Rated T
(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Chapter 35: Waiting …
The big castle was kind of interesting, Harry thought. He hadn't been able to get a good look at it before when the Professor brought him, and now that the Professor was sleeping, Harry tried to sneak out of the little doctor's room and look around. He didn't go far, but he was pretty sure he would be able to find his way around if he wanted to. He still remembered the walk to the crazy Headmaster's office. For about two or three days, Harry stuck close to his Professor, who slept on, and visited Snuffles too, who was still asleep in his bed. He talked to Professor McGon'gall in her bed too, and that was nice. She told him stories about his Mum, and about Hogwarts, and she made it come alive in a way that even the Headmaster's fantastic and funny stories hadn't.
But despite that, he was bored to tears most of the time. The Professor slept and Harry got tired of sitting there trying to wake him up or reading out loud from dull books he found lying around. When he went to sleep in the bed Madam Pomfrey let him push close to the Professor, he usually woke up in the middle of the night, heart pounding from a nightmare. Then he would sit up for hours, unable to go back to sleep. Because of the irregular sleep times, he fell asleep during the day too, which was embarrassing. He didn't need naps.
The dull hours passed, and on the third day just after breakfast, Harry was bored to the point that he slipped out of the Infirmary and decided to really explore. He tip-toed through the hushed hallways, warily watching the moving pictures on the walls, the strangely rattling suits of armour, and the stairs, which might decide to start moving on him.
Harry got down one flight of stairs and turned, almost crashing into a billowy, see-through person, sort of just floating there in front of him. Harry yelped and hopped backwards in surprise, tripping on the bottom step of the staircase and falling hard on his bottom.
"Ow," Harry moaned. Then he blinked up at the floating phantom-like man hovering next to him, an expression of concern on his face.
"Are you quite alright?" the phantom asked. His voice echoed slightly, like it was distorted or far away. Harry had no idea if this person was real or not.
"Who … what are you?"
"I might be asking the same thing, my lad," the ghostly creature retorted in a cheerful tone. He wore odd clothes that seemed sort of old-fashioned, like a fluffy collar around his neck and puffy sleeves and pants. His mustache was curled and all of him was a weird smoky blue-gray colour. His skin, his clothes, his hair … everything was the same washed-out shade and it looked really weird. He could even see the opposite wall through the person's middle. "Students don't often come 'round in the summer months," the ghost went on. "But then, you're a bit on the small side for a student, aren't you?"
"I'm not a student," Harry confessed, carefully getting up and rubbing the small of his back where he'd hit the step. "I'm only eight. Well, I'll be nine in a couple weeks. I think the Professor said I have to be eleven to be a student."
"That's exactly right," the ghostly creature grinned. "So what are you doing here? And without supervision, hey? Exploring?"
"I don't have nowhere else to go," Harry mumbled, glancing up the stairs. "The Professor's still asleep an' everybody's forgotten about me."
"Everybody?"
Harry glanced at the odd ghost and sat back down on the steps before pouring out his story. How the Dursleys had never wanted him, and how the Werewolf bit him. How Professor Snape had saved his life and taken such good care of him before the Headmaster took him away. How the Dursleys hurt him so badly, and how Dudley was nicer than he used to be, and how his dog-godfather came and rescued him. How the Professor came back for him and he got lost and met the Weasley family and lived in the Headmaster's lonely house with a grouchy House Elf and how everything went crazy. It was hard to believe that it had all happened in just a month. Now, his Professor was hurt and sleeping, his godfather was hurt and sleeping too, Madam Pomfrey was busy and Remus the Wolf ran away a few days ago because Harry was scared of him and Professor McGon'gall had left the Infirmary just that morning to take care of things … and he was lonely and worried and bored.
The ghost listened politely while Harry talked, and cried a little, and talked some more. When Harry finished, it seemed too quiet in the empty hall. The boy looked up at the strange ghost and wondered if this creature was even real. Maybe he'd fallen down and bumped his head and was talking to nothing, or maybe it was a trick or something.
"I suppose you'll need a guide," the ghost commented. "If you don't want to get lost, that is. I'm the Gryffindor House Ghost: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was my name in life," the ghost said pompously, though his ghostly body seemed to wilt as he mournfully tacked on, "but now I am know as Nearly-Headless Nick." He brightened suddenly and held out his hand in a courtly gesture, even though Harry wouldn't be able to touch it. "And you are, my bright and curious lad?"
"I'm Harry," the boy replied, feeling embarrassed and relieved at the same time. "Um … do I call you Mr. Nearly-Headless?"
"Nick's fine," the ghost laughed. "Though I wouldn't mind if you called me Sir Nicholas on occasion. Ah, never mind. Now where would you like to go, lad?"
"I don't know," Harry answered, bouncing back to his feet, once more in a cheery mood. "Is there a library here?"
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Minerva McGonegall sighed as she entered the office that had been Albus' as long as she could remember. Well, technically she still could remember when this was Headmaster Dippet's office. But for many years, the Headmaster's Office was synonymous with Albus Dumbledore's Office … Now she had to get used to calling it her office.
Only twenty-four hours ago, Dumbledore had likely been sitting in this very room. How had things changed so quickly? Or had this been a change long coming which she had not foreseen?
"Ah, the new Headmistress," the acidic snarl of old Headmaster Black greeted her. "Finally decided to give us a few moments of your precious time?"
Minerva stepped in and gave the portrait of Hogwarts' last Slytherin Headmaster a frosty glare. She said nothing, but did not hide the sling her arm was still in, or the limp she sported. Despite Poppy's protests, she had left the Infirmary to start arranging things. No doubt the Daily Prophet would run a story with all of its usual gossip, and she needed to be at least halfway competent in crafting a story. Naturally, it would be problematic to tell everyone the bare truth, but perhaps if said the right way, they could make it clear that Dumbledore had finally gone off the deep end and killed himself, essentially. She did not want to sit in a throne of lies as her predecessor had. The very thought made her shudder.
"Why is there not a portrait of Albus here?" Minerva suddenly asked. She was surprised and a bit annoyed at its absence, since she'd been planning to give it a piece of her mind.
"He must still be alive," Headmistress Tarragon's portrait said softly. "The portraits appear when we die or step down officially. Since he simply abandoned his post, as it were, Hogwarts Castle will not provide the portrait."
Minerva's heart skipped a beat in horror. Albus? Still alive? After he kidnapped an innocent child and then tried to kill his dearest friends? What state would he be in now? Especially after a building fell on his head?
"Arra! Leave the old kook for now," Headmaster McMurray grumbled. "Minerva, m'dear; 'tis good to see yeh in yer rightful place here, lass."
"I'm glad to be here also, McMurray," Minerva said with a heavy sigh. "I just wish 'twere under better circumstances."
"As do we all, Minnie," the Scottish Headmaster from the 1820's responded sympathetically. "Lord knows how close ye were to the ol' Headmaster."
"Are you duty bound to keep all of his secrets now that I am Headmistress?" Minerva demanded as she sat in the chair behind the desk.
"We may use our discretion," Headmistress Tarragon replied. "But no, most of the Headmaster's secrets belong to Hogwarts. What do you wish to know?"
Minerva McGonegall only hesitated for a second before she plowed boldly ahead, propriety be damned. If there was anything that could help the poor boy lying unconscious in the hospital wing right now, she needed to know. For Harry's sake, if for no one else.
"Tell me everything you can of Albus' interactions with Severus Snape."
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Nearly-Headless Nick kept up a running commentary that was pretty interesting, if Harry even knew half of what he was talking about. The ghost also moved pretty quickly, and the little boy had to trot to keep up with his floating. But when they reached the Hogwarts Library, it was all worth it. The huge double-doors themselves were enough to awe Harry into silence. The ghost simply floated through the doors, but Harry had to struggle to get just one of them open. When he peeked inside, he was met with the sight of rows and rows of huge, full bookshelves of dark wood, high windows, and comfortable looking chairs. There were tables for studying, a large desk near the door for a librarian, and some book carts like the ones in his school library. One of the carts had some books on it, but the others were empty, lined up against the walls like parked cars. Sir Nicholas was floating silently near the desk, but Harry didn't really look at him. He was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of books in this place. He had always loved reading, but this … this was just intimidating.
Going on tip-toe, Harry crept in between the two nearest bookshelves and tried reading the spines of the books. He didn't understand most of them, but all the books looked wonderful and beautifully made. The letters seemed to shine on the colourful covers, and when he pulled one out, the picture on the front was actually moving. There was a witch on the front turning a flower-vase into a cup, then a pitcher, then a lamp, and back again to a vase. Gaping, Harry stared at it for a while before he pushed it carefully back in and pulled out another. These books all seemed to be about Transfiguration. Every other title had Transfiguration something or other in the title. On the next shelf down, the books were about history: goblin rebellions, the origins of House Elves, that sort of thing. Harry carefully replaced every book he looked at, marveling at them all and knowing he could never hope to understand any of it. How he wished the Professor was awake so he could ask him all the questions rolling around in his head!
Harry settled on the floor with a book about Werewolves and cracked it open curiously. The pictures were a little scary, and there was a lot of blood and violence. Wide-eyed, Harry flipped through it, shuddering at some pictures, flipping quickly past others, and poring over the rest. What he was able to read and understand made him feel a bit ill. Werewolves were terrible, horrible monsters. They killed people, even little children, and they hurt people they didn't kill. They were dangerous and deserved to be hunted down and killed in return. A tear splashed from Harry's cheek onto a page showing a brave wizard killing a snarling Werewolf with a sliver sword.
He remembered when he had first learned he was a Werewolf. The Professor had gotten mad at him for calling himself a monster. But Werewolves were monsters! Couldn't the Professor see that? When Harry had turned into a wolf last Full Moon, the Headmaster had locked him up in that shack because he was scared of getting hurt by Harry. He was dangerous and scary and he needed to be locked up or something to keep other people safe.
Another tear dripped down Harry's face and he wiped his nose with his wrist, wondering why the Professor thought it was such a bad thing for Harry to wish the Werewolf had just killed him instead of turning him into a monster too. He couldn't understand how this was a good thing. The pain, the fear, the knowledge that he would turn into a savage animal every month for the rest of his life … he had no idea how the Professor could even think he was still a good boy, and not a monster.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over him and Harry looked up, wondering if it was Nick the Ghost. He hadn't seemed to cast a shadow before, but one never knew these things.
To Harry's surprise, it was actually Remus the Wolf.
The man looked tired, but his gold-flecked brown eyes were kind and concerned. Harry stared up at him warily before he raised his hand and wiped his face, sniffling a little from the few tears he'd shed. Remus slowly crouched down next to him and smiled a little.
"Hi Harry," he said softly. "Does Madam Pomfrey know you're here?"
Harry shook his head miserably and tried to wipe his tears off the page of the library book.
"What are you reading?" Remus asked gently.
Harry just shrugged and gripped the book tighter.
Slowly, Remus pulled out his magic wand and tapped the spots where Harry's tears had fallen, murmuring something that caused the damp, wrinkled page to suddenly become dry. Harry felt his shoulders sag with relief. At least he wasn't going to get in trouble for damaging a library book on top of running away from Madam Pomfrey.
"You shouldn't read that," Remus said quietly. "It's not very accurate."
Not accurate? Harry perked up slightly, and closed the book, staring at the howling wolves on the front and the important sounding title: Everything You Need to Know About Werewolves. Harry let Remus reach out and take the book away from him, and watched as Remus the Wolf put the book back. For a few minutes, they just sat there on the floor in silence. Harry picked at a loose thread in his jeans and felt his legs falling asleep under him. After some time, he couldn't stand it anymore and straightened his legs out. When he did that, Remus reached out and took his hand, pulling him to his feet, which felt prickly and numb.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus whispered, something like tears in his voice. "I'm sorry for everything. I hope one day you can see that."
Harry looked up at Remus' face. It was pale and drawn in a way that told Harry he was probably hungry and tired. His blonde-brown hair was messy and limp and there were dark circles under his red eyes. The scars on his face looked red in the sallow colour of his skin. He looked pretty awful.
"'M sorry for yelling at you," Harry mumbled, looking away and feeling ashamed of himself.
"It's alright," Remus the Wolf assured him quietly. "Why don't we go sit down in some chairs? It'd be a bit more comfortable at any rate."
Harry let Remus hold his hand and guide him to a cozy corner where there were some chairs, a small table, and piles of books and papers. Harry sat down in a cushy chair and noticed a tray with tea things on it. Remus put a hand on the pot to check if it was warm, and then poured a cup.
"Do you like milk or sugar or both?" Remus asked.
Harry blinked in surprise, and then felt his face warming up. "B-both, please," he replied in a stutter. "And … I don't like it when it's too sweet."
Remus cracked a little smile and his eyes sparked with amusement. "Neither do I. Dumbledore's tea was a little on the sweet side, wasn't it?"
Harry smothered a little grin and nodded, trying to be polite and solemn. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Remus and the Wolf. He knew they were sort of the same, yet weren't really, and that was just confusing. He reached out and took the cup of steaming tea from Remus with a murmured thank you. He certainly hadn't forgotten his manners. Harry sipped it, and sighed a little. It was perfect. He looked up and gave the tall man a shy smile and a nod of thanks, and Remus the Wolf smiled back before pouring himself a cup and sitting across from Harry, next to most of the books and papers.
"Um … what are you doing, sir?" Harry asked cautiously, eyeing the books curiously.
"I'm researching memory restoration," Remus answered, nodding at the books. "Trying to see if I can find something about whatever is going on with Severus. Why he's not waking up."
"He won't stay asleep forever, will he?" Harry asked, his heart suddenly pounding as he wondered what that would mean for him. Where would he go? Who would take care of him? And what did Remus mean about memory restoration? Did the Professor lose his memories when he got hurt? What if he didn't remember Harry anymore? The boy shivered and swallowed hard.
"I hope not," Remus murmured, staring down at his tea. "But even if he doesn't," he added, looking up and giving Harry one of the most knowing and understanding looks he'd ever gotten from a grown-up. "There are plenty of people who would gladly take care of you. We won't abandon you again, Harry. I promise. You won't be alone or forgotten."
Harry blinked, shocked at the mind-reading, the promise, and the conviction in those gold-brown eyes. He suddenly realized there were tears in his eyes. His shaking hands were rattling the teacup and saucer so much he didn't trust himself to put the cup down. Remus reached over, put his cup down, and gently took the cup and saucer from Harry. The boy bit his lip to keep from crying, and the Werewolf gently squeezed his shoulder.
"It's okay to cry, Harry," Remus said, his own eyes looking a bit watery too. "There is so much to cry about."
Harry covered his face with his hands and cried. Remus pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back the way the Professor used to do. Something about being held in someone's arms simply broke down any walls Harry had been desperately trying to keep up, and he sobbed noisily and messily. He pulled his hands off his face and clutched Remus' shabby robes, desperate to just hold onto someone before he was torn apart by fear and sadness and confusion. He thought maybe Remus was crying a little bit too, and whispering that he was sorry and it would be alright in the same breath. Harry sobbed that he was sorry too, and he was scared and didn't want the Professor to die or never wake up, and Remus said he knew, and it would be alright. Harry wanted to believe it. He almost did believe it.
When they both quieted, Harry kept holding onto Remus, gripping him tighter when he shifted and Harry thought he'd leave. But Remus just stood up, pulling Harry up into his arms, and sat down in the chair. Harry shivered a little and curled up a little, snuggling into the well-worn robes over Remus's skinny frame. He was almost bonier than the Professor. He smelled different, but like before when Harry had noticed Remus' scent, it was comforting in its own way. Mysteriously familiar, like a dream he had forgotten.
"Why'd you bite me?" Harry asked quietly, reaching out and playing with a small mended spot on Remus' threadbare robes.
"My wolf didn't know it was you," Remus answered quietly. "I wasn't in control."
"Then why d'you keep saying you're sorry?" Harry demanded, looking up at Remus' face. "You didn't do anything. It was the wolf that did it."
"The wolf is me," Remus explained, a sad smile on his face. "I am the wolf. We are one, yet constantly at odds. It's confusing. I know you can't seem to figure out whether to be mad at me or my Wolf … but the thing is; they're one and yet not. I am me, and my Wolf is me too, but they're separate. Distinct. It's like … sharing a body and a brain with someone else. Over time, I was able to interact with my wolf more … even talk to him. But it takes a lot of time and energy."
"C-could you teach me?" Harry asked in a tiny voice, looking away in embarrassment and poking at the mended seam on the robes with more attention.
"Of course, Harry," Remus answered softly, and hugged him just a little tighter. "Just promise me you won't read those books about Werewolves on your own again, and I'll teach you whatever you want to know."
Harry nodded and settled his head a bit more comfortably under Remus' collarbone. He yawned and rubbed his tired eyes with the knuckles of his left hand. He felt terribly exhausted. Last night he kept dreaming that the crazy old Headmaster was coming to punish him for letting Snuffles and the Werewolf inside, and the Professor wouldn't come no matter how he called. He kept waking up in tears, and even crawling into his Professor's bed didn't really help. Instead, the dreams changed so that the Professor was dead on the floor and he was getting in trouble for not saving him.
But he was safe enough now in Remus the Wolf's arms, surrounded by that mysteriously nice, musky smell that made him feel calm and warm inside. He was tired from crying and apologizing, and tired out from worrying about being a monster. He felt strange, but it was a good kind of strange. Remus was a good wolf, like Harry was a good wolf; and the Professor didn't let him say bad things about himself. So he wouldn't say bad things about Remus either. They were both Werewolves, but they weren't evil. Remus was so nice and gentle. He never lost his temper or even scowled like Professor Snape did, and he really, truly understood. It was the first time Harry had ever felt like someone understood him and what he was afraid of. And even after he cried all over the place, Remus was here holding him tightly, content to just sit here and do nothing but keep his arms tightly around Harry. He smiled and yawned again, letting his eyes droop shut. He was safe, and Remus was safe to be with. That was all he really needed to know right now.
Before he knew it, Harry was asleep.
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Padfoot slunk through the halls of Hogwarts, feeling oddly guilty. Waking up in the Infirmary had been a bit of a shock, and then the memories came back. Recalling the battle of Bumblebee Manor and the vague, fuzzy bits of Moony pulling him out of the rubble made him get up at once to investigate. He found Snape in bed, totally out of it, and Madam Pomfrey bustling around. She ordered him back in bed, but not before he snitched Snivelly's wand with some pretty impressive sleight-of-hand. Pretending to go back to sleep was a piece of cake, and while Snape's wand did sting him pretty badly when he used it, he managed to leave an illusion of himself sleeping in the bed and found out that Remus was up in the library with his godson. Slinking past Madam Pomfrey a second time was a challenge, but he managed it. She was busy in her office with something and didn't notice her patient turning into a dog and creeping out.
Now, as a big black dog, he was headed to find out how his mate and Harry were doing. He felt great, really. No reason to stay in bed when he felt as right as rain or better. He felt bad about sneaking out on Poppy, but it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. He had never met anyone who liked the Hospital wing except Remus. And he only liked it because it meant his Full Moon was over for the next twenty-eight days.
Nosing the heavy library door open, he spotted Nearly-Headless Nick drifting through the stacks, chatting quietly with the Fat Friar, and internally smiled. Things really hadn't changed much if those two still got together for chats in the library. Good memories, good memories. His nose found the two werewolves before his eyes saw them, but once he did, Sirius wished he'd gotten a camera. They were both dozing, with Harry curled up in Remus' lap and Moony resting his head in the boy's thick black hair. It looked so adorable that Padfoot had to shift into his human form just to appreciate it better.
Sirius grinned down at them, solidifying the image in his memory before he sat in a comfy chair across from the pair. For a few minutes, he sat and watched them sleep before he took a tart from the tea-tray and started munching on it. He knew Remus would wake up, thanks to his jumpy sleeping-state. At least, he'd been like that back in school.
Sure enough, Sirius was halfway done when Remus stirred slightly and his eyes snapped open. Moony blinked and focused on him, and Sirius grinned and wiggled his fingers in a cheeky 'hello', and stuffed the rest of the tart in his mouth. Remus blinked again and glanced down at Harry, still dead to theworld in his arms. Moony's cheeks coloured a bit, and he raised his head and yawned.
"You're awake," Remus muttered groggily. "Was beginning to wonder."
"Thank Poppy for that," Sirius snorted softly, giving the sleeping Harry an amused smile. "She kept me asleep while those potions did their work, I guess."
"You feel alright?"
Sirius grinned at his friend's concern. "I feel better than I have in a long, long time," he answered, attempting to keep his voice down. Harry looked thin and pale and probably needed the sleep. Poor kid. "I don't think I've felt so good since before Azkaban," he confessed in a softer tone.
Remus nodded, a strange understanding gleaming in his eyes. Moony was always the empathetic one of their group. If he hadn't experienced it firsthand, his imagination was more than capable of filling in the gaps. It was one of the things he really appreciated about his friend. Remus was good at being compassionate without smothering.
"So what's the story there?" Sirius asked playfully, nodding at Harry. "Has he been alright the last few days? Poppy told me I've been out of it for three days already."
"I don't really know," Moony confessed, glancing down at Harry and frowning in concern. "You know how I … how I tend to just run when the problems get too much for me? Well … Harry got a bit upset with me that first morning. I left. He came here looking for books I suppose, and we made up. I think. But I shouldn't have left him, even if he did seem angry with me."
"It's going to take a while before he really trusts you," Sirius pointed out candidly. "I mean, imagine if you found out Greyback wanted to have a relationship with you? You were only five or six years old, and couldn't possibly have known the stories about him, and that's beside the point. My point is, you wouldn't have been eager to throw yourself on that Werewolf's lap just because he wanted it. You would've been a little wary at first, 'cause after all, he was the one that bit you."
Remus bit his lip and nodded. "I see your point," he admitted. "And I wasn't expecting Harry to trust me right away. I'm … actually surprised at how easily he forgives."
"He's a sweet kid," Sirius murmured, smiling fondly. His smile turned into a scowl. "I'm glad Dumbles is gone. Just thinking of what that old kook put our pup through makes me want to go kill him again."
"Albus' body was never found," Remus said in a low, serious voice. "I imagine he survived. We should be careful."
Sirius growled softly to himself and cracked his knuckles. "Just let him try something," he muttered. "I'll kill him myself before I let him touch my godson."
Remus smiled faintly. "Knowing who was the true father, Padfoot, I don't know if you're really Harry's godfather."
"Well, maybe we can get Snape to make it official," Sirius shrugged. "So long as I can use logic and wits, I think I can get him to agree. What do you think?"
"I think it's worth a try," Remus smiled. "Won't that be nice? Harry would have three fathers, essentially."
"Sounds so weird when you say it like that, Moony," Sirius chortled quietly. "But yeah, I can see that."
"Did Poppy say anything about Snape? Does she think he might wake on his own soon?"
Sirius sighed and shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Snape's wand. It still sent crackles like electricity up his arm and it wasn't pleasant. But the thought of carrying that git's wand when Snape was the one to break the last one that had worked for him was one that made his inner Marauder laugh with glee. He'd just be sure to put it back before Snivelly woke up.
"Sirius," Remus said severely. "Is that Severus' wand?"
"What if it is?" Sirius grinned mischievously. "I'll put it back; don't worry."
"Does it even work for you?" Remus demanded. "You shouldn't take anyone's wand while they're sleeping. That's just wrong."
"Relax, Moony," Sirius huffed, rolling his eyes. "Sheesh, you're still a good-two-shoes sometimes, you know that?"
"I would hope I still was," Remus returned sharply. "We should become more morally conscious as we grow up, not less."
"Fine, fine," Sirius sighed. "I'll put it back as soon as I get back to the Infirmary. That suit you, Preacher Moony?"
Remus cracked a little smile. "You haven't called me Preacher Moony since we were in school," he said softly.
"And I'll keep calling you that if you keep ruining my fun."
"Snape mad isn't what I'd call fun," Moony replied drily. "He almost killed me the last time he got angry, or have you forgotten?"
"I'm not gonna walk around him on eggshells, Moony," Sirius groaned, pocketing the wand again and snatching a biscuit from the teatray. "If he's gonna be Harry's dad and all that, he's going to have to lighten up. No kid deserves to be raised like they're in a military camp."
"You don't know anything about how Snape plans to raise his son. So stop making judgments about him."
"Well come on, d'you seriously think Snivelly's gonna remember that kids like to goof off and have fun? Just because he was such a stick-in-the-mud as a kid sure doesn't mean Harry is or will be. I mean, he's half of Lily too and we all know how much she loved fun."
"Careful," Remus said. "You don't know anything about how Severus was raised, and you certainly don't know anything about what Harry's really like even now. You should wait on those Gryffindorish observations until things get a bit more settled. Then you can see for sure whether Snape needs any help being a father. Not that you would know anything about it yourself."
Sirius shrugged. "We'll all be learning as we go, I reckon."
Suddenly, a patronus darted into the library and raced up to Harry. The boy jerked awake as if alerted by the mere presence of the glowing messenger. It was a large bear, and both Remus and Sirius exchanged baffled looks. They didn't know anyone with a bear patronus.
The creature's mouth opened and the last voice they expected came from its mouth.
"Harry, come back to the Infirmary at once. Severus needs you," Poppy Pomfrey's voice faded along with the silvery-blue bear, and the two Marauders looked at one another again with raised eyebrows. The kindly old medi-witch had never exactly struck them as a mama-bear, but now that they thought about it, it fit her completely. The woman was protective, fierce, solid, reliable, and likely terrifying in battle … after all, she was a Slytherin.
Harry hadn't said a word, just gaping at the magical messenger as it faded. Then he leapt off Remus' lap and raced away. Padfoot jumped from the seat and barked as he chased after the little boy, and Remus ran after them.
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Harry was really out of breath when he made it back to the Infirmary. He was pretty sure that it was Madam Pomfrey's voice that had come out of that beautiful bluish-white bear, and he was scared. She had sounded calm, but if Severus needed him, it either meant that his Professor was waking up, or dying. He was glad Snuffles had appeared out of nowhere to guide him, or he would have gotten lost on the way. Remus followed him too, and even took his hand when he nearly fell while going around a corner too fast. The three of them burst into the white hospital wing and Harry heard his Professor at once. He was crying out like he was in pain, and tears burned Harry's eyes and the back of his throat. He tore himself away from Remus the Wolf and ran to where his Professor had been sleeping for the past few days.
The curtains were half open, and Madam Pomfrey was there. Her wand was dancing in a blur and she looked worried. The Professor was on the bed, his eyes closed, and his face pinched with agony, but he was squirming and gasping. The man let out a yell of pain that seemed to lance through Harry's chest and left him choking on tears. The small boy raced forward and threw himself at the Professor.
"Professor!" Harry cried out, clutching the man's shaking hand with both of his own.
"What's wrong with him, Poppy?" Remus the Wolf suddenly asked from behind Harry. The boy whipped his head around and noticed that Sirius had changed from dog to human again. He looked worried and a little sick.
"His temperature spiked," Madam Pomfrey replied in a pinched sort of voice. She was concentrating on the magic she was doing above the Professor's body. "Now he seems to be in pain, but it's all in his head, I think."
"What do you mean?" Remus demanded. "Does his head hurt? Or is he remembering past suffering and thinks he's going through it again?"
"Probably both," Madam Pomfrey answered shortly. "I can't leave this. Could you run and fetch some pain potions from the cabinet? The password is bilgesnipe."
Remus nodded and darted away just as Professor Snape cried out again. There were tears on his cheeks, and Harry wondered why on earth Madam Pomfrey thought the Professor needed him of all people. He had no idea what to do, except hold the Professor's hand and try to call him.
Remus came back with the potion and helped Madam Pomfrey make the Professor drink it. Harry remembered how that one tasted, and he made a sympathetic face as they forced the man to drink it all. He coughed and spluttered on it, moaned and mumbled things Harry couldn't understand, but he eventually finished it and relaxed a little. Harry slipped his hand into the Professor's and reached out his other hand to wipe the potion off the Professor's chin before Madam Pomfrey could do it.
"Why's he hurting so much?" Harry whispered, staring at the man's face, which was still twisting and flinching in pain despite the potion. At least he wasn't screaming anymore.
"We're not sure, love," Madam Pomfrey murmured, wiping at the corner of her eye with her wrist. "He … lost some of his memories over the last few years, and then he got them back all at once that night he got hurt. We're thinking he's struggling to fit them all back in his head and it hurts him."
Harry yelped as the Professor suddenly squeezed too hard and hurt his little hand. But the Professor didn't know he was doing it, so when Sirius darted around Remus and crouched next to him, Harry assured his godfather that he was okay.
"Why'd you need Harry here?" Sirius asked, looking up at Madam Pomfrey.
"Severus was calling for him," the nurse replied.
"He was calling me?" Harry whispered, feeling a flood of relief that his Professor hadn't forgotten him at all, and that he could probably help the man wake up and tell them where he was hurting so they could fix it. Determined now, Harry got closer to the Professor and put his free hand on the man's thin cheek. His skin was hot and dry. Babbling, he told the Professor that he was here, that it was Harry, and that it was going to be alright, and that he needed to wake up.
Professor Snape seemed to calm down a little, but he was still breathing hard and his face was twisting slightly into grimaces and flinches. Harry sobbed and buried his face in the Professor's shirt. Sirius rubbed his back and murmured things that were meaningless to the small boy. His Professor was suffering and sick, and Harry couldn't do anything about it. He felt helpless and small. It was worse than when he had been trying to stop the Professor's nasty cut from bleeding before.
"The brain activity is slowing," Madam Pomfrey suddenly announced, sounding relieved. "Harry, stay near him. I think your touch helps calm him down."
Harry looked up, surprised. He was really helping? Sirius suddenly picked him up and set him on the bed. Harry put his head back down on the Professor's chest and rearranged his hands, and settled down comfortably. He could hear the Professor's heart pounding in a way that a sleeping person's really shouldn't, and his head went up and down with the man's breathing. Harry closed his eyes and started humming. It was nothing at first, but soon he started humming a tune that seemed sort of familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd heard it before or what the words were. The Professor relaxed even more, and his heart stopped beating so hard. Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Madam Pomfrey, who was looking down at him with a smile that was part relieved and part something else. He had no idea why she was looking at him like that. Like she was grateful, or something. When he looked at Sirius and Remus, they were smiling too, but in a different way; a secret kind of way. Sirius winked at him and pulled a stick out of his pocket before he put it on Professor Snape's bedside table. He noticed Madam Pomfrey give Sirius a scowl for that, and Remus smirked a little. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.
Madam Pomfrey frowned in disapproval about something and pulled Sirius away. His godfather protested, but the nurse was not about to be put off. She started scolding him about something, while Remus sat down in the chair by the bed.
"Professor Snape really means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Remus the Wolf asked quietly.
Harry nodded as best he could, curled up against his Professor like this. "He's nice to me," he answered frankly. "I want him to get better, like he helped me get better."
"I'm glad you had him," Remus said with a sad smile. After a moment of silence, he went on in a softer voice, leaning forward a little so Harry could see him better. "He'll wake up soon, I'm sure. Believe it or not, I think this was a good sign. He's fighting inside his mind; wrestling with his memories; fixing what was broken. It hurts him, but he's still fighting. He's tough, Harry. He'll make it and one day, he'll wake up and you'll be next to him."
"I hope so," Harry whispered. He stared at the pattern of patches and stains and mended spots on Remus' robe and listened to the Professor's steady heartbeat. He wasn't tired in the least after that nice nap he'd gotten with Remus, but he wasn't bored either. He was just glad that the Professor was okay now. The boy counted heartbeats, and squeezed the man's hand every now and then, just to remind him that he was here.
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP
Only a few moments had passed, and Remus's heart was finally slowing its adrenaline-fueled gallop. He suddenly looked up as Minerva McGonegall, now Headmistress of Hogwarts Schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry, swept into the Infirmary. Her arm was in a sling and her severe face looked exhausted to the point that Remus wanted to tell her to sit down, and call for chamomile tea. Poppy and Sirius looked up as well from their little discussion; the Animagus grinning unapologetically, and the medi-witch losing her scolding frown simply to sigh disapprovingly. Remus hid his own smile. Minerva probably disregarded advice about rest to go take care of things. The Ministry and the Board of Governors was going to get involved sooner rather than later in order to get everything in place for the new school year. It was just lucky that all this happened in summer.
Remus glanced over at Harry, who was still awake, but lost in his own little world, curled up against his father, not noticing Minerva's entrance. Getting up, the werewolf walked over to the new Headmistress, who had joined Madam Pomfrey and Sirius Black.
"We all need to have a discussion," Minerva began without preamble. "Your office, Poppy?"
"Of course," the medi-witch murmured. "Hold on while I reset these monitoring wards …" Leaving Poppy to hurry over to Severus' bed, Remus and Sirius just glanced at each other before they silently followed Minerva into Madam Pomfrey's office.
Once Poppy joined them, Minerva spelled the door shut and sat in one of the comfy chairs with a grateful sigh. Poppy sat behind her desk, and Remus and Sirius found seats as well. Sirius grumbled about his, and without a word, the werewolf transfigured the man's chair to one more suiting his taste. When the animagus looked over at him in surprise, Remus smiled and winked at his old friend.
"Alright, let me get my bearings," Minerva sighed, closing her eyes briefly and massaging the back of her neck with her good hand. "Ye would nae believe the mornin' I've had," she moaned, her Scottish brogue pronounced and rich.
"I told you to wait another day or two before running about like this, Minnie," Poppy scolded. "Worty? Would you bring a tea-tray to my office if you please?" There was a pop about two seconds after her request, and an eager young elf appeared in a clean tea-towel, carrying a large wooden tray with enough tea-things for all four of them, and two teapots.
"Worty be's bringing black tea and Chamomilly tea, Missie Poppy Ma'am," the elf explained as he carefully set the tray down. "You's all be careful," he warned, wagging a skinny finger at them. "Tea's very, very hot, and biscuits be's fresh, they are."
"Thank you, Worty," Poppy smiled warmly. "It all looks lovely. We'll let you know if we need anything else."
Beaming, the house elf vanished with a pop, and the four of them took a few minutes to get some tea. Minerva was exceedingly grateful for the chamomile tea, and poured herself a cup with just a bit of honey. Sirius slurped his, as noisily as ever, and commented casually that it was the first time in over seven years he'd had tea. Remus winced and wondered why Sirius had been too busy to stock his cabin with tea if he'd had time to get all the other food.
"Right then; first things first," Minerva said briskly, the chamomile tea seeming to invigorate her, rather than relax her. Poppy and Remus exchanged amused glances since Minerva was busy glaring sternly at Sirius Black. "First of all, we'd better hear your full story, Mr. Black. And leave nothing out. You seem trustworthy, as actions speak louder than words, but we only heard the quick version from Mr. Lupin."
Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise and gulped down the rest of his scalding tea before he set the cup back on the desk. "What do you want to know? I doubt describing seven years in solitary confinement in the world's worst prison, surrounded by maniacs and soul-sucking monsters is going to be very helpful."
"Just the facts, Black," Minerva replied sternly. "Tell us about the Potters, the secret-keeper business, your incarceration, your escape, what you've been doing while you've been free, what you mean to do, that sort of thing."
Sirius cleared his throat and started talking. Sometimes he got up to pace, sometimes he sat and clenched his fists in his lap so hard he trembled. Once he got up and went to the window, wringing his hands and muttering to himself as he described Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and his subsequent imprisonment. Minerva was as relentless as Alastor Moody, and Remus watched Madam Pomfrey cast more than a few worried looks at both the new Headmistress and the former Marauder. Sirius talked about the happy Potter family, and even recalled a few times when James got drunk with the Marauders and seemed on the verge of telling them something, but never got around to it. He wondered aloud whether James was going to tell them about Harry's true father. He talked about going into hiding and being the secret-keeper for almost a year before he convinced James to switch over to Peter, the little traitor. Less than a month later, James and Lily were dead, Voldemort was gone, and Sirius arrived at the house to find Dumbledore and Snape bickering over something. They were supposed to meet him at whatever safe house there was going to be, and Hagrid demanded to take Harry until Dumbledore was done with Snape. Sirius trusted Hagrid and Dumbledore and went off to find Peter. Their confrontation in the street caused Remus' wolf to snarl furiously within him, and he had to close his eyes to contain it. He had already heard this story, but it somehow meant more now, with the Headmistress of Hogwarts and its resident medi-witch listening solemnly. Sirius spoke of his escape, how new hope and purpose were given to him thanks to Remus' unexpected visit, and how he swam across the icy waters as Padfoot. As he described finding Harry and the deplorable conditions he found the boy in, Poppy actually cried. Minerva looked murderous, and Remus quieted his wolf again. There was no way they were putting Harry back with those monsters. No way at all.
The silence following Sirius' story was tense and sad, but eventually, the atmosphere relaxed. Sirius gulped another cup of tea to soothe his sore throat from talking for so long.
"It all makes sense," Minerva said firmly. "But now there's the issue of getting your name cleared."
"After all this time, it won't be easy," Sirius warned her. "Plus, I've escaped and I'm an illegal Animagus. They'll want to try me for that too, Ministry blood-suckers."
"The only thing to be done is to find Pettigrew," Remus said unexpectedly. He was a little surprised at the skeptical looks thrown his way. "Sirius and I could do it," he explained reasonably. "We Marauders swore a binding oath to one another. If we reactivate it, we could use the bond to find him."
"It would be tricky," Sirius warned him. "I'm not even sure if it could find him in his Animagus form."
"That's why you'll be in your animagus form when we do the spell," Remus smiled. He sighed at the skeptical looks on his companions' faces. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I've been hunting dark creatures, breaking up dark magic crime rings, and researching this sort of thing ever since I graduated from Hogwarts! It will be fine, trust me. Plus, it's the only reliable way I can think of to track him down. There must be billions of rats in Great Britain alone, and who's to know if he fled to the continent?"
"He'd stay close," Sirius said firmly. "Pete was always lazy. He'll stick around nearby to hear the news, and I doubt he's living in a sewer somewhere. My money's on old Wormtail making a cozy home in the wainscot of some ex-Death Eater's house where he can sneak into the kitchens anytime and hear talk of the good old days and all that."
"He'll have heard of your escape then," Poppy warned them. "He'll be alert."
Sirius barked out a harsh laugh. "Pettigrew may have been alerted, but he's no match for me and Remus both. He fooled me once; he won't do that again."
"And when you catch him, what then?" Minerva demanded. "It's not as if you can just stroll into the Ministry with a rat, Sirius."
"I'll be the one turning him in to the Ministry," Remus said calmly.
"And then?"
"Then we hope Amelia Bones is more competent than Bartimius Crouch was," Sirius growled darkly. "I'm thinking she is, right?" His scowl cleared and he looked thoughtful. "I knew the Bones' back in the war. Good, solid family."
"Amelia Bones is an excellent Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Minerva agreed. "I could put a few good words in as well."
"We all should," Poppy spoke up. "This is the time for us to bombard the Ministry with pleas to have a fair trial this time."
"And I'll send a message with the rat," Sirius added, his blue eyes sparking with mischief. "I'll tell them I'll show up if they mean to have a public trial."
Remus sucked in a sharp breath. "You'd turn yourself in?" he demanded. "Are you mad?"
"No more mad than usual, Moony," Sirius grinned a bit crazily. "Listen, if I tell them I'll turn myself in for a fair trial, that'll give them incentive to actually have a trial, yeah? Everybody who's anybody knows most of the accused Death Eaters didn't get a fair trial. Plus, I don't have a Dark Mark, so that's another plus in my favour. Anybody want to bet old Wormtail's got one?"
"He always wore long sleeves," Remus mused. "He probably did. We had no reason to suspect him, after all. No reason to ask to see his arm."
"I wish Severus were awake," Minerva sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. "Proper scheming like this requires a Slytherin."
Sirius glanced uneasily at the shut door. "Earlier, he was a bit …" he trailed off.
Minerva cracked open an eye and peered at the medi-witch. "How is he doing, Poppy?"
"I have no idea," Madam Pomfrey said helplessly. "I truly would prefer to move him to St. Mungo's where they can treat him better, but Harry's presence soothes him. I'd rather not have that child staying in the public hospital. Severus absorbed all of his missing memories at once and I have no idea what It's done to his mind. I know that simply re-absorbing a removed memory from a pensieve is a bit uncomfortable. I can't imagine suddenly regaining the amount of memories Severus surely lost, and add to that the fact that he must now sift the new memories against the false ones that were implanted …"
"Poor chap," Sirius mumbled with genuine compassion. "You think he'll ever wake up?"
Poppy shook her head helplessly. "I know of no-one skilled enough in the Mind Arts to consult, and I have no idea what is going on in his brain right now. Scans indicate that he is awake, judging from the amount of brain activity going on, but we know he's not awake. I would say Severus is trapped in his head right now, reorganizing, analyzing, and absorbing all the new information. Until he sorts it all out, he'll be unconscious, I expect."
"What if he wakes up with his mind all scrambled and broken?" Sirius asked a little timidly. "What … what'll be done about Harry?"
Minerva and Poppy were silent. Remus and Sirius glanced desperately at one another. Merlin knows the two of them would good-naturedly fight over the honour of raising the child, but with Sirius a fugitive from Azkaban and Remus a werewolf, neither would ever be approved for adoption.
"That's a pretty pickle, isn't it?" Minerva finally sighed. "I suppose I'd best contact the Weasleys. They can care for Harry for a while, anyway …"
"Why can't we just keep him here, on the sly?" Sirius asked desperately. "If he goes to the Weasleys I won't be able to visit him!"
"With Albus gone, and presumed dead, we'll have to go through his things and that includes any guardianships he had. Far as I know, (and hope) Harry was the only one. With his relatives out of the question on account of the abuse, his adoption will basically be up for grabs to anyone related to him, however distantly."
"Like the Malfoys," Black snarled as if the name was a curse.
"The quicker we find guardians, even temporary ones, the better we can find someone who can care for Harry permanently. He needs blood wards to keep him safe, so we'd need someone related to him …"
"Someone like his dad," Sirius muttered, folding his arms and sighing heavily. "We can't just set up blood wards here?"
"Severus needs to go to St. Mungo's," Minerva objected severely. "Poppy has done all she can for him here."
"Why can't Harry stay with Augusta Longbottom?" Remus asked cautiously, having kept quiet for a while. "I mean, her daughter-in-law was Harry's godmother, and I'm sure she takes her grandson to visit his parents in the Janus Thickey Ward … Harry could go along and visit his father, at least until Severus wakes up and can take care of him."
"I'll talk to Augusta," Minerva sighed. She put her cup and saucer down and rubbed her head. "Another thing on my to-do list. I suppose I'd best go write some letters."
"Not now, you're not," Poppy said firmly. "You're going to get some rest. You can floo call or owl them tomorrow. Right now, you've got a bed calling your name."
Minerva got up without too much grumbling, though she insisted on returning to her own quarters to rest. Poppy in turn insisted on escorting her up to her chambers in Gryffindor Tower, leaving the two Marauders alone in the Infirmary.
HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP