A/N: Yes, I know. What a shock. I am back. It's been a long time, and I am sure my story has been long forgotten by the vast majority of you.

To those of you who are willing to reread this story to help remember where we are in the tale: I am truly touched by your dedication and loyalty. Thank you, and I hope to bring you the conclusion of Harry and Remus's adventures soon.

To those of you who find that it has been too inexcusably long since my last update and now decide to stop reading: Thanks for staying with me to this point, and I wish you well.

To my new readers who are only now joining us: Hello and enjoy the ride.

Chapter 24
Powerless

Harry woke with a start. He breathed deeply listening to the sounds of the night as his heartrate returned to normal. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He sat up and his body was slapped with cold as the blanket fell off him. His pyjamas were soaked in cold sweat. He shivered.

Reaching over the bedside table, he picked up his glasses and slipped them on. His wand, which Remus had returned to him, was slid into the pocket of his pyjamas. He glanced at the door to Madam Pomfrey's quarters. All was quiet and no light shone under the door crack. Still trembling slightly from the aftermath of his dream, he snatched up a towel and tiptoed his way to the infirmary door. Silently he slipped it open, poked his head out, and, upon ensuring that the coast was clear, he made his way to the bathroom. It was so easy. Slipping out and roaming the castle corridors at night. There was no one there to see him. He could leave, and no one would notice his absence until the morning. It would be so easy to simply go. Disappear.

Once in the bathroom, Harry peeled off his damp clothes and tapped the cast on his leg muttering, "Impervius." He slipped into the shower with the water set as hot as possible. He gritted his teeth and held his breath as the hot water blasted against his skin raising goose pimples on his arms.

The nightmares had started again. It had been quite some time since he had had dreams like this. They used to be a nightly occurrence when he was younger; his uncle was never satisfied with tormenting just his waking hours, he had to torment his time asleep too. But as the years passed after he had left the Dursleys, the dreams had faded to mere occasional instances. But lately…

It had been over a week since Harry had returned to Hogwarts. And every night since his return, he found his sleep plagued with swirling images disrupting his peace. Uncle Vernon's roars of rage, the swish of a belt, Sirius's manic laughter, Remus lying on the ground dead, Harry falling… falling… falling. And the Dementors bearing down on him—the icy coldness penetrating his very heart as a woman screamed for help and Vernon Dursley bellowed inside his head.

Soon Harry would be discharged from the hospital wing. He longed for it and dreaded it at the same time. Longed to be out from under the pampering attention of Madam Pomfrey, but dreaded being back under the nosey gaze of his fellow classmates.

Remus had visited daily since Harry had been in the infirmary. Their conversations had returned to a more natural flow again. Remus did not bring up the scars on Harry's back again, and Harry did not bring up Remus's condition as a werewolf. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement. Hermione, Neville, and, curiously enough, Ron had come to visit him a few times too. Hermione always came armed with books and homework assignments to ensure he did not fall too far behind in his lessons. Ron came armed with sweets from the dinner table which he slipped to Harry when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking. Harry wasn't entirely sure when Ron became a part of their little group, but by the second time he slipped Harry a treacle tart, Harry found he was quite happy to have him.

When Harry was satisfied that the hot water had driven away the sweat and terror from his dream, he shut off the tap. He stood in the shower a moment with the palms of his hands pressing into the wall and the water dripping off him before the cold drove him out in search of his towel.

He made his way over to the mirror and wiped away the condensation with his palm so he could see his reflection. The bruises were fading. His leg was healing well according to Madam Pomfrey, and she hoped to take the cast off in a few days. His ribs were also healing and Harry was able to breathe easier.

His body was on the mend. He could go. Couldn't he? Could he?

Remus sat on the chair in the infirmary the next day just as he had every day the past week and a half. Harry sat on his bed next to him, a text book in his lap. Harry had been attempting to keep up with his studies despite the fact that Madam Pomfrey had not yet given him the okay to return to classes. That was the Lily in him. James would have been all too pleased to have an excuse for a holiday from school.

It had become routine. Remus would come and sit with Harry, sometimes helping him with homework, sometimes reading, sometimes chatting. It was relaxing and reminded Remus of nights by the fire in Sussex last Christmas. Harry had not mentioned the fact that Remus was a werewolf since their argument.

Occasionally, Harry's friends would come to visit, at which point Remus would quietly excuse himself to give them some privacy. He was proud at how far Harry had come. Not so long ago, it would have been hard to imagine Harry surrounded by friends and smiling and laughing with them.

Remus glanced at Harry. "You look tired," he observed. "Not sleeping well?"

Harry startled from his blank study of his book. Remus had the impression he had startled the boy out of a deep thought that had nothing to do with his school work. "Er… No. I'm fine."

Remus didn't particularly believe him. But he said nothing. He knew Harry well enough to know that he didn't respond to prying. He waited.

"Remus," Harry said after a bit. "Tell me about those things that attacked me. The Dementors."

Remus considered him silently for a moment. "The Dementors are guards of the wizard prison Azkaban. They are among the foulest of creatures to walk this earth. They feed on human happiness, on every good memory until you have nothing left but the worst experiences of your life."

"When they got near me," Harry said, "I felt… I heard terrible things." Harry wasn't meeting Remus's eye and he couldn't help but wonder what Harry had heard. "And then, I guess I passed out." Harry shifted embarrassedly. "Maybe I was just exhausted from the hike back… But I dunno. I felt…" Harry looked at Remus at last. "Do they affect everybody like that?"

"They make everyone remember things they wish they could forget. And they make everyone feel cold and depressed. But they affect some more than others. They affect you worse than some because there are horrors in your past that others can't even imagine."

"Is there a way to fight them? To make it so I don't feel so awful when they're close? I fired every curse I knew at them, and they just kept coming."

"There is a spell. The Patronus Charm. It takes one's positive emotions and turns them into a shield to protect its caster and, if strong enough, drive away the Dementor. It's a tricky spell," he glanced at Harry and saw how intently Harry was clinging to his every word. "But I could teach you, if you would like to learn."

"I would," said Harry quickly.

"Okay," said Remus. "Once you're feeling better," he added sternly.

Remus glanced toward the window. The sun was setting bringing red-tinged light pouring through the western-facing windows. Remus stifled a yawn. He was exhausted. He would have to retire early. Snape would likely have left his potion waiting for him in his office by now. Remus closed his book.

"I think I'm going to turn in early, Harry," he said. "I'm feeling a little under the weather."

"Oh. Okay." Harry looked at him, biting his lip. "See you tomorrow?" he asked.

Remus found he couldn't meet the boy's eye. "Er…no. Not tomorrow, no." Remus shifted uncomfortably. "It's the full moon tomorrow." He stole a glance at Harry to see if he understood. Clearly he did.

"Oh," said Harry. He looked away too. They sat awkwardly for a moment, not looking at each other. Remus sighed. Harry was uncomfortable with this conversation. How could he be anything else?

"What's it like?" Harry asked abruptly. "Transforming. What does it feel like?"

Remus was caught off guard. No one had asked him this so bluntly before.

"It's… painful," said Remus. "But it used to be worse than it is now. Now I have Professor Snape here to brew me a potion every month which helps. It's the Wolfsbane Potion."

"It stops the transformation?" asked Harry.

"No. Nothing can do that. But it does make them more bearable. I can keep my mind clearer when I've had it. Without it, when a werewolf transforms, he no longer remembers who he is. All he remembers is an instinct to bite and scratch and… kill. When I was young, before this potion was invented, I was locked away during my transformations. I didn't have anyone to bite or scratch, so I bit and scratched myself. One night a month, I was in Hell.

"But it is better nowadays. Since the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, I am able to merely curl up in my office, a harmless wolf. I just have to take the potion once a night for the few days preceding the full moon."

There was silence for a bit. Remus shifted awkwardly. He had not spoken so candidly about his transformations for quite some time, and he was not sure how to expect the conversation to be received. The silence stretched on.

Just as he was thinking that he had said too much and disturbed Harry, the boy said, "It's weird… Thinking of you going through that alone…" Remus stared at him.

"I was a very small child when I received the bite that infected me. I scarcely know any other way of life, now. Besides. Your father was there to help me through a lot of it when I was young."

Harry studied him. "I wish I could come and keep you company."

There was his James side coming out. Remus almost laughed. But it was with complete seriousness that he said, "I don't want you anywhere near me during my transformation, Harry."

"…But how did my dad help?"

Damn. He shouldn't have said that bit about James. The last thing he needed was Harry going about trying to become an animagus. "I mean it, Harry. It's not safe. And I have no desire to have you see that side of me."

Harry fell silent, studying his fingernails.

Remus sighed. Why couldn't he manage to talk about this without making things more strained between them? "I should go," he said finally.

"Okay," replied Harry. "So when will I see you next?" he asked.

"I'm usually pretty well out of commission for at least a couple days. And by that time, if all goes well, I expect Madam Pomfrey will have discharged you."

"Right..." said Harry. "Well... I'll see you in class then, I guess."

"Yes. I'll see you in class." Remus made his way toward the door and stopped. He couldn't leave it there. Like Harry was just like any other student.

"Harry," he said, turning away from the door to look at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "It's really just the one night I don't want you near my office. If you need anything, you can always come and find me, okay?"

"Yeah," said Harry, a small smile on his lips. "I know you're always there if I need you."

There was chatter and laughter coming from the other side of the door. Harry took a deep breath, stealing himself. He opened the door apprehensively. The chatter died instantly and all occupants of the dormitory turned to stare at him. Harry stood in the doorway awkwardly.

"Hey Harry," Neville said, breaking the silence. "Welcome back!"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Come join us. I was just about to deal a new hand. Let's show these losers how to play." They were sitting by the windowsill, and Ron was shuffling a deck of Exploding Snap cards.

Seamus and Dean moved over to make way for him and Harry sat on the bed. And suddenly, it was as though he had never been away. Harry felt like part of the group. Something he couldn't remember ever feeling before.

.

"I hope Professor Lupin's back," said Neville apprehensively as he, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom the next day. "Snape has been there the past few days," he added to Harry.

'I wonder what keeps making Lupin so sick," said Ron. Harry avoided looking at any of them.

They reached the door. "Check if he's back, Hermione," said Ron. "If it's Snape again, I'm skiving off."

"It's alright!" said Hermione. "He's back." Harry was as relieved as the rest of them. He had missed Remus over the past few days without seeing him.

Remus smiled at Harry as he walked into the classroom. He looked exhausted. Harry smiled back and went to take his seat for the lesson.

After class, Harry waited for the others to clear out before heading to the front of the room to talk with Remus.

"I'll catch up," he said to Hermione who had paused at the door waiting for him. She nodded and followed after Neville.

"How are you, Harry," said Remus with a fond smile.

"Not bad. Out of the hospital wing at last."

"So I see," replied Remus. "Glad to be back in the dormitory?"

"It's okay," said Harry.

"I wanted to ask," Harry carried on abruptly, "when can we start our lessons on that charm? The one against the Dementors?.

"Of course. I almost forgot. Well, I have some catch up to do tonight. How about tomorrow evening?"

"Sounds great," said Harry. He forced a smile and said his farewells before limping out to catch up with Hermione, Neville, and Ron.

His leg was still slowing him down. Harry glanced down at it and grimaced. Madam Pomfrey had set it well, and all things considered, it was healing remarkably fast. Harry knew he had no right to be annoyed at the weeks it would take his leg to heal when he knew that back in the Muggle world, it would be taking him months. But he hated how powerless it made him feel. And to be fair, had he been back in the Muggle world, he probably wouldn't have a broken leg to begin with, would he?

'And therein lies the rub, doesn't it,' thought Harry bitterly. There were so many wondrous and spectacular thing in the magical world—things that had Harry in constant awe. But there was so much darkness in it too. Wizards had so much—so many opportunities that Muggles could scarcely dream of—so why were there so many flaws in their society?

Since joining the wizarding world, Harry's life had been one long, dark roller coaster of events he had no control over. And his leg was just one more to add to the list. More and more since his recent abduction, Harry found himself longing for his solitary flat in London. While perhaps the most profound choice he had to make there was what to make for dinner, at least there was no puppeteer making the choice for him. His latest conversation with Fudge had only cemented his determination that a puppet's life was not for him.

Harry reached the Great Hall and looked in from the doorway. Hermione, Neville, and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table eating their lunch and chatting contentedly. Harry stood and gazed at them for a moment. They were a complicating factor, his friends. (Friends—the word still sounded foreign, even in his head). They made his decision much more confusing, Hermione, Neville, and Ron. And Remus…

And there it was. The decision that plagued Harry's waking and sleeping mind. 'Should I go?' The end of his six month sentence was fast approaching. The more time Harry spent in this world, the more certain he was that they would never allow him to simply walk away. So if he were to go, it would have to be in stealth.

All this had led to his determination to learn to defend himself against the Dementors. If he were to leave, he wouldn't get far with those creatures guarding the gates. Harry felt terribly guilty asking Remus to unknowingly aid in his potential escape, but what other choice did he have?

Anyway, at this point he wasn't even sure he wanted to leave. He had a month still before his promise to Remus expired. But no harm in being prepared.

And with that thought, Harry made his way across the hall and seated himself next to Neville

"Ah, Harry. Come on in," Remus greeted. Harry moved into the room and Remus rose to meet him in the space he had cleared for their practice sessions. "Let's get right down to it, shall we?

"Now," Remus took out his wand and gestured to Harry to do the same. "The spell I am going to try to teach you is very advanced magic. Many adult wizards have trouble with it. It's called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?" Harry asked. Remus was vaguely surprised by the determined look on his face.

"When cast correctly, it conjures a Patronus," said Remus, "which is a kind of guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. The Patronus is a kind of passive force, a projection of everything a Dementor is not—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair as humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it."

"What does a Patronus look like?" asked Harry curiously.

"The corporeal form of the Patronus is unique to the wizard who conjures it. There is a shield form that is not as powerful as the corporeal form, but it is easier to conjure; this looks like a cloud of silver vapour."

Harry was hanging on Remus's every word with an intense look of determination that made Remus feel some words of caution were in order. "I must warn you, Harry, that this charm may be too advanced for you. It is well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level."

"Let's get on with it," Harry brushed his words aside. "How do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation which will only work if you are concentrating with all your might on a single, very happy memory."

Harry blinked at Remus with an expression Remus could not read.

"We'll practice first in here. Once you have it down, we'll have to figure out how to get you practice with a Dementor. That's where it gets really challenging—conjuring happiness even while the Dementor is draining it from you."

"Right," Harry acknowledged. He chewed on his lower lip, deep in thought.

"The incantation is this—" Remus cleared his throat and spoke clearly. "Expecto patronum!"

"Expecto patronum," Harry repeated under his breath, "expecto patronum."

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?" Remus reminded him.

"Oh—yeah—" Harry's eyes darted around the room as though looking for inspiration. "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum…" Nothing happened.

Several minutes went by. Remus waited patiently as Harry repeated the incantation over and over with slightly different inflections, trying to get it just right. Still nothing happened. Remus could see Harry starting to get frustrated—that would only make it worse.

"Maybe you need to pick a different memory," offered Remus. "That one doesn't seem to be strong enough."

Harry gritted his teeth and continued his chant of "expecto patronum, expecto patronum, expecto patronum…"

Still nothing.

"Really focus on that one memory. Allow it to fill you up. Feel what you felt at the time."

"This is pointless. I can't do it. Can't you see that?" Harry flung his wand down on the table to accent the point.

"It's a very challenging spell, Harry," Remus soothed. "It's going to take time and practice. It all comes down to finding that perfect happy memory and thinking of that and only that—"

"I don't have a happy memory! Don't you get it?" Harry interjected angrily. Remus snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, his lecture on patience lost to his mind.

"What happy memory do you expect me to use? The time someone accidentally left their take-away with a full hamburger on a park bench when I was eleven? The time Uncle Vernon sprained his shoulder and couldn't give me a beating for a full week when I was eight? The time Dudley didn't finish his ice cream and Aunt Petunia let me have the leftovers when I was five?"

Harry' was pacing back and forth throughout this rant. But Remus stood stock-still. He stared at Harry, his mouth agape. He felt a prickling in his eyes, but Remus paid it no mind. He just stood there and stared.

Abruptly, Harry seemed to come to his senses. He met Remus's eye for the first time and saw something there that made Harry suddenly stop talking.

Remus found himself sinking into a chair and dropping his head to his hands.

"I'm sorry," Harry's voice came from somewhere beyond Remus's hands. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't!" said Remus, more savagely than he'd intended. Harry's voice abruptly cut off. Remus raised his head to stare the boy down. "Don't you dare apologise!" He continued meeting Harry's surprised gaze. "You have nothing to apologise for. I, on the other hand, expect to be atoning for the rest of my life."

They stared at each other silently a moment. Harry looked surprised and confused. Remus felt the tears welling in his eyes, but he did not let them fall. There was silence in the room.

Remus let the air from his chest in a slow deliberate breath and ran his fingers through his greying hair. He could feel the heaviness in his eyes. He had not slept properly in ages, and it had nothing to do with the recent full moon.

"How long was it going on?" Remus's voice was tired and strained, even to his own ears. He didn't need to clarify to what he was referring. He was sure Harry would know very well.

Silence again fell in the room. Remus did not expect Harry to answer. But then, "I don't even know." His voice was soft and emotionless. Remus looked up to meet his bright green eyes.

Harry gave a deep sigh. "As far back as I can remember to a certain extent. But it didn't get truly bad until I was six or seven."

Harry did not volunteer more information. Remus processed this for a moment before he repeated, "truly bad?"

Harry looked away toward the window, no longer meeting Remus's eye. "It started small. They used to keep me in the cupboard under the stairs, while Dudley had two bedrooms to himself. They didn't feed me much, made me do all the housework while Dudley just lazed about. They maybe gave me a smack here and there when I didn't do something just right, but nothing major."

"Nothing major," Remus repeated wryly. Harry ignored him.

"And then I started…making things happen. Things I didn't understand at the time. Magic." Harry looked back at Remus from the window at this word. Still his face was blank, emotionless. Remus swallowed down the rage and sorrow that was rising in his throat.

"It drove them crazy, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. I didn't understand why they hated it all so much. Why they hated me so much. But if anything funny happened, it was always my fault, and Uncle Vernon never failed to punish me for it. I remember hearing Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia whispering about how they had to squash it out of me." Another deep breath let out slowly.

"And so Uncle Vernon took a liking to the belt. But the more he beat me, the more scared I got, and the more I seemed to lose control, and the more I did magic without meaning to. By the time I was ten, the beatings had progressed to the point that I feared for my life.

"And that's when you left?" Remus spoke up at last. Staying silent letting Harry get this out without interruption was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

"It was Dudley's birthday. We went to the zoo. We were in the reptile house. I was talking to this boa constrictor, and I accidentally made the glass of his enclosure disappear and let him free."

Remus blinked, momentarily distracted. "You were talking to a boa constrictor?"

"Yes," said Harry and then carried on. "And while the boa constrictor was escaping, it snapped at Dudley." Alright, we'll just have to come back to that another time, thought Remus. "Well, naturally that was enough for Uncle Vernon to accuse me of trying to kill Dudley. I was sure he wouldn't let me live after that. So I made a run for it."

"And he let you go?"

"No… Well, yes… I did something… Some kind of spell, I suppose. He got all confused and said something about how I never came back from school the day before. I don't really know what I did, but he didn't try to stop me from leaving after that." Remus thought back to his conversation with Dumbledore about the extraordinary spell he suspected had rewritten Harry's history and broken the Trace. All performed by accident by a scared ten year old little boy. And this was the incident that provoked it.

"And so you left," Remus concluded.

"And so I left."

Neither spoke for quite some time.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry blinked. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything."

"Exactly. I didn't do anything." Remus rubbed his tired eyes before looking up to Harry again. "I should have been there for you. Professor Dumbledore convinced me that it was best for you to grow up away from all the fame you would find in the wizarding world. And I knew that as a werewolf they would never let me adopt you myself. But that shouldn't have stopped me from trying. Shouldn't have stopped me from at least checking in on you, checking to see that you were okay."

Harry was staring at Remus with his mouth agape and his brow furrowed. "Remus, this wasn't your fault. You didn't know. You didn't do anything wrong. It's no one's fault—"

"No one's fault?" The anger that had been bubbling in Remus's chest for months suddenly burst out with a vengeance that surprised even Remus himself. "I think it's the fault of many people, Harry. Many people contributed to you being in that situation. First and foremost your aunt and uncle. They need to pay, Harry. You have to come forward about how they treated you."

"No!" Harry interjected sharply. Remus stared. He couldn't understand. Why would Harry protect them? Why would he not want justice for pain he'd endured? "Please Remus. You have to understand. I left. I moved on and put that life behind me. I spent years getting past in. I can't go back now."

"Harry—" Remus began.

"No, Remus," Harry said again. "I know this isn't logical to you. But it's what I need. Ever since coming here—since rejoining the wizarding world—I've felt so powerless. So out of control of everything that happens to me. Every little thing has been someone else's decision. And it's like being back there. Being back with the Dursleys where everything was out of my control. "

Rumus felt as though Harry had slapped him. Harry was comparing his life with him to his life with the Dursleys?

Harry sighed. "I know my life in London didn't seem like much to you. I had a tiny flat I could barely afford, and groceries were considered a luxury. But it was the first and only time in my life where I called the shots. I decided where I went and what I did and who I did it with. I finally felt that I was able to move beyond my childhood. And then I just got plucked out of that life and deposited in a new one. I just need this one thing to be in control of. This one thing to be my decision and no one else's. I've left that life behind me, and I want it to stay that way."

Remus just stared at him non-comprehending. They were quiet for a while longer. Remus didn't understand it, but he would let it go… for now.

"You miss it, don't you?" Remus asked. "Your life in London."

"There are lots of things I like about my life here too." Remus didn't miss that Harry didn't deny it. He was painfully aware that the six months Harry had promised him were soon coming to an end. Could Remus bear to say goodbye to him if he decided to leave?

"Look, I'm tired. Maybe we should call it a night. We can try to work on the Patronus Charm again some other time." Harry rose from his chair and headed to the door. Remus blinked from his daze.

"Harry!" Remus called after him. He licked his lips, unsure how to put what he wanted to say into words. "I'm glad you told me all this," he said lamely. In truth he wasn't sure he was glad. After so many months of wanting to know, he found he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

Harry looked at him with an unreadable expression. Then he gave one nod, said "Goodnight, Remus," and he was gone.

Remus sat in his chair unmoving for quite some time watching the trees of the Forbidden Forest rustle in the wind as the last of the light faded out the window. Soon he was sitting in the dark, but he did not rise to light the lanterns.

It was dark. So dark. His breath echoed against the walls that bore down around him. Far far above him, miles away, a small light leaked under the door to his cupboard, but he couldn't reach it. He had to get out of here. He began to climb. His fingers found each crevice in the damp, cold rock walls. Up and up, further and further. The light under the cupboard door came closer and closer. Finally he made it to the top.

Just as he reached out to push the door open, a large shadow moved in front of the gap of light. He heard Uncle Vernon's heavy footsteps settle and the crack of his belt. He cried out in agony as the scars on his back opened with a searing pain. Blood dripped from them. He stumbled backwards and he was falling. Down and down he fell, Sirius's manic laughter sounding in his ears. Back into the blackness he had worked so hard to escape.

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry woke with a gasp. Strong hands were shaking him. He shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He panicked as he felt ropes around his legs and arms before he realised they were his tangled bedclothes. He stared around the dark dormitory, eyes darting every which way to assess for potential threats. Finally they fell on the freckled, worried face of Ron.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Ron's voice floated to Harry's ears across the void of his fogged brain.

Harry took deep breaths as the vestiges of the nightmare dripped off him as steadily as the sweat that was sliding down his back. He was shaking.

"Okay?" asked Ron again.

"Yeah," said Harry shakily. He avoided Ron's eye. As the nightmare dripped away, embarrassment sunk in in its place. "Thanks. I'm fine."

Ron moved away and sat down on his bed. The lamp on the bedside table between their beds was lit casting a warm glow over his face. "Bad dream?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit." Harry did not volunteer details. Ron nodded and did not ask. Harry felt a surge of affection towards him for it.

Ron picked something small and furry up off his bed and moved it to his lap. He then plucked a small bottle from the bedside table.

"What are you doing up?" Harry asked.

Ron lifted up the thing on his lap and Harry realised it was a very old, disheveled-looking rat. "Scabbers is ill," said Ron. "I'm supposed to give him this tonic every 4 hours."

Harry looked at the rat. He really was rather the worse for wear. He was thin and patches of his hair had fallen out.

"Bit pathetic, isn't he?" said Ron, following Harry's gaze.

"A bit," Harry said with a slight smile.

"He's really old. Been in the family for ages. He was doing fine until a few weeks ago, and then he just suddenly started doing poorly."

"Him and me both," Harry joked. Ron gave a (only slightly pitying) smile.

He turned his attention to his rat and unstopped the tonic. Using a dropper, he applied a few drops to Scabbers's mouth. Harry watched him silently, preferring to let his mind focus on this than his nightmare.

When he was done, Ron replaced the tonic on the bedside table and looked at Harry. "We should probably get some sleep," he said. "We have that Charms test tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Thanks again for…you know…"

"Any time."

A/N: New poll on my profile! I could use your advice!