Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is JK Rowling's, not mine.

Hi! Sorry for the long wait. I am in the middle of changing betas. This chapter as been beta'd by Xx The Grey Lady xX, so many thanks to her. Hope you enjoy!

Moonsign x

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Full Moons and Future Prospects

Harry felt his stomach roll with apprehension as he climbed the splintering stairs up to the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack. The night of the full moon had come way too soon for his physical and mental comfort.

:-They always do,-: Remus told him, and even his mental voice seemed to tremor and ripple with some deep pain that went beyond the physical change. :-When you wake the next morning and you're burning and melting with pain, you can get through because you think to yourself that it's all over for a month. It's a long time until the next one. But it never is. It's never quite long enough-:

He trailed away, obviously realising, in spite of his condition, that he was being far from comforting. Harry felt Sirius – already transformed into Padfoot's mind – shift closer to Remus's twitching, pain-ridden mental presence.

Harry staggered into the bedroom. His skin felt too small for his body. It felt as though his bones had sprouted thorns like a cactus that pierced and tore at his organs every step he took.

:-It's okay, lad.-: Remus's voice was rough and vague, as though his mind was being tugged away. :-I don't think you'll actually change. It usually feels worse than this.-:

Worse than this? Harry's pain-twitching skin shuddered in sympathy, and his respect and awe for the quiet, unassuming man who was his surrogate godfather grew enormously. He felt dizzy at the thought of how much strength of will it must take to go on living day after day with the shadow of impending agony hanging over you all the time.

He dropped onto the bed, which swayed and groaned with the impact, and then proceeded to collapse abruptly, all four legs snapping outwards in a way that reminded Harry's rapidly disintegrating mind of a cartoon deer on ice – an image that could only have come from spying on Dudley's TV watching as a child. A cloud of dust rose from the ancient mattress, then settled again on Harry's collapsed form.

James (now radiating Prong's slow mental presence) and Lily reached out together to touch Harry's mind with a worried mental caress. He tried to lean into it, but it was as if his mind were covered in slippery oil, causing him to slide away from them towards obliviousness.

:-Moon comes! Moon comes!-: Even as his human mind began to trickle away, Harry felt himself wince at the sheer lack of sanity in Remus's voice. It was not so much words as a howl of mingled anguish and raw bloodlust that burned and spread through Harry's body like hot acid. The coiled, animal presences of James and Sirius shoved Lily back into what remained of Harry's human mind, and they stood pressed together as the moon rose and sent its sharp silver fire to transform the minds of Remus - and Harry, to whom he was now so intrinsically connected.

…It was hunger and rage and trappedtrappedTRAPPED! The moon that usually set him free was calling to him fruitlessly while he was confined in this cageTRAPPEDcage - this weak, flimsy body that tore easily like small-young-prey as he tried to claw his way to run-howl-HUNT .

He could sense his pack – his PACK who had been gone so long – but they were trapped, too, in this small prison built of manBLOODflesh.

Scratching and biting and ripping, while pack – Padfoot! Prongs! (And where was the small squeaking one? The litter runt, Wormtail?) – tried to distract him. But no, they must runhuntHOWL and it was up to MeMoonyHarry to break them free.

Don't worry, Padfoot-mate, Prongs we'll run, we'll hunt, I must just break free of this shuddering, tearing little body

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Hermione's voice raised in a feminine shriek of shock and horror was not the most pleasant thing to wake to – especially when Harry's nervous system realised he was conscious and started sending up alerts for immediate attention from various parts of his body. Red pain flags were waved helpfully from arms (chewed, clawed and full of old dust and splinters from the rickety wooden floor), legs (likewise chewed and clawed, with an added smattering of wood-burn from crawling on his knees when his mind was in a lupine state), hands and fingers (worn raw and possible broken), head (splitting open in multiple-personality agony) and mouth (aching and glued shut by something thick, metallic and sticky that Harry didn't want to think about).

The floor under him was shaking and creaking as Ron and Hermione hurried over to kneel beside him, and his wounds flared in scarlet-pain protest to the disturbance.

Harry considered telling them to sod off and leave him to die in peace, but that would involve waking up properly, prying his mouth open, speaking from a throat worn raw from screaming, and possibly opening his eyes which were also glued shut by the nameless metallic glue as his jaw.

"Oh God, Harry!" Hermione said, her probing fingers setting his nerve ends screaming. "Please, please don't be dead!"

I'm not dead, you stupid woman, Harry thought at her. Dead people don't hurt this much. Believe me – been there, done that.

:-Harry?-: James's relieved sounding voice suddenly filled his head, sounding so impossibly brittle and bright that its sharp edges seemed to cut into the bruised mess that was Harry's mind. Harry gave a mental whimper and curled in on himself, trying to block out all voices, both mental and physical.

:-Is he awake?-: Lily's presence moved up beside her husband's as Harry tried to curl away from them – an impossible task since they were sharing his head. He groped his way back towards unconsciousness. At least then he wouldn't know he was in pain.

:-Come away from him,-: Sirius's more distant mind-voice ordered. :-Can't you see you're hurting him?-:

:-But-: Lily reached out towards him, radiating dark burgundy maternal worry and pain. James gently held her back, wrapping her presence up with his own.

:-We don't want to hurt him, love.-: Lily sagged against him. :-How's Moony?-: James added.

:-Not good,-: Sirius's voice sounded thick with worry. :-Because the change was only mental, the wolf isn't locked into waiting for a physical form for itself. It's trying to claw its way back out now. It's really hurting him, Prongs! What do I do?-:

:-Merlin, Padfoot, I don't know. We can't do anything! If Harry were physically healed, he could probably help Remus fight back the wolf, but he's just as bad.-:

The Marauders' voices were interrupted by ones in the more physical world.

"…Take him to Madame Pomfrey," Ron was saying.

"We can't!" Hermione snapped. "What are we supposed to tell her?"

"He'll die if we don't. In the name of Merlin, Hermione, look at him. I've never seen that much blood anywhere before."

Oh, Harry thought, with the irritatingly stubborn part of his mind that insisted on clinging to consciousness. That's why I feel like this. Blood loss.

Then his eyes opened – a difficult task considering they were glued and matted together with what Harry was beginning to realise was drying blood. The problem was, he hadn't performed said task. He had sent no instructions to his battered body to do anything other than lie there and possibly die, if it could do so quietly and unobtrusively.

Against his will, his sticky jaw worked its way open and his traitorous throat said, "Pomfrey. Now."

"Harry?" Ron's hand reached out for him, then stopped, hovering just above his damaged shoulder. "Are you sure, mate? Only, I don't really know how we're going to explain this."

"Merlin's balls! Just do it, Weasley. We can figure out what to tell her once he's not bleeding to death!"

"Weasley?" Ron asked, at the same time that Hermione said, "He's not bleeding to death?"

Harry's befuddled mind prodded the thing controlling his mouth and came to the disturbing conclusion that it wasn't himself. For one thing, his accent had never held that mouth-full-of-marbles aristocratic twang, and for another, he'd never, to his knowledge, made any reference to Merlin's genitalia.

:-James!-: Liy's voice sounded scandalised. :-Who gave you permission to use poor Harry's body like that?-:

:-Yeah,-: Sirius interjected. :-You said I wasn't allowed to take a turn driving. Here, let me have a go.-:

Before any one of the occupants of Harry's crowded mind could react, James's presence had been shoved away from the controls and Sirius's had taken over. Harry stirred weakly, this time trying to force himself towards conscious control of his motor functions to prevent disaster.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice still contained that hint of aristocracy, but was not quite as deep. The earlier voice had scraped at Harry's lower vocal registers rather painfully.

"J-James?" Hermione asked, her face ashen.

"No, I shoved that prat out the way. It's Sirius now."

"Right," Hermione said faintly.

"Listen, Harry's not functioning right, and Moony's on the edge. Take us to Madame Pomfrey. I trust her. She looked after Remus for years. If we ask her to keep this a secret, she will. Please hurry, though. Remus is really not doing well, and he's not going to be able to hold back the wolf for long without Harry's help."

Harry wondered vaguely if his voice would ever take on that tone of all-encompassing love and worry when he was in control.

"Damn, this is weird," Ron said shakily, but he and Hermione quickly set about transfiguring a stretcher for Harry, then gently levitating him onto it. The pain was excruciating, and Harry passed gratefully into unconsciousness for a while.

He woke to the disturbing sensation of finding himself mid-conversation without his knowledge. He was surrounded by the potions-and-antiseptic smell of the Hogwarts hospital wing, the pain in his body lowered to a dull ache, and his limbs immobilised with bandages.

"Wa's goin'on?" he mumbled.

"We're having a hard time convincing Poppy we're telling the truth," he answered himself, in a rather disturbing falsetto that had the same accent as his Aunt Petunia.

"Good God, Lily, please stop taking control," he added again, this time in James's voice. "It's impossible to take you seriously when you make poor Harry talk like that."

Harry scrabbled his way to the front of his mind and peered out through his eyes. Judging by the faces of Ron, Hermione and Madame Pomfrey that were leaning over him, he was not the only one wondering if he had finally dropped over the edge of sanity.

"Bloo'y hell," he mumbled and fell back again, leaving Sirius in control.

"Ask us anything, Madame Pomfrey," Sirius begged. "Something that you and us would know and no one else would."

There was a long silence in the room before Madame Pomfrey, looking very unsure of herself and her own sanity, gave the smallest nod. "Very well. One thing that I know for a fact that no one else but Remus Lupin and I know. It was in your fifth year, after you played that ridiculously dangerous prank on Severus. Remus was in the hospital wing, and it was late at night. I woke to hear him calling for me and when I went to him, he was almost hysterical. What did he ask me then?"

Harry's mind was filled with a rush of guilt, pain and sorrow from all three remaining Marauders. Harry hadn't known until that point quite how dark that time of The Prank had been.

The quiet, curled presence of Remus that had been at the back of his mind slowly unwound and moved painfully to the front. "Of all the things to ask, Poppy," he rasped, and Harry's voice sounded broken and rough, as though dragged over course sandpaper. Sirius and James's presences moved up to huddle on either side of Remus.

Madame Pomfrey looked very guilty, but she raised her chin. "No one else but us knew about that," she said. "I have to be certain."

There was a long silence as everyone waited for Remus's answer. Harry could sense Sirius literally buzzing with concerned curiosity. Eventually, Remus took a deep breath, rasping air painfully into Harry's lungs. "Very well," he whispered. "If you have to know. I asked you to give me a potion…a…an overdose. I asked you – begged you -to…to kill me."

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It took Harry another day to be completely healed. He wasn't sure what Madame Pomfrey and Hermione had informed the staff, but no one questioned his absence when he returned to his teaching two days after the full moon.

It had been a very uncomfortable two days, the tension in his mind between the Marauders and Lily rising to a boiling point just as Harry was preparing for his first lesson back.

Remus, who had taken even longer to recover than Harry, took to curling alone at the back of Harry's mind, just on the edge of his consciousness. Sirius flitted back and forth in agitation – half approaching Remus, then backing away again to pluck irritably at Harry's surface memories in an effort to distract himself, sending up irrelevant pictures into Harry's mind as he tried to work. James and Lily hung around the edges, watching the display with growing concern.

This morning, Harry reached the end of his tether, and he slammed his books down on his desk and roughly shoved Sirius away from his private thoughts.

:-For God's sake, Sirius!-: He snapped. PLEASE stop poking round in my thoughts like that. I'm ill and headachy and I have to teach a class now and you keep DISTRACTING me!-:

Remus stirred at the back of Harry's mind, and reached out a tendril of thought to Sirius. :-Come here, Padfoot,-: he said tiredly. :-You're upsetting Harry, and you have no right to poke around in his thoughts like that. He's been very patient with you.-:

Sirius's presence flared pink-orange in shame, and he slunk over to Remus, coming closer to the werewolf than he had in two days. :-Sorry, Moony,-: he mumbled, exuding an aura of guilt-ridden puppy.

:-What's wrong with you?-: Remus asked, sounding more concerned than angry. :-I've said I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I never intended to tell you at all!-:

:-I know you didn't! That's the problem. Don't you see, Moony? I drove you to suicide and I didn't even KNOW. None of us knew. We all thought you got through it in your calm Moony-ish way. You didn't talk to me for ages, but that was to be expected. I didn't know that you -:

Sirius was interrupted by a sharp, mental poke from Remus. :-Shut up, you silly mutt! Is that what you've been worried about? I thought you were mad because I kept it a secret!-: Harry could sense James and Lily relaxing from where they quietly witnessed the scene from the edges. :-You didn't drive me to suicide, Sirius,-: Remus continued. :-Of course I didn't really want to die. It was just one of those times when you wake up at two in the morning and everything seems irreparably broken and hopeless and wrong. James and Peter had gone back to the tower and I was alone in the hospital wing drugged up on potions and in pain. It was just for a moment that I wanted to die, but I promise you, it was only for a moment. As soon as Poppy started talking to me, I knew I was being stupid.-:

Sirius shifted a little closer and tentatively reached out to touch Remus's curled presence. :-A moment of wanting to die can be all it takes,-: he said. :-You can't expect me to forgive myself for that.-:

Harry had expected Remus to immediately attempt to dissuade Sirius from taking all blame, but instead there was a long silence in which Remus seemed to shimmer and become fainter as he became lost in his own thoughts. Then he said, :-I don't expect that.-: Sirius tensed, but Remus reached out a mental tendril to touch him reassuringly. :-Just as you can't expect me to ever forgive myself for having so little faith in you that I left you to rot in Azkaban for twelve years.-: Sirius tried to interrupt, but Remus stopped him as he continued. :-Just as James and Lily will never forgive themselves for trusting Wormtail and leaving Harry to grow up in Petunia's abusive home. Just as you will never forgive yourself for believing I was a Death Eater, and Harry will never forgive himself for being taken in by Voldemort's scheme in his fifth year. We all have things that no matter what anyone says, we will never forgive ourselves for. The best we can hope to do is to learn from them and try to make up for them as we go on. We can't let them hold us back. We've all betrayed one another at some point, but our love for each other balances that out. Don't you see?-:

If Sirius had had a physical form, Harry knew he would have been fighting back tears. As it was, the emotional ache emanating from his spiritual presence spread through Harry's own body and formed a hard ball of pain in his chest.

As the first students began trickling into his class, the mood in Harry's head deepened to one that was not so much contentment as acceptance and resolve.

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A week passed, and Harry slowly began to get back into the routine of teaching, researching the Deathly Hallows and getting to know his family. He still allowed Alex and Daniel use of his living room in the evenings, and was generally being too exhausted to do anything other than drop into bed early every night.

The weekend seemed to approach at the speed of a lame snail, and when it arrived, Harry found himself awake at a dreadfully early hour from the excitement of having a full day to relax ahead of him – which, Remus had pointed out to him, made no sense at all.

"Do you actually have anywhere else to live?" Harry asked Ron, as he opened the door to Hermione's room to see both his friends inside having a leisurely breakfast at the table under Hermione's living room window.

"Yeah," Ron said. "I'm still living at home with all Mum's fussing Can you really question why I spend so much time here with my girlfriend and best friend instead?"

The words came out a little more sharply than Ron usually would have spoken, and Harry frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"Really bad news, I'm afraid," Hermione said. Harry suddenly noticed how pale both his friends looked. Hermione waved the Daily Prophet.

"What is it?" Harry sat down beside Ron and tried to get a glimpse of the newspaper still in Hermione's hand.

"Barty Crouch has escaped from Azkaban," said Ron, who had never been one to beat around the bush.

Harry stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. "But he's dead."

"Barty Crouch Junior, Harry," Hermione said.

"They're both dead!" Harry glanced at their serious faces. "If this is a joke, guys, it's not a very funny one."

"For heaven's sake, Harry, it's not a joke. And Crouch wasn't killed. He was kissed. By a Dementor, if you remember." Hermione spread the paper out in front of Harry. "Or not, as the case may be."

Harry felt a sick lurching in his stomach as he saw the headline. 'Voldemort's most loyal supporter escaped from Azkaban and out for revenge!'

:-I hate headlines like that,-: Sirius commented. :-I've seen enough of them to last me a lifetime. Or - you know - deathtime. -:

Harry ignored him, unable to look away from the words. "But…how? Did he bribe his way out of getting kissed? I thought he was soul-sucked - just a walking corpse, really. How can anyone function like that?"

"They say he killed them," Ron said.

"Who?"

"The Dementors. They say he has found a way to kill them, and that's how he avoided getting kissed. They didn't realise he'd done it, because he acted like he had been kissed, and all the Dementors stayed away from him – wouldn't go anywhere near him. They had to get wizards to come and give him his food. Apparently one time he managed to stick his arm through the bars and pick the pocket of one of the wizards, and that's how he escaped. Left a trail of dead Dementors behind him."

"Dead Dementors?" Harry said faintly.

"All that's left is black rags and grey slime. It's like they melt and explode."

Harry sagged back in his chair. "Of all the people to be free and out for revenge, it had to be one of the only two people who actually liked Voldemort."

:-TWO people liked him?-: James asked incredulously. :-Who else was mad enough?-:

:-You just answered your own questions, mate,-: Sirius said. :-'Who was mad enough?' My darling cousin Bellatrix, of course.-:

"That's not all, Harry," Hermione told him, her voice gentle. "They've taken everyone who was suspected of being a Death Eater and was cleared for some reason back into custody – Malfoy, his mother, some of the Ministry officials…and I'm afraid they've temporarily retracted Sirius's pardon. Apparently they have no proof he even died, so they're holding his name in reserve as well. They think Crouch must have had help to come up with a way to defeat the Dementors."

"WHAT!" Harry slammed his fists down on the table, making the toast rack jump in surprise and scuttle on silver legs to cower under Hermione's arm. "They can't do that! That's the only reward I asked for for saving this bloody world! They can't take it away!"

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Hermione reached out to put a hand on his arm. "They think you might have been Confunded or something." She sighed when Harry shook her hand off. "They're frightened and they need someone to blame."

:-Don't worry, love,-: Lily added, brushing calm tendrils of thought over his furious mind. :-We won't let anything happen to Sirius. As soon as we all have bodies, James and I will go and prove to them that Sirius is innocent. This isn't the end of the world. We've lived through worse than this.-:

:-She's right,-: Remus said, and Harry felt himself relax a little at the familiar note of capable calm in his voice. :-This isn't such a terrible thing. Even if Crouch wasn't kissed, he will be insane from spending all those years in Azkaban. He's irrational. He's bound to make mistakes, and the Aurors will catch him. You know they will.-:

"I don't know anything," Harry said aloud. "The Ministry has failed the Wizarding World many times before. I don't see why this time will be any different."

"Seriously, mate," said Ron, looking unfazed by Harry's seemingly irrelevant remark. He and Hermione had grown used to Harry's silent conversations with his family. "There is really nothing we can do about it now. We should concentrate on things we can do – like sorting out the Deathly Hallows stuff."

Harry shook his head. "It just seems like we're caught in this stupid cycle where, just when you think everything is going to be okay and you can have a normal life, a new Dark wizard pops up out of the woodwork. I think the Aurors need to catch Crouch before he can gain any real power. We don't want another Voldemort on our hands."

"Your hands, you mean," Hermione said, her expression grim. "We all know people will turn to you when things get tough. It's not fair. You don't have a duty to save the world on a regular basis."

Harry coaxed the toaster out from under Hermione's elbow and helped himself to a piece, though he wasn't really hungry. "I do, really," he told her. "If you can do something that can save lives and help people, you should. Otherwise, how could you live with yourself?"

"This is not you problem, mate," Ron said firmly. "And we should stop talking about it now, and concentrate on the other things we need to be doing." He gave Harry a significant look. "For example, did you go and tell McGonagall you don't have time to be the Slytherin Head of House yesterday evening?"

"Er…" Harry ducked his head as his family tutted in his head. "Sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Well – I went to go and see her. But I sort of agreed to do it."

The others stared at him. "Why?" Ron demanded. "I thought we agreed that we have too much to do without you having the extra responsibility."

"But I could make a difference," Harry explained, "to all those Slytherin children who are going to be discriminated against for the rest of their lives otherwise." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm thinking about telling the press I was almost put into Slytherin in my first year as well."

"WHAT?" chorused six voices. Harry winced, and wondered how long it would be before he could dish out bodies to the invaders in his head so he could retreat for a bit of peace and quiet.