Chapter 13
Waiting

The castle stretched up before them, the many turrets and towers standing out dark against the blue sky above and reflected in the expansive lake below. Remus watched, smiling slightly as Harry stood there and stared. He remembered the first time he had seen the castle, so imposing and awe-inspiring.

"Extraordinary, isn't it?" Harry turned, realising Remus had been watching him.

"I still remember the first time I saw it. I didn't think there was anything more beautiful in all the world. It's customary for first years to take a boat across the lake on the first night they arrive at school. But we'll keep it simple and walk today," he added, smile widening. With that, Remus led the way across the lawn and up the hill toward the commanding front doors of Hogwarts.

The halls were dark and quiet as they walked through the castle. Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls of the corridors. Harry looked around, seeming nervous; Remus doubted anyone else would have noticed, but two weeks of studying the boy had taught Remus to read Harry...at least somewhat.

"Most of the students are still on holiday," Remus told him in an attempt to draw his attention off his worries. "Only a handful stay here over Christmas. You can meet them at dinner. The rest will return in January." Harry said nothing. His eyes travelled from portrait to portrait, the subjects of which were whispering excitedly to each other as Harry passed.

"Where is it we're going?" Harry asked after a pause in which all that was heard was their footsteps.

"To the headmaster's office."

"That Dumbledore bloke? The one I met at the Ministry?" Harry's voice was not particularly thrilled by the concept.

"That's him. We just have to check in with him. Meet your teachers, find out where you'll be sleeping, what kind of training schedule you'll be on for the next few weeks, that sort of thing." Harry did not respond, just continued to walk in silence.

Remus pulled aside a tapestry and led Harry up a narrow stair well to the seventh floor.

"It's all so big," Harry said.

"You'll learn to find your way around soon enough. It's a little overwhelming at first, but you get used to it. If you're anything like your father, I expect you'll be ferreting out ever secret the place has to offer in no time." Remus smiled nostalgically. He wondered whatever happened to the Marauder's Map. Probably still locked away in Filch's office.

They turned a corner and had at last come to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"This is it," Remus told Harry as they came to the end of the corridor and the gargoyle stared down at them. "Cockroach Cluster," Remus said clearly to the gargoyle. Harry looked at him like he had suddenly gone mad, but his expression changed to one of wonder as the gargoyle sprang aside and the wall behind it split in two to expose the escalating, spiral staircase behind.

Remus stepped onto the bottom most stair and Harry followed two later. He stared around in awe, running his hand along the stones of the wall beside as the stairs carried them up. His preoccupation with all that was around him led him to forget what was below him, and he stumbled slightly as the staircase deposited them on the top landing.

There were voices coming from the other side of the gleaming oak door before them. Remus recognised Professor McGonagall's unmistakable Scotch accent. She sounded angry about something. A moment later he heard Snape's oily voice respond, equally aggravated. Remus thought he could guess the topic of their disagreement, and he hurried to interrupt them before Harry could catch any of what they were saying.

He rapped on the door and silence, full of anticipation so thick he could almost taste it, fell from within. "Enter," Dumbledore's voice called, strong and calm.

Remus turned to Harry and looked him directly in the eye. "Remember," he whispered. "These are teachers you're going to be working with for the next six months. Be polite, be respectful. Okay?" Harry grimaced but did not argue. Remus nodded in acceptance. "Here we go," and he pushed open the door.

Remus entered the room to find the eyes of every one of its occupants staring at him. He stepped aside and held the door open for Harry who followed after. Everyone's eyes shifted. Harry did not go far into the room as Remus closed the door; he hung back, sticking quite close to Remus's side. Remus found himself suppressing a small smile. Harry put on a tough front, but underneath, he was just as nervous as any other student called to the headmaster's office.

Harry stood awkwardly next to the door looking exceedingly uncomfortable to have so many eyes upon him. Remus had a feeling the start of term was going to be very tough on him. Remus walked further into the room, hoping Harry would follow suit, but he merely hung back, shoulders stiff and carefully not meeting anyone's eye.

"Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. "It's wonderful to see you again. And looking so refreshed," he added, eyeing Harry's new clothes and neatly cut hair—well, neater than it had been.

Harry looked at Dumbledore, seemingly chewing his tongue. At a meaningful glance from Remus, Harry gave a slightly grudging, "How do you do, sir?" eyes fixed on a leg of Dumbledore's desk.

"Excellent. Quite excellent, thank you Harry. Now why don't you come on in—no need to stand in the doorway—and I shall make some introductions."

Harry took a few more steps nearer the desk and then settled for staring at the upper right hand corner off the room. The eyes of all the professors followed him except for Snape, who had turned to stare out of the window to the left of the headmaster's desk; Remus could not see his face, but he thought there was something odd in his stance.

"This is Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore was saying. "She is the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts as well as head of Gryffindor house and the Transfiguration instructor." Professor McGonagall gave Harry a curt nod which Harry hesitantly returned.

"Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw house," Dumbledore continued. "Professor Flitwick teaches Charms..." The tiny man nearly bounded up to shake Harry's hand, saying, "A pleasure, Mr. Potter, a real pleasure."

"Professor Sprout is head of Hufflepuff and teaches Herbology..." Professor Sprout gave Harry a kind smile.

"And Professor Snape, head of Slytherin and our Potions Master." Professor Snape did not look round, and Harry gave his back a somewhat bewildered look.

"Now, Harry. Remus informs me that you have been progressing well with your studies. He has been most impressed by your diligence." Here Harry cast a fleeting glance at Remus before transferring his gaze to his feet. "Do you enjoy your lessons?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus got the impression that Dumbledore was merely asking in an attempt to bring Harry out a bit. The attempt was something less than successful. Harry merely thought about it for a moment before saying, "Well enough, sir."

"'Well enough'," Dumbledore repeated thoughtfully. "Which subjects do you prefer?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a moment then took a deep breath, shrugging. "Defence Against the Dark Arts is interesting, I suppose. And Charms is kind of...fun...I guess," he replied noncommittally.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Well, Harry, Remus tells me that you have reached a level in your studies that you would benefit more from tutelage by instructors more qualified in the individual subjects if you hope to pass your O.W.L.s next year."

Harry's head jerked up from his feet to look first at Remus and then at Dumbledore. "O.W.L.s, sir?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels. They are the examinations all wizarding students are expected to take at the end of their fifth year. You would be scheduled to take them in a year and a half."

Harry seemed to be grinding his teeth. "You are making the assumption that I will, in fact, be here in a year and a half." His tone was something less than polite and respectful; Remus cleared his throat softly and Harry shot him a look before visibly trying to calm himself.

"With regards to your studies, Harry, I think we must operate under that assumption," Dumbledore responded in placation. "We have made a deal, however, and should you decide to leave in six months, I will honour it." Harry studied him for a moment before giving a nod.

"We have put together a training schedule for the next two weeks," Dumbledore continued after a pause in which Harry did not respond. Dumbledore handed over a slip of paper which Harry took gingerly. "You will spend the mornings in a private tutoring session with one professor and the afternoons with another—with breaks for lunch and dinner, of course. The evenings will be spent at Remus's discretion; he has agreed to make himself available to help you with any assignments you might have."

Remus watched as Harry took this all in with some little apprehension; Harry was not at all used to being told what to do and when to do it. But Harry, after a long study of the parchment in his hand and a quick glance in Remus's direction, merely took a deep breath and nodded silently before returning to a study of his feet.

Outward acceptance or no, however, Remus could see the muscles of the boys back were tense and his teeth were clenched. Remus was sure he was not the only one to notice. All of the professors were eying Harry with a combination of pity and concern—well, all except Snape. The man had not moved since they had arrived; he was standing just as tensely as Harry in his pursuit of staring out at the grounds below, and Remus could see his hands clenched together behind his back.

"Now then, all that remains is for us to decide where you are to live. I have asked the house elves to prepare the guest rooms across from Remus's quarters for you. You can stay there until the start of term," Dumbledore informed, speaking to both Remus and Harry. Remus nodded. Harry continued to look at his feet. "However, once the other students arrive, you should join one of the school houses. There are four school houses, and which one you are in is decided based on certain character traits," Dumbledore explained to Harry. "Sorting you into the right house is quite important because the house you are in determines which dormitory you sleep in, where you sit in the Great Hall for meals, which students you are in classes with—"

"I've read Hogwarts: A History, sir. You don't have to explain this all to me," Harry interrupted, not looking at Dumbledore.

"Excellent. Excellent. That simplifies matters," Dumbledore said approvingly, ignoring the somewhat rude tone with which Harry had spoken. Here Dumbledore looked around at all of the teachers. "So. That leaves us with the decision of how we should go about sorting you." McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout all exchanged glances. "Normally, first years undergo the Sorting at the Welcoming Feast when they first arrive at the castle," Dumbledore explained the problem to Harry. "But as there is no equivalent feast when the other students return from the Christmas holidays..."

"We could do it at the start of dinner...the night the students return..." Professor McGonagall suggested undecidedly. "That is probably the closest we could get to a traditional Sorting. Most of the students should be in the Great Hall at that point."

Harry's head had snapped over to McGonagall when she said this, then his eyes travelled from Dumbledore to Remus. "What exactly does it entail—this 'Sorting'?" he asked guardedly.

"It's nothing to worry about," Remus assured him. "All you have to do is put on that hat," he said nodding to the Sorting Hat which was on a shelf above Dumbledore's desk."

Harry stared at the hat a moment, a frown on his face and his mouth slightly open, before he turned to Dumbledore and said, very determinedly, "There is no way you are getting me to put on some stupid hat in front of the whole school." Contrary to his previous behaviour of carefully avoiding anyone's eye, he was now staring resolutely at Dumbledore, his jaw set in a stubborn glower. Remus was torn between laughing and burying his head in his hands at this declaration.

Dumbledore eyed Harry for a moment before saying quickly, "Well, I suppose we could just do it now in this office." Remus got the strong impression that he was not the only one eager to make Harry's life easier and so doing encourage the boy to stay. Other's however, did not seem to share this view.

"What?" Though not particularly loud, the word rang through the office like a bell. All eyes turned to Snape who had finally turned around and was looking at Dumbledore incredulously. "And so it begins," he snarled. "Already you treat him differently from the other students—cave to his every whim. The boy could probably use an Unforgivable Curse right now, and you would just smile and pat him on the head. You can't treat him like he's special! He's just like any other student here, and he should be treated as such."

Remus felt his teeth grinding together. He was quite sure that if Harry were anyone's son but James's, Snape would not be so incensed at this moment.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore responded calmly, "these are special circumstances; whether Harry is special or not is of no consequence," Remus wasn't sure he believed Dumbledore's conviction as he said those words, but he was very glad he'd said them. "Unless you wish to suggest that we revert to Time-Turners, there is no way to treat this situation as though it was anything but special."

"Tradition dictates that the Sorting take place—" Snape began to grind out, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

"There is no precedent for a student joining the school at this point in his education. As such, tradition has very little bearing on this debate. Now, unless you have another suggestion, the only options I see are to conduct the Sorting here and now or to wait until dinner on the night the other students return. As both break from tradition, I see no reason why we can't elect the option that makes Harry more comfortable and makes for less planning and bother for the staff." There was a moment's silence in which Dumbledore and Snape stared hard at each other and Harry looked between them rather shell-shocked.

"Do you have another suggestion?" Dumbledore asked finally.

Snape opened his mouth a few times before letting out his breath in a huff and turning back to the window. Remus could practically hear the man's teeth grinding together. Dumbledore seemed appeased, and he turned to look at each of the other teachers in turn to see if anyone else would raise an objection.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore cheerfully when no one did. "Now, Harry. Why don't you go ahead and seat yourself here." He raised his wand, gave it a flick, and a three-legged stool appeared before them. Harry walked over to it and dropped himself onto it with a sigh as though he had decided to simply humour them rather than argue about how incredibly stupid it was to choose a house based on a hat. Dumbledore gave a slight smile and turned to remove the hat from its position on the shelf above. Dumbledore handed the hat to Remus, and he dropped it on to the slouching form of his ward.

Remus knew exactly at what point the hat began to speak in Harry's ear, for abruptly, Harry's sat straight up and all the muscles in his body seemed to tense. Remus smiled, remembering his own surprise when he had been Sorted. Remus and the others waited for the hat to speak expectantly. Remus told himself he did not care what house Harry was in, but a part of him knew he would love it if Harry were in Gryffindor. He had so many fond memories of Gryffindor and it had, after all, been the house of both of Harry 's parents. And so Remus waited.

...and waited...

After about a minute in which still the hat had not spoken, the teachers began exchanging concerned looks. None of them could remember a time when it had taken so long for the hat to decide on a house. Even Snape turned around to eye Harry's covered face curiously. Dumbledore, however, had not moved since Harry had disappeared behind the hat. He sat at his desk, watching Harry with a contemplative expression over his joined fingertips.

With each passing second, the atmosphere in the room became more and more tense. Professors Flitwick and Sprout were looking downright alarmed and McGonagall kept casting worried looks to Dumbledore as though expecting him to explain what was happening at any moment. Still Dumbledore did not move. Remus was watching the hat nervously, and he felt his breath catch in his chest as he noticed the rip near the brim open. Time seemed to slow as he watched the rip widen.

"Gryffindor!" the hat finally declared and Remus suddenly realised just how tense his muscles were when he at long last felt them relax. He was quite sure he was not the only one in the room who let out a sigh of relief. He helped Harry take the hat off and, as he was passing it to Dumbledore, he noticed the headmaster was smiling jovially, and Remus thought he recognised something close to smugness behind McGonagall's eyes.

Harry, however, Remus realised, seemed far from enthusiastic. Remus eyed him worriedly. All colour seemed to have drained from the boy's face and his eyes were wide. He was staring at the far wall, something which would not have been at all out of the ordinary had it not been for the fact that his eyes did not seemed to be focused on anything Remus could see; rather they seemed to be focused internally.

"Marvellous!" said Dumbledore genially, not seeming to notice. "Now that that's taken care of..." He turned back to them after replacing the hat on the shelf and stared around at each of the room's occupants in turn. He then took out a watch and eyed the time. "It's about time for dinner I think...Yes we have just enough time to go and wash. I know I for one am eager to see what the house elves have prepared; I had heard mention of a treacle tart for pudding.

"Remus, I believe you can show Harry to his rooms? And to dinner afterwards?"

"Certainly," Remus responded. He reached out and gently laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's head snapped away from the wall to look up at Remus's face. Remus was quite sure Harry had not heard a single word Dumbledore had just said. He nodded in the direction of the door and Harry seemed to come back to the present. He hastened to gather himself together and then joined Remus in heading toward the door. The heads of houses followed them out. Remus kept his hand on Harry's shoulder as they descended the spiral staircase, and he was pleased that Harry had not shaken it off.

Once on the other side of the gargoyle Harry stopped and watched as all the heads peeled off to go their separate directions, nodding to each other and to Harry and Remus: McGonagall and Flitwick down opposite corridors on the same level, Sprout toward the central staircase, and Snape down the secret passage way behind the tapestry.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked once all of them were out of earshot. "You seem pretty shaken."

Harry looked at him uncertainly for a moment chewing on his lip, then, eyes down on the corner Professor Sprout had just disappeared around, "You couldn't hear it, could you? What the hat said to me? No one could hear it but me, right?" His eyes travelled to Remus, face full of anxiety.

"No one could hear," Remus hastened to reassure him.

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief and gave a nod. Remus wanted desperately to ask Harry what the hat had said—what he was so desperate to hide—but he knew he would receive no answer. Harry did not want Remus to know. When and if he changed his mind on that score, Harry would let him know. But until then he would wait. He was full of worry and curiosity and disquiet.

But he would wait.

Harry seated himself on the windowsill in his new bedroom, staring out at the scene before him. The icy waters of the vast lake stretched out below him. Beyond snow-covered hills to his right, Harry could make out smoke rising from what he suspected were several chimneys. There must be a village nearby. Harry filed this information away; he never knew when he might need it. Should he decide to make a quick departure from this place a village could mean cars or trains...Then again it could also mean people who might recognise him. He would worry about that when it came to it. Beyond the village, the rocky peaks of a string of mountains rose majestically.

Harry turned back to the room. It was good three times larger than his bedroom in Sussex and twice the size of his entire flat in London. Most of the space was taken up by one of the biggest four-poster beds Harry had ever seen. There were two cushy armchairs by the fire and an ornate wardrobe in the corner nearest him which Harry thought was probably big enough to fit all of Narnia inside. Two doors led out of the room: one to the hall leading to the rest of the castle and one to a bathroom that Harry suspected contained more marble than the Queen's.

After showing Harry where his own rooms were in case Harry needed him, Remus had left Harry here to wash up and settle in a bit, saying that he would return in ten minutes to escort Harry to dinner. The ten minutes were up and Harry found that all he wanted was to be left alone. As though on cue, there was a soft knock on the door and Remus let himself in.

"Ready for dinner?" he asked lightly. "You really haven't lived until you've tried Hogwarts food. I'm sure you'll appreciate a break from my cooking, anyhow."

Harry didn't speak for a moment. He chewed on his lip and looked about the room trying to think of a good excuse to stay here. "I'm really not hungry," he finally decided on. Even he had to admit it was a rather lame one.

"Oh," Remus said and Harry was sorry to see that his face fell a bit. He couldn't seem to stop disappointing the man.

Remus stood there awkwardly for a moment looking for something to say. "It would be nice if you'd come down and got to know everyone a bit. It won't just be the professors; there are a few students who stayed. No fourth years, that I'm aware of, but there are at least a few people nearer your age than us old folk." He gave Harry a smile which Harry did not have the energy to return, and it slid off Remus's face quite quickly. He cleared his throat softly. "But of course if you would rather stay up here and get settled in properly, I can make your excuses."

"I would rather," Harry replied, fortifying his heart against the look of rejection on Remus's face. "I'm very tired, and I have a great deal to unpack," Harry added in an attempt to moderate the mood in the room.

Remus nodded and gave Harry a smile that was fooling no one. "Well, I'll bring you some treacle tart later, then." Harry mustered a small smile in return; he doubted it fooled anyone either.

Remus turned to leave. At the door he looked back at Harry glumly. Harry looked right back, expressionless.

When he heard the latch of the door click shut, Harry fell onto the bed, staring up at the deep indigo velvet of the canopy above. Tiny golden stars were embroidered in the patterns of real constellations. He studied them, trying to quieten his racing mind. It wasn't working

His brain felt violated. He wanted to rip that bloody hat into a million pieces. What right had it to go through all his darkest thoughts and memories like that... If there was one thing that Harry valued, it was privacy. And here this...thing...just waltzes in and starts pulling everything out and exposing it.

If he remembered correctly, Gryffindor House was for the brave. Harry didn't feel particularly brave at the moment. All he wanted to do right then was flee. Run away and never look back. He didn't like it here. He didn't like the way all the teachers had looked at him—intrigued and suspicious and pitying all at the same time.

He looked around his enormous room. There was once a time when he would have given practically anything to have a place to live such as this. He would have revelled in the soft mattress and the tall windows and the warm, crackling fire. But now...now he would have given practically anything to be back in his own tiny flat with his own uncomfortable couch and his own broken heater. He did not want this. He wanted to leave.

But he had promised Remus six months. Remus had been good to him these past two weeks. Harry found, quite unexpectedly, that he really did not want to let the older man down any more than he already had. He could wait six months. It was not such a very long time. He wanted to leave.

But he would wait.

Some five hundred kilometres to the northeast, far out on the open water, a barren island of jagged rock was situated, berated constantly by the crashing of the cold waters of the North Sea. There, towering above all else, stood the imposing form of a dark, stone fortress. The walls stretched smooth and unbroken save for the occasional row of small openings cut for ventilation. The waxing moon tried desperately to penetrate the depths of one of these ventilation shafts. A faint, silver glow glistened incongruously in a patch on the dusty stone floor inside.

The man shirked from the light. Light was a false friend. There was a time he had thought that light was a good thing—that it helped sustain life—but now he knew better. Light merely exposed how bad things were. Light showed what was below the surface, and what was below the surface was never a desirable sight. In the dark, his cell was just that—a cell. A small stone rectangle. But in the light, he could see the algae growing on the walls, the grime coating the floors, the rotting wood of the berth held up by rusted chains.

No, he would stay away from the light. He had no desire to see how the light would change him. How it would illuminate the mats in his long hair and beard, how it would bring out the sharp bones of his face and cast the sunken hollows of his eyes and cheeks into blackness.

He curled in the corner, watching the patch of light cautiously, never blinking, as though at any moment he thought it might attack. His left hand was picking at his lip. He could taste the filth under his finger nails, but he paid it no mind; all thoughts of sanitation had left him over a decade ago. His other hand was buried in the tangled mess of his elbow-length hair. He gripped it, the weight of his forearm pressing down upon the crown of his head as though if he let go, it might float away.

There was a steady drip...drip...drip beside him. Droplets of water collected on the ceiling, fighting valiantly to maintain their position before gravity won out, dragging them down to crash upon the ground below. The puddle was growing steadily. The splash created by one drop splattered onto the bare foot nearby. His eyes jerked from the light over to the water. He shuffled back. Back further into the dark.

He did not look behind him. He did not want to see where he was repositioning himself. He did not want to see what filth was there, he did not want to see the rats or the damp. It was dark here. Darkness was safe. Darkness protected the fragile minds of the human race. Darkness hid the horrors of this world, horrors we could not bear to face. He would wait here in the dark.

He did not know what he was waiting for. He waited for something to happen. Something to change. He had waited for over thirteen years. And he would keep on waiting. He did not know for what. Death, he supposed. It was the only kind of change he could imagine. For he did not remember anything but this: the darkness; the drip of the water; the rustling of the rats; the clammy coldness of the air, of the stones, of his heart. What else there could possibly be, he did not know.

But he would wait.

A/N: Wow. Thanks for all the amazing responses to last chapter. You guys are incredible!

A few points that several people were asking me about that I would like to clarify:

1.) What was that about the Death Eaters? Did I miss something?
Answer: No you did not. I haven't explained that to you yet and that is intentional. Sorry...I was trying to be mysterious...apparently I was a little too mysterious. But you'll find out all about that when Remus does.

2.) What was with the blue light during Harry's escape?
Answer: Again, you're not really supposed to understand that. Why? Because Harry doesn't understand it, and it was written from Harry's point of view. It will come in later, never fear.

3.) So…is Dumbledore good or bad in this fic?
Answer: NEITHER! I love Dumbledore. I think he's an absolutely amazing character, and honestly I'm not entirely sure why he is so hated in the fanfiction community. But just because I love him does not mean that he's entirely 'good.' He has faults just like everybody else. He is perhaps manipulative at times, but only when he has to be. He does genuinely care about Harry's well-being. But he also worries about the future of the wizarding world if Voldemort rises again, and he does know about the prophesy, after all.

4.) When is Harry going to open up to Remus already?
Answer: I know, we all want to see them both happy, but psychologically speaking, I just feel it's a bit too early. Harry has been raised to trust no one. It takes more than two weeks with some random guy to get over that. He will, very gradually, begin to open up to Remus…just not quite all the way there yet...Remus and Harry both have a lot of insecurities to get over. But it's coming. Hang in there.

Hope that clears up a few things for you all. Thanks again for all who have reviewed. It's incredibly encouraging to receive any kind of feedback.

Also, just to let you know, I'm back to school in two weeks (sad face) and to any of you who don't know, veterinary college is extremely demanding; we're talking fifteen hour days demanding. So…updates are going to be slow in coming once term starts. I'm sorry. Believe me, I wish I could update every day, but it's just not an option for me. I hope that you'll be patient with me and keep reading, I promise to do the best I can once it starts and give you as much as I can between now and then.

Thanks again to all of you for reading.

Cheers!
Baguette