Chapter 2
Morning came and with it the realisation that last night's events hadn't just been a crazy dream. The baby boy was struggling against the firm yet gentle hold the werewolf had on him and began crying. Groggily Remus opened first one than both eyes and regarded his new responsibility closely. That was when he first noticed the scar on his forehead. Shaped like a lightning- bolt it gave the impression of a curse scar. Which curse it was however Remus did not know.
Suddenly Harry's stomach made a gurgling sound. Chuckling mildly he put the child down on the couch carefully and headed for the kitchen intent on finding something suitable. In vain, though. While Remus was still pondering this dilemma - it was Sunday after all, no shop was open - help literally arrived out of thin air.
Having been alarmed by her close friend Albus Dumbledore, Arabella Figg had organised all of the necessary equipment for taking care of a small child and had gone to Lupin's place. By means of a newly enchanted portkey she managed to bring the necessary equipment needed for a child with her. With a great deal of help from the elderly lady Remus managed to feed, bathe and change little Harry.
Bending over the bath-tub he scrubbed the child's head while Mrs Figg leant awkwardly against the wash-basin watching him like a hawk. "Now lad, Albus and me had a little chat about your 'problem' - oh be careful!" Here she grabbed a washcloth and pushing Remus out of her way she gingerly removed the soap that threatened to run into Harry's eyes. " Anyway, and we came up with a solution." Arabella herself, she explained, would baby-sit Harry these few days and nights each month. The werewolf had to agree that it was a good idea. Mrs. Figg was aged but highly respected witch and most importantly she knew about Remus' condition. She had been the Divination teacher while the Marauders attended school.
In the following weeks he was kept busy by the baby. When his ward didn't need anything though, the werewolf could be seen working on some pictures at the desk in his living room. The boy's crib and other equipment had been put into the former study and atelier, and the desk and the shelves of books found themselves in the living room instead. Drawing was his only income at the moment and also the only possible one. To keep an eye on Harry he needed to be at home, and taking care of the child was a full- time job.
It was the night before full moon and Remus suffered from a severe case of nervousness and couldn't bring himself to concentrate on his drawing. This made Harry happy. Uncle Moony had stopped working altogether and was now playing with him and the stuffed bear. The child squealed in delight as the bear suddenly started talking to him. Yet, why Uncle Moony kept mimicking the bear as he spoke was beyond Harry. But it was funny anyway. He made a grab for the toy but fell forward onto Remus lap. He didn't give up though and tried until the man gave "Silly" - Harry had named the bear himself - to him. While the baby hugged the toy the werewolf smiled down at him. He was really a cute kid. A cute, yawning kid. A look at the clock told Remus that it was way after Harry's usual bed-time. Picking him up he carried the boy upstairs and put him to bed with a soft kiss on his forehead. Attempting to straighten up again he noticed he couldn't. A tiny hand hold on to his robes. "Harry, please, let me go."
"No.", the child giggled. "Harry, please."
"No."
Extraordinary situations called for extraordinary measures. Remus eyed him speculatively. "If I tell you a nice, long bed-time story will you let me go?" Harry seemed to consider it. Why wouldn't he? Listening to stories was even better than playing with Silly. Remus already thought himself victorious when the child shattered his hopes. "No."
"Fine", the man relented, "what about both of us sleeping in my bed? Would you like that?"
'Finally', thought Harry. 'Took you long enough to figure it out.'
"Yes."
"Alright then."
He carried the boy over to his room and laid him down. Minutes later little Harry was sound asleep. Lying on the bed, an arm slung around him, Remus wondered if the kid knew that he couldn't stay with him the next couple of days. He had never before been this insistent on not being left alone. Maybe he had the sixth sense, but there was no point in speculating about this now. Closing his eyes the man soon followed the toddler into dream land.
Late in the morning of the following day, around half past ten, Remus made his way over to Mrs. Figg's. While she and the werewolf exchanged a few polite words, Harry goggled at Arabella's pets - cats. Loads of cats! On the couch, near the hearth, in the kitchen, everywhere. Never before had he seen so many felines. The boy struggled to get away from his guardian, and Lupin absentmindedly obliged. It wasn't much later that the two adults heard a hissing sound and the wailing of a baby. In next but no time Remus was at Harry's side and scooped the boy up into his arms.
It was only a scratch. Nothing to worry about. Yet, he couldn't shake off the bad feeling that he had had ever since being entrusted with Harry. "What is it, lad?" Mrs. Figg asked him while putting a plaster witch tiny red dragons on the baby's cheek.
"I," Remus looked down. How was he going to say this? "I'm not a good guardian.", he mumbled after a moment's pause. "What makes you say this?", the witch inquired laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. The werewolf remained silent.
"Oh it's this." Arabella thought for a moment. Remus was a nice boy but he had a bit of a low self-esteem. She'd have to consider her next words very carefully. "Don't let it worry you.", she finally told him, "You will make an excellent guardian especially because of it." She smiled reassuringly. "And now shush. Harry and I will do fine, and I think you need some time to prepare yourself." Remus did as he was told and left feeling a bit better. Strange how she had seemed to know what had been bothering him all the while. On the other hand Mrs Figg had been the Divination teacher after all. A bit of a mind-reading talent wouldn't surprise him. He wondered what she had meant with 'especially', though.
The afternoon was torture. Time kept dragging itself at an immensely slow pace. On one hand he appreciated it, on the other he wanted the night to be over as soon as possible. Being torn between anticipation and fear he paced the small basement of his house. He needed something bigger, he knew. The wolf went even more berserk than normally because of the crampedness. It felt like it was driven into a corner, and hurt itself more and more lately. The fact that he still lived in the same house he had promised himself to sell a few weeks ago didn't help it either, naturally.
~**~
Nothing could have prepared Mrs. Figg for the following night. Harry was a nice kid, alright, but he blank-pointedly refused to go to sleep, eat or drink, or even be quiet. He didn't even want to play with his favourite toy. When at eleven thirty p. m. exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and he dejectedly allowed himself to be fed and put to bed, the witch was just as worn out. Not bothering to undress she fell onto her own bed and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The following morning she tried to feed the boy yet again, and yet again he refused although it was apparent that he was hungry. Concerned about his health the woman called a doctor.
Dr. Coronides Maggot arrived one hour later. With a cheery expression and a jolly 'hello' he tumbled out of the fireplace and swiftly crossed the living room towards his young patient. Mrs. Figg liked the man. He was in his late forties and already had some bald patches on his head. Though still young in comparison he was an expert in healing and probably one of the best doctors around. The only thing that ticked her slightly off was his rather talkative nature. While checking Harry over he told her about the large amount of patients he'd already treated this morning. "...Oh, and there was this young werewolf." The witch's eyes snapped open in attention. "Poor lad, really. Had quite a lot of bites and scratches. Told him to rest for at least twenty-four hours straight, though he probably won't listen, never does this one... Yeah, well can't find anything wrong with lil' Harry here. He's as healthy as could be. Whatever makes him agitated it's certainly nothing physical." A cheerful good-bye later the wizard was on his way to his next case.
~~**~~
//Running through the forest a small boy, clad in wizards' robes. Trees passing by, eerie silence save for ragged breath. He stumbled, made to stand up again. Too late! It pounced. Full moon reflected in frightened eyes of bright green. The moment passed. A shrill cry and darkness.//
Remus awoke with a start. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a dream like this. Before Hogwarts, for sure. He was dimly aware of his throbbing limps. The potion the doctor had given him certainly soothed the pain but it dulled his senses, as well. The sound of someone knocking on the door of his bed-room penetrated his mind. Remus wished they would stop. As if to spite him the rapping grew louder and more insistent. He groaned. Before his brain had time to consider the possible implications, however, his treacherous voice had hoarsely permitted entrance to the seeker already. In came Mrs. Figg, carrying a small and struggling bundle. Seeing the state the werewolf was in she hesitated. It might not have been a good idea after all. This thought, however, was irrelevant because as soon as Harry saw his guardian he began to make desperate grabs for Remus, even going as far as kicking the witch. It took all of Mrs. Figg's skill not to drop him right then instead she dumped him on the bed. Harry stilled immediately. Realisation dawned on the woman's mind.
~**~
//Squeak!
Splash!
Bubble.//
"Hey, what... MUMMY!!"
"Fred! George!"
Sometimes Molly Weasley caught herself thinking her children were obsessed. It was a notion that struck her mostly when confronted with the twins. There was never one day, one !single! day when nothing happened. Angrily she put a marker on the recipe page and deposited the latest edition of //Witch Weekly// on the kitchen table. With a glare that plainly said "If looks could kill you'd be dead by now!" she stomped up the stairs toward the bathroom. Of course, who else but the two trouble-makers was there?! It was not surprising. They usually were right in the thick of things, and even more often they were the cause for whatever had occurred. Yesterday, George had turned his baby brother Ronald green, the day before Fred had broken the expensive porcelain jug their mother got for her wedding, and today - "Mum, they killed Blotchy!", a teary-eyed and sniffing Percy appeared at her side. In his outstretched hand he held the mortal remains of his pet hamster, Blotchy. Molly sighed inwardly. The animal was her son's only friend because despite his charming character and nearly perfect manners he was quite isolated. While Bill, her eldest, tried to be nice towards his little brother the rest of his siblings either ignored him (Charly) or continually vexed him (the twins). He didn't have any friends at pre-school either, something the mother really couldn't understand. Percy was always so nice and polite, everyone who came to visit just adored him but these people were all too old to play with him. Most were parents themselves. Yet, nay, probably because of the lack in social ties he hardly opened up to anybody, with the exception of his hamster - which was now dead.
"Oh Percy!" She gathered the boy in her arms, careful not to crush the cadaver between them. While she was comforting her little son the two culprits tiptoed across the tiled bathroom towards presumed safety; but Mrs. Weasley knew her little devils all too well. A quick spoken curse later and they were both caught up in what looked like a giant bubble-gum bubble. There was no way of escaping this. They were doomed.
Chapter added on 06/19/03. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review!
Morning came and with it the realisation that last night's events hadn't just been a crazy dream. The baby boy was struggling against the firm yet gentle hold the werewolf had on him and began crying. Groggily Remus opened first one than both eyes and regarded his new responsibility closely. That was when he first noticed the scar on his forehead. Shaped like a lightning- bolt it gave the impression of a curse scar. Which curse it was however Remus did not know.
Suddenly Harry's stomach made a gurgling sound. Chuckling mildly he put the child down on the couch carefully and headed for the kitchen intent on finding something suitable. In vain, though. While Remus was still pondering this dilemma - it was Sunday after all, no shop was open - help literally arrived out of thin air.
Having been alarmed by her close friend Albus Dumbledore, Arabella Figg had organised all of the necessary equipment for taking care of a small child and had gone to Lupin's place. By means of a newly enchanted portkey she managed to bring the necessary equipment needed for a child with her. With a great deal of help from the elderly lady Remus managed to feed, bathe and change little Harry.
Bending over the bath-tub he scrubbed the child's head while Mrs Figg leant awkwardly against the wash-basin watching him like a hawk. "Now lad, Albus and me had a little chat about your 'problem' - oh be careful!" Here she grabbed a washcloth and pushing Remus out of her way she gingerly removed the soap that threatened to run into Harry's eyes. " Anyway, and we came up with a solution." Arabella herself, she explained, would baby-sit Harry these few days and nights each month. The werewolf had to agree that it was a good idea. Mrs. Figg was aged but highly respected witch and most importantly she knew about Remus' condition. She had been the Divination teacher while the Marauders attended school.
In the following weeks he was kept busy by the baby. When his ward didn't need anything though, the werewolf could be seen working on some pictures at the desk in his living room. The boy's crib and other equipment had been put into the former study and atelier, and the desk and the shelves of books found themselves in the living room instead. Drawing was his only income at the moment and also the only possible one. To keep an eye on Harry he needed to be at home, and taking care of the child was a full- time job.
It was the night before full moon and Remus suffered from a severe case of nervousness and couldn't bring himself to concentrate on his drawing. This made Harry happy. Uncle Moony had stopped working altogether and was now playing with him and the stuffed bear. The child squealed in delight as the bear suddenly started talking to him. Yet, why Uncle Moony kept mimicking the bear as he spoke was beyond Harry. But it was funny anyway. He made a grab for the toy but fell forward onto Remus lap. He didn't give up though and tried until the man gave "Silly" - Harry had named the bear himself - to him. While the baby hugged the toy the werewolf smiled down at him. He was really a cute kid. A cute, yawning kid. A look at the clock told Remus that it was way after Harry's usual bed-time. Picking him up he carried the boy upstairs and put him to bed with a soft kiss on his forehead. Attempting to straighten up again he noticed he couldn't. A tiny hand hold on to his robes. "Harry, please, let me go."
"No.", the child giggled. "Harry, please."
"No."
Extraordinary situations called for extraordinary measures. Remus eyed him speculatively. "If I tell you a nice, long bed-time story will you let me go?" Harry seemed to consider it. Why wouldn't he? Listening to stories was even better than playing with Silly. Remus already thought himself victorious when the child shattered his hopes. "No."
"Fine", the man relented, "what about both of us sleeping in my bed? Would you like that?"
'Finally', thought Harry. 'Took you long enough to figure it out.'
"Yes."
"Alright then."
He carried the boy over to his room and laid him down. Minutes later little Harry was sound asleep. Lying on the bed, an arm slung around him, Remus wondered if the kid knew that he couldn't stay with him the next couple of days. He had never before been this insistent on not being left alone. Maybe he had the sixth sense, but there was no point in speculating about this now. Closing his eyes the man soon followed the toddler into dream land.
Late in the morning of the following day, around half past ten, Remus made his way over to Mrs. Figg's. While she and the werewolf exchanged a few polite words, Harry goggled at Arabella's pets - cats. Loads of cats! On the couch, near the hearth, in the kitchen, everywhere. Never before had he seen so many felines. The boy struggled to get away from his guardian, and Lupin absentmindedly obliged. It wasn't much later that the two adults heard a hissing sound and the wailing of a baby. In next but no time Remus was at Harry's side and scooped the boy up into his arms.
It was only a scratch. Nothing to worry about. Yet, he couldn't shake off the bad feeling that he had had ever since being entrusted with Harry. "What is it, lad?" Mrs. Figg asked him while putting a plaster witch tiny red dragons on the baby's cheek.
"I," Remus looked down. How was he going to say this? "I'm not a good guardian.", he mumbled after a moment's pause. "What makes you say this?", the witch inquired laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. The werewolf remained silent.
"Oh it's this." Arabella thought for a moment. Remus was a nice boy but he had a bit of a low self-esteem. She'd have to consider her next words very carefully. "Don't let it worry you.", she finally told him, "You will make an excellent guardian especially because of it." She smiled reassuringly. "And now shush. Harry and I will do fine, and I think you need some time to prepare yourself." Remus did as he was told and left feeling a bit better. Strange how she had seemed to know what had been bothering him all the while. On the other hand Mrs Figg had been the Divination teacher after all. A bit of a mind-reading talent wouldn't surprise him. He wondered what she had meant with 'especially', though.
The afternoon was torture. Time kept dragging itself at an immensely slow pace. On one hand he appreciated it, on the other he wanted the night to be over as soon as possible. Being torn between anticipation and fear he paced the small basement of his house. He needed something bigger, he knew. The wolf went even more berserk than normally because of the crampedness. It felt like it was driven into a corner, and hurt itself more and more lately. The fact that he still lived in the same house he had promised himself to sell a few weeks ago didn't help it either, naturally.
~**~
Nothing could have prepared Mrs. Figg for the following night. Harry was a nice kid, alright, but he blank-pointedly refused to go to sleep, eat or drink, or even be quiet. He didn't even want to play with his favourite toy. When at eleven thirty p. m. exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and he dejectedly allowed himself to be fed and put to bed, the witch was just as worn out. Not bothering to undress she fell onto her own bed and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The following morning she tried to feed the boy yet again, and yet again he refused although it was apparent that he was hungry. Concerned about his health the woman called a doctor.
Dr. Coronides Maggot arrived one hour later. With a cheery expression and a jolly 'hello' he tumbled out of the fireplace and swiftly crossed the living room towards his young patient. Mrs. Figg liked the man. He was in his late forties and already had some bald patches on his head. Though still young in comparison he was an expert in healing and probably one of the best doctors around. The only thing that ticked her slightly off was his rather talkative nature. While checking Harry over he told her about the large amount of patients he'd already treated this morning. "...Oh, and there was this young werewolf." The witch's eyes snapped open in attention. "Poor lad, really. Had quite a lot of bites and scratches. Told him to rest for at least twenty-four hours straight, though he probably won't listen, never does this one... Yeah, well can't find anything wrong with lil' Harry here. He's as healthy as could be. Whatever makes him agitated it's certainly nothing physical." A cheerful good-bye later the wizard was on his way to his next case.
~~**~~
//Running through the forest a small boy, clad in wizards' robes. Trees passing by, eerie silence save for ragged breath. He stumbled, made to stand up again. Too late! It pounced. Full moon reflected in frightened eyes of bright green. The moment passed. A shrill cry and darkness.//
Remus awoke with a start. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a dream like this. Before Hogwarts, for sure. He was dimly aware of his throbbing limps. The potion the doctor had given him certainly soothed the pain but it dulled his senses, as well. The sound of someone knocking on the door of his bed-room penetrated his mind. Remus wished they would stop. As if to spite him the rapping grew louder and more insistent. He groaned. Before his brain had time to consider the possible implications, however, his treacherous voice had hoarsely permitted entrance to the seeker already. In came Mrs. Figg, carrying a small and struggling bundle. Seeing the state the werewolf was in she hesitated. It might not have been a good idea after all. This thought, however, was irrelevant because as soon as Harry saw his guardian he began to make desperate grabs for Remus, even going as far as kicking the witch. It took all of Mrs. Figg's skill not to drop him right then instead she dumped him on the bed. Harry stilled immediately. Realisation dawned on the woman's mind.
~**~
//Squeak!
Splash!
Bubble.//
"Hey, what... MUMMY!!"
"Fred! George!"
Sometimes Molly Weasley caught herself thinking her children were obsessed. It was a notion that struck her mostly when confronted with the twins. There was never one day, one !single! day when nothing happened. Angrily she put a marker on the recipe page and deposited the latest edition of //Witch Weekly// on the kitchen table. With a glare that plainly said "If looks could kill you'd be dead by now!" she stomped up the stairs toward the bathroom. Of course, who else but the two trouble-makers was there?! It was not surprising. They usually were right in the thick of things, and even more often they were the cause for whatever had occurred. Yesterday, George had turned his baby brother Ronald green, the day before Fred had broken the expensive porcelain jug their mother got for her wedding, and today - "Mum, they killed Blotchy!", a teary-eyed and sniffing Percy appeared at her side. In his outstretched hand he held the mortal remains of his pet hamster, Blotchy. Molly sighed inwardly. The animal was her son's only friend because despite his charming character and nearly perfect manners he was quite isolated. While Bill, her eldest, tried to be nice towards his little brother the rest of his siblings either ignored him (Charly) or continually vexed him (the twins). He didn't have any friends at pre-school either, something the mother really couldn't understand. Percy was always so nice and polite, everyone who came to visit just adored him but these people were all too old to play with him. Most were parents themselves. Yet, nay, probably because of the lack in social ties he hardly opened up to anybody, with the exception of his hamster - which was now dead.
"Oh Percy!" She gathered the boy in her arms, careful not to crush the cadaver between them. While she was comforting her little son the two culprits tiptoed across the tiled bathroom towards presumed safety; but Mrs. Weasley knew her little devils all too well. A quick spoken curse later and they were both caught up in what looked like a giant bubble-gum bubble. There was no way of escaping this. They were doomed.
Chapter added on 06/19/03. Reviews will be answered in Chapter One entitled "Author Notes, Disclaimer, Answers to Reviews, etc." Constructive criticism welcome! Please, review!