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)

28. Chapter 28: We Are What We Remember

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 28: We Are What We Remember

Dawn rose over the English countryside, sparkling with the night's dew. The clouds, tinted rose-pink by the rising sun, drifted across a pale sky like tattered shreds of silk.

Molly Weasley was up with the sun, as always. After starting breakfast, she noticed that her kitchen clock was alerting her that it was 'time to feed the chickens'. Grabbing a pan of meal, she marched outside to the chicken yard and scattered the grain for the hens. Standing there while her flock squabbled and scratched around her, she noted that two of the roosters were ready for butchering. They would have a proper meal tonight, she decided, and they would get Professor Snape to stay for the whole thing this time. Speaking of, where was he? Hadn't he promised to be back by morning? Well, it was barely dawn now. He might arrive in time for breakfast.

Suddenly, the house's door banged and she glanced up, surprised to see Arthur up and out so early. He really wasn't a morning person, and he looked like he'd just tumbled out of bed with his wand. But his eyes were quite alert.

"What's the matter with you?" Molly called playfully. "Lose your way to the coffee pot?"

"The wards just got triggered!" her husband hissed, gesturing for her to get back into the house. "There's someone coming … and an animal, too."

Molly drew her own wand and stepped up next to her husband, who was attempting to smooth his wild hair and tuck his shirt into his trousers.

"Go back inside, Molly," Arthur ordered her sternly.

"Not until you go back in too, you stubborn man," Molly huffed. "If that Sirius Black is here, he might kill you before you can get a good look at his face."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but froze. Molly turned and saw a man and a black dog standing at the far end of the lane that led to their house. He must have come up the hill since they were only just now seeing him. His robes were a nondescript grayish brown, and his hair was brown as well. Sirius Black had black hair. But it could be a disguise, or polyjuice, or something.

"That's far enough!" Arthur shouted, loud enough for his voice to carry. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm Remus Lupin," the shabby man replied in a mild voice. "We worked together briefly during the war, Arthur. I … I need to talk to you about something important."

"How did we first meet?" Arthur challenged.

"We were at headquarters for a meeting and Molly introduced us," Lupin replied without hesitation. "I'd worked with the Prewitts on occasion and that's how I met their sister."

Arthur glanced at his wife, and Molly nodded. She remembered Lupin now. He had been a friend of James and Lily … and Sirius Black. It was rather suspicious that he showed up now. She recalled the rumours in the Order that Lupin had been the spy. When it turned out to be Black, she had felt a bit guilty for thinking that the charming, polite young man had been working for Voldemort. But she never would have suspected the mischievous, rowdy Black to have been a spy either. Her instincts screamed against her letting that man in the house with Harry sleeping just upstairs. What if Lupin and Black had always been working together?

"Should we let him in?" Arthur asked softly.

Molly frowned and glared suspiciously. "He was friends with Black, remember?" she replied in a low voice. "My gut says it's a bad idea, what with Harry being with us."

"Right, if he truly wants something we can meet at the Ministry," Arthur murmured back. "Hang on and let me handle this."

Arthur walked down the lane and Molly stayed by the front door. She watched anxiously as her husband exchanged a few words with Lupin and the big dog started sniffing around. It was a bony creature, looking half-starved. Normally, she would have felt some compassion for the animal, but right now, she felt only suspicion. Not only did the dog look like a Grim, but she had never seen Lupin with a dog before and it seemed a bit fishy to her.

She sighed with relief when Lupin turned to go and called the dog to his side with a sharp whistle. They left the property, and Arthur came back, looking pensive.

"Love?" Molly prompted.

"He said he's looking for Snape, seems he disappeared right from Hogwarts night before last and nobody's seen him since."

Molly shook her head. "Severus said Black kidnapped him, didn't he?" she pointed out. "But could he have really got past the wards of Hogwarts?"

"Apparently, he did," Arthur sighed. "I told him Snape did pass through and went back to Hogwarts. He seemed relieved. My guess is Dumbledore pulled him in to look for the Professor … and probably Harry too."

"Well …" Molly murmured, looking down at her pan of corn. "I suppose I ought to finish breakfast. The porridge will be boiling by now."

"Any chance I can have a cup of coffee while you're at it?"

"If you brush your hair, perhaps."

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

Harry woke feeling strangely happy before he remembered that he was staying with the Weasleys and his happiness morphed into excitement. He yawned and stretched, marveling over how wonderful he felt this morning. He was warm and safe, snuggled under a quilt that smelled of fresh air and cut grass. He guessed Mrs. Weasley … er, Aunt Molly, dried the laundry outside. Harry wished that everybody dried their clothes like that. It smelled so good. But people like Aunt Petunia would have died of shame before they ever put a clothesline in their backyard. The sun was shining through the bedroom curtains and he could hear feet pounding up and down the stairs and boyish voices chattering and laughing outside the bedroom door.

Harry rolled out of bed, glad to be feeling totally normal once again. It felt like forever since he had felt energized and ache-free. He no longer felt tired and sick and even his hand didn't hurt anymore, though his palm was a little tender. He stopped to examine it, glad that it didn't need to be bandaged anymore, and stroked the soft, new skin covering the healed burns. Satisfied, Harry rummaged through his duffel bag for something to wear, grateful that the Professor had remembered to leave it here with him. When he was dressed, he tiptoed out into the hall. The bathroom door was closed and he hesitated to knock, since it sounded like a circus was being held inside.

But he didn't need to knock after all. Fred and George yanked open the bathroom door as if they could sense him on the other side and grinned their identical grins down at him. Judging from their dripping heads, Harry guessed they had been attempting to brush their hair or perhaps had just finished a shower.

"Morning!" the twins cheered as one.

"Sleep well?"

"Nice dreams?"

"Ready for the day?"

Harry smiled back, still feeling a little shy around the exuberant red-heads. "Yes," he answered, to all three questions. He dodged the two hands trying to mess up his hair even more and ducked into the bathroom. Thankfully, there was no weird rat in here today, and he did his business in record time. He washed his hands and face, and he used his hands to try and smooth down his wild hair. It wasn't much good, but as he shrugged at himself in the mirror, he supposed it didn't matter.

Washed and energized, Harry hurried downstairs into chaos. Fred and George were teasing the youngest Weasley boy who Harry had met briefly last night. He couldn't remember his name; Don or Bob or something like that. Charlie was laughing over something with a taller red-head who could only be his older brother, whom Harry had not officially met yet. The shy girl who had barely poked her head into his room to say good-night last night was nowhere to be seen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed busy, and they were also talking about something serious, by the looks on their faces. Harry wondered whether it would be most polite to offer to help, or just to sit down quietly somewhere and try not to get stepped on. All the noise was making him nervous, so he decided to duck into the kitchen and see if Aunt Molly needed any help. He couldn't see the Professor anywhere, but he might be busy doing something. He had said he needed to do something at Hogwarts.

Mr. Weasley nearly tripped over him and Harry got hot coffee splashed on his shoulder. Without meaning to, he yelped as the scalding liquid burned him and he stumbled back before Mr. Weasley caught him.

"Oh heavens!" he cried, setting his coffee down and pulling a stick like the Professor's out of his pocket. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You're so little I didn't even see you there." He waved the wand and said something, and the coffee on his shoulder dried up instantly.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Th-thanks," he stammered. "Sorry for getting in your way."

"Nonsense, son, it wasn't your fault," Mr. Weasley said kindly. "Did it burn you?"

"Who got burned?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, attempting to get past them with a platter of sausages. "Oh, good morning, dearie. Just in time for breakfast, I see."

"I spilled coffee on Harry," Mr. Weasley explained sheepishly.

"Arthur!" his wife scolded. She shoved the platter into his hands and pulled out her own wand. "You silly man; take that to the table, will you? Come here, Harry." She pulled him out of the chaos and into the empty kitchen. "Did you get burned, Harry?" she asked in concern, checking him over.

Harry blushed in embarrassment at her fussing. His shoulder didn't hurt at all, and now that he was dry, there wasn't anything to worry about. "I'm fine, Aunt Molly," Harry insisted. "Mr. Weasley cleaned it up quick."

"Hmm," Mrs. Weasley murmured, giving him a skeptical look. "Well, why don't you go sit at the table? Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

"D'you need any help?" Harry offered eagerly.

"Heavens, no," Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I'm getting the table set now. But you're a good boy to offer. Do you feel better today?" She reached out and touched his forehead and cheek, then cupped his chin in her hand to tilt his face up so she could see his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied meekly. "Thanks for … you know; taking care of me and stuff."

"Why, don't mention it, dear," Mrs. Weasley beamed. She gave his cheek a gentle pat before she straightened up to fetch the eggs. "It is our pleasure to have you here, you know. Charlie says you're a natural at exploding snap."

Harry felt his face warming up again. These people were all so nice. Even her kids were nice. "I like being here too," Harry said quietly. He missed Mrs. Weasley wiping a tear from her eye because he was too busy watching the spatula stirring the pan of scrambled eggs all by itself, and there was toast buttering itself on the other counter. "Wow," Harry whispered. "Is that … magic?"

"It certainly is, sweetheart," Mrs. Weasley chuckled. She snatched the plate of toast away from the butter knife before it could drench the bread in too much butter. "Want to take that to the table for me, love?" she asked, handing it off to Harry, who was surprised, but glad to help.

He eagerly took the plate and carried it to the table in the noisy dining room. Mr. Weasley had his twins by their ears and the oldest Weasley boy was holding the youngest one in his arms. Harry winced and wondered what Fred and George had done to their little brother to make him so upset. He was still crying into his brother's shoulder. Harry stood there awkwardly, trying not to get in the way and trying not to look like he was too curious about what was going on. Mr. Weasley marched Fred and George out of the dining room and the oldest son sat down at the table with his little brother. Harry came and nervously sat down in the chair next to him so he could see the youngest boy, who was about his age and obsessed with wizard's chess, if he remembered correctly.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly. It was quieter now, without the twins turning everything upside down. In the chaos, the little girl must have snuck down, because there she was helping her mum carry in the utensils and napkins.

The youngest red-headed boy scrubbed his face with his sleeve, looking embarrassed. "Was just a stupid spider," he mumbled.

"Ron's been scared of spiders ever since those two fiends transfigured his teddy bear into a tarantula a couple years ago," the oldest boy explained, gently rubbing his little brother's back.

Ron; yes, that was his name. Harry made a mental note of that. "I hate spiders too," he told Ron. "And I'm scared of the dark too."

Ron's mouth quirked into a little smile. "I don't like the dark," he admitted. "I sleep under the attic, and the ghoul's always banging on the pipes in the middle of the night."

Harry shivered. Yes, a ghoul banging on pipes in the dark sounded awful. Did the house really have a ghoul? Or was it just something Ron said?

"Hey, I don't think we've really met yet," the oldest boy pointed out with a crooked grin. "I'm Bill."

"He works for goblins now," Ron pointed out carelessly.

Harry's eyes widened. Goblins and ghouls were real? Next he'd be hearing that dragons and ghosts were real!

"I'm training to be a curse-breaker for Gringott's," Bill explained, even though that made absolutely no sense to Harry. "I'm here for a few days on leave. Once I leave, I'll be going to Romania for more training and I might not be back for a year or two. Here, Ron, why don't you sit here instead …" Bill got up and put his brother down in his chair while he moved around to sit on the bench across from them.

"Tell him about the tombs, Bill!" Ron cried excitedly. He turned to Harry, his formerly damp eyes now sparkling happily. "Bein' a curse-breaker sounds like so much fun, wait'll you hear all about the stuff he gets to do!"

"It can be dangerous," Bill pointed out. "But I guess I like it alright."

Harry started to nod, but he jumped in surprise as his sharp ears caught the sounds of a smack, a yelp, another smack, and another yelp, somewhere else in the house, or possibly just outside. Harry's face paled and his whole body stiffened with apprehension. He didn't hear anything Bill was saying, or Ron's interruptions, or Mrs. Weasley demanding to know where the other half of her family had gone. Once the noises stopped, Harry heard a door bang and suddenly the twins rocketed into the room, red-faced, but dry-eyed.

"We're sorry for the spider, Ronnie," one of them rattled out.

"Really sorry, and won't do it again," the other added almost before his twin had paused for air. Then the two boys plunked down on the bench on the other side of the table, strangely subdued. Mr. Weasley followed, looking stern.

"What did those two do now?" Mrs. Weasley asked, eying her silent boys suspiciously.

"They found a spider and thought it would be funny to drop it down Ron's shirt," her husband replied. "I took care of it already. This spread looks too delicious to leave waiting any longer."

The last Weasley child chose that moment to wander in with a familiar rat perched on his arm. He was thinner than the other children and he wore glasses. His eyes were not blue, but rather were green. Not brilliant green like Harry's, but a soft blue-green like water in the ocean.

"There you are, Percy," Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Sleep well, dear?"

Percy nodded silently and shoved his glasses up his nose. Harry gave him a little smile, but since as he was still nervous from overhearing the twins' punishment, he didn't say anything. Percy gave him a jerky nod in greeting, and seeing that the only two spots open were either next to the twins or next to Harry, he sat next to Harry and let his rat sit on his lap. The girl sat next to the twins, and Mrs. Weasley started serving. She waved her wand and things just moved around by themselves. The magic moved the platters, served the food, and poured juice into their glasses. Harry gawked at it all, not really minding that Ron was probably laughing at his amazement, and that Charlie was teasing him. He had pulled up an extra chair and sat between his brother Bill and Mr. Weasley. Percy apologized for elbowing him and Bill asked if he wanted jam on his toast. The girl knocked over her glass, but thankfully it was before it had pumpkin juice in it. The twins got over their contrite attitude and were soon talking up a storm, one after the other like some two-headed creature. Harry felt comfortably overlooked and sandwiched in and he found that he loved it. Was this what being in a family felt like?

Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley for serving him and ate his breakfast, (which was incredibly delicious) but he felt like there was a rock in his chest. He really didn't want to leave the Weasleys when the Professor came back, and he felt ungrateful. Was this what the Professor meant a few weeks ago when he was saying that Harry would be happier in a proper family? It was odd, Harry thought. He had been quite happy with the Professor, but it was a different sort of happy. He was happy here with the Weasleys too, but the happiness was overlapped with a kind of nervousness amidst the chaos and craziness of nine people all living in a crowded little house. It was a little overwhelming, and Harry had the feeling that the Professor probably didn't like all the disorganized insanity of a big family. Maybe that was why he wasn't here yet. He would probably try to come after breakfast when things might be calmer.

All too soon, Mr. Weasley got up, kissed his wife and daughter, admonished his boys to be good, gave Harry a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and left for work. Charlie started telling Harry about their dad's work in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Harry was distracted from his worries about the Professor and leaving the Weasleys by the stories of singing teapots, vomiting toilets, and dancing spoons that Charlie, Bill, and the twins regaled him with. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley getting up to collect the plates and jumped up to help her. He had cleaned his plate and all the ones close to him without even realizing it. Had he really been that hungry? It seemed like his appetite was just getting stronger.

"You don't have to bother, dear," Mrs. Weasley said when she saw him carrying plates to the kitchen with her. "I use magic to clean it all up, anyway. Why don't you spend the rest of your time with the children? Professor Snape should be here any minute, you know."

"Okay," Harry sighed. He didn't know how to explain that he felt like he ought to do something to pay the Weasleys back for being so wonderful and kind. So he did as he was told and retreated back to the noisy dining room. Ron was finishing his plate, Percy was feeding scraps of buttered toast to his rat, and Bill was getting more coffee. The girl, (was her name Jenny? Or Ginny?) was picking at her plate and the twins were stacking all the leftovers in the same platter.

"Wanna come see my room, Harry?" Ron suddenly shouted, almost right in his ear. How had he come over so quickly? After Harry winced, he nodded. He may as well, while he was here.

But they didn't get far. They were passing through the sitting room when the fireplace flared green and Harry flinched reflexively, barely resisting the urge to hide behind Ron, who despite being the same age as him, was a bit bigger.

"Molly Weasley?" a deep, kindly voice echoed from the fireplace.

Harry knew that voice. In a panic, he darted away from Rom, fled up the stairs and into the first room he spotted, diving under the four-poster bed and curling up in a trembling mess. The nice white counterpane completely hid him from view and he hoped nobody would find him here. He was not going with the Headmaster anywhere ever again. He would hide here forever if he had to. The Professor would find him, because he already knew how Harry liked to hide under the beds.

He wasn't sure how long he was there. He lay there long enough for his breathing to calm down and his heart to slow. Someone came into the room and shut the door. Soft footsteps crossed the room, paper rustled and a book thumped.

"There you go, Scabbers," a boy's voice said. Harry thought it sounded like the boy with glasses who'd sat next to him. Cautiously, Harry poked his head out from under the bed and stared around the narrow little room. A skinny, red-haired boy was sitting at the desk under the window, and it looked like he was getting schoolbooks out. Harry watched him for several minutes before the boy turned to get something out of the desk drawer and saw him. Both boys stared at each other for several seconds without moving.

"Well," the red-headed boy said at last, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "There's where you went. Professor Dumbledore was here to see you."

"I don't want him to take me," Harry whispered fretfully. "He'll take me away and I don't want to go."

"But …" Percy said slowly. "Why not? Have you ever met him?"

Harry just nodded. He didn't think he could explain properly with the frightened lump in his throat.

"Is that … why Professor Snape had you?" Percy asked carefully.

"Sort of," Harry mumbled. "He … he promised I never had to go back, and the Headmaster took me anyway. The Professor's been trying to help me, I think."

"Oh," Percy replied, looking as if he had no idea what to say. "Well … why don't you get out from under there? We've got spiders here the size of your eyes."

"I'm not scared of spiders," Harry answered boldly, crawling out from under the bed anyway. "There were always tons in my cupboard. It got so I couldn't be scared of them, otherwise I'd never sleep. They don't hurt you unless you bother 'em."

"That's true," Percy frowned.

He fiddled nervously with his glasses and Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of the little bedroom. It was quite nice, and it looked like Percy had it all to himself. In an apple crate by the bed was a nest of rags, and perched in the nest was the boy's fat brown rat, fast asleep. For lack of anything else to do, Harry crouched down beside the crate and stared at the snoozing rodent.

"His name's Scabbers," Percy said suddenly. "He's my familiar."

Harry blinked and looked up at the bespectacled Weasley. "Huh?"

"That's what wizards call their special pets. Didn't you know?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't know much about anything, really, but he wasn't going to say so right now. He didn't like rats, and he didn't want to say that either because it sounded rude. So he said the next best thing.

"I saw it … him, in the bathroom yesterday."

"Scabbers likes it in there," Percy said stiffly. "I think it's because the vent in there is directly above the kitchen. Mum's always cooking, so the smell probably draws him in."

Harry nodded. That made sense.

"He's about the most boring pet in existence," Percy suddenly blurted out. "He eats, he sleeps, and does precious little else. Fred and George are always trying to kidnap him for their bizarre experiments. If they could charm him to be more interesting, I might forgive them." He rolled his eyes and Harry giggled into his hand.

"I like it here," Harry said wistfully. "Your … your family is so nice."

Percy looked uncomfortable and fiddled with his fingers. "Er … thanks; for thinking that, I mean. I guess that's just … the way we are."

Harry nodded again and sat on the floor. He picked at a loose thread on his gray T-shirt and wished he could explain how he really felt about all of this. He had never had a mum, or a dad, so he no idea what it was like. He imagined it was like this, at least a little. Percy didn't know how lucky he was.

"You're nine?" Percy asked suddenly. "Or eight. I'm sorry, I forgot. Your birthday's next month, isn't it?"

Harry glanced up nervously. "How'd you know?" he asked in a small voice.

"Oh! Ah … well …" Percy stammered and his face turned several different shades of red. "I guess … I heard it somewhere. Probably."

Okay, that was weird. But Harry shrugged it off. "Are you doing homework?" he asked instead.

"Summer homework," Percy nodded briskly, seeming to be glad of the change in subject. "Professor Snape's essay is the absolute hardest," he added with a grimace. "Seeing him again … I decided I'd better revise it just in case when he comes he wants to see it … or something."

Harry bounced up excitedly and hopped over to the desk, scattered with books and weird paper. "Professor Snape gave you homework? Ooh, can I see?"

"It's second and third year material," Percy warned him. "I don't think you'd understand it, or be interested in it."

"Professor Snape said he'd let me help him make potions," Harry argued. "He let me read all kinds of potion books too."

"Well, alright," Percy sighed. He rummaged through his schoolwork and pulled out a scroll and a smaller piece of paper. "I'm supposed to be writing two different essays. One is a review, sort of, explaining the purpose of accelerants in potions. I finished that one last week. The other one is harder, and I have to write out how to prepare horned toads and ten different potions that use their parts."

"Ew," Harry grimaced. "Potions are just yucky. Who wants to drink something that's got lizard eyeballs in it?"

"Or toad livers," Percy agreed solemnly.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door before it clicked open and Charlie poked his head in. "Perce, you seen …?" He blinked at Harry and then grinned. "Oh, there you are. Been looking all over for you. Ron said he turned his back for one second and you were gone! Mind coming downstairs? There's somebody here to see you."

Harry gulped and glanced uneasily at Percy. The boy fiddled with his glasses and stood up, looking stiff and uncomfortable. "You'd best go, then," he muttered.

"Don't want to," Harry whispered in a wobbly voice. "I don't … like the Headmaster."

"He's fine, Harry," Percy said coaxingly. "He loves kids. You'll be fine."

"I don't like him, and he doesn't like me," Harry whispered fiercely, clenching his trembling fists.

"How can you say that?" Charlie butted in, looking mystified. "He seems pretty worried about you … what with you getting kidnapped by Black and all."

"He … Black … the guy … He was fine!" Harry burst out, waving his hands helplessly. "He took me away from … from them. The Headmaster just wants to take me back and … the Professor's gonna be so mad. Again."

Charlie shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Harry," he said patiently. "But I'm thinking you should come down before Mum decides to come up and get you herself."

Harry nodded miserably. He knew there was nothing he could do or say to keep from going down, barring climbing out the window and running away. How far could he get when the Headmaster could 'jump' wherever he wanted anyway? He wished he had his necklace from the Professor. He really needed some way to call for help right about now. Taking deep breaths to keep from shaking too badly, Harry followed Charlie down the stairs. He heard the Headmaster's deep voice talking and Mrs. Weasley's voice replying and Harry clenched his fists at his sides. He didn't know what to do, but he could be brave. He was good at acting like everything was fine.

"Charlie? Did you find Harry up there?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Bill said he's not outside."

"Found him, Mum; him and Percy were chatting," Charlie hollered back.

The Headmaster was sitting at the dining table. Tea things and ginger biscuits were set out in front of him, and Harry was amazed at how neat everything was, when just fifteen minutes ago the whole family was in here eating breakfast. Magic really was amazing. The old man turned and fixed Harry with his brilliant blue eyes that seemed to shoot right through his skull with a clarity that almost took his breath away. He smiled kindly at Harry from behind his snowy white beard, and Harry felt his muscles tensing even more. Something was not right here. Was the Headmaster trying to do something magical to him? He could feel it tingling along his skin and making his heartbeat slow down.

"Hello, Harry," Headmaster Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry did not answer beyond a single blink of his eyes to show he had heard the old man. He stiffly sat down in the chair Mrs. Weasley held out for him and stared at the old man with what he hoped was a respectful, but not trusting, expression. He put on what he thought of as his Dursley-mask; the blank look of a stupid boy, content with his lot and slightly miserable because he was just a silly freak who didn't deserve any better. He didn't like or trust the old man, even though he could almost smell something in the air that made him want to. He shied away from the weird sensation as he would from rat poison. It smelled interesting, but he knew it was dangerous.

"How are you?" the old man asked with what felt like forced cheer. "Have you been enjoying the Weasleys?"

Harry didn't answer. He wanted to shrug, but he couldn't seem to get his shoulders to work, so he settled for simply staring blankly at the Headmaster, gazing back at him expectantly over the tops of his spectacles.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, reaching out to Harry. The boy eyed his hand the way he had the first time he met the Headmaster in Professor Snape's house. He did not reach out, and he looked blankly back up at the old man's earnest blue eyes. "I know I have not always done right by you, my boy," the old man murmured apologetically. "And I am very sorry for what you have suffered already in your young life."

Harry still made no attempt to answer. He didn't know what to say. This was worse than when Dudley was trying to apologize to him.

"Allow me to attempt to make things right, my child," the Headmaster said softly.

Harry wondered if the old man was on the verge of tears as he blinked up at him, but he didn't speak. I don't believe you, he thought rebelliously. I don't like you. The Professor doesn't really like you either. You took me back. You left me alone. Why? What did I do wrong? I didn't mean to be bad.

"Where's Professor Snape, sir?" Harry finally asked. He feared that he wouldn't get a truthful answer, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Harry … the Professor has had … some trouble recently," the Headmaster spoke quietly, lacing his hands in front of himself on the table. "I have asked him to get some rest. I am here in his stead to bring you somewhere safe."

"I don't want to go back," Harry whispered faintly. He shut his eyes because he was going to cry. He hated himself for being so weak. "Please … please d-don't send me back there, sir."

"Albus," Mrs. Weasley spoke up in a tone like ice. Harry had quite forgotten that she was still there. "If you think for one minute I'll let you take this boy back to those muggles, you're crazier than my husband's Aunt Muriel."

"Molly?"

"Severus told us the basics. I saw the rest and treated the bruises on his back. Harry isn't going back to anyone that would beat a boy so."

"I understand," the old man murmured. "And I must confess … I did not realize that Harry was being hurt so badly there. Please … allow me to make restitution now, for being so blind."

"How could you turn a blind eye to something like this?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. "It was right in front of you!"

Dumbledore was quiet for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he was fixing the Weasley matriarch with his solemn blue eyes and Harry could feel a surge of something magic in the air tickling his skin. It made him want to believe the Headmaster … but he shook his off with a feeling of disgust. He hoped Mrs. Weasley wouldn't fall for it either.

"I did not know," Dumbledore said softly. "Sadly, I am not all-knowing, nor am I all-powerful. I have made an error … and I desire to make amends. Harry must be kept safe, especially from those in the magical world who would harm or exploit him. There are not many places for him to stay that meet those criteria, I'm afraid. But for now, I will be taking Harry to my home. He will be safe there for the time being."

There was silence for a long minute. Harry chanced a peek up at Mrs. Weasley and was gratified to see that she didn't look impressed. Her arms were folded stubbornly and she was simply glaring at the Headmaster, who looked sad and solemn and wise and Harry wondered vaguely why they were arguing anyway. Didn't Dumbledore know what was best …? Harry shook his head, blinking hard in an attempt to clear it. What was wrong with him? He didn't trust the old man one bit! So why was he thinking these weird things?

"I am Harry's magical guardian, Molly," Dumbledore said firmly, but still in that quiet, understanding voice he'd been using. "Do you think I would leave him in an abusive situation if I were aware of it?"

"It isn't all that hard to find out the truth, especially if you've got magic on your side," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "Just look at him! He's almost smaller than my Ginny and she's over a year younger than he is! How can you not see that something was wrong with the place he was living?"

"I am a busy man, easily distracted," the Headmaster countered. "But I see my error now, and I will repair it."

"You'd best do that," Mrs. Weasley snorted. "And if I find you've not done right by the boy, I'll find you and you'll remember why my wand was so feared back in my schooldays."

Dumbledore chuckled as Harry's heart sank with dread. "I do remember, Molly. Rest assured, I more than anyone only want what is best for Harry."

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Minerva was already stressed and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet. After waking and finding that Dumbledore had suddenly taken off and left her with a pile of paperwork to file before noon, she also found out that Remus had taken off early last night, likely soon after she came back for a nap. She fretted and fumed over the ministry paperwork, and when they got sent off at last, she briskly marched down to the dungeons. Severus at least would be a reliable conversationalist, and she would eat her best hat if he didn't know where Harry was. Poor lad. Both of them.

She knocked on the door to his quarters down in the dungeons. To her consternation, she had to knock twice before it opened. Severus was glaring at her, and judging from the fumes hanging around him, he'd been brewing this morning.

"Minerva, I am supervising a time-sensitive potion here; would you mind terribly not interrupting me?" he snarled testily.

Nonplussed, Minerva simply smiled at him. "When would you be done? I'd like for us to have tea. There are some things we must discuss."

"I'll be done when I'm done," Severus growled, and slammed the door.

Minerva smiled triumphantly and chuckled under her breath. He hadn't said no, had he? So she wandered back up to her office and wondered how she was going to reach Lupin in the meantime. She was still thinking it over when she reached the warped corridor where Remus and Severus had clashed. To her surprise, a wizard in shabby grayish robes was there, admiring the new shape of the walls.

"Back so soon?" she demanded icily, glaring at the Werewolf.

Remus turned and smiled sheepishly at her. "Hello again, Professor. I know I took off without any warning," he said apologetically. "But I couldn't stop thinking, you know. About … what you said. I had to find Harry."

"Did you?"

"No, but I tracked him to the Weasleys' home. Arthur told me that Snape had come through, but he came here. He must have brought Harry with him."

"And how do you know that? Harry could still be with Black, for all we know!"

Remus hesitated just a bit. "I have reason to believe Harry was with Severus Snape."

"Hmmm," Minerva eyed him shrewdly. "Did you run off to find Black?"

Remus stiffened just a bit before he nodded jerkily.

"You found him?"

Again, that stiff, reluctant nod.

"I see." Minerva took a firm hold of her temper, which was threatening to boil over. "I suppose you did not alert the authorities?"

"I don't think he ... betrayed them, Professor," Remus said quietly. "He … said the same thing in Azkaban when I was there; he didn't get a trial, no one's given him veritaserum, Dumbledore just left him there … Dumbledore left Harry with abusive relatives too. Sirius rescued him and nearly killed Harry's uncle for trying to hurt him."

"I know about the Dursleys," Minerva huffed. "But Harry's placement with them must be handled properly! Even the way Severus dealt with it was all wrong. We need to go through legal channels, or we will simply end up hurting the boy more, instead of helping him. How traumatic do you think it would be for Harry to be kidnapped by the man who betrayed his parents?"

"Sirius said he wasn't the secret-keeper, and I believed him," Remus said stubbornly.

"Be that as it may, how do you think the entire world will see his actions? Kidnapping is a crime, no matter what reason it's done for!"

"Rescuing a boy from an abusive home isn't the same as kidnapping."

"It is, especially when the person doing the 'rescuing' is an escaped convict."

"He was never convicted of anything, so how could he be a convict in the first place?"

Minerva sighed. Remus was as stubborn as anyone she had ever met. Severus was probably one of the few who could beat him in the stubbornness department. Him and Albus. Remus would calmly quibble all day long about this if she let him, so she decided to head him off before he really got angry.

Minerva turned and walked briskly up the passage, pleased that Remus hesitantly moved to follow her. She smiled at him by way of peacemaking. "I was about to have some mid-morning tea. Join me?"

Remus looked relieved that she was changing the subject. He smiled gratefully and lengthened his strides to catch up with her. "I'd love that, thank you."

Minerva almost smirked as she said casually, "By the way, Poppy has been looking for you."

Remus moaned. "I can only take so much of her fussing. She's wonderful; she really is. But there's nothing more she can do for me. The best thing to do for a Werewolf is to let them alone. I'll finish healing on my own."

"So is that what you were planning to do with Harry? Let him alone?" she asked quietly.

Remus was silent for a long minute. When she glanced over at him, she regretted her question. He was looking gray as death and the anguish on his face was enough to break her heart.

"You know the punishment for a Werewolf who infects someone is death," Remus said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I know I deserve it. I deserve to die for my carelessness and arrogance … but Harry is all alone right now. Oh, I know he has Snape, and Dumbledore, and you, and Poppy … but essentially, he is alone. I want … I want to be there for him. I want to comfort him after the pain of the transformation. I … I want to run with him under a Full Moon in the wilderness. I don't … want … him to be alone … the way I was until Hogwarts."

"Harry is famous enough," Minerva pointed out. "What do you think this will be like for him if an inkling of … this … leaks out? It will be beyond horrible, considering that he's the-Boy-Who-Lived as well as a Werewolf."

"I know, and I can't really do anything about that right now," Remus snapped hoarsely, tears slipping from his eyes and down his sunken cheeks. "But I can be there for him, if he wants me. I failed him, Minerva. If I'd gone and looked for him after … after James and Lily died, I would have known where he lived. I would have known better than to stop even ten miles from that town. It was ill-planned, and in my arrogance, I thought nothing would happen, the way nothing's happened through all my hundreds of Full Moons … Harry deserves more than my death. I want to give him everything; my life, my sorrow, my help … My death would do nothing for him, unless he truly wants it."

Minerva stopped and stared at her former student. Battle required bravery, of course, but everyday human relationships required their own kind of courage. She knew that all Gryffindors came into this understanding of courage sooner or later, though with Remus, she had feared he would always be spineless. It was simply the way he was. He never stood up to his friends when they acted like idiots, he fled when those he loved died or were otherwise lost, he hid and attempted to kill himself when he felt he had nothing left to live for, he avoided friendships and camaraderie out of some pathetic attempt to protect them from himself … She knew how much courage it was taking for Remus to pick himself up and face his mistake head-on like this. How much easier, how much simpler, it would be for him to turn himself over to the ministry to be given the punishment he craved. But no, he chose to live. It took courage to die for someone you loved, but it took more courage at times to live for someone you loved. She learned that when her husband died.

"You've grown up, Remus," Minerva said softly. She reached out and cupped his face in a motherly gesture. "You're a Gryffindor at last."

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Severus finished stirring his glowing blue potion and set down the stirring rod. For a few minutes, he stared into the cauldron, mesmerized by the simmering liquid with its softly shimmering fumes … He shook himself and adjusted the heat with his wand. He had been up early this morning, driven by an urgency he couldn't understand. The potion was sitting there under stasis in the lab, waiting for him to finish it, and he didn't exactly remember starting the Magical Core Replenisher yesterday. He was troubled by the vagueness of his memories, to say the least. All his life, he had enjoyed a keen and vivid memory and for him to be forgetting details like when exactly he had started brewing a long and complicated potion was … troubling. And then there were the strange dreams he'd woken with this morning. He couldn't remember a single detail, save that they left him with conflicting emotions and tears on his cheeks. He didn't cry very often, but most of the tears he had shed in the last seven years or so had been in his sleep. Waking with a damp face was not exactly new. But waking up, feeling such a profound sense of loss, betrayal, longing … that was new. Usually, he woke from dreams feeling guilty, or filled with grief. Most of his tearful dreams involved the night Lily died. He had wept in Albus' office after hearing the news, one of the very few times he shed tears in front of another.

What had he been doing before receiving the news that shattered his life and broke his heart? Halloween night of 1981 was a blur of exhaustion and grief in his mind. He didn't think he had ever recalled clearly what he had been doing that night. It didn't matter. That was the night she died, and her child lived.

Give me back my son …!

Severus flinched and rubbed his suddenly throbbing forehead, wondering where that stray thought had come from. He could swear that the voice he heard was his own. But why would he be screaming in such anguish for a son that didn't exist? Who was he pleading with? Sighing, he shook his head, dismissing the odd memory. If it was a memory. Maybe it was the remnant of a nightmare. The mere thought of having children of his own was most certainly a nightmare.

The door to his personal quarters banged. He knew that brisk knock, and frowned, dropping minced mandrake root into the cauldron and stirring while he counted under his breath. Before he'd finished stirring, she knocked again. He cast a stasis charm over the cauldron, cursing when the effort left him reeling. His magical core had certainly been pummeled recently. Maybe that was why his memory was so fuzzy. He marched to his quarters and flung open his door, glaring at Minerva McGonegall. She wasn't completely unwelcome, but he tended to get testy when he was interrupted.

"Minerva, I am supervising a time-sensitive potion here; would you mind terribly not interrupting me?"

The wily old cat just smiled at him from over her spectacles. "When would you be done? I'd like for us to have tea. There are some things we must discuss."

"I'll be done when I'm done," Severus growled at her, and slammed the door in her face. He heard her chuckle on the other side of the door, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. It was difficult to concentrate when he was puzzling over a riddle like this. His fuzzy memories were rather troubling, but he felt about as confused as he would if he had been hit with a particularly bad stunner. His first instinct would usually be to seek out Dumbledore and ask what the hell had happened to him, but for some reason … his instinct was currently screaming at him to go to Minerva first.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Severus muttered to himself. "It isn't enough I can't remember details, now I can't even recall why I don't want to go to Albus!" But he was a man who lived by relying on his instincts. He would take the cat up on her offer; after he finished this next phase of his potion.

He returned to his lab and canceled the stasis charm, filling the next ten minutes with chopping, dicing, crushing and stirring. By the time the potion was ready to simmer for the next five hours, undisturbed, he had worked himself into a calmer frame of mind. His memories too, seemed clearer. But rather than reassuring him, he was more alarmed. There were tiny details that he knew he ought to remember, but he didn't. That his mind was growing clearer as time passed could be simply that his brain was settling after being pummeled by some horrible spell … or it could be the work of a sophisticated memory charm. How could he even trust that his memories were genuine?

He cleaned up and changed his robes since the one he was wearing smelled like thestral bile, one of the more pungent ingredients in the Magical Core Replenisher. Suitably clean, he tossed floo powder into his fireplace since he didn't feel like going all the way up to the tower where Minerva's office and private quarters were.

"Minerva McGonegall's office!" he shouted into the green flames, and stepped in.

When he stepped out of Minerva's large fireplace, he was alone in her sunny office. Being in a tower had its advantages, like lots of windows. But Severus usually preferred the darkness of the dungeons. Plus, the damp was good for a lot of brewing projects. He dusted himself off with his hands since his magical core still complained every time he used a simple spell. There was no point in wearing himself out if he didn't have to.

"Severus, is that you?" Minerva's voice somewhere off to the side might have startled him, but he was a spy and trained not to startle. He froze for a second in surprise, but turned briskly as if he had been expecting her to sneak up on him.

"Minerva," he replied in the same tone. "I'm not too late?"

"Of course not," the Transfiguration Professor chuckled. "We're only just starting. Come in!"

Severus had been in Minerva's private chambers once or twice before. They usually talked in the staff room or in her office, if they did at all. It wasn't very often that he was invited into her sanctum, and vice versa. Why did he have the vague feeling that Minerva had been in his private chambers not too long ago? He definitely needed to talk to her about his memory problems.

He stepped into her sitting room and froze again. Sitting on the cushy red sofa was a wizard with a familiar face. Remus Lupin. Had he seen him recently? Yes, he had, hadn't he? But why did they meet? What did they talk about? Severus stared for several seconds, wondering how to feel about this new development. He still loathed the Werewolf, didn't he? Why did he feel nothing but mild irritation that Minerva hadn't told him about her other guest? Why wasn't he losing his temper and frothing at the mouth and storming out of the room? He shook his head at himself in bewilderment and silently took a seat in the armchair across from Minerva.

"Hello, Professor," Remus Lupin said hesitantly, eyeing him warily and visibly stiffening.

"Lupin," Severus grunted. He took the teacup from Minerva and shook his head at the biscuits. He took a scone, though, and realized he'd skipped breakfast again. He hadn't even had coffee. He'd just gone straight to his lab after the shower and threw himself into his potion. Not literally, but … anyway.

"So …" Minerva McGonegall said with a pointed look at both of the young men. "Is there anything you two want to get out in the open before we start?"

"Start what?" Remus asked, looking befuddled.

Severus suppressed the desire to roll his eyes and silently sipped his tea.

Minerva frowned at him. "We are here to discuss what is to be done about Harry, of course. Weren't you listening?"

"Ah, of course," the Werewolf coughed uncomfortably. "I thought we were going to discuss … the other thing."

"If you wish to discuss it, by all means, do so," Minerva snorted. She arranged sardines on her toast and stirred milk into her tea.

Remus didn't say anything in reply. He stared at his knees and at the full teacup in his hands. Severus decided the uncomfortable silence had gone on long enough and set his cup down with an audible clink.

"Gryffindors," Severus sneered. "Do you realize that the lone Slytherin among you is wondering whether to consign you both to St. Mungo's Janus Thickey ward for insanity because you are making no sense? Will either of you tell me why you hauled me all the way up here from a very complicated and involved potion-project to sip tea and nibble biscuits?"

Minerva looked at him in surprise. "Why Severus, we're here to see what's to be done about Harry, of course."

Severus stared at her blankly. His face was starting to fall into his familiar scowl. Alarm spiked through him and he searched his mind frantically for a Harry he and Minerva ought to know. There was a Hufflepuff second year named Harry Thicket, but he doubted she was talking about him. He was completely unremarkable in every way.

"Harry who?" Severus demanded frostily. Why did he feel like they knew more than he did at this point?

Silence greeted his question. Lupin and Minerva both stared at him in surprise that quickly changed to confusion.

"Snape," Lupin said gently. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Don't patronize me, Wolf," Severus snarled at him. "Just because I seem to be in an agreeable mood concerning you today is no reason for you to be an imbecile."

"Right," the Werewolf muttered, his face flushing.

"Severus, you know which Harry we're talking about," the Transfiguration Professor said briskly. "Harry Potter?"

Severus blinked at her, alarmed at his … lack of reaction. Intellectually, he knew he ought to start ranting and raving right about now, about Potters, and celebrities, and arrogant spoilt brats … but he felt nothing. No … he felt a yawning emptiness so vast he wanted to scream. Or weep. Why should the name of Harry Potter mean anything to him? Why did he feel that it ought to mean something, but he could feel nothing but a sense of loss?

"Severus?" Minerva whispered, looking even more alarmed than he felt. "You do not remember?"

Severus mutely shook his head. His hands were shaking. "Why …?" he rasped. "Why should I remember? Potter … means nothing to me."

"But you took Harry into your home!" Minerva burst out, setting down her cup too, because she was trembling almost as badly as he was now. "You healed him after he was bitten by a Werewolf …"

"A what?!" Severus cried, jumping to his feet and throwing a wild glare in Lupin's direction. To his surprise, the Werewolf scrambled away from him and put himself in the doorway, watching him cautiously … and maybe a little fearfully. That was interesting. Lupin had never been afraid of him ... had he?

"You found Harry in the street after a Werewolf attacked him," Minerva insisted, drawing his attention back to her. "You took him home, you healed him, you hid him while the Daily Prophet was making a muck-up of things as usual, and you offered to keep him because Harry's relatives were abusing him!"

Severus stared bleakly at her, feeling like his world was crashing down on him. But it had felt rather flimsy to begin with. He realized that the world he had been living in just this morning had been a fragile one composed of his memories at the time. They had been rather fuzzy. Still, the thought of a world that existed where he cared about what happened to the Potter brat was almost ludicrous. But then it wasn't.

Don't take my son from me …!

Severus gasped and clutched his head. That scream in his mind again … the emotions connected with it … it was all so strong. But why couldn't he remember anything? Who had dared attack his mind and meddle with his memories like this? He was falling. He was clutching something tightly to himself like the last hope of a dying man. But what was it? What was so important? He retreated behind his Occlumency shields and immersed himself in his own mind, examining his memories and recollections. He raced through the corridors of his mind, but he couldn't really see any problems. His memories were seamless. Yesterday he had been brewing for the Infirmary. The day before, he had been in the Infirmary for something or other involving Lupin. They got into a fight over something insignificant. The day before that, he'd been brewing something at home. The day before that … he was in Ministry custody? What had he done? Racing back through his memories, passing seamless days of brewing, snarling, and lonely brooding, (just like every summer he'd had since becoming Hogwarts' Potions Professor) he found the memory of being arrested. Had he really hexed a couple of muggles because they were annoying him? That just didn't sound like him.

Nowhere in his own memories could he find anything concerning Harry Potter, or a Werewolf, other than information from seven and a half years ago. If it had happened recently, it was the best spell-work he'd seen in memory modification. Wearily, Severus pulled himself out of his own head and reentered the world of the living, slightly disoriented by too loud voices and too much sunlight.

"Severus? Are you well?"

"Should I call Poppy?"

"Wait, he's seems to be coming 'round. Severus Snape, if you can hear me, you'd better answer me or I'm calling Poppy."

"Don't call Poppy," Severus grunted. He squinted up at Minerva, who was pursing her lips in worry. "Why am I on the floor?" he demanded.

"You fell," Minerva replied drily.

"And you just let me lie here?" Severus sneered. He sat up and glared at Lupin, who had come back into the room and was watching him with genuine concern. He wanted to snarl at them both to stop hovering. Stupid Gryffindors. He shook off Minerva's attempt to help him up and stood, gazing sternly at both of them.

"My memories have been modified," he informed Lupin and Minerva. "I advise you both to be on guard, lest your memories also be tampered with."

"Why would someone do that?" Lupin demanded, his eyes streaking through with gold, signifying his rising anger. "Who could have modified your memories like that? From what I remember, you were always good with mind magic in school."

"My mind is better suited to deceit and manipulation, rather than actual mental battles," Severus frostily informed the Werewolf. "If some master of the mind arts managed to get past my formidable defenses, I would have been hard-pressed to fight them off."

"But who did this?" Minerva demanded indignantly. "Who would dare? And why would they want to simply erase Harry from your memory like that?"

Severus glared at her, wondering if she was acting thick or simply was refusing to see the obvious. He saw the moment Lupin got it, because the Werewolf clicked his mouth shut and his face paled with horror. Minerva was not stupid; she simply did not want to come to such a conclusion. She slowly shook her head in disbelief and Severus mercilessly helped her along.

"There is only one person I know of who has the skill to overcome my mental barriers, and modify my memories with such precision."

"Albus Dumbledore," Remus Lupin supplied in a voice hoarse with dread.

Severus found himself nodding in agreement, much to his distaste. "You both must be very, very careful, because I can guarantee, Minerva, you are next. I suggest we sit down and discuss contingency plans. And you both will need to tell me what I have been forced to forget, especially how in the world you expect me to care about … Potter."

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Snape is going to get his memories back, never fear, but not for a little while. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. A lot is happening and things are moving toward the story's climax. Dumbledore's gonna find out he messed with the wrong Slytherin, don't worry.

Thanks for all your reviews and love!