Herbology lessons last week and Harry had only half been listening. Neville sounded like a very good teacher, but Harry wasn't really too interested in the type of compost the Amnesia herbs grew best in. He looked down at the students. Harry would much rather have been sat down on the Gryffindor table, in amongst the chatter, the laughter, the camaraderie- the sense of belonging. Harry felt a strange pull in his chest. He was bought back to his conversation with Neville when he heard him mention something about a broken plant pot, a lot of laughter, some disgruntled Slytherins and 'your James'.
"Should you be telling me this, Neville?" Harry asked. "I don't think James would appreciate you telling his dad about the trouble he gets in. You'd go right down in his list of favourite teachers."
A huge smile crossed Neville's face, and he let out a loud laugh. "I'm one of his favourite teachers?" He asked incredulously. "I'd sort of tried for the 'terrifyingly intimidating' teacher like Professor Snape." Neville began to laugh again, but stopped when he remembered who his conversation partner was, and his eyes flicked over to Harry. Harry tried to offer a small smile back. Harry may have forgiven Snape, but Neville still didn't forget Snape's endlessly unjustified tormenting. Neville definitely didn't want to be that teacher- the one who belittled the students and forever put them down. Despite what Harry had tried to tell him, Snape was still a bully and an awful teacher, Neville had decided. He'd much rather hoped he was like Professor Lupin. Perhaps Neville's favourite lesson, besides Herbology, had been the one where he had single-handedly destroyed that Boggart in the wardrobe. With a little encouragement from Professor Lupin, of course. At the thought of Professor Lupin, Neville was reminded of something he had been meaning to ask.
"Have you spoken to Teddy Lupin lately, Harry?" Neville began. "I'm a bit worried. He looked very ill yesterday in class. He was incredibly pale. And he looked like he hadn't slept in a long time. He's usually quite chatty, Teddy, but yesterday, I don't know… he seemed like he had something else on his mind."
Harry suddenly was paying attention. He had noticed that Teddy, a seventh year, hadn't been in his Patronus class today. He didn't like the sound of Teddy being ill. Especially not ill enough to miss Harry's class, and a class on which Harry's knowledge came from Teddy's own father. The symptoms Neville had described sounded distressingly familiar…
Harry glanced automatically up into the enchanted ceiling. The stars twinkled and the moon was almost full, but with a small sliver on the right missing. He racked his brain trying to remember everything he had learnt in astronomy- was this the waning gibbous? Harry felt sick to his stomach. He was sure the waning gibbous came sometime around the full moon. But maybe Harry was over-thinking the situation. Perhaps Teddy hadn't realised Harry was teaching the class today? Harry hadn't told him in the hope of surprising him. And maybe it was actually the waxing gibbous, or a crescent, or something else. Harry had never been any good at astronomy any way. It could just be a cold- it was nearly Christmas and winter was in full swing. Teddy could be overworked- he was taking a lot of classes for his NEWTS. Lycanthropy wasn't passed genetically. They knew this. Everyone had already had this discussion countless times, in hushed voices in the corner of rooms every time Teddy looked a bit peaky. The more Harry considered it, the more he realised it was ridiculous to jump to such a conclusion straight away. Teddy would be fine. It shouldn't be strange for a student to miss a few classes every once in a while, after all!
Still, he began to feel a little uneasy, and decided that now, after the feast was almost finished, maybe it was time he went home. It was funny, really, how Harry always felt that Hogwarts was his home, and now here he was wanting to leave and get back to Grimmauld Place. It just goes to show, Harry thought, that home is entirely dependent on who else is there with you.
He politely excused himself from Neville's company and made his way along the table shaking hands and offering rushed goodbyes to each member of staff. Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and offered to walk Harry down to the gates of Hogwarts, beyond which he would be able to apparate home. Together they walked through the centre of the hall, directly along the edge of the Gryffindor table. Harry scanned along it to find a boisterous black haired boy talking animatedly to a group of friends. He caught James' eye and winked at him as he passed. James would be mortified if he made a scene, Harry knew. However James made a quick smile in return- turns out James didn't think his Dad was so uncool after all. But what Harry was most interested in finding was that shock of turquoise hair which would signify that Teddy was okay. His eyes raked over each head in turn as he walked. Long hair, short hair, black hair, red hair, brown hair. Some heads were looking down at the food, some across the hall, others at each other or down the table, and every now and then one was looking directly at Harry, then quickly away when Harry looked in their direction. But the head he was looking for wasn't there. He'd reached the end of the table and there had not been any out of the ordinary hair colours. Glancing back over his shoulder, he checked more closely to see if Teddy had changed his hair to try and blend in.
"I have not seen him since before breakfast, Mr Potter." Came a voice from next to Harry. Professor McGonagall continued "I saw him yesterday evening walking the corridors, he was incredibly pale and looked like he had lived 100 days without sleep, but he assured me he was fine, just a little overworked, and was going straight to bed once he had finished his head boy duties. I told him to forget the corridor patrol and to return to his dormitory immediately- he looked like one good hex could finish him off! But again he assured me he was fine. He did not seem to want to return to his dormitory, and I got the distinct impression he was putting on a façade, however."
"Do you think he…" Harry paused. He considered that maybe Teddy had a reason for telling McGonagall he was fine. He began again. "Do you think he is taking too many subjects? Perhaps that's why he pretended he was fine. We said it would be too many but Teddy doesn't like to be proved wrong." Harry knew this was a lie- Teddy was more than capable of handling his studies. But somewhere on the edges of his mind the idea of suspected lycanthropy crept ever closer. Something just didn't add up. First Teddy was tired, pale, missing classes, and now he was walking around the castle during the night.
"Professor," Harry began.
"Please, Potter, there's no need for professor now! I haven't taught you in almost 20 years!" McGonagall laughed.
Harry replied with a polite laugh. He didn't feel that now was really the time. "Would it be okay if I went to talk with Professor Dumbledore? Only for a little while. Just for a catch up, really." This was another lie, and this time Harry expected McGonagall knew.
"I am rather partial, as was Dumbledore, to muggle sweets. Especially jelly babies." Came McGonagall's reply. Harry nodded, thanked her for his invite to teach the class today, and McGonagall in return offered her thanks to Harry. Once more she tried to convince Harry that teaching was a career choice he should really consider, and once more Harry told her he was happy as an auror. As she turned her back on Harry and swept into the Great Hall, Harry launched himself up the white marble staircase.
He had absolutely no idea where Teddy could be. He had considered the Gryffindor common room as the first place to look, but halfway up the stairs to the fifth floor he realised he didn't know the password. And then Harry began to doubt if Teddy would go there- surely that would be the first place anyone would look for him. He wondered about the room of requirement, but as Harry had never told him about it he doubted he would know it was there. In all honesty, thought Harry, Teddy could be anywhere. He had received the map from Harry for his 13th Birthday- much to James' annoyance, but at Harry's insistence, as Teddy's dad had been one of the cartographers after all- so there was literally the whole castle open for exploration.
Then he remembered what he had just told McGonagall. Teddy took a lot of subjects for his NEWTS, and as a result, spent a lot of time working. There was a good chance, if Teddy was really only overworked, that he could be in the library, and Harry knew that sometimes people could get carried away in that library. He smiled fondly at the many memories of Hermione crammed between tower upon tower of books. He turned on the stairs and headed down to the fourth floor.
The castle seemed eerie somehow. Everyone was still in the Great Hall finishing the feast, and no students, or ghosts for that matter, were anywhere to be seen. Even the portraits seemed quiet. It was nearly Christmas and the dark nights made it seem later than it really was. The moonlight peered in through a nearby window and danced on the stone floor. Harry thought back to all the times he had roamed freely around this castle at night. He thought with a fond heart about the midnight trips under the invisibility cloak, to the library, to the kitchens, to Hagrid's hut, to imaginary duels with Malfoy and to trapdoors and secret chambers. He remembered when the cloak seemed so huge that he, Ron and Hermione could easily fit under it, and then when they got bigger and the cloak seemed smaller, and they had to be more careful to avoid a suddenly disembodied foot emerging from seemingly nowhere. He remembered the Marauders Map, back when Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were just four names who had created a map that led him to Hogsmeade, led him all around the castle, down shortcuts and secret stairways. And he remembered, too, every time he had stood under the cloak, breathing deeply in a dark corridor during the night, practically face to face with Professor Snape and hoping and praying that he wouldn't walk anywhere near him. Just like the time in his fourth year when, on his way to investigate a peculiar occurrence he had spotted on the map, he had stuck his food straight through the trick step on his way down a secret shortcut. He had watched, hidden under the cloak, half frozen in horror and half frozen thanks to the trick step, as Professor Snape had stretched out his hands like a blind man, and began to move up the stairs towards Harry. Harry had been inches away from being caught, but Professor Moody, or rather, who Harry thought was Professor Moody, had stepped in to save Harry's skin.
The sound of Harry's shoes on the cold floor echoed off the castle walls and dragged him from his reverie. He had somehow taken a shortcut that even he didn't know existed. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognise where he was at all. He passed a tall suit of armour, similar to the one he remembered near the kitchens, but he knew he must be five floors above there. He was in a very narrow corridor, and a door stood open ajar at the end.
"Lumos." Harry muttered, and a thin dome of magical light shone from the end of his wand. There was a window in the corridor, but it was small, and only let a little light in. Something in Harry's peripheral vision stirred and as he turned he saw a shadow flash across the wall. He shone his wand in the direction from which he thought the shadow had come. A scrawny, dust coloured cat with bulging, lamp like eyes was patrolling the corridor alone. Harry always had an urge to give Mrs Norris a good kick, now more than ever. She seemed to look directly at Harry before scurrying off, probably to find Filch, thought Harry. Filch honestly didn't seem that scary anymore.
And at that moment, the corridor seemed oddly familiar to Harry. The realisation suddenly rushed back to him, and he was that little eleven year old boy, cowering under his invisibility cloak, his heart pounding, as he tried to hide from Filch who had almost caught him in the restricted section of the library. Despite not having been back since those evenings in his first year, Harry knew what he would find behind that door at the end of the corridor. And as a wave of sorrow flooded over him, he knew who he would find there as well.
Harry hesitated. He didn't want to find Teddy anymore. He wondered if perhaps he should go back. Harry knew better than anyone how Teddy would be feeling. But Teddy needed him, so bravely, Harry walked along the corridor and gently pushed open the door.