Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products. I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.
WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .
(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)
By RowanRhys
Chapter Seven
July 4, 1995(Hogwarts)
"You don't think you're worthy." Remus
leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
"I'll be astounded if you can think of anyone less worthy. I was a Death Eater, Remus, I've done more evil than I can rightly remember when I was barely older than he is now! I'm not worthy of being anyone's parent even if I did know how." Severus subsided in his chair and muttered almost too quietly for Remus to hear, "And how do you think he would feel?"
"Sorry?"
"You've obviously taken a liking to him. What do you think it would do to him if he were to discover that his real father was a murderer? A conscienceless follower of the Dark Lord? A cruel, bitter teacher hated by the entire school? It'd break him, I've no doubt that it would."
Remus shook his head. "Harry's stronger than you think, Severus."
"If I find you've breathed a word of this to him, I swear I'll burn all the Wolfsbane powder in my stores and smash every vial of your potion." Snape glared over the Pensieve at the werewolf.
Lupin raised both hands in surrender. "I won't say a word. But have you figured out how you are going to handle knowing even if he doesn't? Are you going to be able to tolerate hearing him called James Potter's son by everyone when he's back here for the new term? Will you be able to treat him the same way you have been for the last four years?"
"Yes!" Snape answered stubbornly.
"Well, we'll see. Let me have my doses for the next week and I'll be off to dig out old Mundugus and update Arabella." He stood up as Severus did. As the taller, darker man handed him seven bottles of the precious liquid, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Severus, for how it was back then. If--if you ever want to talk about Lily, you know I'll listen. And I won't tell Sirius--"
"Won't tell Sirius what?"
The two men whirled to face the door as Black sauntered in. With his hair cut and tamed, and a set of newer robes, he looked nothing like the images that had set both Wizarding and Muggle communities to panic two years before.
"What a git I've always thought you were, Black." Snape recovered smoothly. "But then, I suppose that's no secret."
Sirius growled, "I didn't come down here to be insulted."
"No, I'm sure you didn't, but it would be a shame to waste the opportunity, wouldn't it? Remus, let me know if you find yourself having any side- or after-effects."
Lupin nodded. "I've been keeping notes on a small scroll about how the transformation feels. I'll give it to you when we get back at the end of the fortnight. Have a good holiday, Severus." He headed for the door, herding Black before him. He glanced back to see Severus seat himself before the Pensieve once more, before he pulled the door closed behind himself and Sirius.
* * * * *
July 7, 1995
(Little Whinging, Surrey)
Harry was shoved out the front door of 4 Privet Drive, a small duffle bag crammed with his toothbrush, a few changes of clothing, some old ratty socks, and the little tin of his special treasures wrapped up in one of Dudley's discarded tee-shirts dumped on the sidewalk by his feet. Vernon locked the door and herded his wife and son into the car, ignoring his nephew. Within moments they were gone in a roar of engine noise and Harry, his left arm, awkwardly wrapped in a stretch bandage and supported by a sling made from a piece of old torn up bedsheet, picked up his bag and trudged stiffly toward Mrs. Figg's house.
Four weeks with the old woman in her house that smelled of cabbage and all of her annoying cats. The Dursleys were going on holiday to collect their prize and to celebrate their good luck. They wouldn't be back until the first week of August.
Well, maybe I can at least convince her to let me go get my school stuff early--Oh, no! How's Figg going to react when the Owl from Hogwarts comes with the letter about my Fifth year? Harry groaned. Maybe he'd be lucky and it would show up at night. He'd just be sure to leave the window of the guest room open so the delivery owl wouldn't wake up his minder with a lot of glass tapping. And at least I've got my key to Dad and Mom's vault. If worst comes to worst, I'll run away again and spend the rest of the holiday at the Leaky Cauldron.
Mrs. Figg was apparently waiting for his arrival because the front door opened even before he could press the doorbell. "Come on in, Harry."
He swallowed as he looked at the angry expression on her wrinkled face. He really couldn't deal with any more anger right now. Uncle Vernon had left him some physical reminders of what he should say to any questions about his bruised face and injured wrist. Unlike the old injuries, the new ones were hidden beneath his clothing. All he really wanted to do right now was to curl up on Mrs. Figg's guest room bed and try to sleep without nightmares and to forget about the pain.
"Just leave your things at the foot of the stairs, you can take them up later." Figg pointed toward the closed kitchen door. "Breakfast first."
Harry dropped the bag as directed and preceded the little old woman through the swinging door, only to stop dead as he saw the white owl perched on the back of one of the chairs. "Hedwig?" Then, before he could wrap his mind around the miraculous presence of his beloved owl, the back door opened to admit a familiar looking man with gray streaked brown hair.
"Professor Lupin?"
To be continued