**Hello and welcome to chapter 24. Last time I forgot to say a special thanks, so thank you to mell – my 1000th reviewer!!!!!

Yes, I have read the fifth book (angry growl) I read it during the first few hours after I got back from school on Saturday. (Well when I say few I mean 9 solid hours but bear with me). I can assure you that the 'one who dies' in OotP will not die in this story – well, straight away, anyway.

-Ducks flying tomatoes-

Disclaimer: Here I must disclaim all rights to The Lion King, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and any other fabulous pieces of work from which I have borrowed jokes – as I am the most unfunny person in the entire world.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to mell (1000th reviewer) and to Sarah 'Pordell' (whose 14th Birthday it is today). **

Harry pounded across the forest floor, his eyes darting back and forth through the trees.

If he had had time, he would have rejoiced in the glorious feeling the movement gave him.

He was soaring past bushes, glades and rocky plateaus. His antlers tossed as he turned his head this way and that, searching.

He was deep into the forest now, further than he'd ever been before. It was almost pitch black, the only light being patches of moonlight on the ground wherever the trees thinned.

Suddenly a huge black shape leapt out in front of him, and he reared, his hooves pawing the air at lightning speed.

The black shape growled menacingly, just as Harry forced his human instincts to take control of his human ones and thumped his fore hooves to the ground.

The wolf crouching before him was at least as long as Harry's new form, and at its full height would be almost as tall.

Its fur was black in the almost non-existent light, but its teeth gleamed white with a light of their own. Its snout was abnormally long. It was, without question, a werewolf.

Harry took one step back, and the werewolf crouched even lower, teeth fully bared and fur standing on end, ready to pounce.

Ever so slowly, Harry sank to his elegant fore knees, in a sort of bow, an indication of respect, or so he hoped, anyway.

The werewolf's eyes met his own. Behind the savage, fixed expression and red points of light in the pupils, there seemed to be the faintest flicker of recognition.

Then it was snuffed out like a candle, and the wolf leapt at Harry with its inch-long claws bared.

If Harry hadn't already been kneeling, he would have fallen. As it was, he roared in pain, blood pouring from his foreleg as he scrambled upright.

Surprisingly, the wolf backed off at the sound, its tail between its legs and its expression slightly less savage.

Suspicious, Harry too a couple more steps backwards, his leg searing with agony every time he moved. The ground was splattered with red blood that lit up in a strange, ugly sort of way.

The werewolf still made no move, and Harry watched intently the battle going on behind its eyes, the part of it that was still Remus struggling to gain some ounce of control.

Eventually, the werewolf took a step forward – a submissive, indecisive step. Harry moved closer too, as slowly as was physically possible so as not to startle it.

Its wet nose touched Harry's shoulder, and Harry froze, but the werewolf seemed merely curious as it nuzzled against him.

Then it lay down on the forest floor, looking up at Harry with grateful, adoring eyes, as though it were not a man-killing beast but a playful puppy in need of a scratch on the belly.

Tentatively, still unsure of how far he could trust this animal, Harry lay down beside him.

Seeming content, the werewolf lay back against him, and Harry steeled himself for a long night.

. * . * . * .

Professor McGonagall squinted at the trees through the darkness.

"I still can't see anything," she said.

"Patience," said Dumbledore.

"Patience?" she asked, her voice shrill. "Potter is an unregistered animagus! That's very advanced – and dangerous – magic!"

"Are you really so surprised?" drawled Professor Snape, sounding vaguely amused. "Potter would do anything to show off a little more. Personally I'm astounded that the entire school doesn't already know."

"If they did he'd have been arrested by now," said McGonagall, clenching her hands as if she wanted to punch something – like Snape's face.

Dumbledore ignored them. He rested his eyes for moment, looking up at the night sky.

There was no sign of the sun as yet, though it was almost morning, but the moon was still bright and full.

They stood there for maybe another hour, until the moon sunk beneath the horizon, and the sun rose, as red as blood.

"We've been here all night, Albus," Snape growled. "Don't you think it's time to –?"

"Look, there!" Professor McGonagall cried suddenly.

A huge, dark, hideously deformed shape was looming out of the blackness of the forest. As one, the three teachers drew their wands.

The shape moved slowly towards them, but as it drew closer, they saw that it was not one shape, but two – a stag, with a figure of a man draped across it.

Dumbledore lowered his wand and beckoned to the other two. The three of them moved closer to meet the majestic animal.

Although it appeared to have injured the right foreleg in some way, the stag still made an impressive sight.

It was completely black, from hooves to antlers, which appeared to be made of ebony, so dark a shade were they.

"Albus," said Professor McGonagall, her voice slightly constricted. "That man – it's Remus Lupin!"

Snape rolled his eyes, but Dumbledore reached out his hand to touch the stag's forehead.

"Harry?"

The stag made a kind of half bow, crouching and shaking slightly so that Lupin slid off his back. The pale man did not appear to have any serious injuries.

The stag leaned over and nuzzled at him. Lupin's eyes opened, and he lifted a shaking hand to the animal's forelock.

"James?" he whispered. "I'm so tired…" and his hand went limp.

Dumbledore conjured a stretcher from nowhere and floated Lupin's still body onto it. He turned to the stag, which was now holding its right foreleg just above the ground. There was a long, deep gnash almost from thigh to ankle.

"We need to get up to the hospital wing," Dumbledore told him gently. "Can you transform?"

. * .

Harry looked up at his headmaster. His head was swimming with pain still, and he didn't need to be told that he had lost a lot of blood. He tried to clear his mind of thought and to speak the words inside his head.

His human form refused to come forth. It was too large and too complex for him to even attempt – so he chose something a little easier.

. * .

Dumbledore looked down at the black cat staring helplessly up at him. "That'll do, I suppose," he said.

Professor McGonagall was spluttering incoherently, and Snape had gone as white as a sheet as they both took an involuntary step back from Harry.

"Albus!" McGonagall squeaked. "He's… he's a…"

"An Animuchos, yes, I know," Dumbledore said calmly. "I believe he would like you to carry him."

. * .

Harry would have protested – he certainly wanted no such thing – but McGonagall was already placing long-fingered hands around his thin waist.

She lifted him gently, and brought his black, furry face close to her own.

"We're going to have a long talk about this later, My Lord," she said.

. * . * . * . * .

It was about six o'clock in the morning when they finally entered the hospital wing.

Perhaps it came from many years of practise at Hogwarts, where accidents were second nature to every other pupil, but Madam Pomfrey was up and dressed thirty seconds after Dumbledore knocked on her office door.

"What is it this time?" she demanded as she bustled into the centre of the room, red faced with her hands on her hips, her matron's apron slightly askew.

Her eyes took in Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and the cat in her arms, and finally, Remus Lupin on a stretcher. 

She took her wand out, waved it over Remus, and said "Revello!"

A shadowy form of a wolf's head emerged from Remus' chest to glare at Madam Pomfrey, it's tongue lolling.

"I know that," she told it sharply. It shivered, and dissolved into an insubstantial grey mist, which disappeared when Madam Pomfrey waved her wand impatiently at it.

"He's just tired," she said with relief as she floated him onto a bed. "He'll be all right after some rest. What happened, Headmaster?"

"Well, I suppose we have reason to believe that for some reason, Remus Lupin was unable to take the wolfs bane potion tonight. Knowing the threat he posed to the school, he managed to make his way to the forbidden forest. Harry went after him."

"Potter?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "Where is he?"

"We will deal with Harry at the appropriate time, Poppy," said Dumbledore. "For the moment, I would like you to have a look at this cat."

Madam Pomfrey eyed Harry critically. "I'm not a vet, Headmaster."

"Do your best, Poppy," said Dumbledore.

Harry, however, now that he was in the warmth and safety of the hospital wing, felt much better. He didn't even hurt all that much any more.

He struggled to get out of McGonagall's arms, and she put him down on the nearest bed, opposite to where Remus was lying. 

Breathing deeply, and clearing his mind, he transformed. Madam Pomfrey screamed.

Harry looked down at himself.

He was still wearing his robes, but they were torn and muddy. The right sleeve was off entirely, exposing his injured arm. 

"Did I know that would happen?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Potter! Potter…!" Madam Pomfrey gasped.

"Yes?" asked Harry, looking up at her.

Maybe he shouldn't have attempted that transformation. He felt awfully dizzy, and he couldn't really think up anything vaguely sensible to say.

"You're an animagus!"

"Animuchos, actually," he said, feeling dizzier. "It's a very silly word, isn't it? Will Remus be ok?"

She came closer, slowly, as if she didn't really want to, and looked into his eyes, then at his arm, which was still oozing blood.

It looked a lot deeper than before, now Harry came to think of it.

"He'll be fine after he gets some sleep," she said, absent-mindedly. "You, on the other hand, have lost a lot of blood. This is going to have to heal naturally."

"Why?"

"If I try to do it magically, it'll wither and be useless. You don't want that, do you?"

Harry sighed, feeling as though he'd been drugged with something awfully nice.

"I suppose not."

"Mm." She cleaned his cut with a foul smelling potion that hissed when it came into contact with his skin. Harry didn't even flinch. She looked into his eyes once more.

"Didn't that hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head. Frowning, she wrapped his arm with bandages, sealing them with an unbreakable charm so he wouldn't be able to fiddle with them.

"Sleep," she ordered. "Now."

"But – I've got Transfiguration in a couple of hours…"

"I'm sure Professor McGonagall will excuse you," said Madam Pomfrey, looking at McGonagall for confirmation, and she nodded.

"You're not going anywhere."

Harry would have argued but he was so tired he couldn't have cared less. Before he knew what was happening his head hit the pillow.

. * .

"– after four days," Dumbledore was saying. "I was really quite impressed, but I never expected that he wouldn't need any further instruction. Mundungus took care of that for us."

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was still in the hospital, and the dividing curtains were up all around him. Voices were coming from behind them.

He was about to call to them to show he was awake, but he broke out in a fit of coughing instead.

The curtains were quickly drawn back. Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were sitting on chairs around his bed. Harry seemed to remember them being there when he'd come out of the forest.

"What was all that about?" he asked when he'd finished coughing.

"The loss of blood had started to affect your brain," Dumbledore explained casually. "Poppy had to give you some blood-strengthening potion while you were asleep. It's only natural that having things poured down your throat would affect you that way."

"Affect my brain?" Harry said, incredulously.

"Not that there's much of a one to affect," Snape murmured. 

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Watch it, Potter, unless you want bandages everywhere else."

Dumbledore glared at Snape, and he looked away.

"Ah, you're awake," said Madam Pomfrey, coming out of her office looking slightly tidier.

"How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked.

"About ten minutes," said Pomfrey. "You only needed to sleep long enough for you to have the blood-strengthening potion. It wouldn't have worked if you had been awake. Anything else you want to know?"

Harry could see that she was irritated, so he shook his head.

"Right. In that case, let's get those robes off."

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

"Potter, they're filthy. Off with them, now."

Blushing furiously, Harry pulled off his robes and T-shirt, which was also shredded beyond recognition, leaving him in his jeans, which weren't quite in as much of a bad state.

Unfortunately, this left his scars and marks fully visible to the one person he least wanted to see them – Professor Snape. He was staring, eyes wide, at Harry's chest.

"Go on," he said to Snape, challengingly. "Go ahead and say it."

"Say what, Potter?" drawled the Potions Master.

"Never mind," said Harry.

Madam Pomfrey inspected the old wounds briefly, and then passed Harry a spare hospital shirt – after removing the right sleeve with a flick of her wand.

It itched like no one's business, but Harry was grateful. He didn't want Snape – or McGonagall for that matter – to stare at him for any longer than was necessary.

He looked at the bandage on his arm, and then glanced over at Remus, who still lay prone on the opposite bench.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About half past six," said Dumbledore. "The school will be up and about in about half an hour."

"Good," said Harry decidedly. He wasn't staying here any longer than he had to – that was for sure.

Quite suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Hagrid came in, looking flustered. As he had before in the hospital wing, he looked simply too big to be allowed.

He was about to speak, but then he saw Harry and Remus lying in opposite beds, and seemed to become distracted somehow.

"Harry? What you doin' 'ere?"

"It's nothing, much," said Harry quickly.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked, his sapphire eyes flashing.

"Er… yeah, right," said Hagrid, coming to himself. "Er... one of the house-elves told me I could find you here, Professor. I just thought you ought to know…"

"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted him, calmly.

"Well, like I were saying, I thought I'd tell ye… there's summat flyin' in from the northern side, Professor. Headin' straight for us. Saw 't from me house."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "Was there anything special you noticed about this bird?"

"Oh, no sir," Hagrid said quickly. "It ain't no bird – but it ain't no broom neither. If'n ye want me opinion – well, it could be my eyes a'failin' me – but it looked to me… like a Hippogriff."

Harry's heart dropped into his stomach.

Hagrid looked guiltily back up at Dumbledore. "I couldn' be sure, sir," he said, his voice a little gruffer than usual. "But that's what it looks like, right enough."

"I see," said Dumbledore, glancing at Harry.

Harry didn't look down at his hand, but thought desperately to Sirius through their tie – "We're in the Hospital Wing, Sirius. Don't you dare come to the front door."

He couldn't tell whether his Godfather answered or not.

"He's coming to the window," Harry said to Dumbledore. "Or he'd better."

"I suppose you had better stay here, Hagrid," sighed Professor Dumbledore. "Let's get this over with."

"Who is it, Dumbledore?" asked McGonagall.

"What is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"I think I can hazard a guess," Snape growled.

Harry looked up at the window at the far end of the ward. It was as large as a church door, thankfully, but looked as though it hadn't been open in years. Instead, the smaller windows lining the south wall were flung wide perpetually for fresh air, except when it was raining, when they closed themselves.

"I think we'd better open it," he suggested, but no one heard him because they were too busy attacking Snape and Dumbledore with questions.

"I said, I think we'd better open it," he said louder.

"I said –"

WHOOSH!

With a huge rush of air, the Hippogriff had appeared outside the enormous window. The sound it made at it's dive rattled the glass as Madam Pomfrey screamed for the second time and McGonagall put her hands to her ears.

Harry leaned over as far as he could go and thrust out his bandaged arm to point at the window. "Alohamora Maxis!" he yelled, and the power rocketed through him to open the huge window with a bang.

Once the Hippogriff and its rider were inside again, it closed itself, groaning and creaking with age.

There was silence in the ward as the Hippogriff's rider dismounted. It was wearing a huge, enveloping black robe, and its face was undistinguishable behind the hood. A Dementor?

"Expecto Patronum!" yelled four voices at once, Dumbledore being as calm as cake and Hagrid unable to do magic.

A silver stag, an overgrown silver cat, an insubstantial silver beaver and a silver … well, it looked like a kappa, went straight for the robed figure, but stopped within a metre of it.

"Do you mind?" said a voice from beneath the hood. All four shapes disappeared.

It was Sirius' voice. Harry thumped back onto his pillows with utter relief.

"I think that's rather rude, don't you?" Sirius asked the Hippogriff cheerfully.

Hagrid's face was as pale as death. "Beaky?" he croaked.

Sirius jumped out of the way as Buckbeak went into what could only be called hysterics.

"Beaky! Buckbeak, me beauty!" Even Hagrid's entirety could not help but be bowled over by the ecstatic Hippogriff. Quite a few tables got knocked over during their greeting.

When things had calmed down a little, and Hagrid and Buckbeak had settled for merely clinging to each other for dear life, tears floating down Hagrid's hairy face like rivers, Sirius spoke again.

"He is yours then? I never did quite get the whole story…"

"How…" Hagrid choked. "Who…"

"Sorry?" said Sirius. "Oh, Harry."

"Harry?" Hagrid's teary face swung round to face Harry on the bed.

Harry shrugged. "Happy Birthday, Hagrid, for whenever it is."

"You saved him? Why didn' you tell me?"

Harry grimaced. If he had a Knut for every time someone had asked him that question, he'd have about enough money to buy out Gringotts Bank.

Sirius brushed himself off.

"Hello, Snape," he said, almost cheerfully.

"You," Snape spat. "What are you doing here?"

"That is a very stupid question."

"What have you done to your face?"

"It's pure darkness. Do you like it?"

"Darkness?" Dumbledore asked, interested.

"Yes. I found a way to harness darkness and hold it in one place. As long as I keep the hood up, you can't see my face. Unfortunately it makes me look like I'm on holiday from Azkaban, but you can't have everything."

"Aren't you?" Snape drawled. "On holiday from Azkaban, I mean."

"Very funny, Snape," said Sirius darkly. "You should send that in to the witch weekly. They have a page for people like you."

"Can you see through that? Or are you just going to walk around aimlessly bumping into things?"

"Yes, I can see through it, actually. Brilliant, isn't it?"

"Not particularly. I just thought that it might be amusing to watch you if you couldn't."

"Dumbledore, who is this man?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Yes, I should like to know that too, Albus," said McGonagall.

"Who were lookin' after Beaky all this time?" sobbed Hagrid.

"I am afraid that these questions must remain unanswered for the moment," said Dumbledore, gravely, eyeing Sirius. "You took a great risk coming here."

Sirius shrugged beneath the huge cloak. "I felt it was worth it, for several reasons. And if you don't mind, I'm going to deal with one of those reasons right now."

He turned to Harry, who looked straight back, unflinching.

"Somebody's in big, big trouble," Sirius said.

"Who, me?" said Harry looking over both shoulders as if trying to see if someone else was there behind him.

"Yes, you," said Sirius, choosing not to comment on his action. "You deliberately disobeyed me."

"You sound like Mufasa," Harry mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"You promised me, sincerely, that you would not move from your bed, let alone the castle," Sirius continued, unperturbed. "Do you realise how badly you could have been hurt?"

Harry looked at him pointedly, and Sirius' eyes strayed to the bandage on Harry's arm, from the wrist almost to shoulder.

Sirius swore loudly. "You see what I mean?"

"Listen," said Harry. "He was hurting and in pain – I was in pain, you didn't expect me just to ignore him, did you?"

"He's done this before," Sirius said sharply. "Once more would not have killed him."

"That's brutal!"

"But true. Remus is quite old enough to take care of himself."

"And I'm not?"

"Harry –"

"Fine," said Harry, changing tack at the speed of light. "What about all the other people that might have got hurt if I hadn't helped him? What if Hagrid or someone had been out in the forest and got bitten?"

"There are other wolves in the forest," Sirius said.

"I was a stag, right? You lot never got hurt when you were out with him."

"Want to bet? I've still got the scars if you'd like to see them."

"I'll bet no one ever told you to stop helping him."

"You're wrong. Remus did himself, many times."

"My dad would say I was doing the right thing."

"I knew your father. He would never want you to get hurt, even on Remus' behalf."

Harry's voice rose to an impressive crescendo.

"I'll tell you what, why don't I just do what I like and you can stop sticking your nose in what I do?"

"Because it is my business what you do, Harry, and I don't want you getting hurt either."

"Why are you always acting like I'm some kind of fragile invalid who'll smash as soon as I take one step? Stop treating me like a child!"

"You are not an adult yet, Harry."

"And you're not my father!"

There was an uncomfortable silence while both caught their breath. Hagrid, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were staring in shock. Dumbledore's face was expressionless, and Snape was looking contemptuous.

Sirius sat down on the bed next to Harry's, obviously conscious that everyone was watching him.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know I'm not."

Harry suddenly realised how much he had hurt his godfather by saying that.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You were right."

"Only in part, maybe," said Sirius.  Another uncomfortable pause. "How badly hurt are you? The truth?"

"He lost a lot of blood," Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "The wound has to heal naturally – and he'll have a nasty scar."

"Oh, well," said Harry. "I suppose one more won't make too much difference."

"Yes," said Sirius, "plus – girls like scars."

Harry smiled at him, and everything was all right again. "How long are you here for?" he asked.

Sirius looked quickly up at Dumbledore before answering. "I'm not sure," he said carefully. "Until something else comes up for me to do."

"Where are you hiding?"

"Hiding?"

"Yeah. If Wendy catches you, you're dragon fodder."

"She won't catch me," Sirius said confidently.

"Listen, I know her – I've fought her – you're better off hiding."

"You fought her?"

Before Harry could answer, Remus stirred in the bed opposite.

"What's going on?"

"Are you all right, Moony?" Sirius called, without moving his head.

"Padfoot? What're you doing here?"

"Never you mind. Are you all right?"

"Yes – I think so…"

"Good. Now I can start pounding on you."

Slowly, as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, Remus raised himself on his elbows. He took in Dumbledore, Hagrid, Buckbeak, McGonagall, Pomfrey, and finally, Sirius and Harry.

"Harry?"

"Good morning," Harry greeted him.

"What the hell happened?"

"You tell me," Sirius growled.

Remus sat still for a few seconds, as if trying to remember. Then, with a groan, he thumped back onto his pillows.

"Do you know," he said. "I haven't done that for so long that I'd almost forgotten how much it hurts."

Sirius stood up, his anger evident if not in his shrouded face, then in his posture.

"What possessed you -?" he started, but Remus held up a weary hand.

"Padfoot, hear me out before you grind me into little pieces. Someone has taken all the wolfs bane potion you made for me. All of it."

"What? That's forty bottles worth!"

"I know, but it's gone. I didn't have any time to do anything but run for the forest. You understand that, don't you?"

"Couldn't you have kept it to yourself?"

Harry glared at Sirius. How dared he? Remus, however, looked thoughtfully worried.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you broadcasted your current situation – at some length – to both Harry and me. Mr. Rent-a-Hero here decided to come after you."

Remus went deathly white almost immediately as he sat up again.

"That was Harry? I thought I was dreaming…"

"You thought I was my dad," said Harry, quietly.

"Well, yes, actually – I'm not always too rational when I'm in that state – but, are you…? I mean…"

"Hurt?" said Sirius. "Yes, he is."

"It's nothing," Harry said quickly.

"I wouldn't call it nothing," said Sirius.

"You weren't there. It's called self-defence."

"It's called stupidity," said Remus, thumping back down onto the pillows for the second time. "God, somebody shoot me now and do the world a favour."

"You said someone took all the potion," said Harry. "That means it was a deliberate attempt to hurt somebody. You were right to run to the forest."

There was a silence from everyone else. Harry felt he was missing something.

"What?" he asked.

"But someone did get hurt," said Sirius slowly.

"Well, yeah, me, but that doesn't… I mean, no one knows about…do they?"

"Harry, you used the cat, didn't you, when you were after Wormtail?" said Remus.

"Yeah…"

"But you never saw him after you left the door?"

"No… but he doesn't know about… you know, us."

"A desperate plan," said Sirius. "Let's just add that to the list of reasons why I'm going to kill him the next time I see him."

"Not if I get to him first," said Remus, with feeling.

"Or me," Harry added.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "Now that that's all settled –"

There was a frantic knocking on the door for the second time, and Ron entered.

**He he he, I just love these little cliffies, don't you? Well, you can't say this one is as bad as the last one. I'm off to post!!!!

~*Laterose*~

**