Harry Potter and the Soul Shifter

By: Alex Lyons3


Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and everything in the wonderful world of Hogwarts. Disney owns Brooklyn, the gargoyle. I own Jessica "Jess" Cotten.


Author's Note: Originally, I started on a story about Harry's sixth year before J.K.R. released OotP. Sadly, when Sirius died, so to did my ability to write that fan fiction. So, I've salvaged some characters and added some cross over points and re did the whole thing. I really didn't expect Sirius to die. Truthfully, I should have. Just for the record, the time line is going to be a bit iffy since most people put it up as Sirius died in 1996. I'm going to say that Harry didn't even start Hogwarts until 1997, so Sirius didn't die until 2002. Did I lose anyone? *A few hands are raised* Okay! Simply, first book published in 1997. So, that's when Harry starts as far as I'm concerned. Harry's fifth year would be 2001-2002, so Sirius (at least in my mind) does not die until 2002. Okay? Anyway, on with the story.


Okay, I would consider this chapter, by no stretch of the imagination, to be at the very least rated PG-13. If not R. If you're a parent of a child who is reading this or someone who has a weak stomach, turn back now! I'll try and make the other chapters fit around this one, so later the story will still fit together even with out this chapter. I really have no idea where this came from.


Chapter 32: Plotting to Save Lupin


RIP! SLASH! TEAR! MAUL! SMELL! BLOOD! FEAR! HATE! ANGER! KILL! KILL! KILL!

Remus awoke a week after the Christmas holidays had ended. He looked up at the ceiling of his small stone cell. The window was letting in a bit of sunlight, but not enough to really see by. He was covered in sweat from the nightmare, but he knew now that it was no nightmare, at least not a nightmare in which he could escape from when the sun rose and the birds chirped in a nearby tree, sounding far too cheerful for such a dreary place. Remus knew what had happened. He'd been let out of his cell...in his wolf form. He'd been put into a crate and taken somewhere. Regardless, he knew where and he knew why.

He had cornered the woman first. Her fear had smelled delicious to his wolf mind. He had taken one bite and he had relished the feel of her blood between his teeth and the sound of her heart beat growing fainter and fainter until nothing at all meaning he had made a successful kill.

Remus wanted to throw up as the thought came unbidden into his mind, but the thoughts and actions of his wolf-self bubbled to the surface for his morbid recollection.

The next he had forced into a small cupboard under a flight of stairs near the kitchen doorway. He was a large, fat boy. Remus had smelt his fear and it had tasted so much sweeter than the woman's. He bit, but this time had not connected with anything vital. The large boy had screamed in agony as Remus tore apart his leg, enjoying the soft feel of the boy's flesh on his tongue. The sight of the welling blood excited Remus and he dove into the cupboard, despite the ear piercing screams from the boy, for more artistic beauty. The boy had died piteously from the blood lost from his chubby leg.

Remus had gone to the tiny mirror in his cell. He looked like hell. He'd looked like hell ever since that night. He shook, little trimmers of nauseousness forcing their way out of his body the only way he'd let them. The only way he had no control over them. He tried to calm his quaking, but the last wall about his subconscious broke and the horrid image of the man came into Remus' view and he once again ran to a corner and threw up the contents of his stomach as the memory replayed in his mind over and over again. Spinning around and around, like some sort of crazed carousel.

The man had been in shocked fear when he had opened the door earlier that night, before the massacre had begun within. When Remus had found the man he had been in an upstairs room trying to get away from the overgrown wolf that had made short work of his wife and son. However, the wolf had found him and the wolf wanted to bite and see the fresh blood dribbling down the man's skin or down his own fur. The wolf had wanted to smell the acidic tang of blood and fear and sweat. The wolf wanted to hear the sound of the man screaming, and the ripping of the man's flesh. The wolf wanted to feel the warmth of the skin and the flesh and the blood, the hardness of the bone and the yielding of the man's soft tender flesh as he bit down and his sharp teeth had pricked the skin, clinked against the bones of the man's body. He wanted to taste the sweet flavor of fresh blood and the sugar-coated pleasantness that one is left with after a satisfactory meal.

The wolf had gotten the man and the man had died in agony like his wife, like his son and he had screamed. It was the most beautiful and melodious sound the wolf had ever heard and he bit harder and made sure the man lived longer just to hear him scream. When the man could scream no more and only sobbed and bled into the carpet the wolf ripped his throat out. The man died quickly after that.

Remus went over to the sink, he was shaking harder now and the day had just begun. He wanted to weep, but he dared not because soon Pettigrew would be by with his morning meal and the rat had laughed in scorn at his old friend's plight the morning after the wolf had rent such horror upon the poor family that had caused Remus so many sleepless nights afterwards. Remus choked down a whimper trying to escape. He heard the clanking of a pot as it was swung from a handle. Peter had just come down with breakfast. Most of the prisoners who had yet to have all their happiness and hope leeched from them seemed eager for their morning meal. They were only fed twice a day, but it might as well have been once. Gruel in the morning and bread in the evening. A small jar of water for each prisoner that was to last them the whole day. Pettigrew came up to Remus' cage. He noticed the signs that Remus was inflicting starvation upon himself.

"Come now, Moony. The Dark Lord wants you in fit condition for the next night we let you out. He was thinking wizards this time. A whole slew of them! Won't that be nice?" Pettigrew said as though killing innocent people was the most jovial sport in the world.

Remus tasted bile in the back of his throat, but throttled it down. He looked disgustingly at him as though he were no more than a really annoying fly or a particularly enormous, long-legged, spider. The effect was what Remus had hoped for, Pettigrew winced away from the werewolf, who had been known to literally kill with a look.

Remus walked over to the door of his cell, staring down his long blade of a nose that truly looked as though it could quite actually cleave heads. Pettigrew gulped and backed up a few paces. His face growing pale with fright.

Remus held out his plate, which took Pettigrew aback, but he relaxed and filled Remus' plate, perhaps a little too generously, and smiled his rat like grin at Remus. Remus paid it and Pettigrew no mind. He just went to his cot and sat down and ate quietly. Pettigrew looked in through the bars at him and noticed for the first time how tired, lonely, lost and dejected Remus looked and for a moment, a brief moment, something stirred inside of Pettigrew that he never knew he was capable of feeling after so long with the Dark Lord. SHAME! GUILT!


Harry was much happier now that Dumbledore was much better. He had awoken from his coma soon after Snape had administered the potion to him and he was allowed to leave the hospital wing to far more comfortable surroundings, such as his own rooms. However, Madame Pomfrey, Snape and even Harry, Ron and Hermione demanded that he cut back on his work load a bit. Hogwarts had ran itself, if not particularly smoothly, well with out Dumbledore watching over it constantly. Snape and McGonagall both insisted that The Order should be allowed to take on full responsibility of finding Remus and that they would be most understanding given the severity of the situation.

Dumbledore had agreed, but only on one condition...that Professor Brooks be in charge of the rescue and planning of said rescue. He had said it was because McGonagall would have her hands busy with running the school, which they would not let him do. Snape would have his time spent on collecting information and being a spy and planning a rescue were too risky of a business. Professor Brooks had been most understanding of the situation and planned accordingly around his classes. Professor Cotten was willing to take some of the classes completely, so as to allow more time for Brooks to plan.

Harry wanted to help, but he was unsure if Brooks was really on their side or not. Harry paused in his musings to look up at the sky. A strange sight caught his eyes and he puzzled over why anyone would be sending a solid black eagle-owl to Hogwarts at this hour of the day. The owl soared lower and lower until it landed at Harry's side on a bench outside. Harry looked slightly shocked, but deftly took the tightly rolled parchment from the owl. The owl took off as Harry unrolled the strange letter, but before he got a chance to read it he saw a lone figure walking towards him, rather slowly as though their mind was occupied with other things besides putting one foot in front off the other.

Draco Malfoy sat on his favorite bench by the lake side, his head throbbing in time with his pulse and his arm burning white hot where the Dark Mark was branded to his flesh for all the world to see. He had never known how cruel his father could really be. He had told his father that he didn't want to work for the Dark Lord, but when he came home for the Christmas holidays he was grabbed by several Death Eaters and forced to take the Dark Mark. He rubbed his arm and drew up his sleeve and some one gasped. His head shot up, his eyes wildly searching for the intruder. Malfoy's eyes landed on Harry. Malfoy began to shake as his eyes narrowed. He snarled, making his voice sound low and guttural.

"Don't you tell, Potter! Don't you dare tell! Not anyone! Do you hear me?"

Harry stared at the arm that had the hideous brand upon it and asked the only question that his frozen mind could come up with.

"Did you take it willingly?"

This startled Malfoy, his shock was so great that he hadn't time to think up a worthy lie. He told the truth.

"No, it was forced." He whispered sullenly, his eyes beginning to brim with unshed tears. "My father forced it on me. He told me I was shaming the family if I didn't take the Dark Mark. That I was being foolish. I told him that I didn't want the Mark because...because I wanted to play Quidditch...professionally. Father said I was not to be dense, I was going to take the Mark and be a school governor or work for the Ministry, like all the rest of the family. Quidditch, he said, is only for people who have no other skills and are flat broke." Malfoy rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He sighed, then recalled to whom he had said this all to and glared up at Harry as though daring him to laugh at his, now inconceivable, dream of becoming a world famous Quidditch player. Harry stared at Malfoy with out even a smirk upon his face. His eyes held a somber heir about them and his tone when he spoke was dead serious.

"You wish to play Quidditch?" Malfoy nodded. "Then what's stopping you?"

Malfoy looked at Harry as though he'd grown two heads or something like that.

"Don't you know that Death Eaters can't get Quidditch offers, Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

"Who says?" Harry countered.

"The Minister, of course." Malfoy said as though speaking to a particularly dense child. He looked for something to change the subject on and noticed the rolled up piece of parchment still clutched in Harry's hand. "Are you going to read that?"

Harry looked at Malfoy and shrugged. He unrolled the parchment.

"You're changing the subject." Harry accused as he read. "What makes you so sure that no one will ever want you to be on their Quidditch team? So what if you have the Dark Mark!? You didn't take it willingly and no one's going to say anything if you're excellent at what you do, am I right?"

Malfoy chewed on his bottom lip, trying vainly for an excuse that would work.

"Look," Harry said, looking more than a little agitated, "I'll help you. I'll see if I can get Ron to help you too. If you want. You aren't going to make pro with out serious training and help and I doubt your team mates are going to be much help, am I right?"

Harry was standing, towering over Malfoy's sitting form, looking as sternly as Professor Snape. Malfoy gulped, he knew determination when he saw it and he nodded reluctantly.

"Good. Meet me out here at five o'clock in the morning tomorrow. I have to see Professor Brooks about something." Harry ran off as Malfoy sat there on the bench gaping like a fish looking after him.


Harry entered Professor Brooks' office out of breath and five minutes after he had left Malfoy down by the lake. Professor Brooks looked up from his planning, he looked agitated at being disrupted, but as soon as he saw it was Harry who had barged in he looked concerned yet happy that Harry had come to see him.

"Harry, come in. What can I do for you?" Brooks asked cheerfully.

"Sorry, Professor, but I just recently received this letter..." Harry handed his letter to Brooks, "...it is from a man called Pettigrew. He says he has information about where Lupin is. He says that he is willing to help us find him, but I'm unsure about it. He wrote that I could bring someone of my choice."

Brooks looked over the letter carefully as though trying to disconcert any lies that might be on the bit of parchment. He looked up at Harry contemplating what would be a good thing to say next.

"Harry, do you trust this man?" Brooks asked.

Harry sighed and shook his head, "No, I don't, but what other leads do we have?"

"Point well made and well taken, Harry. Hmm...we'd better prepare immediately. I'd hate to go into The Hogs Head at rush hour, even though this Pettigrew man wants us to meet him there at rush hour I'd say it best to get there just before."

"Do you know Pettigrew?" Harry asked, thinking of a possible way of making him show his real colors.

Brooks looked at him measuringly, as he dug out two long, large hooded cloaks and passed one to Harry. "I'm afraid I've never met him, why?"

"Oh, well, no reason." Harry said. Brooks gave him a long piercing look. Harry looked away quickly, but Brooks sighed loudly and put on his cloak which Harry followed suit.

"Lupin told me something before he was captured." Brooks said evenly as they stepped out into the nippy air about the front of the school. "He said you thought I was a Death Eater." Harry felt his guts twist in a knot, but let Brooks continue. "I will tell you this much Harry...Voldemort has no hold over me unless he gets a hold of what I treasure most and those things are safely beyond his reach. He has no power in which I want and no incentive in which I have not already had the sample of. He has no power over me!"

Harry thought on this and had to agree, if Voldemort ever got a hold of his friends he would be willing to give up anything to get them out safely.

"What do you treasure most, sir?" Harry asked.

Brooks chuckled, "To tell would put those things in great danger. When the war is over. When Voldemort is dead and dust, then you may ask me and I'll tell you then."

They reached The Hogs Head and entered it slowly. It was dimly lit as always and the old barkeep looked up from his glass that he was cleaning.

"Aberforth, you old dog!" Brooks shouted into the silence that had descended upon the pub when Harry and he had entered, "Don't you know cleaning works better with a clean rag?"

"Keep your foolish house cleaning tips to yourself, Brooks! I don't need them!" The old barkeep snarled, good-naturedly back.

"Ha! As if you'd listen anyway! A butterbeer for my friend here," Brooks clapped Harry on the shoulder, "and the usual for me!" Aberforth nodded and got out the dusty butterbeer from under the counter and a spotlessly clean glass which he filled with a liquor that Harry had never seen before. He brought them over to the table in which the two sat. Aberforth eyed Brooks warily.

"Brian, who're you meeting?" He asked, his tone far lower than before. Harry watched in rapt fascination as the two conversed like old friends.

"A friend. More of an acquaintance, really. Do you know anyone that's called Pettigrew?" Brooks said as Harry choked on his butterbeer.

"You're meeting with that rat." Aberforth snarled his hands clenched, "Why?"

"He sent my friend here a letter that said we might be able to get some information about the wolf from him." Brooks stated. Aberforth's eyes got huge.

"I see. If I see the little rat, I'll let him know where you are." Aberforth said as he strode back to the bar.

Harry looked to Brooks as though he'd lost his mind, but Brooks grinned. "Not to worry Harry, Aberforth works for us. He's Albus' brother."

This completely shocked Harry and all he could do for the next few minutes was stare opened mouthed at Brooks while he sipped his unusual drink.

* * *


To radarPLO: Yeah, I wanted Snape to be a good guy and being that it is almost the end of the series you'd think JKR would stop making us guess at that one. Sadistic woman! Yeah, I thought it was silly too. I wanted to show that Harry's sanity was slipping slightly here. I would think that it would likely happen because he's under so much stress right now. I figure Harry blames himself for Cedric's death, Sirius' death, Dumbledore getting sick (even though he had nothing to do with that) and Lupin getting captured (also something he had nothing to do with). I believed that Snape would react that way because it isn't common knowledge around the school that Dumbledore's fallen ill, so he'd want to talk to them in private. As for being a Star Trek Fan, only slightly. But, hey, I'm a Gargoyles fan and they use a lot of the talent from Star Trek: TNG for Gargs, so I watch TNG to hear Xanatoes and Demona playing Riker and Troi.


To hermionegreen: I would think that Harry's intellegent enough to realize that Snape was getting him out of there and not really wanting to hurt him. In book 5, I believe Dumbledore tells Harry that Snape was very worried about Harry and Hermione when they didn't return to the school from the forest. So there you go.


To Butler: Thanks! I'm glad it is different. I've seen far too many fan fics out there that follow some sort of plan or something. I'm looking at other peoples fan fics for insperation, but for the most part it is all my idea.


To Jade of Darkness: As soon as I finish with all these reviews, it'll be out! I'm a good writer? Thank you!


To carpathia: I'm glad you weren't disappointed. Yeah, Good Ol' Severus, always there when you need him, working tirelessly for The Order and Hogwarts without any complaint. At least that's how I'm trying to write him. Well, thanks, I look forward to your next review.