Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are the property
of JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers, among others. I am making no
money and no copyright infringement is intended. I love JKR and just want to
play with her toys for a bit!
Rating: PG-13 to R depending upon the chapter
Authors Notes: This fic is part of the 'Order of the Phoenix' Harry/Severus Fuh-Q-Fest'. Challenges: A3 (Harry goes to talk to Snape about his father), B6 (Harry is desperate to find out the truth about his father, and steals Snape's pensieve to view all of his memories of James) and C5 (Occlumency practice creates a link between Snape and Harry, and they start experiencing each other's dreams).
Betas: Wolf Lupin, Eowyn, and Julie (AKA: Mayfair98). Thanks for all of your help!
Where the Apple
Falls
Chapter One: Like Father, Like Son (or not)
Harry Potter sat alone on the train to Hogwarts for the first time at the beginning of his sixth year. During previous years, he had been surrounded by friends. He, Ron, and Hermione had always shared the cabin, but this time they were off in meetings. This time, there were no friends to share Chocolate Frogs with, no one to play Exploding Snap with. There were no visiting Gryffindors poking their heads around the door or popping in for gossip. Even Malfoy had failed to make his annual appearance.
Harry didn't care. He needed to think. He had asked to be left alone, and it appeared that his friends were actually listening for a change. He couldn't take the pitying looks in his direction, the avoidance of certain names that might upset him. They all walked on eggshells, and he hated it. Sirius was dead. He had had two months to get used to that fact. He wasn't going to break if the name was mentioned. Sirius was dead, but he had finally gotten what he wanted. His name was cleared. He was declared a hero. He was awarded an Order of Merlin. The medal had been delivered to Harry. But somehow awards given post-humously by a man who wanted to assuage his guilt were considerably lacking in luster.
Fudge could calm his conscience by handing out medals, but Harry was certain that his own guilt would never disappear. Yet, as his few short memories of Sirius had faded and the pain of loss had become bearable, Harry had begun to wonder about his godfather. The man had been reckless; he'd known that. But had he really been the person that Harry had thought? Over the summer months his mind had returned to what he had seen in Snape's pensieve. Had Sirius been a bully? Had his father? The two boys he had seen were more like Malfoy than like himself. They had attacked Snape simply because he was a Slytherin, from a dark family much like the one that Sirius had escaped.
When he (or more often Ron) had attacked Malfoy it had always been a response to something that the boy had said or done. He never made the first move, or even the first insult. His father and Sirius had attacked Snape with no reason other than general dislike. That alone had made him wonder. He had little difficulty believing that Sirius was reckless and vindictive. But was his father? He had always been told how wonderful his father had been, generally as an indicator of how wonderful he would eventually be.
"You'll be a great Seeker, Harry. Just like your father."
"You pull some great pranks, Harry. Just like your father."
"You're growing into a handsome young man, Harry. Just like your father."
There was only one man who seemed to think any different, only one man who did not seem to see his father as a saint or a hero.
"You're an arrogant little brat, Mr. Potter," a smooth voice in his head spoke. "Just like your father."
***********
Harry met up with Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table just before the Sorting, attempting to ignore the concerned glances that they exchanged.
"Neville said that you sat by yourself all the way up here," Ron said.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.
"I'm fine." Harry had written those words in answer to every query they had sent over the summer.
"Whatever you say, mate," Ron hadn't believed the words then, and he wasn't going to start now. "Just promise me that you won't push us away again."
Hermione was nodding enthusiastically.
Harry smiled sadly. "I won't. I need you both."
All four tables quieted down as the first years began to line up for Sorting. The numbers were fewer this year. Many parents had decided to educate their youngest children at home, just to keep them close. The usual pre-dinner announcements were given with few additions and only one major change. Weasley brand products were now listed on Filch's list of forbidden items, with the stipulation that they only be used for 'defensive purposes.' At this, Ginny and Ron stared at the headmaster in shock before bursting into laughter. Even Harry couldn't help grinning. And Mad-Eye Moody, the real Mad-Eye Moody, was back as the Defense professor.
For a moment, during the feast, Harry was able to forget the events at the end of his fifth year. For a moment, he was actually able to have fun. Then his memory came crashing back in and he felt guilty for those few moments that he had not thought of Sirius.
**********
"Albus, you cannot possibly expect me to take this boy on again. Not after what he did last time," Snape argued with the headmaster, despite knowing that he was already defeated.
"I cannot teach him this, son. You have knowledge and abilities that, no matter what my expertise may be, I cannot match."
"You mean that you would not."
Dumbledore laughed. "Yes, exactly my point. I care for the boy and would wish to respect his privacy. You, on the other hand, know how Riddle would attack him and would have no problem doing the same."
"Of course I would not respect his privacy! He's certainly shown that he does not respect mine." If Snape had been anyone else, he would have been pouting.
"Then, you will do it?" Albus asked. Only the headmaster had that rare talent for phrasing commands as questions. Snape could not refuse.
"I will do it"
*********
Harry sat in Dumbledore's office on the first day of classes, staring at the man in utter amazement. Dumbledore had just told him that Snape would be his Occlumency teacher once more.
"But sir!" the boy sputtered.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I really do think that it's better this way. Were I to take over your lessons, I would probably attempt to go easy on you, to avoid hurting you," Dumbledore said, frowning.
"You promised. Before the summer, you promised," Harry reminded the headmaster. "You apologized for sticking me with that git, and you promised that you would take over the lessons."
Dumbledore chose to overlook the insult. Harry was, after all, rather upset about the turn of events and couldn't be expected to hold his tongue. Instead, he glanced over at the man in the corner. Both Harry and Remus looked considerably worse for wear due to their loss. However, for Harry, the change existed in a more somber expression and wiser, less innocent eyes. Remus, on the other hand, had begun to look unhealthy. His hair was now almost completely gray, his face much older than his years. The werewolf walked over to Harry's chair and kneeled before it.
"Harry, listen to Albus. We all want to protect you," he said. "Even the headmaster would be tempted to try to protect you from his true strength. Severus may be the only one who can teach you how to guard against the kind of attack that you would avoid. He knows how Voldemort thinks."
"Besides," the headmaster added, "It took a great deal of convincing to get Severus to agree to take you back."
Cornered by two men that he greatly respected, Harry found himself nodding against his will. It had occurred to him, however, that this could be a way to get Snape to talk about his father.
Dumbledore sent Harry off to class. Remus followed him down the stairs, catching him by the shoulder before he reached the gargoyle.
"I just thought you might like to know that I'll be close by. I'm staying at the Shrieking Shack when I'm not away on a mission."
"Why aren't you staying at Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked.
"I couldn't stay there, knowing that he's gone." Remus answered. "He wouldn't have wanted you to beat yourself up about it, you know."
"I'm not," Harry lied.
"Harry, look at me," Remus said, turning Harry's head so that he was forced to look him in the eyes. "Sirius went the way he would have wanted to go. He hated being forced to sit in that damn house with nothing to do. You shouldn't feel guilty for living when he didn't. No matter what, he would have wanted you to be happy."
Harry nodded and turned away to go to class, leaving Remus standing on the stairway looking as lost and lonely as Harry felt.
A quick A/N for reviewers: (Take note that I am writing this purely in response to reviews I have received elsewhere. I do not rant unless it is justified.) This will be SLASH, as it was part of the challenge, and if you don't like it, oh well. I will take personal insult from any homophobic flames, as I am bisexual myself. My first love was a woman. There was nothing wrong or impure about the affection we shared. I would thank you to not profane such love with bigotry and hate.
(Stepping down from the soapbox) Other than that, if you have constructive comments about my writing, I welcome them wholeheartedly, even if they are critical. I've learned to appreciate such well-meaning criticism. It's a necessary side-effect of having two degrees in English. That, and the liquor.