General comments: So the all-nighter thing didn't work out. I kinda forgot the whole fact I am finishing up college, finals, senior paper and finding a job, etc. all in this time period. But hey, here I am!
The last recommendation is not on fanfiction/net, you have to google it.
Coming in as an outsider, Harry is in a very odd position and he can't totally act it away. He is a little too with it – and it's driving them crazy because they can't figure out how, especially since he consciously is playing up the fact he's oblivious.
As for Wormtail, -sigh- he is hard to write. He's the ultimate betrayer, yet sacrificial follower. So reviled, but in the past, he's still a faithful Marauder.
Lastly, as to how many chapters, that's up to you folks – I'm taking plot suggestions from now on. Most of my big ones have been hit, though I definitely still have more.
Shout-outs!
Taigh: okay, for one thing, that's assuming he's making changes that are affecting his future. If his reality has already compensated for his presence in the past, then no change would occur. Also, remember, Harry has not learned that much about the Marauders. 'Flighty' was only there for one year – not around for Snape's flashback or even when Lily and James get together – and the map was already created by the time he comes along. If he disappears off the map after this time, then all the most crucial time of the Marauders doesn't include him. What reason would either Sirius or Remus have to bring him up? (Possibly a connection with Parselmouth, but they weren't around when that was a big deal.)
Eriks leadinglady: -scratch head- erm, translation please? I know pulchritudinous, I think…
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Now on with the show!
28) A stag by any other name
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"Welcome to the first meeting of the Dueling Club."
Well Harry had to give Ransdale some credit as he took another turn before the double-lined students. He managed to get things done fast once he got an idea. Now, only about a week after he had first mentioned the club to the students, he had officially opened it. Beyond the name, it had little relation to Lockhart's farce of a club.
Then again, Ransdale was an actual Auror instead of a puffed-up imposter.
(Harry had only come to realize that from an off-hand comment from James, who'd been articulating his life goals. Both he and Sirius wanted to be Aurors. Peter had mumbled something about a ministry job; Remus had shrugged and said he'd find something. Harry had suggested teaching, but Remus had only given a bitter smile that made Harry feel like a heel. It was then that James, trying to light-heartedly cajole Remus into joining them in being Aurors, had commented he could be both and do the rotation with Hogwarts. Apparently Dumbledore had arranged for Aurors to rotate as teachers at Hogwarts. Harry thought it was a neat arrangement; given how they went through teachers in his time, this saved a great deal of fuss.)
Mandatory for all sixth and seventh years, Ransdale had split the club into two along class lines, meaning Slytherins and Gryffindors were together. Yay.
"The need for advanced defense of the dark arts has never been more important." Dark eyes scanned the students before him, sizing them up, staring them down. Harry found it striking that Ransdale avoided stating explicitly why. "The eventual goal of this club is perform such maneuvers as shield charms, disarming and dehabilitating spells, and even the more advanced arts, some of which even fully-fledged wizards cannot do." He came to a halt on the other side of the line. "For example, the Patronus charm."
Murmuring broke out. It was involuntary, Harry stiffened – and he regretted it as those sharp eyes immediately latched onto him. But Ransdale went on.
"I'm guessing due to varying family backgrounds and situations, some of you have had more experience in this area," Sirius received a lingering side look here. "So, I would like to gauge your skill levels – and perhaps convince some of you the difficulty of these spells," this time his gaze swung to a trio of late coming Slytherins, who had leisurely strolled into the meeting without any apology.
"Perhaps you would like to start, Mr. Bemley. Choose a partner from among your friends." Harry gave an inaudible sigh of relief. But it was only a delay of the inevitable.
"Mr. Patterson," Ransdale tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desk, obviously considering what he would request Harry to try to perform. Not that Harry had more than one guess- "The Patronus charm."
-and of course, he was right.
Ransdale demonstrated the spell for him and Harry tried to look attentive.
He shook out his sleeves, raised his arm, steadied it, cocked his wand then corrected it, asked for a repeat of the pronunciation (Ransdale's face remained serene) and then tried as much as he could to thwart the spell while making it looked like he was still trying. It was harder than it looked – but setting his wand at an odd angle and bungling the last word did manage to set a shot of something straight at the ceiling. Even the Marauders ducked as the ceiling shook.
A shadow of a frown flickered over Ransdale's face.
"Please try again Mr. Patterson," he said pleasantly however. "And it's Patron-um."
Harry shook out his arms again. A Slytherin snickered from behind him. "He really thinks a Muggleborn could do it?"
And it didn't mean anything, except he heard the response silky-smooth.
"Muggleborns can never defend themselves-"
Lestrange –
"Expecto Patronum!"
He was angry, but even so his mind immediately retrieved the moment James had shook his hand – Welcome! And he'd waited his whole life for that moment – and it was only as the misty form plumed from his wand that he was remembered exactly why he was trying not to summon his Patronus.
It was just as magnificent as he remembered it, especially with the new glimpses of Prongs he had to compare it too. Easily towering over every object and person in the room, the stag shook his antlers, turning as if trying to find the enemy. Failing that, it stretched its legs, dashing around the side of the classroom to come to a stupefying, momentum-defying stop in front of James. Stock-still and wide-eyed behind his glasses, the stag pushed forward, almost meeting him nose-to-nose. Sirius, who'd been in the middle of grabbing his best mate, to get him unto the ground and safe, stood frozen, face also only inches from the silvery beast.
Finally satisfied with his examination, the stag tossed his head again and sedately trotted over to Harry, who could only cringe inwardly. As he, it, pushed forwards as if to nuzzle Harry, the patronus dissipated, as if it had never been.
Harry wasn't that lucky. He swallowed thickly.
Ransdale simply raised an eyebrow. "Excellent pronunciation," he murmured. "And I must say Mr. Patterson, your school is turning out to be very impressive."
Remus was getting nowhere. After Harry's little demonstration, Ransdale had assigned the rest of the club time to letting everyone try the spell on their own, with Harry and himself acting as walk-around help aids.
The fact he was getting nowhere wasn't that spectacular, the most anybody had been able to get was a fluffy mist – and that had been the Gryffindor head boy. The Slytherins were less than pleased. They'd gathered in little clumps, trying to both sneer and extort tips from each other at the same time. Slytherin multi-tasking at its finest.
Remus re-adjusted his grip on his wand and sighed. He knew exactly what was his problem though.
Too many bad, tainted memories.
He sighed again and tried again pessimistically. What was even the point?
"Moony, you having some trouble?" Harry sounded surprised and Remus felt a slight, smug pride at the thought. Harry examined Remus' stance and asked him to try again. "You have the basics down," he stated.
"Yeah," Remus gave a faint smile. "Just having a bit of a hard time dredging up a good enough moment." Harry's face immediately softened – and Remus was suddenly struck by the realization Harry might have struggled with that as well. Especially after so much death…
"How about your arrival at Hogwarts?" Remus started to open his mouth, but the blond was already shaking his head, muttering to himself. "No, you hadn't even become friends with the guys yet and then anxiety-" Remus blinked, but Harry was completely immersed. "Hmmm… Why don't you get into position?" he tugged his wand arm up a little higher. "Now close your eyes." Remus looked at him doubtfully, but Harry's face was innocent and earnest and Remus gave in.
"Now let yourself think back. Be ready to cast, but let your mind reminisce, to go back to the exact emotions, thoughts, feelings," Harry drew the words out and Remus felt himself drifting back, trying to sift through the moments of happiness he's had at Hogwarts. Those not tainted by his lycanthropy, his fear of rejection, discovery- "Remember the moment when James and Sirius truly accepted you." Harry's voice was barely aloud and the scene unfolded, James' determination, Sirius' reckless grin, proffered hand – the almost painful joy –
"Now-" His arm, helped a little, swept down.
"Expecto Patronum!" His voice was incredibly strong and his eyes shot open to witness, disbelievingly, that something misty and curvy appeared in the air. Harry's clap on the back nearly knocked him over.
"I knew you could do it Remus!" The other Marauders crowded around to also congratulate him.
And then the racing thought struck him – 'truly accepted you' – and he could only stare at the grinning Harry.
"Oh come off it Padfoot, that's advanced magic. He was trying not to show off and be even weirder." James brushed his best mate off – and actually demonstrating the fact he was finally starting to understand the new Marauder.
Sirius growled, again dragging James back from following the others. "Not about that; didn't you see what it was?" James straightened.
"Well, I'll admit I'm a bit, flattered," he ran a hand through his hair, a pleased grin coming to his face. "Why shouldn't it be a stag though, big, strapping, powerful creature-"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "You should be more than flattered, Prongs, considering it was you."
James froze mid-motion, staring straight at Sirius. "What?"
"That. Patronus. Was. Prongs."
James stared before he finally broke into a body-shaking laugh. "You're barmy, you know that Padfoot?" he began to walk again. "Completely mad as a hatter. Just because it's a stag-"
Sirius ran after him. "Hey, I've seen you remember," he abruptly lowered his voice as they passed some third-year girls who giggled at their passing. "I know your form way better than you do. And I'm telling you, it was you. Ask the others!"
It was somewhat of a pointless request, Remus never had terribly clear memories of his werewolf times and Peter's perspective was far too limited.
"Completely barmy," James muttered again.
"Um Flighty, could you go down and grab my Exploding Snaps game?" Harry looked up from his book over to Sirius, who was on his stomach, peering under his bed. He raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes to James, who just shrugged.
"Sure," he shrugged as well and got up.
Sirius waited just long enough for him to get mid-way down the stairs before he jumped to close the door after him. He turned to James.
"Now transform."
James groaned, immediately getting the reason for the ploy. "Padfoot-"
"I gluto-ed one of the pieces to the table so we have some time. But not that much, so just do it already!" (magically glued)
"What's this about?" Remus almost hesitated to ask. Sirius had that mad 'I've-got-a-theory' gleam to his eyes.
"Just transform!" James rolled his eyes, but finally obeyed. Immediately the lanky teenager was replaced by a towering stag, the brown of his coat seemingly incongruous with his previously black-robed body. Sirius pointed triumphantly. "Notice any similarity to a certain Patronus today?"
Remus and Peter stared. "You have got to be kidding," Remus finally said.
Sirius' face turned annoyed and he gesticulated emphatically. "It was him!"
"Sirius," Remus started in his patient, 'I'm-sane-and-you're-not' voice. He'd had a lot of practice over the years, "the Patronus was silvery and practically see-through. How on earth can you claim it's Prongs' identical twin?"
"It was him!" Prongs' ears flicked to the door and in an instant, dissolved back into James.
"Padfoot, just give it up."
Harry came in the door just as Sirius grumpily slouched on his bed.
"Got your game," he said, then raised an eyebrow as Sirius tried to smother himself in his sheets. "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing beyond the normal," James replied airily.
"That was some nice spellwork today though, Flighty," Remus said honestly. Harry blushed.
"One of my teachers was concerned about Dementors, you know, how appealing You-Know-Who is to them." The ease with which he brought up him amazed James and Remus. Peter squeaked, but Harry ignored him. "He wanted to make sure we could fight them off if necessary and–" he gave an awkward shrug under the guys' intent looks, "I'm pretty badly affected by them." His face darkened. "Bogarts turn into them when I'm around and so we trained that way."
"Bloody hell," James said reverently.
"And the form?" Sirius reappeared, his hair sticking up oddly due to static electricity and making him look even more eccentric. "Supposed to be something of personal significance?"
Harry's insides froze. Of course Sirius would notice. But he kept calm, seeing James roll his eyes.
He gave a forced chuckle, "I have a friend whose form is an otter – and another who's got a terrier, so I'm not sure that's how it really works."
James laughed. "An otter? Too bad. And ignore Padfoot," he flung his arm over Harry's shoulder, "he's probably afraid his'll turn into some wimpy dog instead of a full-blown stag."
Something sounding remarkably like a growl echoed from Sirius' bed and it took all the self-control Harry had not to burst out laughing.
"He was my best professor hands down. He taught me a lot." Harry shook his head and Remus thought he heard him mutter something about irony.
Remus let it pass. He'd been biding his time to get Harry alone, finally manufacturing a need to go to the library. Unsurprisingly, Harry was the only one interested in coming along.
They moved further into the stacks and Remus carefully surveyed their surroundings. "So what happened to him?" He barely missed the fall of Harry's face.
His lips compressed. "He quit. Another teacher," Harry's lip curled, "ruined his reputation."
"I'm sorry." Remus was sincere, even as he snuck a peak at the Marauder's Map. No one was around.
"Yeah." Harry skimmed the shelves and picked up a prospective book. Remus felt a pang of guilt; Harry had come to help him. But he needed answers.
"Thanks for the tea by the way." He watched the line of Harry's shoulders tense before lapsing into a shrug. "So how did you know?"
Pregnant silence.
Harry froze, then very carefully replaced the book he was holding. He turned around and leaned against the bookcase. Green met gray. Harry's mouth opened and then he sighed.
"I know you know," Remus said.
The realization had plagued him all day, ever since he'd recognized the significance of that single, simple adverb: truly. Harry had known there was something that had made him fear real acceptance –
Ignored Snape's hints repeatedly – all references to wolves, howling and biting.
Heard something from the manticore snakes.
Tried to cheer me up night before full moon.
Accepted Sirius drugging him without protest – on a full moon night. Talked about trust issues next morning.
Accepted excuse of food poisoning, which isn't even fully logical.
The tea – twice, both after full moons.
And ever since, he'd been wracking his brains, trying to find his slip-up. How had Harry figured it out? So quickly? So easily? It was almost like he'd known all along-
"My uncle is a werewolf." Remus stiffened. "So I guess, when I saw you looking sick around a full moon," he shrugged, "I thought the tea couldn't hurt."
Remus was speechless. Harry really didn't get any breaks.
"Not to mention the guys were freakishly protective of you after; you're lucky to have such devoted friends." Remus nodded almost mechanically. "I'd be lucky to be counted among them." Remus' eyes flew up to his and when Remus didn't say anything, Harry's jaw ticked and his hands fisted. "Werewolf or not, my uncle is a great guy. I have no doubts whatsoever you are the same."
The very corners of Remus' eyes burned and he blinked a few times. "I'm," he cleared his throat, "I'm glad you feel that way."
Briefly, Harry squeezed his shoulder and gave a wry smile. "With Sirius and James so protective, I'd likely find myself at the bottom of the lake spending quality time with the squid if I thought differently, Moony."
Remus cracked a grin. "Not too subtle, is it?"
Harry shrugged. "Not if you know." He looked over his shoulder at the shelf again. "I'm guessing you don't need a book on the possibilities of recycling magical waste then?" Remus' cheeks flushed a little and he shook his head.
As they made their way out of the library, Harry turned to him. "You – are you going to tell the guys? That I know?" He looked worried and Remus felt a stab of empathy. Harry had been on a pretty rough ride with the guys; Sirius would probably just use this as even more reason for his paranoia.
"I think there's been enough drama lately, don't you?"
Harry grinned at him.
And he wondered fleetingly why Harry reminded him so much of James right then. Except James would probably shrug and say there was never enough drama.
No, Remus would tell them when the time was right.
