Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

27. Chapter 27: The Old Meddler

Rated T: This chapter contains some potentially disturbing bits. You know how Pettigrew the Death Eater lived with the Weasleys for years? He was a trusted pet who belonged to Percy, and then Ron, (and in POA, Ron is more freaked out by the fact that he had a wizard in his bed than that there was an animagus hiding at Hogwarts) That is just too creepy and disturbing to be innocent. Just saying, this chapter has a couple pages' worth of Scabbers' point of view and though it isn't graphic, it's obvious he's a pedophile. So don't read the final bit if this disturbs you. It starts with "Scabbers was a good rat".

(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 27: The Old Meddler

Severus stumbled out of his office fireplace, surprised that he lost his footing. It must be his exhaustion, he reasoned. Even that brief nap at the Weasleys' hadn't done much for it. The green flames disappeared when he was free and the fireplace shrank a bit as he left it. He did not usually use his office fireplace. It would ruin the creepy-dungeon aura of his office to have a warm fire burning in the grate, after all.

Severus dusted himself off distractedly and marched toward his lab, dreading what he would find. He hated it when he botched potions, especially if they were made with expensive or rare ingredients. Perhaps the frugal values of his childhood were still with him, since he hated waste of any kind. That was one reason all of his robes were black. They were usually cheapest. When he reached the door to the lab, he was surprised that it was closed. Hadn't it been open when Black kidnapped him? He frowned as he stepped in, wary and watchful. But nothing seemed out of place, except that the finished potions he had left on the worktable were gone and the cauldron of his precious Magical Core Replenisher was … under a stasis bubble.

Severus stared at it for several seconds before he slowly approached and wondered if he should risk a cancelling spell without collapsing in magical shock. He could finish his potion if it had been put under a stasis charm before the ten hours were up, otherwise, he would have to start over and he may as well just go home and sleep for a week to replenish his magical core that way instead. Who here at Hogwarts would have had the presence of mind to do something so … thoughtful? There was really only one suspect, since Minerva wasn't here at Hogwarts and even she likely wouldn't have thought to freeze his potion until he could get back to it. He wasn't sure how he felt about Dumbledore nosing around his office and private quarters while he was MIA. A month ago, he wouldn't have cared much, beyond being irritated. But he was always irritated. Now, he felt like snakes were crawling in his stomach. He had declared Dumbledore his enemy. Had he really done something so … Gryffindorishly stupid? Albus was no Slytherin, but it was very likely that he had warded his office. The Headmaster was probably on his way down right now. Should he go right home and ward his floo against the old man so he could rest? Or should he stay here and wait for the inevitable confrontation and get it over with?

He was still staring at his cauldron, wondering what to do, when he heard the soft sound of the office door clicking open. He spun around and fought the urge to draw his wand. Albus Dumbledore might be a manipulative, blind old man, but he was also the closest thing he had to a mentor, and a father. He wouldn't draw his wand on the Headmaster unless he had no choice. Right now, there was no reason to fear that Albus meant him any harm.

"My dear boy!" the Headmaster cried happily, glittering in his midnight blue robes, sprinkled with glowing shooting stars and leaping cows and crescent moons. "You've returned! And none the worse for wear, I see."

"You put my cauldron in stasis?" Severus demanded, watching the happy old man warily.

"I did, Severus, and you're welcome. I do hope I caught it in time. I believe it was about five hours after you'd disappeared. May I ask what pulled you away from your lab so suddenly?"

"Black; who else?" Severus retorted. "How did he get into Hogwarts?"

The Headmaster eyed him critically for several seconds before he spoke, his voice low and measured. "…Black kidnapped you?"

Severus sighed and went to the potions cupboard for a migraine draught. He hated repeating himself. But with Albus Dumbledore, he usually resigned himself to repeating things more than once. "Yes, Black kidnapped me, and he had Mr. Potter as well." He threw the old man a reproachful glare. "Or I suppose you knew that already, didn't you? I can't see why you didn't tell me, but that seems to be your modus operandi now, does it not?"

"Is Harry safe?" Dumbledore asked gently, ignoring the dig about his secrecy. "I can see you've returned alone …"

Severus didn't deign to answer. This was about Harry, not him. Of course it was about the boy. When was anything not about Harry bloody Potter? No inquiries as to his health, no asking what potion he just took, no concern that Black might very well have tortured him or found out that he really wasn't loyal to the Dark Lord after all … He swept past the Headmaster and returned to his chambers, his mind churning with resentment. Dumbledore really didn't care, did he? Severus wasn't sure that Black was the traitor they all thought he was, but right now, Dumbledore probably wouldn't care. As he'd expected, the old man followed him into his private sitting room. The elves must have realized he was back, because there was a fresh fire burning in the grate.

"Severus, I must know if Harry is alright," Dumbledore repeated in a grave tone. "You were both kidnapped by an escaped criminal who betrayed the boy's parents …"

"He is fine," Severus interrupted, not turning to face the Headmaster. He curled his hands into fists. "But I don't hear you asking me if I'm fine," he blurted out, wondering why he felt so bewildered and hurt. Maybe he was used to the old man's concern … and missed it. He plowed on mercilessly, aware of how bitter his tone was. "Black hated me all through school, tried to murder me in fifth year, and you don't care that he just kidnapped me out of your wards and held me hostage for ten hours."

"Of course I care, Severus," the Headmaster said gently. "But you seem well … and Harry is my immediate concern. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Black came and used a portkey to take me to a cabin on the old Potter lands," Severus snapped. He held up his wrist and showed the silver bracelet. "I cannot remove it."

"Hmm," Dumbledore took his hand and gently examined the silver links.

Severus sighed and reached up to rub his aching forehead. The potion helped, but all one could really do during a migraine like this was rest or take some Magical Core Replenisher.

"I appreciate you saving the potion, by the way," he muttered uncomfortably.

Albus smiled at him and pulled out his wand to cast something on the bracelet. "It wasn't a problem, my dear boy," he replied. "I'm glad I was able to catch it before it was ruined."

"The other potions?" Severus cleared his throat. "The ones for the … for Lupin, I mean."

"Poppy has them," the Headmaster said cheerfully. "She sent her thanks for them, and I know Remus appreciated them as well. There we are." The silver bracelet fell off Severus' wrist and into Dumbledore's wrinkled hand. He held it up and admired the workmanship. "Very pretty," he mused. "It does not look like a Black heirloom to me. Perhaps it was something belonging to the Potter family, since the cabin he took you to was on their land. How were you able to escape?"

"Black needed me to play doctor for Harry," Severus grumbled, rubbing his freed wrist gratefully. "He used the same portkey for the boy."

Dumbledore held up the silver links and arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Oh dear," he murmured.

"Idiot," Severus sneered. "Anyway, I doctored the boy, and then Black and I got into a fight. Harry fled, I left Black unconscious, and I followed Harry. He found the old Potter Manor. Or what was left of it."

"Wonderful," the Headmaster smiled, tucking the bracelet into his robes. "Where is Harry now?"

"Safe," Severus gritted out, challenging the old man with a glare that clearly said, Safe from you.

Dumbledore sighed sadly and shook his head. "Severus …"

"I suppose …" the Potions Master interrupted, struggling to control his temper. "You'll be wanting to return him to the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore did not reply and Severus turned on his heel to face the fireplace, folding his arms and staring down into the flames in order to bolster his occlumency shields around his bitter disappointment. For a few minutes, it had been just the way things had always been between them. He was reporting to Dumbledore while the old man smiled and helped him … Why wasn't Albus answering? He wasn't truly thinking of sending Harry back to those muggles, was he?

Severus turned and glared at the old man. "Well?" he demanded.

"If Black was able to circumvent the wards on Privet Drive, it would mean that the child may no longer be safe there," Dumbledore said slowly, stroking his beard. "But it will require some investigation." He paused. "I may have … misjudged the situation there."

Severus blinked, too surprised to speak. Albus Dumbledore? Actually admitting he was wrong about something?

"Harry's not going back," Severus clarified, just in case that message had not sunk in.

"Indeed; certainly not yet," Dumbledore said cautiously. His blue eyes turned shrewd and piercing. "Tell me, Severus: just what is it that forces you to go to such lengths for this child? I had anticipated, long ago, that I would be forced to handle you like a blast-ended skrewt when Harry came to Hogwarts for the first time. I have had barely three conversations with the child and I still do not understand. Do you not hate the name of Potter? Do you not resent the-boy-who-lived?"

Severus shook his head impatiently, ignoring the uncomfortable squirm in his gut that agreed with everything Dumbledore said. He was wondering many of those things himself. "What does it matter who he is or what his name is?" Severus snapped, choosing to go the easier route and not directly answer the questions. "He is a child who does not deserved to be treated like … like an animal. Or worse. Not very many people would starve a puppy in their care, nor beat it for innocent mistakes. The Dursleys do not deserve their nephew, and it wouldn't matter if he were a Potter or not. No human being should be subjected to torture like that … simply for existing."

"They are crude and rather vile people," Dumbledore agreed, looking both sad and angry. "I was forced to interview them a bit more … enthusiastically after Harry disappeared. For a moment, I feared they may have done something to the boy and were hiding him until he could recover enough to heal from … Well. Whatever it was that happened. I was grateful that they hadn't severely harmed him, but what I saw in their minds from years past was … disturbing enough."

"They are beasts," Severus muttered in disgust. "Their own boy has a slim chance of not becoming a criminal, but his parents deserve to be in prison for what they've done."

"So they do," Dumbledore murmured gravely. "But Severus … Blood protection is extremely powerful, and the closer the relation they are linked to, the better. Harry needs the protection from his Aunt because she is of his mother's blood. If we need to take measures to remove her husband from the picture, we may, as he seems to have perpetuated most of the …"

"Abuse, Albus," Severus sneered. "Say it. Why is it so difficult? But his Aunt also abuses him. He can't go back there under any circumstances. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "I do understand. But I did not leave Harry there in order for him to be hurt. How can you think that of me? I wish I could explain my reasoning to you."

"Try me, Albus. I'm not an idiot. I can understand you even when others cannot, occasionally."

"Harry needs normalcy. I agree that he cannot stay with people who routinely torture him … But you are not fit to raise Harry yourself, with all of your other responsibilities. I was surprised when you offered to keep him for a time, you know."

"I am still willing," the Potions Master insisted. "I am also willing to allow the Weasleys, or the Longbottoms, to take care of him. They at least will not abuse him."

"But they might spoil him, which is just as bad," Dumbledore pointed out, his voice soft. "Severus, I placed Harry with muggles as a way of helping him to grow up normally without his fame. The fact that he has been ill-treated is regrettable … but it has not affected him the way you think. I admit that I misjudged myself with Tom, but he was the one perpetuating abuse among his fellow orphans as a way of asserting control. You were always unhappy at home, because your parents were unhappy with one another. They took out their frustrations on you, and your own personality ensured that you became jaded, bitter, and callous. Harry is different."

"I know that," Severus snapped. "He stopped Black from killing his uncle for some unfathomable reason. But just because he is forgiving and not naturally callous means nothing. Adversity changes the best of us. Are you willing to leave a child in a situation that may very well break him?"

"That was a risk I undertook," the Headmaster said slowly. "My options were … to allow a wizarding family like the Longbottoms to take Harry in, and risk his arrogance and pride growing uncontrollably because of an event he does not remember and is lauded for … or to leave him to believe he is a muggle, with magic-hating muggles, and allow him to struggle, to grow, and to blossom into the fine young boy he already is becoming. Adversity makes many stronger."

Severus suddenly growled. "Harry isn't one of your Order soldiers. He's a child. He does not need this sort of training or whatever you call it."

"Regardless of what you may think, Severus, Harry is a soldier." The old man gazed upon his Potions Master with grave sadness. "Regardless of his age, Harry has a unique destiny. The prophecy does not declare how old the child will be when he defeats Voldemort, only that he will be marked as equal … and he was marked at fifteen months of age. How can we predict how old the boy will be when Voldemort inevitably returns?"

"What makes you so certain the Dark Lord will come back at all?" Severus demanded, putting a slight emphasis on 'The Dark Lord' to remind Albus that although his mark may have faded, the consequences of saying or hearing the Dark Lord's chosen name were still in full effect. His arm twinged, though not as painfully as it had when the Dark Lord had still been … around.

"I have my ways," the old man replied cryptically.

Severus nodded. So they were back to running in circles. Why was the Headmaster here anyway? A tingle, like a warning of danger, crept down his spine.

"I'm supposed to blindly trust you, then?" Severus demanded. "I trusted you before, and you allowed an innocent child to be hurt. How can I trust anything you say now? You say Harry needs normalcy, but he is a wizard. He needs what is normal for a wizard child. His fame is … a problem, I grant you. But there are ways to protect him from that, and you know it. If you need someone to routinely chip the child's ego down, I volunteer. Heaven knows that humiliation and insults are some of my most potent skills."

"Severus, I simply did not want him even knowing about the magical world before all this happened," Dumbledore said gently. "It wasn't his time yet. It wasn't your time, either."

Again, a tingle raced up Severus' spine and he backed away cautiously, every instinct honed by war and danger screaming at him to draw his wand and defend himself. "So … what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded slowly.

"You declared me your enemy, Severus, over a boy you swore to hate," the Headmaster said in a soft, sad voice. "You do not see clearly now, nor will you ever, unless I help you."

Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing gaze over the tops of his spectacles and did not reply. Severus met the old man's eyes unflinchingly, feeling confused and trapped … He was completely unprepared for the tendrils of Legilimency that slithered gently into his mind. Severus slammed up his Occlumency shields in alarm, but it was too late. The Trojan horse was past the gates and the enemy was loose in the city of his mind. He cried out and fell to his knees, fighting Albus' intrusion with what strength he had. It was not overly painful the way the Dark Lord's intrusions had been, but in his weakened state, it was extremely uncomfortable. He was out of practice, he realized grimly as the old man pushed past his distractions with ease and ruthlessly dragged out his memories of Black, Harry, the fist fight, and the Weasleys' hospitality. But Albus was digging further, dragging out memories faster than Severus could stop them.

You will have me as an enemy …

I will fight you on this, Albus …

You have betrayed me …

I refuse to listen to you any longer …

Severus gasped as the old man carefully pulled out, taking care not to hurt him more than he had to. Albus Dumbledore gently took his hands and pulled him to sit on his sofa. Severus' brain was reeling and he was panting for air. His magic throbbed and his head swam. He was going to pass out.

"What … are you doing … to me?" he whispered faintly.

"Severus, my son," Albus whispered above him, sounding infinitely sad and regretful. Severus was too confused and disoriented to make sense of what just happened, and he simply sat. The old man reached out and gently cupped his chin in a soft, wrinkled hand, and Severus shivered and tried to pull away. There was something he needed to remember … something to do … His mind felt oddly empty.

"Severus," Albus spoke again. "Years ago you came to me for help. I helped you. But I was forced to remove memories from your mind in order to save your sanity. Tonight, you need my help again. You are confused, my dear boy. You must trust me to do what is best; not only for you, but for the boy as well. I cannot afford to have you as an enemy, Severus. I need you … I had not anticipated you becoming so troubled over this … and I am dreadfully sorry … but I am going to have to take him from you. It is for the best …"

"N-no …" Severus twitched and tried to pull away again. No, no, he gasped internally. Shake off the spell. Fight back. But his body would not obey. The lethargy coming over him was causing his eyes to drift shut and his mind to wander, frantically searching for a way to escape.

Don't take him from me, a distant voice was begging. Like a radio struggling to find a signal, static consumed the rest, but was that his own voice he heard?

He is mine, Albus! You can't do this to me! To Lily! After all we've suffered, why are you going to orphan him again? I'll fight you on this; mark my words. You will regret making me your enemy!

Severus, Severus; calm yourself. It is what Lily wanted. She never told you, and she meant it to remain that way.

She did tell me, Albus! She told me after she'd already married that … Potter!

Again, the memory faded out, but Severus grasped at it and clung to the strands of broken memory like a drowning man. Where had these thoughts, these words, come from? Where was this wrecked sitting room, hung with soft white drapes and filled with comfy, earth-toned furniture? Why was it in his head … but unfamiliar?

You demanded her as a reward for your faithfulness to him, Severus; do you expect me to believe that? Albus' voice faded in. Severus struggled to focus, even as he felt the old man himself in the real world, entering his mind and beginning to separate the memories he needed to suppress. Severus knew that just an Obliviate was too simple, leaving him with too large of a gap and causing brain problems. But mixing Obliviate with other memory charms would leave his mind mostly intact, while allowing his mind to function without conscious recalling of the details removed. It was enforced amnesia, and Severus had to admit that he wasn't sophisticated enough to replicate it, or escape it. He pulled what he could salvage around himself and struggled to find more of the odd memory that had invaded his mental space.

I did, but only to protect her! He heard himself say.

But what of her child? The old man replied gravely.

My child, Albus! And a product of the foulest sin known to man! But if I could have saved both, I would have tried …

Severus … I am dreadfully sorry … But I am afraid you need my help again.

No, Albus; let me go! Give me back my son …!

An explosion of pain seemed to go off behind Severus' eyes and he felt himself fall, tumbling into the dark with no clear notion of which way was up or down. He did not recall those memories, or the homey room in which the shouting match took place … but it was important, he knew it was. He grasped hold of a tendril, (Give me back my son …!) and held it to himself as he fell.

High above him, he could feel magic, as sharp and precise as a surgeon's scalpel, carefully carving away at his memories, skillfully trimming the colour before the substance. He was helpless to stop it, so instead, he clutched the mysterious memory thread to his chest and curled in on himself, wrapping Occlumency shields around the small bundle of himself like blankets and cloaking them with shadows. With that, he allowed his consciousness to drift and he succumbed to rest. He could not fight, and he would not remember, but perhaps when he awoke, he would find some other way to fight his master.

He hated how similar it felt to plotting against the Dark Lord. He had survived such a thing before, he assured himself. Now, he just had to apply that strength of mind to keeping himself sane and upright under Dumbledore's memory surgery.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Padfoot growled as he eyed the crooked house. His pup was here. He knew it. The house was familiar, but he couldn't recall when he had been here before. He could feel the crackle of strong wards a few inches in front of his nose and wondered if it would be stupid to transform into human and try to pull them down with sheer magical force. Oh, he knew it would be stupid. But should he do it now? Snivellous took his godson, and they were taking refuge with a magical family. He could smell children everywhere, mostly boys. The scents of wood smoke and home-cooking hung in the air, filling the dog with a sense of home and safety. Perhaps it would be prudent to wait for a day or two before raiding the home. Wards of this strength required constant fuelling. No one could maintain such powerful repelling and detection wards for long unless they used rune-stones, which were both expensive and specialized. Judging from the crooked house, sprawling vegetable garden, and the scents of multiple children, (he counted at least five separate scents) he didn't think this family had money of that kind.

Whining unhappily, Padfoot turned and slunk away. His cabin was calling. His anger had worn off ages ago, and now he was only baffled. Snivellus had let him live, and hadn't even called the aurors on him. Snivellus took Harry to a nice family with a lot of kids and fierce protections. He didn't even know what to think, except that Dumbledore must have a tight hold on the sneaky bastard's leash. At least, in a big family like that, Harry was dreadfully unlikely to be hurt or bullied by the likes of Snivelly.

It did not seem like he had been plodding through the forest for very long, but he was suddenly there. Padfoot raised his head and suspiciously eyed the man waiting for him in the cabin's clearing.

It was Moony.

"I'd appreciate talking to a man, Padfoot," he said quietly. He was always quiet. His Wolf, on the other hand, wasn't. The big black dog growled low and wondered whether he ought to attack this monster who'd hurt his godson. He was still angry with him, and might always be. He glared and growled, but he couldn't make up his mind.

"Pads," Moony pleaded. "I need to talk to you. Please."

Padfoot glared for another long while at the man's gold-flecked eyes glittering in the gloom. Finally, the dog silently shifted into the tall man dressed in a gray sweater and jeans. He knew he looked awful, with his messy, ratty hair, chopped crooked at his shoulders, scraggly beard that wasn't shaved properly, and rail-thin limbs stuffed into clothes made for a more robust body. He folded his arms self-consciously and glared at Moony, who looked positively awful himself. The Werewolf had aged too quickly in just seven years. His brown hair was going gray at the temples, his face was sunken with exhaustion and ghostly pale in the moonlight, and he could probably give Sirius competition in the thinness department. He looked ill, but it had only been a few days since the Full Moon.

"Well?" Sirius rasped. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry," Remus replied at once, his voice soft and hesitant. "Y-you know that it's my greatest nightmare, right? Infecting someone? For that someone to be our little Harry …"

"Stop whining," Sirius growled dangerously. "All your talking isn't changing anything for Harry. You hurt him, even though you swore to Prongs you never would. Just for that, I'll never forgive you, traitor."

Remus flinched violently and started to tremble. Sirius could see their conversation running around in circles all day long, but Remus was smarter than that. "Did you kidnap Snape?" he asked instead.

"So what if I did?" Sirius sneered, allowing the subject change. He was getting angry again just thinking of that stinking Slytherin punching him in the face and then breaking his wand and throwing it away like garbage. And the greasy bastard took his cloak, too.

"Where are they, Sirius?" Remus demanded, suddenly sounding stronger. Sirius had no doubt that the Werewolf was gripping his wand tightly now, and probably had been holding it since the beginning of this little chat. Though, to be fair, if Sirius had been a dangerous Death Eater, he probably would have escaped or attacked by now.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sirius' laugh was filled with bitterness and anger. It had taken him all day and half the night to track Snivellus down. Whatever those idiots said about dogs being able to track scents was stuff and nonsense. It had been a little easier to track Harry because he had been running barefoot through the forest for some reason; running from Snape, no doubt. But it still took forever.

"Yes, I would like to know," Remus huffed, clearly annoyed. "That's why I asked."

"Well, they're gone!" Sirius shouted. "And what do you care, anyway? You infected Harry, and what has Snape ever meant to you, huh?"

"I didn't mean to bite him!" Remus yelled, his unflappable calm snapping at last. "You more than anyone know that! I wasn't in my right mind and Harry was supposed to have been safe! I didn't know where he was living, I didn't know my wolf was going to break out of that cabin, and I didn't know it was possible to want to die so badly and know that it's impossible unless somebody helps me do it!"

Sirius stared for a long few seconds before he started chuckling bitterly. "I see. You want Snape to kill you. Assisted suicide, eh? Merlin knows the greasy bastard'll enjoy it immensely. You know what? Maybe I'll put our long-standing feud aside and help him do it!"

"Where are they?" Remus roared, his wand definitely out and pointed right at Sirius now. "Tell me this instant what you did with them!"

"They ran off, alright?" Sirius yelled back, not bothering to draw the spare wand from his pocket. Remus wouldn't curse him. The poor coward didn't have it in him. "Snivellus knocked me out and took Harry! Took him somewhere and reinforced the wards so not even Padfoot can get through without alerting them all! Are you happy now? Snivellus and your little wolf cub are safe from the big bad escaped convict and I'm going inside to get some sleep!"

He stomped past Moony and marched to the cabin. He wasn't surprised when Remus followed him. He puttered around the dark kitchen and lit the lamps, his temper subsiding into bone-deep weariness. He turned to look at his old friend. Moony looked like a ghost with the shadows flickering over his hollow face and Sirius was sure he didn't look much better.

"Tell me where they are," the Werewolf demanded quietly. "I know you know."

Sirius trembled slightly before he deflated. He slumped down in the chair he had transfigured for himself last night and rubbed his face. He was so tired and his mind wouldn't stop running in circles. He couldn't figure out the puzzle of Snape. He couldn't think straight. "Why, why, why?" ran on repeat in his brain.

"There's a house," Sirius muttered into his hands. "It's about … I dunno, fifteen miles that way as the crow flies, twenty miles if you take the road …" He looked up at his old friend and searched his unreadable face. "Moony," Sirius whispered desperately. "I swear I wasn't the Secret-Keeper. Not at the end. I convinced J-James to switch. To Peter."

Remus remained still and silent, his face expressionless.

"I went to Godric's Hollow that night b-because I could feel something … something was wrong," Sirius plowed on, his voice hitching with emotion. "H-Harry was crying … Dumbledore and Snape were there fighting about something … They didn't really notice me. I gave Harry to Hagrid and went to go find Wormtail. I thought … I thought he'd been captured … tortured …"

"Was he?" Remus demanded in a hoarse voice.

"His place was fine … No sign of struggle, nothing …" Sirius sighed and rubbed his aching temples. "Found the rat in London … cornered him and demanded to know what the hell was going on … he screamed at me that I betrayed James and Lily … then the street exploded. I barely put up a shield just in time, and I saw him transform. The rat slipped into the sewers and … Well, I guess you know the rest, eh?"

Remus slowly shook his head. "That's …" he murmured. "That's hard to believe."

"I know, right?" Sirius sneered sarcastically. "Easier to believe that I betrayed my best friend, his wife, and my godson to an evil wizard, than that we never really knew ol' Pete, isn't it?"

Remus didn't seem to have anything to say to that. He slowly moved to the chair Snivelly had used last night and gingerly sat down. The way he moved, the soft intakes of breath … Sirius knew when Remus was in pain.

"Rough Full Moon?" he asked gruffly, feeling annoyed at the concern that was natural to him.

Remus shook his head, looking exhausted, as if sitting down had drained the last of his fortitude. "No worse than normal," he said quietly.

"Then what gives, Moony? You're moving like you got torn apart last night."

"I just got into a bit of a … confrontation, a couple of days ago," Remus said carefully. "I'm recovering."

"Huh, you never struck me as a brawler, Remy," Sirius teased, feeling a smirk crawling onto his face. "Did you get on the wrong side of Snivelly's right hook? For somebody so skinny, he sure can pack a punch."

"… He punched you?!"

Sirius snickered. "Never pictured Snape fighting like a muggle brawler, did you?"

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really. I didn't get into a fight with him, exactly. I just … almost got … consumed by his magic. I told him … about what I did … the wolf, and Harry, you know … and his magic … it went crazy. If Poppy hadn't been there …"

Sirius was silent for several long minutes. "You know …" he finally said, his voice low and pensive. "Snape was acting … odd. Harry trusts him, for some bizarre reason … and he was all getting in my face because he thought I was gonna hurt him. I don't blame him for thinking I'd hurt Harry with everybody thinking I betrayed him and his family, but still … why should Snivellus care?"

"Severus has been caring for Harry since … since he was infected," Remus managed to choke out, his knuckles going white where he gripped his chair. "He wrote me two letters … asking for my help."

"He didn't even guess you were the one that bit him?"

Remus flinched and shook his head. His whole body was trembling slightly now.

"Huh; how about that?" Sirius snorted, his mind racing with confusion. "But still, why does he care so much? Is it some sort of deal he has going with Dumbledore, or what?"

"I … I don't know," Remus muttered, his hands twitching. "Severus was arrested by the DMLE for 'muggle terrorism'. He attacked Harry's relatives."

"So did I," Sirius growled, baring his teeth viciously. "Monsters. I nearly killed that fat oaf what calls himself Harry's uncle … The kid stopped me."

"Good," Remus snorted. "If you'd murdered that man, there would be no hope of clearing your name. For now, I don't think Dumbledore has publicized Harry's second disappearance, but I don't think he meant the first one to get out in the first place."

Sirius was silent, thinking of the newspaper and the crossword puzzle he had never finished. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the crumpled picture of Harry. The magic had worn off the photo and it no longer moved, but Harry was still staring out at him, his expression solemn and bleak.

"By the way, I still think you're a bastard and I haven't forgiven you," Sirius muttered without looking up.

"Good," Remus replied without hesitation. "Because I am a bastard … and I don't deserve to be forgiven."

"Goody for you," Sirius huffed. "So go turn yourself in at the Ministry. Maybe they'll let me attend your execution."

Remus took a deep breath. "But if I don't … I can help Harry," he said quietly. "It won't … make up for what I did. But … I know that I … when I was turned … I wouldn't have cared if it was Greyback or what … I just didn't want to be alone, month after month." He paused for a long time, collecting his thoughts or reminiscing on the past. Sirius mused that Harry wouldn't be alone next Full Moon. He would take go to his godson as Padfoot if it was the last thing he did. No way was he leaving Harry alone again.

"I don't know what to do, Padfoot," Remus whispered. "I am sorry … so sorry … It's tearing me apart. I want to die, but that … that's not right. I can't leave Harry like this. I won't abandon him. I need to tell him how sorry I am … and see what he wants. If he wants me dead, I'll go turn myself in. Unless you and Snape want to have a go at me. That's fine too. But if he wants me to help him, I should … shouldn't I?"

Sirius sighed and wondered why he was doing this. "Night's still young," he grunted. "Want to take a stroll?"

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Minerva McGonegall was frustrated, to say the least. The ministry would not allow her access to any of the Black addresses, and the goblin bankers merely quoted policy at her until she was ready to transfigure every one of the annoying little beasts into throw pillows. There was nothing else to do now, except go back to Hogwarts, chivvy Remus Lupin out of bed, and demand he accompany her to any of Black's favorite haunts. Every minute that ticked past could spell doom for Harry, if Lupin was wrong about Black wanting to protect the boy. Then there was the puzzle of Severus missing. She called a house elf as soon as she returned and asked if Professor Snape had returned yet. To her surprise, Binky informed her that Severus had returned less than an hour ago and was sleeping in his quarters. She wondered if he had simply returned and gone to sleep without reporting to Dumbledore. If so, that was rather odd.

Her head ached. It was too much to worry about right now.

Hogwarts was a welcome sight after such a long day, and she was certainly not in the mood to talk to Albus again. She climbed the dark stairs to her quarters, shut herself in, and sent him a brief note.

Cats on Privet Drive are useless. Intelligence suggests Black might not be out to kill Potter after all. But every minute lost is another minute the boy is in his hands. I will rest before I enlist Lupin in a new search.

P.S. Did you know what Lupin did last Full Moon? And I asked the house elves if Severus was back. Is he well?

She sent it off with a flourish and took a bath.

When she finished, and had ordered some supper and tea from the house elves, there was a reply waiting on her desk. Sighing, Minerva picked it up.

Thank you for your diligence, dear Minerva. Yes, I was aware that Lupin was the only one in the area on the night Harry was attacked. Severus is unhurt, but his ordeal has worn him out and I left him sleeping. Harry has been found and is with the Weasleys.

Rest well, Minerva.

Minerva huffed and threw the note into the fireplace. It was a relief to her that Harry was safe, but she had an uncanny feeling that something was wrong. But she wasn't about to argue with Albus. It was never any use.

She ate the supper that the House Elves brought and watched the clouds drift across the moon outside her window before transforming into a cat and curling up in front of the fire. As she grew older and stiffer, it became easier and simpler to remain a beast while she rested her aching bones. She dozed on her kitty-cushion, a tongue-in-cheek gift from Flitwick many years ago. She often refreshed the stuffing with pine needles and catnip, her favorite scents, and surrounded by the smell of the Highland mountains where she grew up, she fell into a deep, but troubled sleep. Tomorrow, she decided, her and Severus would corner Lupin and form a plan of attack. Just because Harry was found did not mean that he was safe, especially if Albus saw fit to snoop in her mind without her permission and take the child from those who wished to protect him.

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Albus Dumbledore sighed as he sat down in his office chair, watching his whirring contraptions and listening to the ticking of his clock. Even Fawkes was sleeping at this late hour, but he could not. His Pensieve rested on the desk before him, filled with silvery blue vapour. Severus' memories.

All of the memories Albus had taken from Severus over the years filled the basin like water, some darker and some lighter. Most of the memories he had most recently taken glowed with the light of peace and contentment, something he had never seen before in Severus Snape's mind. He wondered if it had been a good idea to take them after all. He had underestimated the power that the child had exerted over Severus. He had noticed his Professor becoming less cynical; less cruel and cutting and nasty. In fact, he could say that Severus had completely changed. He still had the capacity to be a royal git, but it had become tempered with fierce protectiveness and stubbornness on behalf of another. On behalf of a helpless child. If he weren't so worried about Severus' sanity and loyalties, he might have wept tears of joy.

Albus sighed and began to siphon the memories off into a large preserving bottle with his wand. There was no telling when he might need to review them himself … or perhaps give them back to Severus one day.

"I did what had to be done," the old man whispered to the dim office. The Phoenix in the corner stirred, but did not wake. Albus sighed and removed his spectacles before tiredly rubbing his eyes. If only Remus had not bitten Harry, he lamented. If only …

His plans had been completely derailed by that unexpected twist of fate. He could never have foreseen the consequences of such an event. Had it even sunk in yet? Harry Potter was a Werewolf. The boy destined to destroy Tom Riddle once and for all … For the first time, Albus Dumbledore began to doubt that he knew what he was doing at all. Had it been the right choice to take Severus' memories? For the sake of the young man's sanity, and for the sake of the Greater Good, he had done so. But had it been truly the right thing? Gazing at the glowing bottle of memories sitting before him, he admired the flashes of soft light shooting through the darker threads. Harry had become a bright spot in the Potions Master's mind. Albus had been rather stunned to find that the man had become so deeply connected to the boy in so short a time. Severus himself would have been shocked to see how deep the child's influence ran in his mind. But Albus realized that he shouldn't be surprised. He had even suspected that something like this may happen.

Blood was thicker than water, especially when that blood was as fraught with magic and destiny as Severus' and Harry's.

No one knew. The only ones who had known, were either dead or had been forced to forget, like Poppy and Severus. Albus was now the only one in possession of the secret. Severus had his own role to fulfill, and so did Harry; heaven help the poor child. He could not allow the knowledge to become known. Not even Severus could ever learn the truth. If that meant to allow Severus to wallow in misery and loneliness to protect both him and Harry, he would be forced to do it, however painful.

"I did what had to be done," Albus insisted again, as if that would make it better. "I am … sorry. But I had no choice. To protect you both," he whispered faintly, seeing in his mind's eye a young man in black seated under a tree and a smalle messy-haired boy sitting beside him. The old Headmaster bowed his head and shed a silent tear for his transgressions, against both Severus and Harry. It seemed no matter what he did to try and lighten the burden on Severus Snape's shoulders, life insisted on giving him another cross to bear.

He sighed and wiped his damp eyes before replacing his spectacles. He had plans to make, regardless of his regrets. Unfortunately for him, the war had never ended, and Severus and Harry were smack in the middle of it all.

In the morning, he would pay a visit to the Weasleys and have a long-overdue chat with young Mr. Potter. After, he would visit Severus and see how deep the damage from the memory charms lay. He might be forced to tweak his work a bit, as he had in the past. After he finished all of that, he would have to review his current plans and wonder what was to be done next, for true to what Severus, Poppy, and even Minerva had told him, he really couldn't leave the child with the Dursleys any longer. Every new interference of his appeared to be making things worse for the child, not better, and even their young son, Harry's cousin, had implored him to never let Harry come back. The Dursley boy had seemed truly afraid for his cousin, and Albus could not disregard such naked terror without good reason. His search must begin for another guardian for the child … and despite his unease about such a thing, Severus had noted a valid point: Albus Dumbledore was Harry's magical guardian. He was responsible for the boy. If this should come out to the public, his ability to help Harry would be greatly compromised. But how would he manage to balance the child's need for a normal life with his Lycanthropy?

That was a puzzle to be sorted out later.

"Merlin help us all," Albus whispered to the dark. He carefully removed a small necklace charm from his pocket and set it on the desk. From another pocket, he removed another bronze charm on a chain, taken from Severus while he slept off the memory-tampering.

A lily and a chrysanthemum. Fitting necklaces, he thought, for a Lily-flower and a boy around whom the miasma of death hovered like a cloud. The many petals of the chrysanthemum, symmetrical like a wheel, contrasted with the swooping beauty of the lily. Chrysanthemums were traditional flowers for graves, symbolizing grief and death. It was sadly appropriate for a boy who had known so much sorrow and pain, and had lost so much to the specter of death. Had Severus and Lily even known the significance? Likely, they did not. They had only been children. But their ingenuity at that age certainly surprised him, as it always had. They had successfully charmed communication objects and coded them to their own blood all while still in school, and certainly before their falling-out in fifth year. It was complicated magic, though crude. Harry had dropped the lily pendant in the Shrieking Shack and Albus had not returned it to the child, intrigued as he was by the soft glow of magic around it. He was rather glad he had not. When the small bronze lily had begun vibrating in his pocket the night before, he had known that Severus was alright and alive, for he would not be attempting to contact Harry if he were not. It was not a cry for help, but perhaps Severus was attempting to locate Harry at the time. Thanks to the blood protection on the two charms, Albus could not analyze them as thoroughly as he would have liked.

It spoke to Severus' state of mind that he would have entrusted something so precious as the memory of Lily Evans to her son. Again, the old man sighed with grief. How he longed to make Severus happy. How he would have loved to see Harry grow up as a normal, carefree boy. But that was not their destiny. In the end, they would see that he had helped them as much as he was able, making grief and pain easier to bear, cutting the chains that would hold them back. Much as he regretted it, he knew it was necessary to the Greater Good.

Perhaps summoned by the power of the old man's emotions, the Phoenix finally awoke and silently flew to the Headmaster's shoulder before beginning to warble a soft, comforting song. The old man stroked his dear feathered friend and allowed the tears of regret and sorrow to spill over, rolling into his snowy beard.

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Scabbers was a good rat. He had been a good pet for years. He always tried to be very good and stay out of everyone's way. It was hard, in such a big family, but he managed it somehow. It was a very good life, the life of a rat. There was nothing to do but eat, sleep, and explore if he got bored of eating and sleeping. Percy was a good master. He was considerate and thoughtful, and he never forgot about his beloved pet, Scabbers. The rat knew he was very lucky. He had not foreseen such a good life when he made the decision to lose his finger and go to ground to avoid the furious Dog. He had thought he would live a cursed existence in the sewers of a muggle city, surrounded by filthy rats that were ignorant of the world of wizards and concerned only with their next meal. But no, Merlin had smiled on him and his resourcefulness, granting him a home and a kind little master as a reward for his clever thinking. The little boy had picked him up, noticing that he was hurt, and took him home. How lucky he was that he happened to fall directly in the path of the kind child. He was wary at first, but when it became clear that he was welcome here and would be well-cared for, he settled down.

His little master gave him a name, a bed in a box of warm rags, and fed him from his hand scraps from every meal. The boy's mother was an excellent cook, but he had lived in terror those first few years, not even daring to shift in the dead of night for fear that wards would give him away. Would the child's parents notice that their boy's pet rat was unusual in any way? Would they attempt to cast magic on the rodent to determine if he was a threat to their children? When nothing happened, the rat could hardly believe his luck. He had fallen into an excellent home. It was also a perfect place to hide and to listen for the latest news, since his little master's father worked in the Ministry.

The rat sat curled up contentedly by the fire as the worried parents spoke of Death Eaters and Azkaban and the aftermath of the war, long after their children were abed. The rat crept unseen through the house while visitors chatted with the master or mistress of the house about happenings in the world, usually petty things, but important enough for a rat to mull over. A rat was not picky about the scraps they found. Scabbers hoarded knowledge like he hoarded bits of Molly Weasley's cheese.

When he heard news that upset him or was terribly important, he would shift into a man to think more clearly. Late at night when the Burrow slept, he would transform into his true form, if only for a few minutes. The world seemed bland and strange without the overwhelming sense of smell that a rat possessed, but the colours … oh Merlin, the first time he transformed in over three years, he wept tears of joy at seeing colours once again. He reached out to the moonbeams in delight, and ran his trembling fingers through the vibrant red hair of his little master before he forced himself to pull away. Little Percy really was a good master to a poor, defenseless rat. Scabbers shifted back into a rat, landing on the comforter and crawling next to the boy. The rat curled up in the crook of Percy's arm, absorbing his body heat and scent, and listening to his soft and steady heartbeat. Was it love he felt for this quiet, misfit Weasley who whispered secrets to him in the dead of night and cared for him with such devotion? How could a rat not love such a kind little boy?

Curled against his little master night after night, the rat thought, and planned, and plotted, though usually his plots were nothing more than ideas on how to avoid the Twins the next time he saw them, or to convince his little master to save him an extra bit of bacon the next morning. He grew a little worried when Percy Weasley turned eleven and Hogwarts loomed on the horizon. Had he grown attached to his little master? He knew that staying with the other red-headed children wouldn't be quite the same. But thank Merlin, it was a stroke of luck when the boy brought him to Hogwarts as his familiar and wasn't bothered by anyone about it. Scabbers knew the rules of a cat, a toad, or an owl as the only accepted pets. But he was clever enough to avoid being eaten by the idiot cats in Gryffindor tower, because of course his kind, but stupid, hosts would be Gryffindors. Surrounded by children, back in the place of his happiest memories, Scabbers continued to be a good rat; a very good pet. He avoided the cats, snuck around to his heart's content, and ate the best food Hogwarts had to offer. He rode in his little master's pocket, slept through the classes his friends had practically dragged him through, and blessed his good luck time and again.

The Dog was gone, nobody knew who he was, and he was safe. Even the Werewolf never showed up. Life was good. Scabbers was safe. He amused himself in the castle as a rat, (he'd always loved discovering secrets) sneaking into private places he had never dared go before. He learned rather odd and shocking things about the Hogwarts Professors; for example: Filius Flitwick sang Celestina Warbeck ballads in the shower, Aura Sinistra had a mad crush on Gilderoy Lockhart and had practically built a shrine to his honour, and Snivellus hummed muggle songs while he was making potions. Minerva liked to take naps as a cat; a fact that almost gave Scabbers a heart attack when he ventured too close to her office late one rainy afternoon. He didn't go near her again if he could help it, preferring to stay in the dorms when his little master had Transfiguration.

But sometimes, Scabbers grew anxious and restless. He was a twisted little rat, and he was clever enough to control himself most of the time, but sometimes, temptation grew too great. He was surrounded by ignorant, innocent children who would be disgusted and horrified to find out what the rat sniffing around in their bathroom really was … But Scabbers was careful. He didn't want to endanger himself, and he didn't want to hurt anyone, even though he was beginning to feel desperate. A man needed an outlet. It couldn't possibly be healthy, he reasoned to himself, going for so long without the basic comforts of humanity. He contented himself with small things, but they always left him hungry for more. He thought of the Dark Lord, his most beloved master, who had seen his twisted appetites and had rewarded him accordingly for his information. Muggle children or magical, it had made no difference to him. His lord was gone now, but the twisted desires awoken and encouraged during that time remained, no matter how he fought against them for his own safety.

He was careful. Percy never suspected his beloved little Scabbers. How could he, anyway? Scabbers was just a rat. The hands in the night belonged to something invisible and almost silent. Some bogey of the night that didn't exist during the day. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had never seen any significance in the boy's night terrors, and his brothers here at Hogwarts were too dense to notice anything now. Scabbers' nerves relaxed, and he was so very gentle and careful with his dear little master that not a mark was left. There was no evidence for Percy to turn to, and the bewildered child assumed that he was having nightmares … or that it was his imagination. He kept quiet, Scabbers stayed safe and content, and two more years passed uneventfully.

Until the bad news started coming. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley worriedly discussed the Daily Prophet articles late into the night, and Scabbers listened with growing interest, then alarm.

First, the-boy-who-killed-the-Dark-Lord vanished, and then turned up again with no real explanation. Then the Dog escaped from Azkaban. And if that weren't the worst of it, Snivellus turned up at the Burrow with the boy himself.

Scabbers was terrified when that Slytherin's dark, piercing gaze fell on him in the bathroom. He was just sniffing around, as he always did, and hadn't expected Molly to drag a visitor in here. Those eyes had always unnerved him in school, and now that Snape was a grown man, he was even more frightening. Scabbers stared back, too terrified to move. Had he been found out? He had never been spotted in his spying before. Rumours around Hogwarts said that Snape could read minds. But to his immense relief, Snivelly seemed to think he was just an ordinary rat and ignored him. He could hardly believe his luck and he sighed with relief.

But when Snivelly's black cloak was discarded, the rat snuck over to check the pockets for snacks, as he always did. It smelled like a wet dog. A familiar dog. Terrified, the rat darted away and hid behind the toilet, where he trembled, wondering why in the world old Snape would smell like Padfoot. Was Snivellus in league with the Dog? There he hid, waiting until Snivellus finally left, but he was too frightened to leave yet.

As if his day wasn't going badly enough, the boy saw him. The look of disgust on Prongslet's face cut into his soul like a dreadful knife, and when the boy tried to shoo him away and kick at him, Scabbers wondered why he cared so much. He had barely wanted to hold the boy when he was a baby, and he had bitterly hated the brat for living when his lord had died … but there he sat, Lily's eyes peering out of an unfamiliar face, messy dark hair so similar to James', and the guilt slammed into his chest like a physical blow …

He was glad when Molly threw him out. He wouldn't have been able to bear it. The guilt and fear that he didn't think would ever affect him had overwhelmed him like a flood. The-Boy-Who-Lived was here, within his grasp … a fanatical Death Eater like Bellatrix would waste no time in avenging their Dark Lord upon the child at the earliest opportunity. How difficult would it be for him to steal his little master's wand and take the brat far away from help? With the Dog on the loose, it was almost inevitable that he would be found sooner or later, especially with the boy staying here with him. But … Scabbers had always been lazy, and cautious. He would not move to hurt Prongslet unless he had no choice. He owed that much to the Marauder's Oath, he supposed. Besides, it wouldn't do to break his cover and leave this comfortable house.

The spirit was willing, as they said, but his flesh was weak. He chose comfort over fanaticism. After all, he had never been one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. He had simply chosen to side with the biggest bully on the block, as he always had. If he was forced to, he would prove his loyalty, but with the Dark Lord gone, his most faithful followers in Azkaban, and his cowardly servants in hiding, it would be most prudent to stay out of sight and out of mind until Snivellus and the brat were gone. As long as Percy didn't get it into his head to show off his good little pet, Scabbers would be safe. He didn't want to risk Snape getting a peek in his head and seeing that he was really too intelligent, not to mention too old, for a common garden rat.

Scabbers had played the game of hide and seek for years, and he wasn't about to be undone by a couple of visitors. He was clever and resourceful. He would stay safe, as he always had.

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Okay, after that disturbing little foray into the darker minds of some characters, let's take a break! I agonized over this chapter, and finally decided to hit Snape with another awful occurrence, namely, taking his happy memories. I'm just so mean to the poor guy, I know. But things will work out! I have chapter 28 finished already, but I'm still perfecting it, and I have a pretty good idea where I want this story to go. You'll be happy and sad to learn that I anticipate the ending of this story arriving soon, though not for another month at least, judging by my posting schedule.

Wormtail was always just creepy to me, and I couldn't resist pointing that out here. I made sure not to do more than hint at the inappropriate things I imagine fill that filthy rat's head, so hopefully it doesn't warrant an M rating now.

Thank you all for your amazing reviews, (of which I've gotten over 200 now!) and for your encouragement!