Chapter Ten

Light streamed in from the window, the end of summer's blaze still glowing. Harry sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, and glanced around the room to see if any of the other boys were awake. They weren't. He laid back down, trying to remind himself of that night's dream.

It wasn't like any of the others he had. The others were nightmares, terrifying reminders of his past and those he had lost. This was different. It was happy and warm, yet, at the same time, left Harry feeling empty and longing for something he couldn't quite reach.

All he could remember was a flash of pearly white teeth and the sound of laughter echoing through a hallway.

Sure that the others in his room were asleep, Harry reached under his bed for Sirius' diary and thumbed to the next entry.

September 14th, 1976

Dear not-diary,

I thought I should specify that THIS IS NOT A DIARY because James caught me writing in it yesterday evening. James, if you're reading this, you're adopted and Lily Evans will never love you.

Just kidding. Well, about the adopted part. Also, GET OUT OF MY THINGS!

Anyway, Moony had his first 'time of the month' of the year. He let me stay for the transformation this time. Well, more like I came with him to the Shrieking Shack and refused to leave and he didn't really have the energy to fight with me, but still.

Everything he described was true; it was horrific. It's really quite awful how terrible it is for him, and how fun it is for the rest of us. There's nothing quite like racing through the Forbidden Forest, wind running through your fur…

Harry braced himself for the familiar pull of the memory and landed solidly on his feet. Glancing around, he determined he was inside the Shrieking Shack. The old, rickety house was both in better and worse shape than when Harry was here his third year.

The house itself seemed much sturdier and less likely to crumble at any moment. In fact, certain aspects of the place were actually homey. There was a tan couch pushed against one wall and a clearly new rug covering the wooden floor.

In many other ways, however, the house looked significantly worse. For one, reddish brown stains that looked eerily similar to dried blood splattered the walls, and the room reeked of pain. The couch, which admittedly was probably very nice-looking when it first arrived, had numerous gashes in it, revealing the white stuffing inside.

Harry stopped observing the room when he heard an anguished cry from upstairs. He rushed up to the second story, briefly forgetting that this was a memory and there was nothing he could do to help.

What he stumbled across once he reached the upstairs bedroom was not quite what he expected.

Remus sat hunched in the corner, his face twisted in terrible pain as he bit his lip and tried to refrain from screaming. A creak across the room caused Harry to whip around and see Sirius taking a tentative step towards his friend.

"Stay away!" Remus shouted, although his voice was much deeper and aggressive than normal.

"No." Sirius moved swiftly across the room and wrapped his arms around his taller friend. Remus struggled at first, but he was clearly drained and weak, and he gave up after only a few moments.

"I'll hurt you," he choked out as a tear slipped onto his face. Despite his protests, he buried his face in Sirius' neck and held onto him tightly.

"Animagus, Moony. As soon as you start to turn, I'll become Padfoot and you won't hurt me." Sirius adjusted and held Remus' face firmly in front of him between his hands. He used his thumb to wipe away the tear that tracked down his face. "I'm not leaving."

At this, Remus clung onto Sirius like his life depended on it and sobs began to wrack his body.

"Hurts… so much," he gasped.

"I know," Sirius murmured, his voice low as he stroked Remus' hair. "I know."

"It's starting," Remus whispered, shoving Sirius away.

Sure enough, Harry watched as the scared, hurting boy in front of him slowly mutated into a petrifying monster. It was a transformation Harry had seen before, but he was too frightened then to really realize exactly what it was that Remus went through.

A horrible crack filled the room; a sound that Harry could only presume was the sound of Remus' bones breaking and reforming. Screams of agony escaped Remus' mouth and Harry wanted more than anything to just put an end to the process.

"Oh God!" Remus' shouts echoed inside the small room. Hair started to sprout all over Remus' body and he shrieked as his hands twisted into gnarled claws. "Just make it stop! Let me die!"

"I'm so sorry Remus." Sirius stood across the room, his face pale and knuckles white. His voice carried to where Harry stood, but he was sure that Remus was too far in his own world of pain to hear him.

Finally, Remus' face elongated into a large, grey snout, and the transformation was complete. The wolf let out a deafening howl that left a ringing in Harry's ears. Harry followed the wolf's gaze across the room to where Sirius had previously been standing. Instead, there was a large, shaggy, black dog sitting in his place.

The dog padded across the room towards the wolf, ignoring its soft growls. He apprehensively sniffed at the wolf, and the growling stopped. Slowly, but surely, the two canines seemed to warm up to each other, to the point where, when a tall, nimble stag and a scurrying rat arrived in the room, the dog and the wolf were rolling around on the floor, engaged in a play fight.

The wolf caught sight of the other two animals and stiffened. He only relaxed when the dog crossed the room and greeted the other two as friends. The group seemed to exchange some kind of communication and soon, the wolf was bounding around the room, as happy as ever. Somehow, even a werewolf was significantly less terrifying when behaving like an overexcited puppy.

The group made its way downstairs, and Harry followed at a distance. He knew it wasn't possible, but he had an unsettling feeling that the wolf would somehow be able to sniff him out, even in a memory.

The dog ushered the group out of the door to the Shrieking Shack, one by one, until they were all standing outside next to the forest, lit only by the light of the full moon. Harry searched for the rat amongst the grass, and began to panic when he couldn't find the small creature. When he glanced up, he spotted little Wormtail balanced on the stag's back; Harry nearly laughed at the sight.

The stag started towards the forest, only briefly turning around and beckoning for the rest of the group to follow. They disappeared amongst the brush as the world around Harry blurred and shifted until he was sitting back in his bed, Sirius' diary in hand.

Harry shoved the book back under his bed and got up and stretched. Before long, the other eighth year Gryffindor boys were awake and getting ready for the day. The only boy who was still asleep was Ron, so Harry took it upon himself to wake his ginger friend.

"Ron," Harry said, shaking Ron. "Ron."

The taller boy rolled over in his bed and groaned, determined to stay asleep for as long as possible. Harry smiled as he thought up a new tactic.

"Weasley is our king," Harry began to sing. Seamus peered over at Ron's sleeping figure and joined Harry's song once he figured out what was going on.

"Wealsey is our king," they sang together. Ron clasped his hands over his ears as Dean and Neville joined in.

"He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our king!" The song finished with a series of cheers and laughter from the boys. Ron rolled over to face them and grumbled.

"I hate all of you."

"Love you too Weasley!" Seamus blew Ron a kiss and bounded out of the room with Dean, still laughing.

"Come on Ron, you've got to get up. You'll miss morning classes." Harry grabbed Ron's arm and tried to yank him out of bed to no avail.

"Let me miss 'em. Tired." His voice was muffled by his pillow, which he threw over his face in frustration.

"It's only the fourth week of classes Ron. At least wait until week five before you start ditching."

"You know, you're starting to sound a lot like Hermione," Ron said, grinning.

"That's probably a good thing; she's got more sense than both of us combined." Harry smiled back as Ron finally sat up and pulled his sheets off.

"True." He stood up and started to rummage through his trunk for his clothes. Harry started towards the door, turning around to talk to Ron before he left.

"I was going to go down to breakfast, do you want me to wait for you?" Ron considered for a moment before waving Harry off.

"I'm alright mate. You go ahead."

With that, Harry headed down to the Gryffindor common room and tried to exit towards the Great Hall, but Pavarti blocked him.

"Hey Harry," she said, tucking a strand of shiny black hair behind her ear.

"Hey Pavarti." Harry's stomach grumbled. He really did just want to go down and get some breakfast, but he also didn't want to be impolite. Luckily, she seemed to get the hint, well, part of the hint, and started walking with him, leading him towards the Great Hall.

"So is it true that you and Ginny broke up?" Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course that's what she wanted to talk about.

"Yeah," He nodded affirmatively. "But we're still friends. There's no hard feelings."

Parvati smiled a little too wide for Harry's liking and started to play with the ends of her hair.

"That's good. I know when Ron broke up with Lav, she was upset for weeks. But it's good that you two are still on good terms." Harry smiled uncomfortably at the mention of Ron and Lavender; that entire relationship was a pure disaster. Parvati suddenly switched topics. "Remember when we went to the Yule Ball together in fourth year?"

"Yeah…" Harry didn't like where this was going.

"Well," Parvati averted Harry's gaze as a blush crept up her cheeks. "I had a really good time that night." Harry glanced at her, confused. From what he remembered of the Yule Ball, Parvati actually hadn't had a very good time, until she left Harry to go hang out with the boys from Beuxbatons. "And I was wondering if maybe you'd like to do it again sometime?"

"Go to the Yule Ball together?" Harry knitted his brows together, hoping that if he pretended to be oblivious, her advances would come to a halt. "I don't think there is a Yule Ball this year."

"No, I meant spent time together. You know," Her eyes flitted over to Harry. "Just the two of us."

He sighed. Parvati was really nice, and quite pretty, but he had just never really seen her in any sort of romantic way. Even in fourth year, the only reason he went to the Ball with her was because Cho had rejected him.

"I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression Pavarti," he began gently. "But I'm really not interested in dating anyone right now. It's just-"

"Too soon after Ginny?" Parvati finished for him, a smile on her face. She was clearly disappointed, but she did her best to hide it.

Harry frowned. Her assumption that Harry's aversion to dating had to do with his recent breakup with Ginny wasn't at all correct, but she was being so kind about being rejected that he really didn't have the heart to correct her.

"Yeah," he lied.

"I understand." She gave Harry a reassuring look and patted him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself Harry." They had arrived at the Great Hall, and she spotted Lavender at the end of the Gryffindor table, waving to her excitedly. "I should probably go. Have a nice day." She resignedly walked over to Lavender, and Harry felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she was probably detailing her rejection to her friend right now.

He sat down on the bench next to Hermione, who was deep in concentration reading a thick textbook. Piling bacon and eggs onto his plate, he glanced over at what she was reading.

"What is that Hermione?" The symbols covering the page didn't even look like they were a part of the English alphabet.

"Runes. We have an exam today." She looked up from the page. "Where's Ron?"

"He's still upstairs. He wanted to sleep in and ditch Lark's class," Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "But you'll be proud to know that I got him up and now he's getting ready."

"He'll miss breakfast if he doesn't hurry up."

Luckily, Ron strode into the room just as breakfast was ending, and managed to swipe a bagel and some sausages away from the table before the three friends headed back up to Gryffindor Tower to grab their school bags.

They retrieved their bags and made their way into Professor Lark's classroom, where the blonde-haired professor was half-hazardly sorting through papers on his desk. After nearly a month at Hogwarts, Professor Lark still seemed quite lost and helpless most of the time.

The rest of the class filed in and he cleared his throat as he addressed the room.

"Good morning students!"

"Good morning Professor Lark!" Per usual, Pavarti and Lavendar's voices were significantly louder than the rest of the class.

"To start off, er-" he turned around and snatched a piece of parchment off his desk. He glanced over the page before throwing it back and picking up another one. This continued for about a minute before he finally seemed to find what he was looking for. "Ah, here it is. By the end of this week, you will be finished with the mandrake leaf portion of your Animagus diaries, and then you'll need to move onto documenting the brewing of your Animagus potions!" His eyes darted around the room. "Well, not real potions, obviously, but your theoretical potions. Wouldn't want you to actually become Animagi now, would we?" He chuckled nervously.

Harry rolled his eyes. Professor Lark wasn't a bad teacher by any means; when he knew what he was doing and was confident in it, he was actually a fantastic teacher. He had a vast knowledge of Transfiguration, and his skills were almost up to the level of Professor McGonagall's. The trouble was that Professor Lark rarely possessed any semblance of self-confidence, often falling into a bundle of nerves whenever he was in front of the class.

"Moving on," he cleared his throat, catching Harry's attention. "Today we will be practicing transforming owls into flower vases. Like so."

Professor Lark walked around to the other side of his desk and leaned down. When he came back up, he was holding a large bird cage containing one of Hogwarts' many messenger owls. He opened the latch on the cage and the bird tiptoed out onto his desk. Before the owl could move any further, he pointed his wand at the creature and muttered an incantation. The owl quickly mutated into an admittedly beautiful vase, with complicated decorative carvings covering its surfaces. Just as quickly as Professor Lark transformed the owl into a flower vase, he turned the bird back to normal, and tucked it away into its cage.

Lark taught the students the incantation and wand movements, and then proceeded to give each student their own owl to practice on. By the end of class, Hermione and Dean were the only two that managed to complete the transformation, although Harry had managed to make a flower sprout out of the head of his owl.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of rather uninteresting classes, and before long, Harry found himself in the familiar, yet still tense silence that always haunted detention with Malfoy.

Slughorn had managed to finish cleaning all the Potions supplies himself, so now Malfoy and Harry were busy grading first years' potions essays. The only sound in the room was the scratch of quill against parchment, and Harry quickly grew tired of the quiet.

Malfoy was different ever since the war. Sure, he was still an insufferable git and occasionally threw insults Harry's way, but he used to go out of his way to irritate the Gryffindor boy. Harry reluctantly admitted that he sort of missed their fights; it was a relief to have someone that he could release all his anger on. Also, Harry had grown accustomed to Malfoy's antics over the years: fighting with Malfoy was normal, and more than anything, Harry missed feeling normal.

This was probably why Harry decided to ask Malfoy a question that had been bordering at the edge of his mind for weeks.

"Malfoy, why are you in detention?" The blonde boy's head shot up from across the room to glare at Harry. He rolled his eyes before answering with a sneer.

"I've told you, Potter. It's-"

"None of my business, I know," Harry interrupted, holding his hand up. "But seriously you're here everyday. What could you have possibly done?" Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. There were a lot of things that Malfoy had done. Harry swallowed, realizing that Malfoy's detentions may have been a provision of his probation with the Ministry. "Unless… is it because you were a-"

"No, it's nothing like that," Malfoy cut him off, dismissing Harry's concern. He started to go back to his grading, but Harry wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Then what is it?"

Malfoy sighed and leaned back in his seat. He cast Harry a sideways glance and looked as though he was about to launch into a menacing tangent, but he stopped himself. Instead, he resignedly looked down at his feet and answered.

"I… I don't actually have detention," he admitted through gritted teeth.

"What?" Harry said dumbly. Malfoy rolled his eyes, again. Harry began to wonder if the Slytherin boy had a problem keeping his eyes in place.

"I asked Slughorn at the beginning of the year if I could spend my evenings here, helping him in the classroom instead of going up to the common room."

"Why?"

Malfoy scoffed and shot Harry a condescending expression.

"You may have noticed that I'm not exactly welcome at Hogwarts." He gestured around the room as if it was the entirety of Hogwarts. "The whole former-Death-Eater thing isn't exactly a popularity booster."

"But in Slytherin-" Harry began, but Malfoy started talking.

"Half of Slytherin House hates me because I was a Death Eater, and the other half hates me because I didn't want to be one." The blonde boy shrugged, feigning apathy. "The only friends I have left are Blaise and Pansy, and I'm not even sure they count."

"So why did you come back then?" asked Harry.

"Why do you think?" Malfoy shot daggers at him. Harry gulped, remembering that the main provision of Malfoy's sentence was that he was required to attend Hogwarts to complete his schooling. Eventually, the Slytherin boy softened his gaze and turned his attention back to his desk. "Besides, even though I've never really liked Hogwarts, I suppose, in a way, it's my home. At least, it's more my home than Malfoy Manor ever will be. Especially after…."

"After Voldemort used your house as his headquarters?" Harry finished for him, recalling the unpleasant few hours he had spent at Malfoy Manor.

"I couldn't stay there," Malfoy said softly. Harry saw a brief crack in his impenetrable armor before Malfoy cleared his throat and gave his best sneer. "Besides, I couldn't possibly let Gryffindor beat Slytherin for the Quidditch cup again." Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes.

"Well then you may have returned in vain, because the Gryffindor team won't be defeated by Slytherin, not on my watch."

"We'll see about that Potter," Malfoy challenged lazily, already checking out of the conversation in favor of working on his paper grading.

"We certainly will Malfoy."

The rest of the evening passed by fairly quickly. The two boys didn't talk after their brief conversation, but the silence that stretched between them didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as before.

Harry trudged upstairs, tired after a long day. Once he reached his dorm, he quickly changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed, eager to get to sleep.

Yet, sleep escaped him. He tried counting sheep, Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and just about any other creature he could think of, and his mind remained still, very much awake. So after sitting up and drawing the curtains around his bed, Harry retrieved the diary that he shoved under his bed that morning. He cast a quick lumos and began to read.

October 1st, 1976

Dear person who I assume is probably my future child (in which case, how wicked is your dad, am I right?)

Moony is officially too tall. I'm a punk rock, leather-jacket wearing, properly disowned bad boy: I should be the tall one. But no, fate is cruel and chose to bestow it's gifts of great height to the nerdy perfect that is Remus Lupin…

Harry shut his eyes as he felt the bed beneath him disappear. When he opened his eyes, he was inside the Gryffindor boy's bathroom, where Sirius and Remus were standing side by side in front of the mirror. Remus was brushing his teeth while Sirius fiddled with his tie.

He flipped the tie upside down, tried twisting it around itself, and tried to just tie it in a knot before he temporarily gave up and turned his attention to fluffing up his hair. He glanced over at Remus, who'd just finished bending over the sink to spit.

"Why do you have to be so bloody tall?" he grumbled, annoyed. His hands unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and he shook his head, making his hair go wild.

"'Fraid I can't help it Pads." Remus smirked at Sirius in the mirror while raking a hand through his tawny brown hair.

"It just doesn't make sense," Sirius said. "I should be the tall one. It doesn't suit you; you with your sweaters and books and softness." Remus snorted and rolled his eyes. He turned away from the mirror and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. When they were standing and facing each other, Harry could see that Remus was, in fact, significantly taller than his godfather, even at this young age.

"Sirius, I'm not soft. I am a bloody werewolf." He regarded his shorter friend with a smile. Sirius playfully elbowed Remus in the side.

"Yeah, twelve days out of the year. But the rest of the time you're just Remus." Sirius turned away from his friend and picked up a small pencil from the counter. "Just kind-hearted, sweater-loving, too-damn-smart-for-his-own-good Remus Lupin." Harry realized that the pencil was actually eyeliner as Sirius leaned closer towards the mirror and began to lift his upper eyelid to apply the product.

"How do you do that without poking your eye out?" Remus commented, watching Sirius.

"Skill and practice, my dear Moony. Skill and practice." He didn't look away from the mirror until he was finished. When he was, he leaned back and put the cap back on the pencil.

"Does it hurt?" Remus took the eyeliner from Sirius' hand and examined it.

"A bit." Sirius shrugged and turned his attention back to his tie. "But that's the price of beauty, my friend."

"Like you'd have to pay to be beautiful," Remus chuckled under his breath. Sirius stopped what he was doing and stared at his friend.

"Did you just call me beautiful?"

"So what if I did?" Remus winked playfully and Sirius laughed before returning to his tie. "You're doing that entirely wrong, you know." The taller boy pointed towards Sirius' tie, which at this point resembled a giant knot.

"That's the point!" Sirius insisted, pulling the tie looser, further exposing his collarbones.

"Here, let me just-" Remus reached out towards the tie, but Sirius swatted his hands away.

"Remus!" Sirius exclaimed dramatically. "I can't show up to Minnie's class with my tie properly done, it'll ruin my reputation!" The brown-haired boy laughed.

"Perhaps you should consider referring to her as Professor McGonagall," he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Minnie doesn't mind." Sirius thought for a moment. "Well, she pretends to mind, but that's just our little cat and mouse game. She loves me, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"You know, you sound quite a bit like Prongs when he's talking about-"

"Do not go and mention Evans this early in the morning," Sirius grumbled at the mention of Harry's mother.

"Why do you hate her so much anyways?" Remus pressed, nudging Sirius with his shoulder.

"She's stealing my best friend from me!"

"But she's not even interested in James!"

"But he's in love with her," Sirius explained, finally satisfied with the state of his shirt and tie. "One flick of her hair and he swoons like a damsel in distress." The two boys walked out of the bathroom together while Remus rolled his eyes.

"If any one of the marauders is a damsel in distress, it's certainly you, Sirius Drama-Queen Black."

Harry felt the familiar pull back to reality and yawned when he found himself back in bed. He returned the diary to its previous location and tucked himself under the covers, finally tired enough to sleep.