Disclaimer: Rowling's words bite deeper then curses.
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Feathers, Fangs and Flames
Chapter XXI
The Will
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He raised his gaze from the flame - it appeared that the fireplace in the common room never stopped burning - Harry guessed that it was because of the house elves. There was someone climbing down the boy dormitory stairs. Judging by the scent - Neville.
It dawned on Harry that it was already morning. He stood up from the carpet, feeling slightly sore - he hadn't moved for most of the night.
"Harry?"
"Good morning, Neville."
Neville shuddered – Harry's voice rang without any emotion. "Have you gone to sleep at all?"
"No, but I slept for more than a day in the hospital wing."
"Are you going to go to breakfast?" Neville asked carefully, weighting his every word.
"Yes."
"Want to wait for Ron and Hermione?" Neville looked slightly uncomfortable.
"We can go now."
Harry straightened his robes, checked that he still had his wand and started walking.
It took a few flights of stairs till either of them said anything.
"I'm sorry... for your loss." Neville muttered. "Ron said that Sirius Black was innocent... I have a few photos of him together with... our parents. Would you like me to write Gran?"
The question hung in the air for a few steps.
"Yes." Harry was staring straight bellow him, looking where he was placing each foot. "Thank you."
Neville hesitated, but then gathered some courage and continued. "It must be really hard for you. Because of everyone-"
"He was a closest thing to a father for me." Harry's voice was a strained whisper, each syllable harder to say than the one before. "It's like losing my parents again."
"I know how that..." Neville added inaudibly.
Even as Harry heard him perfectly he didn't press on.
"I'll see about those pictures."
Harry answered only with a nod.
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During breakfast, Harry noticed two things - everyone was gossiping about him and Dumbledore, and, the Headmaster appeared to be absent again.
Ron and Hermione arrived later than he would have expected – apparently, they had been looking for him. Hermione even started to complain as soon as she was within earshot.
"Harry," she hissed quietly while sitting down next to him. "Why didn't you tell us-"
Ron touched her shoulder, interrupting her. "Hermione."
"It's fine." Harry muttered at looking him and pointed towards his right. His voice was still cold. "I'm sorry - I just joined Neville when he asked. I should have waited."
Ron took the seat too. "It's not a problem, Harry."
"Is it true that you duelled Sirius Black?"
Harry raised his head and stared at the second year he didn't even recognise. The second year yelped out of surprise, seeing the flame in Harry's eyes. Then, he tried to mouth an apology, but couldn't manage a straight sentence, getting only a few incoherent sound out, blushed and ran to sit at the opposite end of the table.
With all the movement he missed the exact moment the aroma of cinnamon appeared.
"Harry." There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "May I sit with you?"
He turned to face Cho and nodded. Neville quickly shuffled to the side, letting the Ravenclaw join the Gryffindor table.
Cho took a long look at Harry's eyes – they were as green as ever, yet, paler and not as shiny – also, she could see the mark a lack of sleep left on his face.
Harry held the gaze, unblinking, silent.
"Have you slept at all?" She asked, concerned.
"No."
"Why?"
"I have slept enough before."
Cho shuddered and didn't press on.
They both moved on with their breakfast. However, Cho always tried to maintain a touch between them throughout the meal - she held her hand close to his, trying to relay that she was there for him.
He took that feeling – the one that told him that however bad it was, there was someone at his side – and latched into it like a drowning man tries to grab a straw. Sirius died because he was near me. Cho was lightly stroking his arm. She was there – with him. Why? The wolf's presence, also soothing the emptiness he felt, offered a reply – the pack always fights together whenever there's danger.
His thoughts were pushed away by McGonagall approaching slowly. Nearby people stilled, watching their head of house heading towards Harry Potter.
"Mr. Potter." She stood straight, and her voice was strong, unwavering, even though Harry could whiff a trace of her worry. "Please accept my condolences for your godfather's death."
"Thank you." He nodded, without emotion.
"Please report to the Headmaster's office; after you have finished your meal." She continued, the nearby people trying to be as silent as possible and to catch each and every word.
Hermione gasped silently – they were supposed to head to History of Magic, as every Tuesday morning.
"You are, of course, excused from the first class for today, Mr. Potter."
"Did the Headmaster tell why?" Harry spoke up.
"It has to do with your godfather. I'm afraid I cannot tell you more, but you needn't worry." And she turned around and went outside of the Hall, the conversations near the tables returning to their former state.
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When he approached the stone gargoyle, it moved aside almost immediately, without even waiting for a password. Which Harry didn't have, in any case.
He hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind him, taking him up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.
He could hear voices from inside the office. He stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated for a single second before knocking. It appeared that some witch was talking about Sirius.
"Come on in, Harry." Dumbledore called as soon as his knuckles touched the door.
"Headmaster." He nodded and turned to a broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair, sitting in one of Headmaster's conjured seats, next to an empty one; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. Harry stilled not knowing how to address her.
"Amelia Bones." The witch supplied. "It's good that you arrived as early as possible Mr. Potter."
Harry glanced at the Headmaster.
"Ah, yes, Harry, I'm sorry for not informing you in advance, but Amelia Bones has arrived here in her official capacity as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's here to ask you a few questions about Sirius Black. You should note that you have choice whether to answer any questions she asks."
Amelia coughed. "As Headmaster has chosen to explain the reason of my visit you, why don't you take a seat, Mr. Potter, and we'll begin?"
Harry sat down on the empty seat and waited.
"The Headmaster has filled me with the recount of your third year and the meeting between you and Sirius Black. Could you confirm that you met him on June of last year?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to add something to the story Headmaster recounted to me?"
Harry gave Dumbledore another glance and saw a barely noticeable shake of the head. "No."
Amelia coughed. "What about the events of last Sunday?"
This time, Dumbledore nodded. However, Harry hesitated. "I..."
"Mr. Potter, I am trying to help you."
"Harry." Albus soft voice made Amelia move her head sharply at his direction. "You can speak freely – Amelia knows that you sneaked out of the castle to meet with your godfather, but we have already established that my decision not to punish a student trying to connect with his family stands."
Amelia gave a short but hard stare at Dumbledore, but Harry interceded, gathering the attention back to himself. "I'll talk"
And he did. The words were dry, cold, but he poured them one by one. He told her of the sudden appearance of Moody, mentioned that Sirius figured out that whoever the man they met was he couldn't have been Alastor Moody. He didn't mention anything about the Order, nor his own use of Cruciatus curse - he figured it would have been bad to confess such a thing in front of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.
Dumbledore was watching him intently throughout all the speech, probably more so than Amelia. The Headmaster looked like was ready to catch and redirect all and any slip-ups, but gladly there hadn't been any need for his intervention during the whole story.
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"There is also the matter of the last will and testament of Sirius Black." Amelia waited for a few moments but, as neither Harry nor Albus said anything, she continued, after drawing out an old piece of parchment. "Normally, you would simply receive an official letter, but since there has been a contesting statement issued, today shall have to serve as a preliminary reading, and the will's effects would be concluded on a later date. Is that alright with you, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes."
"Good." She unfolded the parchment and started reading. "In the unfortunate case of my demise, I leave all my possessions to be divided equally between the following people, or failing that, between their closest relatives – James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and Nymphadora Tonks. If, at the time of my death, my possessions include any kind of real estate, it is to be given to Remus Lupin in addition to his share, or if he's unavailable, to Harry Potter with apologies from his godfather for not being there. Anyone carrying or having carried the surname Black, who wishes to claim a part of my former possessions is to be given no more than a single Knut..." Amelia coughed, slightly uncomfortable. "There are also instructions as to where that Knut should be put, but as it's a deviation from the protocol, that part of the will is to be considered void. The will is confirmed by signature of Sirius Black, dated for January of 1981. The witness to the writing of the will is listed as James Potter. There's also the seal of the Ministry, confirming its validity. Do you have any questions?"
"No." Harry shook his head slightly.
"Good. Mr. Potter, you will be informed by owl about any changes and the date of the final reading, possibly only after the tournament is concluded. And now, you must excuse me, for there are lots of matters for me to deal with today." She stood up, nodding at the Headmaster and turned towards the fireplace. "Albus, I'll keep in contact as to the proceedings. We'll talk more on the day of the second task."
And, after a few moments she was gone, only a small fire was left burning in the fireplace.
"Sir," Harry began, slowly, his eyes mirroring the flame deep inside. "Who was the impostor, truly?"
"I wouldn't tell my students such a thing, but you, I think, have a right to know." Albus paused for a second, weighting his thoughts. "If you really want to. I'd like to caution you that any step taken in hatred is not a step forward."
"Tell me." The voice had no emotion in it. "Sir."
"If you were paying attention, Madam Bones was careful not to mention any potential suspects. However, Alastor does remember seeing both Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Junior at the night he was subdued. I'm hoping his words will be enough to convince the Department of magical Law Enforcement that Peter Pettigrew is alive and working for Voldemort."
"Barty Crouch Junior?" Harry asked, checking how the name tasted on his lips. Salty, not unlike blood.
"Yes." Dumbledore's gaze was slightly to the side, at the closed cabinet in the office. "I'd have to refresh my memory, but he was supposed to have died in Azkaban. Apparently, his father had managed to fake his death, and held him prisoner in his own home. Unfortunately, the son managed to escape and, apparently is now helping Voldemort together with Peter Pettigrew. And before you ask, Bartemius Crouch Senior is currently in St. Mungo's, due to the prolonged exposure to the Imperius Curse, possibly one of Peter Pettigrew. I believe that Voldemort intended for you to participate in the tournament. Crouch must have been the one to enter your name into the Goblet."
"Why?"
"Alas, I can only venture to guess. Perhaps, he believes it to be a test of sorts, to see if you are worthy of his attention. There is a possibility that he planned to kill or kidnap you during the tournament – such a display would greatly reinforce the fear people have of him, and set a scene for his return. I have talked about it with Amelia and we will be reinforcing the safety of the tournament, as well, as watching over it more closelly."
"Crouch tried to help me with the task." Harry suddenly realized. "It wasn't much, but he did offer some advice."
Dumbledore nodded. "It is as I feared – Voldemort was planning something for the third task. Hopefully we can prepare – he has but two servants, and one of them lacks a wand and we are forewarned."
"Will you be calling the Order together?"
"Sirius and Remus told you about the last war, then?"
"Yes." Harry's voice had a slight metallic tint to it, showing emotion for the first time since arriving at the Headmaster's office. "I don't know much, but if you are fighting against Voldemort, I want to help. Any way I can."
"Harry, your childhood is a valuable thing; you shouldn't want to waste it-"
"I don't care." Harry's wolf was making him growl. "I never had any childhood worth mentioning - Voldemort made my life a living hell. I want to rip his throat out."
"I was hoping you still had time to grow up peacefully." Dumbledore sighed, his eyes full of sadness and defeat. "For what is worth – I'm sorry."
Harry was silent, his eyes green with the colour of the Killing Curse.
"Please, I urge you to reconsider. Leave the battle for the old and experienced. Don't let your anger light your way." Dumbledore was meeting Harry's gaze. "You have a hard life, but it is unnecessary to make it even harder. Live, Harry, you have to live, laugh, love, be with your friends. You are too young."
Harry's hand twitched, and he spoke slowly, words laced with a hint of anger and nothing more. "With all due respect, sir, I might not have enough time to live in peace like you would like me to. You said it yourself – Voldemort was planning something about me. Why? I asked you the same question, just after I had killed Quirrell and had almost died myself. Why? Why would he want to kill me in the first place? I remember what you said to me - I cannot tell you. You said that it was not the time... When? When I'll be old enough in your eyes? When all my friends, everyone you wish me to try living with will be dead?"
Headmaster recoiled as if he had been slapped. "I..."
Harry was standing still, watching, smelling, listening.
"I cannot tell you now." Dumbledore raised his hand, as Harry was opening his mouth to protest. "I promise you I'll tell as much as there is to tell you, and soon. But not today. Not when you are full of anger."
Harry shook his head. "I'm not full of anger. I hardly feel anything at this point."
"All the more. I promise you, though, on my honour and my word to tell you everything before your next birthday, after the tournament has ended. You don't need any more troubles for yourself, especially ones that you can do nothing about."
"Thank you." There was a pause. "Sir."
"Now, I believe, you have lessons later in the day, and I have responsibilities of my own..."
Harry left unsatisfied, but believing that the promise to tell him everything was the most he could have gotten out of Dumbledore that day.
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"Professor?"
"Yes?" Remus had just finished explaining about a few spells. "Do you have a question about what we have just been through?"
"No, but..."
Remus sighed. "Alright, Mr. Creevey, I'll allow for one question to the side, if you you'll agree to help me demonstrate the next spell."
"Was Professor Moody really an impostor?"
Remus coughed. "Well, the official stance of the ministry is that you are too young to be told, but I believe that I can tell you that there was a man pretending to be Professor Moody, yes. I'm afraid, however, that I cannot reveal any more than that, and you'll have to wait for the evening, when if I'm not mistaken, the Headmaster will address the issue himself."
"Is it true that you are a werewolf?" Someone shouted from the back. "They say that you are."
"I said I would answer only one question not related to the lesson, didn't I?" The tone he chose was slightly unpleasant, reminding in part the one used by Snape, even. "Now, as we were. Mr. Creevey, please join me in the front of the classroom."
There were hundreds of whispers after that, and fearful glances were being thrown throughout the lesson. It was all exactly like Remus expected it to be.
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When he scented Harry approaching, he quickly got up from the desk and opened the door, to let him in.
Harry just went past him and collapsed on the nearest chair.
"You're not going to have supper?" Remus inquired, concerned tones in his voice.
"No. I believe you aren't going to go, either?" Harry pointed at a steaming plate nearby. His voice still mostly emotionless.
"No. I don't want to scare any more students than necessary."
"How do you..." Harry started, but just could finish.
"Deal with everything?" Remus shook his head. "I have people to live for."
"People?"
"You, Sirius, James. Even with those that aren't with us anymore are reminding me why and how with every breath I take."
"Why do people around me would up getting hurt? Dead?" There was a hint of sadness in the voice.
"I'm not really qualified to answer." Remus shifted, pushing his meal further away from himself and nearer to Harry. "It was the same with me. My mother was very sick and died when I was about your age. I have used her illness as an excuse for my periods of absence. I wish I had visited her as many times as I said I did... My father died during the war a few years later. I lost all of my friends in a single day. I believed that Peter was dead, and that Sirius had betrayed us. I lost James and Lily. I even lost Alice and Frank, they weren't good friends, but they could have been, I think."
"So... how?"
"I didn't." Remus sighed. "I just ran away. Went to France for a few years, tried to forget everything. I almost did. Only Albus woke me up. I'm sorry I haven't visited you."
"But you did spend every full moon with me. And Sirius."
"Not all of them."
"You wanted to."
Lupin showed a small, unhappy smile. "Wasn't I supposed to be the one helping you cope..."
"It's enough that you're here. Moony." Harry's voice was almost alive. "I have heard people talking. Not about Sirius, no... About you. And I know that you can hear them as well as I can. It must have been hard for you to agree to stray for a few days... Thank you."
"You're welcome." Remus ruffled Harry's hair. "I can only offer you this – you can learn to live with the pain. And after a while, it always lessens."
"Is it... bad, that I haven't felt almost anything since yesterday?"
"You have." Remus voice was soft and calm. "You will. Speak with your friends. It helps."
"I will."
Then, they simply ate, sitting in silence, listening to the distant sounds of everyone, gathering in the Great Hall. They couldn't hear him, but they knew that Dumbledore was speaking with everyone. Telling everyone about Barty Crouch, Sirius Black and Harry Potter. Urging to be vigilant and prepared, united and fearless.
"He promised."
Harry looked at Remus questioningly.
"He promised he would prove that Sirius was innocent."
"I don't think Sirius would care." Harry replied, honestly. "But it's a... good thing. Maybe."
"At least they will be trying to catch Pettigrew."
"And Crouch."
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry started the conversation again - "Moony, do you think you could teach me?"
"Teach you what, exactly?"
"Defence. Dueling. Everything."
"I don't know. I don't think I signed anything about the tournament, so I should be able to give you a lesson or two, if you really want it."
"I don't want it for the tournament."
"Alright. Come here on Saturday after lunch, we'll see what I can do."
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He sat with Ron, playing Wizard's Chess. He was losing badly, but it helped somewhat. He was almost feeling something again.
"Why are you avoiding Cho?" Ron asked, after a pawn defeated one of Harry's knights.
"I am not avoiding her."
"And Ginny isn't avoiding you."
Harry ordered the other knight to take back the space.
"I do see things sometimes." Ron smiled, slightly, as if scared that a full smile would push Harry away. Or he was simply scared of what Harry would do.
"Are you afraid of me?" Harry asked, seemingly without reason.
"No... I mean..." Ron shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, but answered honestly. "I was. I don't know now. But I believe that you wouldn't hurt me."
"Thank you for not lying."
"You didn't answer my question though." Ron's queen moved into a space that wasn't defended anymore. "Check."
"I am not-" Harry stopped, noticing his expression. "It's just that I... don't know... Everything is not the same as before." He gestured for a pawn to protect the king. "Its like I can't feel anymore."
"Nonsense. Whenever you're with her, I can see that you are happier." Ron captured a rook with the queen.
"But it's not as strong-"
"It has been but a few days since Sirius died. You're allowed to grieve. Just don't do something you might regret later. Or, I think, do something so that you wouldn't regret not doing things you should have been."
"But..."
"You need to speak with someone other than Remus, me or Hermione."
Harry sighed. "It's good that people know what I should be doing."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know. When did you have time to think about this?"
"Since I know the result of this game already, I had some time to think. By the way, it's your move."
Harry's bishop moved almost through the whole board capturing a rook of Ron's, trying to even the score. "Check."
"So, are you going to?" Ron moved his only knight in the way, opening a path for his other rook towards the white king. "Check."
Harry looked over the board. "I'll speak with her." He gestured the king to the only viable spot.
"And Ginny?"
"She's the one running from me, not me."
"Alright. I'll speak with my sister for you." The queen took a place next to Harry's King, protected by the rook. "Checkmate."
Harry's king threw the white crown to the ground, grumbling something under his nose.
"It's good to have you back Ron." The voice had some warmth.
"It's the least I can do."
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The chapter had lines from Rowling's Philosopher's Stone and Sirius Black's Will. I didn't mark them as not to break the flow.