Chapter 4 – Cats, Competitions, and Confessions.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Fluffy would have been guarding a literal portal to Hell instead of a metaphorical one. Fortunately for our heroes, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, a much more merciful writer and a generally better person.
Disclaimer 2: Electric Boogaloo: I need to stop putting my brain in charge of these things.
Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room in a comfortable wing back chair situated close to the roaring fire, staring deeply into the flames, hands steepled carefully in front of his face. To an outsider, that is anyone who had never been inside Harry's head, it looked like he was wrestling with some dilemma of earth shattering significance. In reality, he was bending all his considerable will toward not looking at the cat he could see in the corner of his eye. Said cat was sitting on a nearby couch, slowly - too slowly - chewing on a spider it had apparently caught. That in itself was not a problem; cats were natural predators with a tendency to play with their catch, Harry knew this and accepted it. What bothered Harry was that the cat was quite clearly staring at him with unnatural focus as it unhurriedly devoured it's meal.
The cat was being creepy. He wanted it to go away.
He refused to do anything about it, though. The creature was obviously fishing for a reaction, it wanted him to be nervous; he refused to give it the satisfaction. Victory would be his in this contest of nerves, the cat would rue the day it challenged Harry Potter to a battle of wills!
"I don't think you should go."
She was back again, taking a seat next to the cat. And talking about... something again. He had no idea what, he rarely did.
It had been an aggravating month and a half since the start of term with Granger interrupting his usual quiet time – really any time spent outside of class – to babble inanely at him with whatever popped into her fuzzy little head. It was a sad day indeed when Harry Potter began looking forward to class, even if it was as a means to escape Granger. Temporarily. Escape was always temporary with her.
The Chamber of Secrets was starting to look cosy. At least the Basilisk wouldn't ask his opinion on the significance of the arithmetical values of three, seven, and nine when added together and then divided by fourteen. Granted the Basilisk was dead, but... That was hardly a safe comparison to continue.
"To Hogsmead, I mean. It wouldn't be safe for you, I'm not even sure if I'll be going."
Hogsmead? Oh right, that was a thing this year, wasn't it? Was that what everyone was so excited for? There was a background buzz of conversation in the common room of a slightly higher volume than normal. He'd ignored it until then, as he usually did, but now that Granger mentioned it, most of their year group was cluttered around the notice board – thankfully situated on the other side of the room from the cat so he didn't have to look in that direction and concede defeat – and were conversing in what he assumed was anticipation.
He'd gotten one of the Dursleys to sign the permission form sometime that summer after finding it in his trunk one day when he was bored. He had no idea how it had come to be there and established a regular routine of checks to be sure nothing else was slipped in there without his express permission.
Come to think of it, he couldn't remember which Dursley had signed it. It wasn't a problem with his memory, it was just that he expended so much effort in avoiding them that they eventually just blended together in his mind as one indistinguishable mass. Mass being the operative word. It might have been Dudley. In fact it probably was Dudley. He'd check, but the slip was upstairs in the dorm and he was not moving before the cat.
The bloody thing was still eating. It was just a spider, a meal of seconds not minutes, if even that long.
"The Dementors are bad enough, but they wouldn't be here if the Ministry didn't think this place was a target for Sirius Black."
Harry could almost feel her eyes on him.
"They wouldn't be here if the Ministry didn't think you were a target for Sirius Black."
Harry almost huffed in amusement. Clever girl. He'd give her a cookie, but he'd finished his stash the night before and was already feeling the withdrawal. Any additions to said stash were his and his alone. Hedwig was not allowed anywhere near his cookies. Not that she didn't occasionally try. Opposable thumbs were possibly Harry's favourite part of being human.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to see Hogsmead either, not out of concern for his safety but because he didn't think there would be anything interesting there. The wizarding world was severely lacking in that there was no entertainment industry; there was a singer or band here and there but that was about it. He'd seen a poster for some film about dinosaurs over the summer while wandering outside the confines of Privet Drive but hadn't been able to see it, having no muggle money and refusing to ask the Dursleys for any out of principle. He doubted Hogsmead boasted a cinema. A shame, really, dinosaurs were cool.
"Hey Hermione, you think you could look over my star chart? I'm pretty sure I've got it right, but I could do without Sinistra looking at me like I'm the dirt on her boots. I mean they're only stars, does she have to take it so seriously?"
"Yes, Ron, Professor Sinistra does have to take it seriously, it's her job and our education."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of Ron Weasley. He and Granger seemed to have a relationship based on one part friendly cooperation and one part confrontational bickering. On one hand, he distracted Granger and thus made Harry's life somewhat easier; on the other hand, Granger would use their more civil conversations as a means of attack, trying to draw Harry into their odd dynamic. She failed of course, but that never seemed to dissuade her.
So Harry Potter wasn't sure what to make of Ron Weasley, but the suspicious look he saw the other boy shoot the cat earned him a few points in his favour.
He tuned out the low level argument taking place next to him and refocused his attention on looking solemnly into the fire while carefully observing the cat without actually looking at it. He continued to not look at it when, having finally finished with the spider, it stretched languidly and promptly leaped at Weasley's bag with an unholy yowl.
He watched the following tussle and higher level argument with mild interest coloured with amusement. Granger seemed upset afterwards which was fine by him since an upset Granger preferred to sniffle rather than talk.
At least he learned where the cat came from. It figured that such an animal belonged to Granger, the girl brought nothing but unnecessary complication to Harry's life.
It was then that he realised that the cat had disappeared after it made it's attempt on Weasley's rat and that it failed to achieve whatever it had wanted to achieve with him.
Victory, Harry decided, was a sweet feeling.
The next day, Harry found himself once more headed toward the Headmaster's office at the direction of Professor McGonagall. At the end of the Transfiguration lesson, she had reminded the students of the requirement for proof of permission before being allowed into Hogsmead. After receiving Harry's – the signature on which he hadn't bothered to check in the end – she had informed him that the Headmaster had wanted to see him and that Cauldron Cakes were, quote, 'quite possibly competing for a spot on my desk. The lemon drops are getting understandably anxious.' unquote. McGonagall had recited the entire thing with a straight face and Harry could admit to being impressed. Formidable woman, Minerva McGonagall; Harry had been grimacing in embarrassment enough for the both of them so maybe that had mitigated her own somewhat.
Upon arrival, Harry dutifully gave the password and ascended the spiral stairs to the office, deciding that, in hindsight, barging into the room the last time had been a poor decision likely to have startled Fawkes into an attack had he been there. Instead he calmly opened the door after receiving permission and walked in like the civilised human being he probably wasn't by conventional standards.
The Headmaster was standing behind his desk, staring down at it with a frown on his face, wand tapping against his crossed arms impatiently. In short, this was not an Albus Dumbledore that Harry was used to seeing. It didn't help that Fawkes was perched on his shoulder, staring unblinkingly at the desk with the same intensity.
"Come in, Harry, and take a seat. We have some rather important matters to discuss." Dumbledore said without looking up. Harry crossed to the desk and took the opportunity to peer in curiosity at whatever had the attention of both Albus Dumbleore and his phoenix. Whatever it was had to be fairly important; it was rare to see the Headmaster with anything other than a smile on his face.
He stopped dead at what he saw, unable to decide between laughing incredulously and groaning between clenched teeth. A strained kind of whine was the result. Apparently the odd sound was enough to draw Dumbledore's eyes away from the desk, though Fawkes' remained riveted where they were, as he spoke again.
"Whatever is the matter, Harry? Are you feeling unwell?" he asked with evident concern. Harry huffed as he forcibly pulled his clenched teeth apart.
"I'm fine sir, it's just... What is this?"
Dumbledore frowned again, this time at Harry. "Professor McGonagall did delver my message, yes?" At Harry's tentative nod, he continued, "They are competing, just as I said."
And competing they were. Dumbledore had evidently transfigured little arms and legs onto pairs of lemon drops and Cauldron Cakes and had animated them to compete in miniature Olympic events.
One pair ran laps on a track around the edge of his desk, while another seemed to be pole vaulting, and another two were fencing. Several other events were taking place at various stations, refereed and scored by little green soldier toys.
"I had wanted to include a diving pool, alas chocolate and water simply do not mix. Or perhaps they mix a little too well. Either way, it simply wasn't practical."
Harry slumped gracelessly into a chair and winced in sympathy as a lemon drop delivered a vicious right hook to it's opponent in a tiny boxing ring. Harry loved the old man like a grandfather – though he would never admit to such aloud – but there were times that he seriously questioned the Headmaster's sanity. It was with a resigned sigh that Harry silently wished the Cauldron Cakes luck and promptly tried to forget that he'd seen anything unusual.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked. Dumbledore finally sat in his own chair, a fact that appeared to please Fawkes as he now had a front row seat to the miniature action.
"I did." the aged Headmaster said, "I would offer you a lemon drop, unfortunately that would lead to accusations of bias and interference that could adversely affect proceedings." he said without a trace of his usual twinkle. It was a little sad that Harry could say with absolute certainty that Dumbledore was not joking.
"That's alright sir, I wouldn't want to cause an incident." Harry reassured him, trying desperately to restrain the twitch in his eye and the slightly hysterical hitch in his voice.
"Quite right, quite right. If only a policy of non-interference were practical in other situations, I imagine the world would be a more peaceful place or at least slightly less confrontational." Dumbledore mused. Harry just wished he'd get on with it, he really wanted to get out of that room.
"Ah well, to business then." Dumbledore declared, taking no heed of the confectionery martial arts exchange taking place under his nose. Harry wished he could dismiss the oddity taking place before him quite so easily.
"I am aware that the first Hogsmead visit of the year is rapidly approaching us" the Headmaster continued, "and I thought that this would be an excellent opportunity to discuss a few security concerns."
"Sirius Black?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Sirius Black." Dumbledore agreed. "We are almost certain that he is targeting you and, were he to get his hands on you, we doubt he plans anything benign. Therefore, there are a few light conditions and other such security measures you will have to agree to before we can allow you to leave Hogwarts grounds for as long as Black is on the loose."
"You're letting me go?" Harry asked in surprise. "I thought I'd be kept in the castle."
"Goodness no, Harry! We want you to be safe, yes, but we don't want to impede your freedom overmuch. If you wish to go to Hogsmead on designated days, you may do so, assuming, of course, that you have permission?"
"I got the form signed." Harry hedged. He still wasn't entirely sure if it had been signed by the right Dursley. Hopefully, no one would look too closely.
"Good, good. Now, those conditions I mentioned are largely simple common sense. I would ask that you not wander off alone, by which I mean do not wander into areas that are sparsely populated or where you are not within eyesight of another student or a patrolling teacher or Auror." Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with barely perceptible pity. The Headmaster did not agree with Harry's habit of cutting himself away from others. Had he allowed himself the luxury – Risk – of friends Dumbledore's instructions would likely have been to stick with them. As he did not, Dumbledore had had no choice but to use the wording that he had.
"In addition, I must insist that you ensure you have your wand with you at all times. A good practice in general and one of those rare and elusive good habits. Make certain that it is within easy reach as well; an inconveniently placed wand is as useful as a misplaced one. That is to say, not at all."
Harry nodded his agreement to these. Simple common sense, just like Dumbledore had said.
"You may return to the castle at any point during the day," he continued, "but I will ask that you be back before dark with the rest of the students. I will leave it up to you whether or not you take your invisibility cloak with you, but I would remind you that it will not work on Dementors, so do not rely solely upon it should you find yourself in danger." Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Oh, and should you notice any suspicious individuals lingering around, do not hesitate to inform someone in authority, especially if that person looks emaciated, insane, or is trying to kill you. I believe that that is everything I wanted to say."
A distinct crack resounded through the room in the short silence that followed, the result of that martial arts fight closest to Dumbledore. Harry looked down and noticed with a kind of morbid resignation that the transfigured legs on the defeated and broken sweet were twitching. Fawkes took the opportunity to gobble down the loser while the victor posed for a soldier with a little plastic camera.
Harry could have sworn that Fawkes was looking pointedly at him as he cracked the broken sweet further in his beak. If that wasn't proof of ill will, Harry didn't know what was. Birds. Bloody insane, the lot of them.
Hallowe'en arrived and with it came the first Hogsmead visit of the year. Harry's permission to visit the village had yet to be revoked, so either he was wrong about the owner of the signature or nobody gave it a second glance, neither option was very reassuring so Harry chose to forget all about it in favour of keeping his peace of mind.
Not that any of it really mattered because he had chosen to forgo this particular visit to have a conversation he had been planning, and not avoiding, for the last two months. He wasn't looking forward to it. As necessary as this one was, Harry was not comfortable with extended conversation and he doubted that this would be a short one.
He stood outside Professor Lupin's office staring anxiously at the door for ten minutes before he got tired of his own weakness and, after giving himself a vigorous shake, finally knocked.
"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed upon opening his door. "I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would be enjoying Hogsmead."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably in place of audibly answering. He wasn't very good with social niceties like saying hello, he preferred to say what he wanted to say and move on; a sort of 'get to the point' mentality that dominated his few interactions with other people. He barely restrained the grimace that wanted to break out over his face. He wasn't the most socially active person on the planet and that was entirely by choice, but he wasn't unaware of the consequences of that choice. Social ineptitude was painfully awkward at times. Lupin appeared to take it all in stride though, not even reacting to Harry's obvious lack of social grace.
"Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson." he said, turning back to return to his desk. Harry followed him into the office and was drawn to a tank in he corner despite himself.
"Water demon," Lupin explained. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."
This wasn't why he was here. As interesting as the creepy horned little thing that just vanished into a tangle of weeds was, he was supposed to be confirming his suspicions not being distracted by a fish tank!
"Cup of tea?" Lupin asked after Harry failed to comment on the Grindylow. "I was just thinking of making one." he said, tapping a kettle with his wand, eliciting a blast of steam from said kettle.
Damn, he'd have to answer that one with his voice instead of some vague gesture, wouldn't he? The lengths he was willing to go in the pursuit of his goal...
"No, thank you." he said. He wasn't going to drink anything Lupin offered him. He could admit to himself that he may have gone slightly overboard in his suspicions during the Boggart lesson – though he would be keeping an eye on Neville Longbottom for a while yet – but that didn't mean he trusted the Defence professor. Besides, he didn't really enjoy hot drinks, even if turning down tea made him feel just a tiny bit treasonous.
Harry silently watched the professor fix himself a cup of tea and eventually settle on the other side of the desk. If the man was unnerved by Harry's careful observation, he didn't show it.
"So, Harry, what brings you here today? I haven't noticed you having any difficulty with your work so far."
"The Boggart. Why didn't you let me face it?"
Lupin looked surprised by his suddenly blurted query. Harry couldn't blame him, he hadn't been planning to ask that after all. It was just that, sitting there, it was suddenly vitally important that he know why Lupin had jumped in front of him when his time came to face his fear, whatever it may have been. Harry blamed puberty and the comical sensitivity to any slight against them, real or imagined, that he'd observed in others his age. Teenagers were ridiculous. And now he was one of them. Joy.
"I would have thought that would be obvious, Harry." Lupin said in reply. Harry just stared at him, awaiting explanation.
"I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would take the shape of Lord Voldemort."
"No." Harry immediately denied, "I don't fear Voldemort." he said with certainty. Lupin quirked an eyebrow in response.
"No?" he asked.
"No. At the time of the lesson, I didn't really know what my greatest fear would be, I had no idea what form the Boggart would have taken and thus would have had a hard time combating it."
Harry frowned down at his hands, "Perhaps it was for the best that you interrupted in that regard." he said, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts, "I've had time to think about it and I think I know what my greatest fear might be, even if I have no idea how a Boggart might interpret and reflect that."
"And what might that be, if I may ask?" Lupin asked, voice subdued. Harry took a fortifying breath before answering.
"Being forced from Hogwarts. Being removed from the only place I am comfortable for circumstances beyond my control. Having to face the vitriol of a world in which I am not welcome before I am ready."
The office lapsed into silence as Lupin watched Harry with too knowing eyes and Harry refused to meet his gaze. Finally, the professor spoke.
"Yes, I suppose I can see how that might be your greatest fear." he said.
"I thought you might."
Harry wasn't particularly happy to be revealing this to the professor, to be trusting him with this, but if anyone could understand it... If he was wrong, well, he imagined his life was going to become a whole lot more unpleasant.
The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a prompt invitation to enter from Professor Lupin. The door opened to admit Professor Snape carrying a goblet that was smoking lightly; his eyes slid right over a tense Harry and focused on Lupin.
"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling. "Thank you. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"
Snape placed the goblet on the desk, immediately turned on his heel, and left in silence. Lupin blinked at his abrupt departure but made no comment. Harry, meanwhile, was eyeing the goblet. He knew that smell, that blue smoke.
"Wolfsbane." he said aloud. Lupin winced minutely.
"You're familiar with it then." he said. It wasn't a question. Harry nodded in response.
"Passingly." he confirmed. That Lupin was drinking the stuff answered that question pretty finally. Might as well bring it out into the open. For the first time in their conversation, Harry deliberately made and maintained eye contact.
"You are moon-born. You are wolf."
Lupin looked pained at this and sighed, suddenly looking tired and aged beyond his years.
"Yes, I am."
Moment of truth.
"So am I."
Another pained grimace from Lupin.
"I know." the Defence professor admitted. Harry felt his hand clench into a fist at this, anger unexpectedly swelling to the front of his mind. Anger he forced down, pushed away to look at later.
"And you said nothing?" he asked with enforced calm. When he thought about it, it made perfect sense that Lupin would know. All the Heads of House knew, as Defence professor he would have to be told if only to help keep things under control should the worst happen. Though, should the worst come to pass, Lupin wouldn't be much help since he would be in the same position.
"What could I say, Harry?" Lupin asked.
"Oh I don't know! 'Hello Harry, I'm Professor Lupin and I suffer from the same life altering affliction as you. Want to talk about it?', maybe?" Harry retorted bitterly. That calm facade had not lasted long, he noticed.
Authority figure be damned, right now he wasn't talking to Professor Lupin, he was talking to Lupin the fellow werewolf; something he'd never had the chance to do before, only to discover that he'd known what they shared for months and did absolutely nothing. Harry was furious. Possibly unfairly, but anger rarely listened to logic.
"My... condition isn't something I'm proud of, Harry." Lupin insisted. Harry stared at him, dumbfounded.
"And you think I am?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not happy with this, but I have to live with it. I'm not proud of it, but I am what I am and it's not like I can just run or hide and hope it goes away!"
Lupin just covered his eyes with one hand. Harry's breath stilled as realisation hit him like that one act had been as good as a confession.
"You're ashamed of it. You're ashamed of what you are and you try to hide away from it by refusing to look at it. You're living in denial." he said. He took Lupin's silence as confirmation.
He couldn't really understand that. Harry didn't want to be what he was, but reality didn't take into account little things like 'want' when it threw something into your path. He didn't like that he was a werewolf, but he didn't shy away from it either, didn't let it drag him down.
Lupin, apparently, didn't think like that. He refused to accept that part of himself that was foreign, that was wrongwrongwrong, and that refusal was destroying him.
Harry left Lupin's silent office feeling a strange combination of elation and terrible disappointment.
AN: Two weeks is better than eight months, isn't it?
I'll be honest, I'm not sure about that Lupin section, but I don't really think I could make it better. Harry's speech feels a little stilted, but you try spending years cut off from your peers with nothing to do but read.
Catch the reference in this chapter? First person to let me know correctly gains the eternal reward of knowing they got a reference in a piece of fanfiction. It's pretty heavy handed, hard to miss, and does not mesh with the rest of the dialogue at all but I couldn't help myself.
Til next time, children.