Something was wrong with Harry Potter.

Remus just… couldn't remember what it was. Sometimes he tried to focus on what was wrong, to find the origin of that feeling, but the memories always slipped away like sand through his fingers.

Still, he knew something was wrong.

Remus groaned as he sat up on the sofa where he had slept last night. He really shouldn't have slept there, but he was in too much pain to move to his bed. After the two beatings he'd received last night, combined with his usual monthly transformation, he was far more sore than he'd ever been. He opened the jar of burn cream and began smearing it on the various blisters that covered his body. Remus couldn't remember the fight, but the damage he'd suffered from it had been plainly visible all over his body. He was honestly surprised by the ruthlessness with which Peter had been able to fight him. Even if he was the one who betrayed the Order to Voldemort, he didn't expect Wormtail to be capable of using a spell barrage, let alone one that consisted of blasting curses.

Remus did his best to stretch without putting any undue stress on the regrown skin. He looked around the flat, trying to ignore how sparse the furnishings were. It was certainly a step down from his quarters at Hogwarts, but that bridge had been burned.

No, he was going to have to lay low for a while. Being the werewolf who nearly attacked the Minister was not going to make his life any easier. As it was, he'd probably have to abandon the flat once Regulation and Control tracked him down. He had a backup identity prepared in case something like this ever happened, but he doubted it would be good long. R&C kept tabs on Muggle identities, and flagged those who had regular illnesses around the full moon. As "magical creatures", werewolves weren't allowed to work in the muggle world, and doing so was considered a capital offence.

Remus sighed as he poured himself some coffee. "Just like old times…"

He chugged the coffee and put the mug down on the counter. He really did prefer tea, but coffee worked wonders after a transformation.

Still, at least he had accomplished his goal for the year. It took months of hard work and driving himself to the point of exhaustion, but Peter Pettigrew had been caught and Sirius was due to be tried. It was long overdue, but justice would finally be served.

That alone was worth sacrificing his career for.

Perhaps Remus could come back in a few years when the heat had died down and spend some much overdue time with Sirius. These last thirteen years of loneliness had not been easy, so it would be nice to have some company. Perhaps he could even spend some time with Harry…

Harry.

Remus once again racked his brain, trying to find the source of that discomfort whenever he thought of Harry. Was it the story he'd told when his patronus backfired — how he tried using the memory about the death of his aunt? That felt like it was on the right track, but there was more to it. Something was missing…

Remus sat down and closed his eyes, trying to enter a meditative trance. He focused on that memory and kept trying to connect it to anything else he may have forgotten, but he was still coming up blank. It was almost like…

Like he'd been obliviated.

But that couldn't be right. Even botched obliviations weren't supposed to leave hunches and impulses behind. All the stories of botched obliviations dealt with consequences like absentmindedness or removing excess memories, not perfectly reading a memory but leaving some subconscious imprint of it behind.

Remus sighed. He didn't know enough about mind magic to say if that was even possible. No matter how he looked at it, he needed help. He knew it was possible for a moderately skilled legilimens to detect obliviations, botched or not, but the mind of a werewolf was notably… inhospitable to any attempt at legilimency. He doubted that even Dumbledore would be willing to brave the depths of his mind.

Of course, Dumbldore should be kept in the loop regardless. Perhaps he could run his own little investigation into who was obliviating people around Hogwarts, and more importantly, why.

A quick search around the flat turned up a pen and a few sheets of loose paper. Remus quickly scrawled out a note to Dumbledore, spelling out his concerns and theories, then pulled out a second sheet of paper and wrote out an additional message.

Remus Lupin's P.O. Box is 273, Cardiff, CF10.

He then pulled out his wand and cast several charms on the second piece of paper so that it would combust after it was read once. A fidelius wouldn't be much good if that information got spread around, after all.

He stuck both pieces of paper in an envelope and wrote down the forwarding address that was used to send mundane mail to Hogwarts. He'd mail the letter in a few days when he could go outside without looking like such a mess. Also, he was pretty sure he needed to get stamps.

Remus unconsciously rubbed where the break in his right forearm had been. Even after being healed it was still sore.

He mulled over the events of the previous night. It did seem rather… convenient that his memory loss only covered the events of whatever went down in the Shack, and nothing else from that day. That lent further proof to his obliviation theory. There were greater forces at work here, and somehow, Harry was in the middle of it.

Remus pulled out another sheet of paper and began writing a letter to Harry. Even if Harry was involved or, gods forbid, responsible for everything that went down, Remus owed it to Lily and James to reach out for him and offer some form of support. A little support could go a long way.

Something was wrong with Harry Potter.

That was all Albus could think about as he sat in his office, watching the students through his windows as they made their way to the Hogwarts Express.

It had been hard, maintaining a calm façade for the past year, but now that he was alone and the castle was nearly empty, he let his guard drop for the first time in months.

It all began with the fiasco in the Chamber of Secrets one year ago. Harry was left alone in the Central Chamber with Miss Weasley and the culprit — a culprit who could only be Voldemort.

Harry and Miss Weasley were found alone in the Chamber, both unconscious, both without memories of what had happened, and there were signs of a ritual circle that had been scoured with basilisk venom. The culprit had vanished without a trace.

Albus opened a discreet panel on the wall and pulled out his attempt at recreating the circle based on the few parts that were still legible. It had taken a lot of work, but he believed he had finally pieced together what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, as much as he wished he hadn't.

Harry Potter had been possessed.

It wasn't a convenient truth, but Albus couldn't afford to look away.

Somehow, Harry had been possessed by the spirit of Lady Voldemort.

It explained so much about the events of that year. She had snuck in somehow, and was repeatedly hijacking Ginevra's body throughout the year to spread fear. That was why Miss Weasley's memories had been erased at so many points — to destroy what little evidence would have remained of those possessions.

He could only speculate about what actually happened in the Chamber, but his best conjecture was that Voldemort offered Harry an ultimatum. She knew from the previous year that she couldn't harm Harry, but she was also holding Miss Weasley's body hostage. They would have been left at an impasse. Neither could harm the other.

Voldemort must have offered a deal — she'd let Miss Weasley go if Harry offered his body to her. If Harry had offered his consent to such a possession… then the protection against Voldemort might not have worked.

It also explained why Harry couldn't remember the events of the Chamber despite not being obliviated. Voldemort had merely occluded them. It also explained Harry's skyrocketing grades, quick mastery of occlumency, and unexplained ability to perform alchemy. Kingsley had spoken with Albus afterwards, and Harry had defended Cornelius from Remus's wolf with some very impressive displays of geomantic alchemy.

It was obvious, at times. Tamelyn had always been a good actor, but he was extremely familiar with her demeanour, and it clearly bled through at times. When Cornelius was persuaded to give Sirius a trial, he didn't see Harry Potter at work. No, all he could see was Tamelyn Riddle putting her usual charms to work. Everything from the way she spoke to the way she smiled to the look in her eyes was reflected perfectly in how Harry had acted that evening.

It galled Albus that he couldn't act on his suspicions, but Voldemort was not a force to be underestimated. She spearheaded an entire war effort for years, and was only stopped by nothing short of a miracle.

No, Albus couldn't afford to act. Even if he was right and if he was able to overpower Voldemort, there was no good way to spin him attacking a public figure like Harry Potter. Tamelyn had always been very good at controlling the narrative.

And yet… there were still things that didn't make sense. There were still whispers about a malevolent spirit roaming Albania. That hinted that perhaps Voldemort was still active there in some capacity, but it was also possible that the rumours had merely persisted after Voldemort's departure.

Then there was the rescue of Sirius Black, which stood out as particularly odd to him, as it seemed to fly in the face of everything he knew about Voldemort. If not for Remus having his own evidence about Sirius's innocence, then Albus would have thought that Sirius was truly guilty and that this was Voldemort attempting to free one of her servants. Yet Sirius did indeed seem to be innocent, leaving Albus at a loss for why Voldemort decided to free him. Perhaps she wanted some degree of favour or leverage from one of the sole surviving members of the once illustrious Black family? The Black vaults were still one of the wealthiest in Britain, and their library held knowledge that rivalled that of Hogwarts's own library.

And moreover… Sirius was Harry's godfather. He could challenge the Dursleys for custody over Harry, eliminating the blood wards that would be keeping her from having complete control over him. That alone would be reason enough for her to seek Sirius's freedom.

It was just another thing to add to the list of contradictions in Harry's behaviour. Voldemort was not one to care about others, yet Harry had rescued Sirius, someone who had rejected her doctrine wholeheartedly. Voldemort was not one to risk herself, yet Harry had charged into the Forbidden Forest with characteristic recklessness that not even Voldemort could fake. It defied his understanding of possession, yet somehow, it seemed that Harry was still active, and possibly fighting back against Voldemort. Knowing that helped to stay his hand whenever Albus got the urge to act.

Albus didn't want to risk interfering with the prophecy, if this was how it was supposed to play out. While his own opinion on the field of Divination was rather low, even he knew better than to mess with a prophecy.

There were several key rules to the way prophecies behaved. The two most important ones were that prophecies always came true, and that prophecies never react well to any attempt at interference. Anyone who tried to make a prophecy turn out in their favour was guaranteed to have that effort backfire.

He hated even thinking about it, but it was a shame that Severus had rescued Harry from the dementors. It would have fulfilled the very specific wording of the prophecy, one of the few things he could think of that would fit both conditions allowing Voldemort's defeat. Only one can be the other's undoing…

Albus didn't know if he should be grateful for the prophecy or cursing its existence. It could be fulfilled in a way that allowed for Voldemort's defeat, but that was far from the only way it could turn out.

Albus prayed it wouldn't come to that.

He put the reconstructed ritual diagram back into the concealed compartment and sat down at his desk. It had taken two months to get the paperwork sorted out, but Sirius was finally due to get his trial in a few weeks. Albus was hardly going to pass up an opportunity to distract himself from the imminent threat of Voldemort.

Something was wrong with Harry Potter.

Ron had noticed it throughout the year, but it really came to a head during spring.

Harry was working himself too hard.

Ron couldn't blame him. Harry spent most of the year thinking that Black was out to kill him, which couldn't be good for his stress levels. Even if Black was innocent, which seemed likely based on the way the pre-trial was proceeding, then Harry still spent the better part of a year worried about it.

That sort of stress was not good for a person. Harry had been dark and broody all year, and had thrown himself into his studies with wild abandon. He'd pushed most of his already small friend group away in the process. Ron was quite certain that Harry would have isolated himself completely if not for Ron's insistence on hanging out.

He'd done his best to keep the peace between Harry and Hermione, but… Ron was worried that might be a lost cause at this point. The two of them had butt heads so many times over this past year, and it only happened more frequently with time.

It was actually ironic that Harry had pushed Hermione away, though. The way Harry had been diving into his studies with reckless abandon, getting testy with people who interrupted him, forcing himself into isolation… Well, those were all the same things Hermione did. Funny how the more alike those two became, the more they pushed each other apart.

Ron really hoped he wouldn't be caught between them again this year. Hell, he was ready to lock them in a room until they either came to an arrangement or killed each other.

…Actually, that would probably be a bad idea. Knowing both of them, they probably would kill each other.

Ron mentally filed that as a "last resort".

He glanced around the compartment they were sharing on the Hogwarts Express. Harry was meditating, something to do with mind arts, and Hermione was holding up a book that was perfectly blocking her view of Harry.

Ron desperately hoped that next year would be normal and low-key. After this year, it was clear that they all needed it.

And if either one of them stepped out of line, then Ron was prepared to take them to task over it.

Hopefully, that wouldn't happen.

Something was wrong with Harry Potter.

Hermione had known it from the moment she saw him after she was unpetrified. There was something off about him, flashes in his demeanour that belied something else.

She knew that Harry wasn't obliviated in the Chamber, but that he still couldn't remember what happened. The fact that everyone examining him shrugged it off as a mystery perfectly showcased the ignorance of wizards on mundane fronts. Muggles experienced memory loss too, yet no mages seemed inclined to thoroughly examine that line of inquiry.

It made sense, though. The mind wasn't made to handle extreme trauma, and it would block out memories of such events. Harry didn't know what happened in the Chamber because whatever had happened was too much for him to cope with. It also explained her other theory about Harry…

There were moments where Harry was acting like a different person. She'd been watching him, and sometimes his body language changed completely. It became more effeminate and his behaviour became more cruel. She'd watched him for a while and cross referenced with a copy of the DSM-III that she'd had her parents send her, and now she was certain.

Harry had Dissociative Identity Disorder, or as most people knew it, Multiple Personality.

It explained the memory loss, the sudden and inexplicable behavioural changes, and the bouts of sociopathy.

Hermione was honestly having doubts about being friends with Harry anymore. She didn't want to discriminate against Harry for this, but it was hard to deny the proof. Being his friend had always been dangerous, as the boy was a veritable trouble magnet, but Harry himself had never been dangerous before. But now…

Whatever this alternate personality was, they'd chewed her out multiple times, lashed out at her, and just after she'd heard Trelawney's prophecy, they'd knocked her out without even looking at her. If she'd been in a slightly more precarious position, she could have been seriously hurt, and they didn't even seem to care!

What really infuriated her, though, was Dumbledore's reaction to this. She brought all of her evidence to him, and he had the audacity to dismiss her outright! He even told her that "Mages don't suffer from mental disorders like muggles do", which was just such horseshit! One of the Slytherin girls in their year was clearly autistic, which disproved that theory outright!

Dumbledore was just the same as most mages. Sure, he believed that muggles should have rights and not be abused, but he didn't respect muggles. He thought that muggles not knowing about magic meant that their entire worldview was somehow flawed. For all that he claimed to be progressive, he was just like the rest of the purebloods.

Yes, magic could do so many things, even things that science thought impossible, yet science and industry had led muggles to accomplishments that mages could only dream of. If mages wanted to stick their heads in the sand and ignore the accomplishments of muggles, then that was on them.

Hermione placed her school trunk on the floor of her bedroom, pulled a small key out of the pocket of her jeans, and used it to open one of the trunk's alternate compartments. She stepped down the stairs until she reached the private study she'd created for herself. It wasn't anything too impressive — the room was only big enough to hold a desk and a small bookcase, but it was private.

And more importantly, it was secure.

Hermione used a separate key to open a magically locked hidden drawer built into the desk, and then pulled out a notebook. The notebook was an expensive purchase, one that would only open to her blood, and written within that book was the only copy of the prophecy that Trelaney gave her.

Hermione hadn't paid divination much mind before, but that might change now. She had an actual prophecy on her hands, and knowledge like that was powerful.

She'd discreetly scoured the library for anything on prophecies, and she had eventually stumbled on several key rules.

Some of them were obvious. "Prophecies always come true" was self-explanatory. Prophecies wouldn't have any real power if only some of them came true.

"Prophecies punish those who try to abuse them" was also obvious. Anyone familiar with muggle literature could see that as a recurring theme. Everything from the prophecy in Oedipus that came true because his parents tried to subvert it, to the prophecy in Macbeth, that warped the titular character's motivations into a mad lust for power until he was slain by the very thing the prophecy said would be his downfall.

The point after that was the one that gave Hermione pause, though.

"The telling of a prophecy is only heard by those with the power to make its events come to pass."

Hermione had heard Trelawney's prophecy, which meant that somehow, the events it described hinged on her. Sure, she couldn't use the knowledge of the prophecy to her own benefit, but knowledge was power, and Hermione wasn't one to pass up knowledge like that.

She'd been trying to interpret the vague wording of the prophecy, to learn what it was trying to tell her, yet it never used any names, only vague titles.

Hermione didn't know what most of this stuff was supposed to mean. She had no idea who "Death's Bane" was, or how it related to the "crumbling of the Veil". The last line was especially odd, though. It felt like it had a bizarrely Abrahamic theme, which was odd for something about the widely Pagan magical world. Hermione unconsciously spoke the final line aloud as she read over it once again.

"And the blighted shall be cleansed by the Harbinger of Angels."

I sigh and slam the book I was reading closed. The tome is so… painfully dry, not that I'd ever admit it to Harry after he refused to read it on that very basis. Boring or not, blood alchemy is important to recreating my body, and, as much as it pains me to admit it, I'm likely to need Harry's help.

I've needed things before. I've needed food, shelter, knowledge, power, and other such essentials. But I've always been able to take those things by force if they aren't given to me outright. For the first time, though, I find myself needing the trust of another person.

I've known this fact for a long time, but I still have trouble being comfortable with the idea. Trust has always seemed like such a tenuous thing, easily betrayed and used against those who give it freely. It has always been easier to write it off altogether than risk any betrayal that might come with it.

And yet here I am, forced to trust regardless. If there are gods out there, they must be laughing at the irony.

I make a mental note to overthrow the gods if they exist. I'm certainly more deserving of the title than whatever might have it now.

But I digress… In truth, my situation could be much worse. If I'm to be forced to trust someone, then someone whom I'm sharing a mind and body with, someone who is so much like me, is the ideal candidate.

Harry is different from other people, in a way I've never been able to put my finger on. There's a vibrancy to him, a depth and complexity that's absent from the animalistic impulses that drive most of the human species. Yet despite that, he's superficially indistinguishable from the rest of the sheep. Perhaps that's why he's been able to go under the radar so effectively — Dumbledore had me pegged from the moment we met. Harry, though, avoided that sort of attention from Dumbledore until I became involved.

As inconvenient as this whole situation has been, there is quite the silver lining. Had Harry and I not been forced to work together, then I would have been ignorant of these hidden depths he has, oblivious to the fact that another person so similar to me exists.

It makes me feel… something. I've never felt anything like it before, and I really don't feel like sorting through it at the moment. I'll deal with all these new emotions one at a time, like a sensible person, until I can figure out how to properly label them.

I push those thoughts aside and shine the light of my wand — Harry's wand, technically — onto the page of the book. The filthy muggles are asleep, as is Harry, so I'm left to read for myself.

Blood alchemy is several orders of magnitude more complicated than the stuff we've been doing until now, but that just means we have no choice but to get better. Creating an entire body from scratch is a feat normally only done by the masters in the field, but I've never let that stop me before.

I created my first horcrux at sixteen. I made a pensieve design thousands of times more efficient than any existing model, and at a fraction of the size and weight. I figured out how to imbue a barely sentient soul shard with true sapience.

It's bizarre to think about that soul shard as being myself. I remember my own creation from an external perspective. I remember events that happened after my creation, even though I was sitting uselessly in a book at the time those memories were made. It's… odd to think about.

Waking up in the diary was one of the most disorienting things I'd ever experienced. Feeling the ink of young Ginny's quill scrawl onto my pages, feeling proper awareness after half a century of sleep… I barely managed to maintain my composure for those first few days before I finally got my bearings.

'Tam, are you still awake?'

Yeah, though I was about to head to sleep as well. Did I wake you?

'Not really sure. It's just odd being back here after so much time at Hogwarts. It always is.'

I blame this rickety bed for that. I'll have to work on my cushioning charms until I know they can last the night.

'We really should get some sleep, though. Vernon and Petunia are certain to pile on loads of chores tomorrow, since we just got back from Hogwarts.'

I still think it would be more effective to just kill them.

I feel Harry actually consider it for a moment, which is far more than he would have done a year ago.

'I still think I'll pass on that. Maybe next summer.'

I extinguish the wandlight and pull the covers over me.

Goodnight, Harry.

'Goodnight, Tam.'

If I have to trust anyone, then I'm glad it's him.

Because what I'm going to ask him to do for me requires a lot of trust.

A/N (Tendra): And here we have the interlude! While not much of import happens here, I did think it was a good idea to establish what's going on in the minds of the tertiary characters. Harry and Tam are very biased people, so I felt that it was necessary to establish what's going on outside of their POVs. It also helps to establish that they are not being as subtle as they think they are. I also thought it would be a good idea to have a Tam POV outside of a flashback, just so readers have a better idea of what she's thinking

Lupin wound up being way more badass in this fic than I expected him to be. I just kept writing him, and he became stronger and more skilled with time, hence why he has a P.O. box under fidelius. I don't feel like justifying how the logistics of that works, so y'all will just have to roll with me.

I finally get to reveal one of the lines of this fic's alternate prophecy, plus one of the lines of a whole new prophecy that will be very important down the line.

Divination is my favourite of the Wiccan Arts, so I always feel annoyed at the bad rep it gets in canon and — by extension — most fanfics. So, Prophecies always come true. This is not Dumbledore and Hermione being biased, this is an unbreakable rule of the setting. Nothing short of a literal divine intervention will keep the events of a prophecy from coming to pass in some form or another.

Next chapter will pick up in year 4.

E/N (Xgenje): "You can not see the night around you from your own light." As Ten said, they really are missing some crucial things that they can't see.

The P.O. Box obviously works because he let the post office workers at that building know the secret. Hopefully it's a low turnover job.

That prophecy line gives me chills tho. Can't wait to see the rest of it.