Chapter 5: A Long Way Down
It was a very good thing that Harry and Cedric had moved Sneezy when they had. Just one day after they'd gotten the dog settled in his new home, the castle went into complete lockdown, ending any possibility of sneaking out onto the grounds.
The new security measures were far more extreme than Harry had anticipated. The Ministry had gotten involved, forcing Dumbledore's hand. Cornelius Fudge himself had been seen on the grounds in recent days, often arguing with the Headmaster. In the end, Dumbledore had been given no choice but to bend to the Minister's wishes.
The new security measures were simply awful. All activities on the grounds now required chaperones, resulting in long delays as they made regimented marches toward Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Quidditch practices were attended by at least one Professor, sometimes more.
The chaperones were nothing compared to the final precaution Fudge had pushed onto them: Dementors were now allowed on the grounds.
The black-cloaked figures lingered just at the edge of the forest, plunging the grounds into deep darkness. It was constantly misty or raining, dampness hanging in the air, a deep chill in the wind.
The weather wasn't the worst of it.
The Dementors cast a pall over everything, despair settling over the castle like heavy smoke. Most students handled it fine, managing to ignore the dulling of happiness, the way lights seemed dimmer. Other students were not so lucky.
Neville was constantly pale, dark circles forming under his eyes. Ginny Weasley's skin had taken on a gray tinge, brown eyes darting nervously around her. Theodore Nott seemed always on edge, glancing over his shoulder periodically. Harry knew there were others, catching their emotions in the halls, feeling their stress and sadness.
The overwhelming majority of the staff was disgusted with the presence of the vile creatures, offering support to any student that might need it. Professor Sprout began handing out chocolate at every lesson, concern always present on her kind face. The Herbology Professor had also changed her lesson plans, focusing on calming plants rather than dangerous ones.
Despite the efforts of Professor Sprout and others, Harry had never felt worse. The Dementors were a black cloud hanging over him, sucking away his every happiness. It was made so much worse by his Empathic abilities. He felt not only his sadness but the unhappiness of everyone else as well.
Harry dragged himself through his days, constantly listless and exhausted. Most days he barely made it through classes, wanting nothing more than to put his head down on his desk and rest. Everything felt like too much. The emotions were always flickering in his head, drowned out only by his own sorrows eating him alive.
If days were bad, nights were hell.
The Dementors drew closer at night, hovering just outside the walls of the castle. Harry could see them through the windows of Gryffindor tower, feel the terrible darkness that descended.
As they drew nearer, Harry began to hear screaming, pleading, begging. The sounds echoed in his head all through the night, never ceasing, never lessening.
It took him only one night to figure out what he was hearing.
He was hearing his mother's final moments, her desperate pleas to Voldemort. Sometimes he heard his father as well, warning Lily to run, giving up his own life to give her more time.
Once he realized what the screams were, Harry stopped sleeping almost entirely. He couldn't even try to close his eyes, not when he could hear them.
When he did slip into sleep, he was immediately roused by flashes of green light and the image of evil red eyes.
Ron and Hermione noticed his vacant expression and exhaustion, doing their best to help him. Ron made sure he was eating, piling his plate with food at meals, watching intently as Harry picked at what he was given. The redhead, realizing quickly that Harry wasn't going to eat as much as he should, began slipping him Chocolate Frogs in nearly every class. Harry had never eaten so much chocolate in his life.
Hermione responded in her own way, endeavoring to give their lives as much structure as possible. She drew up detailed study schedules for them, blocking out time for Quidditch practices and relaxing. Harry was surprised by how much it helped. It was comforting to know exactly what he had to do and when. It kept the days from blending into hours of empty nothingness.
The worst thing about the Dementors was that nothing made him happy anymore.
Absolutely nothing.
He didn't even look forward to Quidditch, simply going through the motions.
The brightest parts of his life no longer seemed special, turning dull and mundane.
His time with Professor Lupin was still nice, but it wasn't good.
Nothing felt good anymore.
Even seeing Sneezy didn't bring him joy. The dog was doing just as poorly as Harry was, slowly wasting away. Sneezy was losing weight again, forgetting to eat the food Harry left for him. The dog seemed distant, eyes drifting right past his face to stare at nothing.
Harry didn't know what to do.
Two weeks after the Dementors arrived on the grounds, Harry couldn't ignore Sneezy's worsening condition any longer. He needed help. There was only one person he could trust with this: Cedric Diggory.
Harry hadn't spoken to the Hufflepuff since they'd moved Sneezy, too distracted by the darkness in his head to think of much else. He approached Cedric in the library on a Thursday evening in late October, feeling slightly nervous.
He wasn't used to asking people for favors. What if Cedric didn't want to help him? What if he'd just been being nice the other times they'd been together? What if he didn't actually like Harry?
Gathering his courage, Harry tapped Cedric on the shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant.
Cedric turned to him, a smile breaking out on his face.
"Harry! It's been too long. I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me."
Harry could tell that Cedric was teasing him, but he didn't care. He could tell that the boy was happy to see him. Cedric was glad to see him. The knowledge made Harry strangely giddy.
"Can you help me with something?" Harry whispered, noticing Madam Pince glaring at them.
Cedric agreed readily, following Harry out of the library and up to the seventh floor. Once inside the Come and Go Room, Cedric examined Sneezy for several minutes, watching as the dog gave no indication that he was even aware of their presence.
"Do you know if we can help him?" Harry asked, failing to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Cedric sighed.
"I don't know, Harry. He seems really out of it."
Harry felt dangerously close to tears, watching as Sneezy stared blankly at the wall.
"Isn't there something? Is there at least some way to feed him?"
Cedric looked thoughtful.
"The sixth years just made a Nutrition Potion. I don't know if it would be safe for dogs, but it might work. We'd need ingredients…"
Cedric trailed off.
"It's the first Hogsmeade weekend of term in a few days. We could probably get ingredients then…"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm not going to Hogsmeade."
Cedric looked sharply at him.
"Why not?"
"It's too dangerous," Harry muttered.
"I'd be putting everyone at risk."
Cedric nodded slowly, emotions flickering with sadness.
"Don't worry. I'll get the ingredients. Then, we'll have to figure out how to brew it. Do you think we can do it here?"
As soon as the words left Cedric's lips, a small Potions lab popped up in the corner of the room.
"I guess that answers that question!" Cedric said with a laugh, moving over to examine the lab.
"This is brilliant!"
Harry watched as Cedric examined the tiny lab, seemingly delighted with every part of it.
"How will we get the recipe?" Harry asked.
Snape always wrote the recipes on the board, preferring to alter the instructions given in their textbooks. It was one of Harry's least favorite aspects of Snape's teaching method. Not only was the board often very difficult for Harry to see, but it made it near impossible to look back at the recipe later. Snape seemed to enjoy confusing them, insisting on using a fifty-year-old textbook despite there being more recent updates.
Harry was starting to understand Snape's motivation for the insults and the changed recipes. Harry could sense the man's glee when someone failed, his smug satisfaction that he was the superior one. Snape loved the power he had in the Potions classroom, cherishing it despite his hatred for the students themselves. Harry wondered what had happened to make Snape desire power to such an extreme degree. He doubted it was anything good.
"I'll just ask him," Cedric said firmly.
Harry gave him such a disbelieving look that it made Cedric laugh.
"He doesn't hate everyone as much as he hates you, Harry. There's a hierarchy of people Snape despises and you are right at the very top."
"There's a hierarchy?"
Cedric nodded, grinning.
"He likes Slytherins the most. He tolerates Ravenclaws because they generally do pretty well in his class. He hates Hufflepuffs because we're too, in his words, 'sentimental and foolish'. As for Gryffindors…"
"He wishes we would all be expelled," Harry supplied, knowing it was true.
"Exactly!" Cedric agreed.
"And even as much as he hates Gryffindors, he hates you even more."
Sneezy gave a pitiful whine then, drawing Harry's attention away from thoughts of Snape. The dog's eyes were fixed on nothing, breathing ragged.
Harry could feel his panic.
"It'll be okay," Harry whispered, gently petting Sneezy's nose.
"We're going to help you."
…
The Saturday of the first Hogsmeade visit came quickly, bringing with it an excitement that was almost enough to counteract the terrible pull of the Dementors.
Ron and Hermione reluctantly left him alone in the castle, promising to return with copious amounts of candy. Cedric went as well, having successfully gotten the recipe for the Nutrition Potion from Snape.
Harry spent the morning working on an Arithmancy essay, trying to distract himself from the darkness floating just beyond the windows of Gryffindor Tower.
Around noon, Harry set his quill down, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't focus. His emotions were swirling too fast, too violently. He felt stifled, like the oxygen in the Common Room was too thin.
He needed to get out.
He stumbled out of the Common Room, wandering aimlessly through the castle. He walked and walked, stopping to gaze at the portraits and explore the moving staircases. Harry somehow made it to the clock tower, staring out at the grounds.
"You have an awful lot of Wrackspurts floating around your head, Harry. "
Harry started violently, whipping around to face the source of the voice.
He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't felt her emotions until she was right behind him. The girl looked to be a bit younger than him, long blonde hair flowing freely down her back. Her eyes were the clearest blue he'd ever seen, like sapphires.
"What's a Wrackspurt?"
"They live in your head, making your brain all confused."
If that was the case, Harry wouldn't be at all surprised if he had some.
"I'm Luna," the girl said, sticking out her hand for him to shake.
"Luna Lovegood."
He almost introduced himself before remembering that she'd already called him by name.
"The Dementors are just awful, aren't they?" she asked, turning her eyes toward the ghostly figures lingering near the Forbidden Forest.
Harry nodded.
"They are."
Luna sighed, eyes going misty.
"I sometimes hear things when they're nearby. I hear my Mum mostly. She died, you see. When I was about nine. I was there."
Harry felt her emotions go sharp, grief poking at him.
"I hear my Mum too," Harry admitted.
She smiled at him, something like kinship in her eyes.
"Do you want to go to the Great Hall with me?" she asked.
"Dumbledore said they would be putting out some hot chocolate for the students who didn't go to Hogsmeade."
Harry could feel her desperation, recognizing immediately that this was a girl who did not make friends easily. Luna was someone much like he'd been as a child, yearning for companionship, longing for an end to the loneliness.
"Of course, Luna. I'd love to."
She smiled brightly, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the tower.
The scene that greeted them in the Great Hall was rather lovely. There was what looked to be a hot chocolate fountain in the middle of the empty Gryffindor table. Rainbow marshmallows were stacked around the fountain, some tiny, some huge.
Professor Dumbledore was standing near the fountain, looking highly impressed with himself. The four Heads of House were standing a few feet from him, looking far less pleased.
Harry scanned the room for Professor Lupin, already knowing that he wouldn't be there. The professor was ill again, worrying Harry even more than he'd been before. He didn't think he could bear it if something happened to Professor Lupin.
Luna approached the hot chocolate fountain with obvious glee, filling a mug and pressing it into Harry's hands before going back in with one for herself.
"Are these American Jumping Marshmallows?" she asked, watching in interest as one of the fluffy objects dove into the chocolate fountain of its own accord.
"Well spotted, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore said jovially.
"I get them sent to me from a shop near Ilvermorny. Delightful, aren't they?"
Luna nodded.
"Yes, Professor. Though that one seems determined to drown itself."
It was true. One of the large pink marshmallows kept dunking itself in the fountain, hopping back out onto the table before leaping once again into the chocolate.
Dumbledore cast a quick spell at the marshmallow, smiling as it shook itself off like a dog before settling back onto the table. Once he'd dealt with the rebellious marshmallow, Dumbledore tilted his head, examining Harry and Luna more carefully.
"Are you two handling the Dementors alright?" he asked gently.
"I know many students have been facing difficulties."
Harry was very conscious of the fact that four other professors were standing right behind Dumbledore, clearly listening for their answers. He could feel that Dumbledore was genuinely concerned, but did the man have to ask this question in such a public place? Didn't he understand that Harry never wanted to talk about this?
"Not really, professor," Luna said easily, clearly not at all concerned with their eavesdroppers.
"Harry and I both hear our Mums dying, you see. It's hardly pleasant."
Harry almost choked on the mouthful of hot chocolate he'd just taken, shocked by Luna's openness.
"Is that so?" Dumbledore said, looking far older than usual.
Harry tried not to notice the way the other four professors had begun to stare at them.
Luna nodded, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.
"Yes, sir. I mostly just hear her saying an incantation before there's a loud explosion. It's not that bad. I don't know what Harry hears though."
Harry could feel eyes on him, hating the way they burned, hating the curiosity and horror he could feel in the air. Didn't they understand that he didn't want to talk about this? Didn't they understand that even thinking about it made him forget how to breathe?
"If I may, Albus."
Professor Sprout's voice had never sounded so good.
"I need to borrow Harry for just a few minutes. I'm using a few Pinecone Porcupines in my next lesson, and I need the assistance of Hogwarts' resident animal whisperer. If you don't mind, of course."
Dumbledore made no protest, allowing Professor Sprout to take Harry's arm and pull him out of the Great Hall. She led him down to her office, fingers gentle on his wrist.
"I'm sorry about that, dear," she said softly, leading him over to a chair by her desk.
"The Headmaster sometimes forgets that some questions go better unanswered."
Harry nodded, tightening his hands around the mug of hot chocolate he was still holding.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
He didn't know.
"I've been worried about you since the start of term. You seem a bit withdrawn. Is everything alright at home?"
Harry froze.
He couldn't have this conversation. He'd tried once before. He couldn't do it again.
He shook his head violently, forcing the panic away.
"It's nothing like that, Professor. It's just...I was ill over the summer and then...the Dementors."
She frowned, emotions pointed and sure.
She didn't believe him.
Professor Sprout leaned forward, eyes fixed on his.
"You know, Harry. If there is something going on, you can tell me. I've helped many children in your position."
"I don't have a position," Harry said quickly.
"I really don't."
He knew the way this worked. There was no evidence, no physical mark. She had no proof, and he wasn't going to give her any.
The Dursleys weren't that bad. They weren't. They'd taken him in. They'd fed him and given him a place to sleep. He couldn't ignore that. He shouldn't ignore that. He shouldn't be ungrateful.
Besides, if he told her about the cupboard or anything else, all he would get would be worse treatment and the distrust and hatred of people who used to like him.
He just couldn't risk it.
"Everything is fine at home," he said, smiling at her.
"I just have a hard time with the Dementors. That's all."
She was still staring at him, hazel eyes soft with compassion.
"Alright, Harry. Just know, my door is always open. Always."
…
Ron and Hermione returned to find Harry hiding in the dormitory.
He'd curled up under his duvet, plunging the world into blackness. His friends tried to get him to go to dinner, but Harry just couldn't do it. He felt awful.
After his conversation with Professor Sprout, Harry had felt the beginnings of an Empathic attack coming on, likely triggered by the intense emotions of the meeting.
By the time his friends returned from Hogsmeade, Harry was in too much pain to move, head pounding terribly. It didn't get any better the next day, leaving Harry curled up in bed for most of Halloween. He'd resisted Neville's attempts to get him to go to the Hospital Wing, reminding the other boy that nothing helped with Magical Maladaptation except rest.
Hermione and Ron spent the entire day with him, bringing him food and refusing to let him go without.
"I wish the Dementors didn't affect you like this," Hermione told him, glaring out at the grounds.
"I can't believe the Ministry would put them this close to children. It's barbaric."
Ron shrugged.
"Dad says the Ministry's been falling apart since Fudge took over. He's more concerned about image than actual policies. Sirius Black's escape looks terrible for the Ministry. That's why he's trying to catch him as soon as possible. I bet he expects that the Dementors will only be here for a few weeks."
Hermione frowned.
"But what if they don't catch Sirius Black? Do they really expect us to live like this for the rest of the year? Everyone is falling apart!"
Harry knew she was right. He wasn't the only one looking more and more like a living corpse. Neville in particular was looking decidedly ill these days, clearly sleeping almost as little as Harry was. As much as the professors and Madam Pomfrey tried to help, Dementors couldn't be Potioned away.
"What is the Ministry going to say when students start falling over in the halls?"
Ron shrugged, looking pensive.
"I honestly don't know, Hermione."
Harry shifted awkwardly, knowing that he would be one of the first to collapse if it came to that. Ron caught his movement, understanding the meaning immediately.
"Don't worry, Harry," he said firmly.
"We're going to get you through this. I'm not going to let some bastards in black cloaks interfere with my best mate."
Harry grinned.
"In fact," Ron continued, eyes glittering with mischief.
"I know just what you need. I think it's high time we go on another quest. You're always happiest when we're pursuing some sort of mystery. It would be good for all of us!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head in fond exasperation.
"How exactly do you expect to manufacture a mystery, Ronald? That doesn't just happen."
Hermione was proven wrong the very next day in their Ancient Runes class.
Professor Babbling stopped her lecture nearly twenty minutes early, turning away from the blackboard to face them. Her emotions were swirling around her in delighted patterns, eyes sparkling with joy.
"I am trying something new this year," she said brightly.
"I want you to work in small groups and try to use Runes to solve a problem that you see in the castle. The project will be a substitute for your final exam and will give you a chance to show me the depth of your practical understanding."
Excited whispers broke out as people tried to figure out who they would partner with.
"Importantly, you don't have to actually solve the problem in order to do well. I just want to see an honest effort. I want to see you tackle a difficult problem. I'd rather see you fail than see you pick an easy task. You may pick your own partners but please limit groups to no more than four people. Take the rest of the class to brainstorm. Good luck!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione pulled their chairs closer together, bunching around their desk.
"What should we do?" Hermione asked, pulling out a piece of parchment.
"I know just the thing," Ron said, grinning wickedly.
"We should try to break the curse on the Defense position."
Harry and Hermione both turned to stare at him.
"You're mad!" Harry finally exclaimed.
"That curse has been in place for decades. What makes you think three third years can break it?"
Ron rolled his eyes.
"You heard Babbling! We don't need to actually succeed. We just need to try. Besides, this is exactly the type of adventure we need!"
Despite Hermione's protests and Harry's doubts, the trio ended up agreeing to undertake the impossible task of breaking the famed curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
Ron plucked the parchment from Hermione's hands, immediately starting to write down ideas.
"First, we'll need to know where the curse is anchored. I'll write to Bill. He's sure to know more about how to localize curses. We can do research in the library too."
They spent the rest of the period drafting a letter to Bill, trying to explain precisely what they were trying to do.
Harry felt himself growing excited about the project, enthusiasm burning through the frozen despair that was always lingering in his chest. If they broke the curse, then Professor Lupin might get to stay.
The happiness of Ancient Runes was quickly squashed when they entered the Defense classroom to find that Snape was once again teaching in place of Professor Lupin.
To make matters worse, Draco Malfoy seemed to have recovered from his fear of speaking to Harry. As they waited for class to begin, the blond boy turned to him, familiar sneer back on his face.
"You must be so disappointed that they haven't caught Black yet," he drawled, gray eyes gleaming with malice.
"Have you thought about going after him yourself?"
Harry paused, confused.
"Why on earth would I do that, Malfoy?"
Malfoy grinned widely, looking gleeful.
"You don't know?"
"Don't know what?" Harry asked, dread rising.
"That Sirius Black was the reason your parents got killed."
Harry felt his blood freeze.
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron cut in, glaring at the boy.
Malfoy just laughed.
"My father told me all about it, Potter. How Sirius Black was your father's best friend, how they made him Secret Keeper."
Harry didn't know what that meant.
"They trusted him with their lives. And he sold them to Voldemort!"
Malfoy was clearly delighted by Harry's shock, continuing his tale without skipping a beat.
"I heard he was like a brother to your father, Potter. I believe he was best man at the wedding. Father even said that he was made your godfather."
Harry's heart dropped into his stomach.
"He must've really hated you, Potter. I can't imagine what else could have made him switch sides."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron said loudly, drawing Snape's attention.
"What is the meaning of this?" the man hissed, sweeping toward them.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for harassing Draco. Now, pay attention!"
Try as he might, Harry couldn't bring himself to pay attention, too lost in thought. If Sirius Black had been his father's friend, then he would have been Professor Lupin's friend as well. But Professor Lupin had never mentioned him.
Harry pushed away the sinking feeling of betrayal. He didn't even know if Malfoy was telling the truth yet.
After classes, Harry wasted no time in checking Malfoy's claims. He raced up to his dormitory, pulled his photo album off the bedside table, and flipped to the picture from his parents' wedding.
There, standing just beside James Potter, was a smiling man. He was quite handsome, dark hair framing his face, gray eyes gleaming, grin wide and happy. Harry hadn't recognized him, hadn't thought to spot the similarities.
But now, looking with sharper eyes, it was obvious: the man in the photo was Sirius Black.
Harry felt his fragile trust in Professor Lupin shatter into a million pieces. Why had the man never told him? Why?
Harry wanted to go confront the man, but Professor Lupin was still ill. All Harry could do was go to dinner, stabbing aggressively at his potatoes as he thought about Sirius Black. The man hadn't just gotten his parents killed, he'd betrayed them in the most fundamental way.
After dinner, Harry went to the Come and Go Room, glad for a distraction. Cedric had gotten the ingredients they needed, and they were planning to brew the Nutrition Potion tonight.
Cedric handled the actual brewing while Harry dealt with preparing ingredients. It was quite a tricky Potion, forcing them to work mostly in silence. It was hot and sweaty work, leaving them both exhausted.
When the Potion was finished around two hours later, Harry approached Sneezy with a small cup of the bright orange Potion, pouring the liquid into the dog's mouth. Sneezy immediately perked up a bit, eyes clearing.
Harry set the cup down, leaning against the wall with a sigh. Sneezy moved toward him, laying his head in Harry's lap.
Cedric sat down beside him, looking nearly as tired as Harry felt. Harry stroked Sneezy's head for several minutes, wondering if he could ask Cedric about the situation with Professor Lupin. Cedric was so intelligent, so kind. He would probably know how to deal with this.
"Hey, Cedric?" Harry forced out.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Cedric nodded, concern beginning to shine around him.
"Of course."
Harry shifted.
"So, I've been spending a lot of time with Professor Lupin recently. He was friends with my Dad, and he's been telling me stories."
Cedric nodded, kind eyes urging Harry to continue.
"I really like him, but today…"
Harry paused, gathering his courage.
"I learned that Sirius Black was my father's best friend too. He was the best man at my parents' wedding. He's my godfather…"
Harry whispered the last part, shame rising up inside him. Sneezy shifted underneath his hand, eyes going suddenly wide. Harry stroked the dog, trying to calm him down.
"And Professor Lupin didn't tell you this?"
Harry shook his head.
Cedric sighed, reaching down to pet Sneezy.
"I know it must feel like he's betrayed your trust, but think about it from his perspective for a moment. He has to live with the knowledge that one of his friends betrayed two of his other friends and got them killed. He probably didn't want you to have to deal with that knowledge. Or maybe it's just too painful for him to talk about."
Harry knew Cedric was right.
"I just...do you think they knew?"
Cedric paused his scratching of Sneezy's ears, turning to look at Harry.
"What do you mean?"
Harry drew in a deep breath, trying to stop his voice from shaking.
"Do you think they knew he'd betrayed them? When they died, do you think they knew?"
Harry couldn't imagine anything worse than dying with the knowledge that someone you loved had brought that death upon you.
"Do you know how he betrayed them?"
Harry paused, trying to remember what Malfoy had said.
"He was their Secret Keeper...I don't know what that means."
Cedric explained the Fidelius Charm, leaving Harry with no doubt that Lily and James Potter must have known that they'd been betrayed. Sneezy seemed to share his distress, letting out a high-pitched whine.
"Harry…"
Cedric was properly worried now, emotions unmistakeable.
"Try not to think about this too much, alright?"
Harry nodded, pushing the thoughts away.
"Don't you have a Quidditch match coming up?"
Harry nodded again.
"Focus on that instead, okay?"
Harry took Cedric's advice, putting everything he had into training for the upcoming match against Slytherin. Oliver Wood was overjoyed with his commitment, raving about how they were going to smash Slytherin into the ground.
Two weeks passed almost without Harry noticing, swirling away in a blur of classes, Quidditch practice, and curse research in the library. They hadn't yet found anything useful, still waiting on Bill's promised letter. It finally arrived on a Saturday morning just one week before the Quidditch match.
The letter turned out to not be a letter at all. Instead, it was an enormous package with a letter stuck to the top. Bill had sent them six huge books on curse breaking, clearly overjoyed that they were interested in the subject.
Ron tore open the letter, reading with obvious enthusiasm. Harry knew that Ron idolized Bill, wanting his advice on nearly everything.
"Anything interesting?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.
"He just tells us to enjoy the books and owl with any questions. Oh, and apparently Charlie's got a new boyfriend."
Harry choked on a bite of his toast, nearly dying before Hermione clapped him on the back.
"A boyfriend?"
Ron stared at him in obvious bewilderment.
"Yeah. Charlie's gay. Have I never told you that?"
Harry shook his head, confusion swirling in his chest. Why was Ron talking about it so openly?
Hermione noticed Harry's reaction, immediately going into lecture mode.
"It's different here in the Wizarding World, Harry. They're too busy discriminating based on blood status to worry about sexuality. In fact, many pureblood lines agreed to marry off their children regardless of their sex. You see, surrogacy in the Wizarding World allows for children that are a perfect genetic combination of both parents. Same-sex relationships helped avoid in-breeding, so there have been quite a lot of them across Wizarding history. There's no stigma about it here."
Harry could practically hear Uncle Vernon screaming in his head, yelling about freaks and deviant behavior. Harry shook away the echoing voice. Uncle Vernon wasn't here. He didn't have to listen to him anymore.
"I can't wait to read these books," Hermione said, admiring one of the large tomes Bill had sent.
"They look fascinating."
All thoughts of curses and boyfriends were pushed from Harry's mind as he made his way toward Professor Lupin's office. He'd decided to tell the man that he knew about Sirius Black. He didn't want Professor Lupin to feel like he had to hide from Harry.
Harry knocked on the door, trying to calm his nerves. He didn't want to ruin his relationship with Professor Lupin. He couldn't handle losing something so important.
All his anger had faded, replaced with a deep understanding. Cedric had been right. Professor Lupin had probably only been keeping this information from him in order to protect him from the painful truth.
Harry entered the office slowly, taking his customary place in one of the squashy armchairs. Professor Lupin noticed his nervousness right away, frowning slightly as he took in Harry's unusually pale face.
"Is everything alright, Harry?"
Harry took a deep breath, knowing it was best to just get this over with.
"I know about Sirius Black," Harry said softly.
"I know he was Dad's friend."
Harry was surprised to see the way Professor Lupin's face crumpled, despair filling the office.
"I don't know what to say," Professor Lupin said, voice wavering slightly.
"I know I should have told you, but…"
"It's okay, Professor. I understand why you didn't."
Professor Lupin nodded, twisting his hands together.
"You must understand that I had no idea he'd switched sides. None. We hadn't seen each other in a few months, but I never thought.."
Harry felt a strange emotion coming from Professor Lupin. Beneath the betrayal and anger was something else. Harry thought it might be love.
"Why would he betray them?" Harry asked.
Professor Lupin shrugged.
"I've no idea, Harry. He always hated the Dark Arts. I mean, despised them. He never showed any sign of planning to betray your parents. James was practically his brother. I thought I would've noticed something…"
Professor Lupin trailed off, eyes misty. Harry felt a strange suspicion twisting in his chest.
Something about this felt wrong.
Professor Lupin's emotions revealed that he didn't believe half the words he was saying. He didn't believe the story he'd been fed.
"How do you know that he betrayed them?" Harry asked suddenly, something pushing him to ask this question.
Something about this felt wrong.
Professor Lupin stilled.
"He was their Secret Keeper. Everyone knew he was," he said.
His emotions were dissonant: disbelief and certainty, hatred and love.
"He was the only one who could've told Voldemort."
Harry frowned.
"But...why would everyone know something like that? Why wouldn't they keep it a secret…?"
"I don't know, Harry."
Professor Lupin's voice was sharp, angry.
Harry immediately stopped speaking.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I didn't mean to upset you."
Professor Lupin sighed.
"I know, Harry. It's just...it's difficult to speak about. More happened that night than you know."
Harry hadn't expected Professor Lupin to continue, but he did, telling Harry about Peter Pettigrew, about Sirius Black handing Harry over to Hagrid, about the dead Muggles and Sirius Black's manic confession.
Harry frowned, once again confused.
Something about this didn't make sense.
Maybe it was because Harry had always loved mysteries, but he was desperate to look into this more closely. He could sense something off about the story, pieces of information that didn't quite fit together. Why would the man who now wanted to kill him give him to Hagrid? Why would Sirius Black have betrayed his parents at all? Why was Peter's body never found? WHY?
He knew why Professor Lupin wouldn't ask those questions. It was probably too painful, too upsetting. But Professor Lupin's emotions told a different story than the one he'd spoken aloud. At his core, Professor Lupin didn't believe that Sirius Black had betrayed Lily and James Potter. Harry could feel it. It was such a strong conviction, buried deep beneath the anger and despair.
Professor Lupin thought something was off as well, but he was too terrified, too full of grief, too angry to pursue it.
Harry was not.
He was going to find the truth. He owed it to his parents.
…
Ron and Hermione did not agree with his assessment of the Sirius Black situation.
"Harry, are you sure you aren't just trying to avoid the truth? I know it's terrible that he betrayed them, but…"
Harry shook his head.
"No, Hermione! I'm telling you, something is off about this whole thing. It doesn't make sense!"
Hermione looked at him sadly, sympathy rolling off her. Ron was the same, pity and disbelief swirling around him. Harry was suddenly furious with the both of them.
"Fine," he growled, standing up.
"Don't help, then. I'll figure this out on my own."
Harry stalked away from them, making his way to the library, fury fueling his steps.
His friends had never questioned his instincts before, never looked at him like a fragile person who needed coddling. Harry hated it.
He entered the library swiftly, heading straight to the archives. Madam Pince kept an extensive collection of old newspapers, believing that they could be just as informative as books.
Harry wasted no time, flipping right to November 1981.
The headlines were filled with his own name, victory and happiness splashed across the covers. There was one headline that stood out, coming from the issue of the Daily Prophet printed on November 5, 1981.
Sirius Black Sentenced to Life in Azkaban: Man Confesses to the Murder of Twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew.
Harry read the article quickly, eyes stopping on one section, suspicion only growing.
Sirius Black has confessed to betraying the Potters and murdering twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew. In accordance with Article 4(c) of Statute 78 of the Wizarding Criminal Code, this confession has waived Black's right to trial. He was summarily sentenced by Bartemius Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to life in Azkaban.
Harry sat back, staring at the newspaper.
Sirius Black hadn't had a trial. He'd confessed. Harry knew first-hand that confessions meant nothing. He remembered one particular instance where he'd confessed to smashing one of Aunt Petunia's vases when Dudley had threatened to break his arm.
A confession wasn't a guarantee of guilt.
Something about this felt wrong.
Before Harry could move on to another article, footsteps approached, startling Harry slightly as he looked up to find a familiar face glaring at him.
"I thought you promised to stop obsessing over this."
Cedric did not sound at all pleased.
"I'm not obsessing! I just think something doesn't add up."
Cedric looked at him sadly.
"Harry, I know it's difficult to accept what happened, but…"
"I'm not in denial!" Harry said angrily, earning a loud shush from Madam Pince.
"Something about this is wrong! I'm going to prove it."
Cedric sat down beside him, face stern.
"Harry, Sirius Black confessed. He's a convicted murderer. There's nothing suspicious about this. I know you wish things had happened differently, but…"
Harry stood, suddenly furious with Cedric as well.
"I don't care what you think," Harry said harshly.
"I'm right about this."
With that, Harry left the library, finding it very difficult not to stomp his feet in frustration.
Why was no one listening to him?
"You're right, Harry."
Harry startled, turning to find Luna Lovegood watching him closely. She was sitting against the wall of the hallway, seemingly unfazed by the strangeness of her location. Harry had come to learn that Luna didn't seem to care about her own bizarre nature, embracing it rather than hiding it. Harry rather liked that about her.
"Right about what?" Harry asked carefully, knowing that she couldn't know what he'd been thinking.
"I don't know," she said vaguely.
"But I had a strange dream last night where you proved the existence of a star everyone thought had gone out. Even the moon didn't believe you. But you were right."
Harry stared at her, unsure whether to be frightened or awed. She sounded oddly scary when she spoke like that, disconnected yet somehow sure.
"Thanks, Luna," he said quietly, pondering her cryptic words as he made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
…
The morning of the Quidditch match against Slytherin dawned rainy and cold, lightning forking across a darkening sky.
Harry had forgiven Ron and Hermione, allowing them to believe that he'd given up his quest to learn more about Sirius Black. He hadn't, of course. Harry was going to figure this out.
Harry hadn't spoken to Cedric since he'd blown up at him in the library, equal parts furious and ashamed. Harry knew he had a bad temper, and he hated that he'd shown Cedric that part of himself. It made him want to hide. On the other hand, he was still angry at the older boy. He'd hoped that Cedric would trust him.
All thoughts of Cedric were forgotten as the match began. Harry had only one thing on his mind: beating Malfoy to the Snitch.
Harry had never wanted to win a Quidditch match more. Professor Lupin was in the stands, pushing Harry to try harder than he ever had. He wanted to make the man proud.
Unfortunately, the Snitch didn't seem to want to cooperate with him. After nearly two hours, the tiny golden ball hadn't made a single appearance.
At least Gryffindor was winning. Wood's intense training was paying off. The Chasers were working in perfect harmony, scoring goal after goal while the Slytherins scrambled to stop them.
"And another goal for Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan shouted gleefully, voice carrying over the heavy rain.
"That makes the score 230-70 to Gryffindor! Take that Slytherin!"
"Jordan! Do endeavor to be objective."
Harry laughed a bit at Professor McGonagall's reprimand, turning his attention back to finding the Snitch.
He spotted it at last, eyes finding the golden ball floating nearly fifty feet above the pitch. Harry had never seen it up that high before.
Malfoy was lingering near the ground, seemingly oblivious to what Harry was doing. Harry turned his broom handle toward the sky, slowly drifting toward the Snitch.
He reached it before Malfoy even realized what he was doing, fingers wrapping tightly around the Snitch. No one had noticed his catch yet. He was far too high up.
Harry hovered for a moment, smiling at the Snitch. He was so overjoyed at his victory that he didn't notice the darkening sky until it was far too late.
The Dementors fell upon him in an enormous cloud, black cloaks surrounding him.
The screaming started suddenly, loud pleas ringing in his ears.
"Not Harry! Please…"
Harry couldn't breathe, lungs constricted.
"I'll do anything! Please…"
His fingers loosened their grip on his broom, dizziness overcoming him.
"Stand Aside!"
Harry flinched. He'd never heard Voldemort's voice before.
The Dementors were so close to him, cloaks practically brushing his face. He couldn't breathe, couldn't distinguish the darkness of the Dementors from the blackness descending over his eyes.
He never even saw the gleaming animals rising up to meet him, losing his grip on his broom and falling…
Falling…
Falling…
…
"I can't believe he actually held onto the Snitch after a fall like that."
"That's Harry for you. If he's gonna die, you'd best believe he's gonna die with the Snitch in his hand."
"Would you two idiots lower your voices! He's sleeping!"
"Angelina! How dare you! I'm merely commenting on the tenacity of our darling Seeker. Harry would be furious at you for preventing me from singing his praises."
Harry heard a loud huff, imagining the furious look on Angelina's face.
"I think he'd be angrier about you waking him up. He just fell over fifty feet. He needs to rest. Besides, he's sort of adorable like this."
That was all it took for Harry to open his eyes, feeling a burning need to defend himself against such baseless accusations.
"I'm not adorable!" he grumbled, glaring at Angelina.
"Harry, you're awake!"
Harry found himself suddenly engulfed in the arms of at least three different people, unable to tell exactly who without his glasses.
One of the people was kind enough to place his glasses on his face, bringing the Hospital Wing into focus. He was surrounded by the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team plus Ron and Hermione.
"What happened?" he asked, wincing as he sat up.
Merlin, his body ached.
"Dementors interrupted the match. You fell off your broom. Dumbledore cast some sort of spell to slow you down, but you still slammed into the ground pretty hard."
"It was terrifying," Angelina said.
"We thought you were dead."
"Harry can never die!" Fred said gleefully.
"He's indestructible! Right, George?"
George nodded sagely.
"Absolutely. Harry cannot be killed."
Harry grinned at the twins, laughing even though it hurt his aching ribs.
"He absolutely can be killed!" Katie Bell cried, glaring at the twins.
"Don't encourage him to be an idiot. Wood is bad enough."
Oliver gasped in indignation, glaring at Katie.
"I am not!"
Angelina scoffed.
"You frequently tell him to, and I quote, 'catch the Snitch or die trying.' It's your fault that he has such disregard for his own safety."
"To be fair," Harry added.
"I didn't actually die."
Katie rolled her eyes, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
"You're an idiot, Harry."
Harry grinned at her.
"But he's our idiot," Angelina said, hugging Harry again.
"And we love him."
Harry smiled wider, warmed by their affection. The Quidditch team was like his family, always looking out for him. Angelina especially was like the older sister he'd never had, scolding him when he acted like a fool and hugging him whenever she got the chance.
"So...we won?" Harry asked.
"We did," Oliver said, getting a dreamy look in his eyes.
"This one is going to go down in Hogwarts history."
"I can see it now," George said.
"The legend of the Seeker so amazing that he could fly without a broom."
"He didn't fly," Alicia corrected sternly.
"He fell."
The mention of flying without a broom had Harry looking around for his Nimbus 2000.
"Where is my broom?" he asked.
The smiles slid off the faces of his teammates.
"Well," Hermione said, glancing nervously at the rest of the team.
"It blew away, Harry. And it sorta got...um...destroyed by the Whomping Willow."
"Oh," Harry said, heart sinking.
"You can get another one," Ron said quickly.
"Yeah, Harry," Fred said.
"Put that Potter money to good use."
Harry blushed. He hated talking about the money his parents had left him. He'd done the conversion once and had almost had a heart attack. He was legitimately wealthy. Very wealthy.
It made Harry distinctly uncomfortable.
"I'll loan you one of my broom catalogs!" Oliver exclaimed, waving his hands wildly.
"We need to order one soon! We can't have you going without! We play Hufflepuff in January."
Before Oliver could get started on a lecture on broom quality, Madam Pomfrey kicked everyone out, insisting that Harry needed rest.
To Harry's surprise, Cedric came to see him the next morning, carrying a box of Enchanted Elderberry Sugar Quills and looking very sheepish.
"Your friends said this was your favorite flavor," Cedric said awkwardly, handing the box to Harry.
Harry took it, touched. He did have a distinct fondness for the dark purple Sugar Quills.
"Look, Harry," Cedric said, sinking into the chair beside Harry's bed.
"I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have just assumed that you were trying to avoid the truth. I should've listened."
Harry could tell that he was sincere.
"I'm sorry too," Harry said, smiling at Cedric.
"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I have a bad temper…"
Harry blushed.
"Does it get you into trouble often?" Cedric asked, smirking.
"All the time," Harry admitted, remembering all the times he'd accidentally goaded Dudley into punching him.
Cedric paused, tapping his fingers against his knee.
"I was thinking about what you said, and I think you might have a point. I read that article you were looking at, and it's a bit bizarre. Most people get trials, even when there's no doubt they're guilty. I did some digging, and the Statute they mentioned hasn't been widely used since early in the 16th century. It's only used in extreme cases where the evidence is insurmountable. I'm guessing most people wouldn't know that, but it's all a bit...strange."
Harry perked up, feeling excitement beginning to grow in his chest.
"Does that mean…?"
"I'm going to help you," Cedric finished, voice determined.
"I don't know that we'll find anything, but you're right that it seems suspicious."
Harry grinned, delighted to have a partner in crime.
…
Cedric agreeing to help with his Sirius Black project was not the only positive thing that resulted from his fall. After a scathing article from the Daily Prophet, the Ministry had pulled the Dementors off the grounds, stationing them back at the gates.
To make up for the absence of the Dementors, there were now several Aurors stationed around the castle. One of them, a very young Witch with bright pink hair, trailed behind Harry most of the time, winking at him whenever he caught her eye.
Without the Dementors poisoning his thoughts, Harry felt immediately better, happiness returning to him all at once. He felt almost giddy for the first few days after they left, catching himself skipping several times. Sneezy was loads better as well. He was barking again, wagging his tail when he saw Harry, jumping on him every time he entered the Come and Go Room and slobbering all over his face.
Their Rune project was also going well. They'd found a triangulation spell that could locate the source of a curse, planning to try it over Christmas break when they had more free time.
The only thing that darkened Harry's mood was the Daily Prophet article that had gotten the Dementors removed. He did not appreciate how the reporter, Rita Skeeter, had described him. Not at all.
Harry brought the newspaper article with him when he went to see Professor Lupin on Saturday, needing to rant about it to someone.
"Did you read this line?" Harry asked the man, gesturing to his least favorite part of the article.
Professor Lupin picked up the newspaper, reading aloud the part Harry pointed to.
"The already delicate Harry Potter was nearly killed on Saturday when he fell from his broom during a Quidditch match."
Harry huffed, throwing his hands up in indignation.
"She called me delicate!"
Professor Lupin just laughed, eyes warm with amusement.
"If it makes you feel any better," Professor Lupin said.
"Your father was the smallest boy in our year until he was sixteen."
"What happened then?" Harry asked, failing to disguise his eagerness.
Professor Lupin laughed again.
"He grew nearly six inches in the summer between fifth and sixth year. By Christmas, he was nearly as tall as me."
Harry's jaw dropped. Professor Lupin was quite tall, definitely over six feet.
"So...I won't be this tiny forever?"
Professor Lupin shook his head.
"No, Harry. I highly doubt you will be."
Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning. Once he was tall, he would loom over Uncle Vernon and see how he liked it.
"Professor?" Harry asked, shifting nervously in his seat.
"About what happened at the match…"
Harry steeled himself, hoping that Professor Lupin wouldn't say no.
"Hermione said that there was some kind of spell that drove the Dementors away, and I was wondering…"
"You wish to learn it," Professor Lupin finished for him, looking thoughtful.
Harry nodded.
"It's a rather difficult spell, but I think you have more of a reason to learn it than most others. I'll endeavor to teach you, Harry. Though I think we should wait until the start of next term. You need some time to recover from the aftereffects."
Harry thanked him enthusiastically, grateful that he would soon have a weapon to use against the vile creatures.
Professor Lupin was just telling Harry how James had spent most of sixth year tripping over his own feet when Snape entered the office without knocking, a steaming goblet clutched in his hand. He startled upon seeing Harry, sending a scathing look his way.
"Drink it while it's hot, Lupin," Professor Snape said, thrusting the goblet into the man's hands.
"Thank you, Severus," Professor Lupin said politely, setting the goblet on his desk.
Harry looked at the liquid in the goblet, noting the dark gray color and silvery sheen. If Harry hadn't spent his summer reviewing Potions textbooks, he never would have recognized the Potion. As it was, he knew what it was right away: Wolfsbane.
He left Professor Lupin's office soon after Snape departed, wanting to confirm his suspicions. Professor Lupin didn't notice anything odd, merely offering him a wave before returning to marking essays.
Harry raced back to the Common Room, heart pounding. Once in his dormitory, he quickly jotted down the dates Professor Lupin had been ill, working mostly from memory. Then, he pulled out his Lunar Chart from Arithmancy, studying the dates of the full moon.
It took him less than five minutes to realize the truth: Professor Lupin was a Werewolf.
Next chapter is coming Friday and will be a lot fluffier! It will feature Harry trying to reassure Remus that he's alright with him being a werewolf, Christmas at Hogwarts, and an adventure into a certain room full of junk.
See y'all then!