Remus was having a nice day, all things considered. The weather was quite enjoyable for early February, he had a warm bag of roasted almonds in hand, and Harry looked the happiest Remus had ever seen him, soaring and looping and weaving through the quidditch pitch on a definitely-not-jinxed Firebolt whose origins Remus was enjoying himself too much to think about right now.
He should have known it wouldn't last.
The game was just getting interesting- Harry and Cho, neck and neck, racing for the snitch- when he heard Severus, two rows behind him, gasp, "dementors!"
Remus tore his eyes from Harry with much effort to scan the field, craning his neck to finally glimpse three dark hooded figures, not far from the professors' stands, advancing towards the quidditch pitch. They looked like dementors for all of two seconds before Remus registered, first, a distinct lack of cold and misery, and second, that the figures seemed to be all different heights and were quite definitely walking on the ground.
Something in Remus' gut soured at the idea of someone (multiple someones) impersonating dementors at a quidditch game- at Harry's quidditch game, no less. Oh. It was because of Harry, wasn't it? Remus pushed down a sharp bubble of anger to scan the field again for Harry. He was no longer side-by-side with Cho; he had veered slightly toward the figures. He was pulling out his wand; he was too far away for Remus to hear anything but he needn't have guessed what spell Harry was attempting.
A glowing, pearly-white stag erupted from Harry's wand and Remus' breath caught in his chest. It looked just like Prongs- the same tuft of twisted fur on the back of its head where James' hair always used to stick up, same slightly off-kilter gait, same exact antlers right down to their seven twisting branches.
The Patronus charged down the not-dementors, sending four schoolboys to the ground, tangled in long black robes and recoiling in shock. Then it tossed back its head, the same way Prongs always used to when running away from the scene of a good prank, and turned. Remus expected it to return to Harry, who was quickly disappearing from sight under a pile of victorious scarlet-clad teammates, or simply to vanish, as Patronuses do after the danger or, in this case, perceived danger has been dispatched.
Instead, the stag turned towards the professors' stands and galloped directly at Remus. It came to a halt but inches from Remus' face, looked him right in the eyes, rubbed its insubstantial but faintly warm snout on Remus' cheek, and then sat on its haunches, pulled back its herbivore lips, and craned its head up towards the sky.
Remus stared at it in shock.
Back in the Marauders' last few years at Hogwarts, when they started steering some of their energy for pranks towards moonlit romps through the Forbidden Forest, the Marauders had developed a sort of unspoken language for use in their animagus forms: twitches of noses, stomps of hooves or paws, shakes of heads, swishes of tails. 'Moony' had always, always been a howl. Padfoot could howl with the best of canines, and even Wormtail, with his long pointy nose and sharp teeth, managed it just fine. Prongs, on the other hand, had always struggled. His teeth were squared and solid; his stag lips weren't made for rounding. James had spent many hours in heated debates with Sirius over the nickname, insisting there had to be a better sign that was more accommodating of stags. Just like Remus when he had protested the original nickname of Moony, though, James lost all those debates. The howl stuck. Prongs looked utterly ridiculous every single time he tried to do it, but his awkward attempts to signal 'Moony' were all the more memorable for it.
And Remus was seeing it again now, for the first time in thirteen years, from the glimmering silver stag before him.
The issue was, Patronuses were supposed to be magical projections of a caster's positive emotion. They were supposed to reflect the caster, and the caster's happiest memories, and nothing more. Harry, for all he achingly, heartbreakingly, breathtakingly, resembled James, was not in fact his father. He had no memory of stags, nor of Uncle Moony. He would not have ever witnessed, let alone remembered, the Marauder animal-form nonverbal nickname for Remus. Therefore, his Patronus should not have known how to do that. As a matter of fact, Harry's Patronus had no reason to come visiting Remus at all.
Remus had studied the Patronus Charm rather more extensively than most wizards. At sixteen, he had descended into a months-long fit of melancholy over the discovery that his own Patronus was a wolf. He was horrified to think that the magical manifestation of the best parts of himself could possibly resemble the part of him that tore his own skin to shreds and raged against the dusty wooden shack that kept him from mauling half of Hogsmeade once a month. Remus had only really pulled himself out of his depression when he up and decided that he would be better served trying to find a way to change his Patronus' form.
He had spent several years after that researching Patronuses, light magic, soul magic, magic based on emotions, magic emanating from the mind, magical interference caused by lycanthropy, and more. He never really gave up on that endeavor, just found less and less time for his self-centered side project as the war progressed, and especially as he spent more time infiltrating werewolf packs, far from libraries. When the war ended and Remus' entire world fell apart, he found he didn't have much energy for anything at all, let alone denying the part of himself that he used to hate the most. After all, he had a new part of himself to hate even more now: a ten-volume set of thick metaphorical tomes he kept locked firmly in the deepest recesses of his chest, far away from his mind, labelled, 'Padfoot: do not open.'
This is all to say, Remus knew, even as a luminescent stag with seven branches to his antlers and uncannily dishevelled fur on top of his head sat in front of him and silently howled his name, that this could not be Prongs. It could look like Prongs; it could run like Prongs; but it could not act, communicate, or greet old friends like Prongs. It was simply not possible. It had never been done. It broke all the rules of Patronus magic that Remus had ever known, which was, quite frankly, most of them. But Harry, thirteen years old, small for his age but unmatched on a broom, with James' hair and face and Lily's eyes and smile, had somehow done it, because the Patronus in front of him was clearly and unmistakably,
"Prongs."
Prongs jerked his head down from his howl, nudged Remus in the chest with his muzzle, and disappeared.
...
Remus left the Quidditch match in a daze. He didn't notice that Dumbledore's keen eye had been watching his reunion with Prongs. He paid no mind to Minerva's furious scolding of the Slytherins still entangled in their dementors' robes. He vaguely recalled congratulating Harry on his Patronus and breaking the news that it hadn't really been cast at dementors at all. He didn't bother holding Harry back from his friends and their celebration; he wasn't sure, even if he had found the inclination to talk, how on earth he would go about explaining the form Harry's Patronus took.
He strode slowly, dreamily, back toward the castle, his thoughts whirling through his mind more frantically than they had since the day Albus Dumbledore had shown up on his doorstep with news of a breakout at Azkaban and a job offer.
He would have to tell Harry something, if he was going to talk to Prongs again. And Merlin, if there was anything he was sure about, it was that he had to talk to Prongs again. As long as Harry was willing to cast the spell, nothing and nobody would stand in his way. But then who would, if he was simply observing and testing the limits of hitherto-unseen magic? Surely even Dumbledore would agree-
"That was quite some Patronus."
Speak of the devil.
"It was, Albus," Remus responded carefully. "I've never seen anything like it."
"You have been giving Harry lessons, yes? But I wasn't aware he was already casting corporeals."
"He wasn't. Today was the first time."
"Indeed?" said Dumbledore. "What a strange phenomenon for a first-time caster. Forgive me for prying, but you did seem extra-ordinarily shocked by it."
Remus felt a twist of guilt in his gut for the secrets he was still keeping, but pushed it aside. "James' Patronus was a stag, too," he allowed.
"Ah," said Dumbledore. "That has been known to happen, in families with exceptionally strong ties."
"Have you ever known a Patronus to visit a long-forgotten family friend?" asked Remus. "It should have disappeared, or returned to Harry. Why would it come to me?"
Dumbledore hummed. "I imagine you are important to Harry too. You taught him the Patronus Charm, after all."
"Maybe," Remus allowed. He was desperate to talk about Prongs, and Prongs' silent 'Moony,' but, as happened every time he considered coming clean to Dumbledore about the animagi he'd inspired, Remus was overcome by a hot wave of shame that swelled his throat closed and clammed up his hands. He took three long breaths through his nose and said, "I'd like to do some experimentation, still. Any derivation in typical Patronus behavior is worth further investigation, wouldn't you say?"
Dumbledore turned to look at Remus, his eyes twinkling in that infuriating way that said he knew your secret but he'd graciously let you pretend to keep it for now, and answered, "Certainly."
Remus nodded and looked back down at the ground. His heart sped, but he forced the words out. "Harry knows I was friends with James. I didn't tell him, exactly, but he talked about his dad and I, sort of, reacted, and I couldn't hide it." He cringed for a moment, awaiting Dumbledore's reprimand. When none came, he forced the rest of his words out in a rush. "He knows about Sirius too, I don't know how; it wasn't me, I swear. But I think if I have to explain why his Patronus is special, I'm going to have to at least talk about James. I know you didn't want me to be anything more than a professor to him, and honestly it's been easier for me, too, because I really don't want to talk about- about Sirius, with him, not like this. But he's got a sharp mind and I can see it in his face, Albus, how much he wants to hear about his dad, and if I'm going to conduct research on his Patronus then I think he deserves to know what it means to me and if you think that's unprofessional then-"
"Remus, Remus," interrupted Dumbledore. "I have always trusted your judgement. And I have had Harry at school long enough to know that even the best laid and most well-intentioned plans tend to fall apart in his presence."
Remus jerked his head up and toward Dumbledore in shock. "Really? You're okay with it?"
"I expect you to keep me updated on your progress, of course. It's been quite a while since I've had the opportunity to participate in the discovery of new forms of magic. Or, perhaps, innovations on existing forms of magic. Or, perhaps," he said, sounding absolutely delighted by the prospect, "something entirely different altogether. I am most excited to hear about it."
Dumbledore swept to one side to hold open the Entrance Hall door for Remus, then bowed out with a wink, leaving Remus once more bewildered and alone with his jumbled thoughts.
...
Remus spent the rest of the afternoon and evening plotting out how, exactly, he was going to confirm that Harry's stag Patronus was Prongs; how, for that matter, he was going to give Harry the best conditions possible to continue producing a corporeal Patronus; how he would explain to Harry why he was talking to a stag like an old friend who could answer back; what exactly he was going to say to and ask Prongs, if and when all the aforementioned had been accomplished; and how he would, going forward, have to balance communing with Prongs in an optimal environment with preparing Harry to fend off dementors in decidedly suboptimal conditions. By the time he went to bed, his head was still spinning but he felt a sort of giddy elation in his chest that he hadn't felt for so long that he could hardly give it a name anymore.
He should have known it wouldn't last.
He was woken at two-thirty in the morning by Minerva's Patronus- a by-the-book silvery cat who passed along a message, turned around, and vanished, utterly predictable and reasonable, like a Patronus messenger should.
This would have been more comforting if the message wasn't that Sirius Black had broken into the Gryffindor dormitory with a knife.
All thoughts of Patronuses and Prongs were banished, for a while, in the hubbub of racing towards Gryffindor tower and the subsequent school-wide manhunt. By the time he and Pomona had reported to Dumbledore another utterly clean sweep of the castle, and received in exchange a new expanded schedule for regular staff patrols, Remus had worked himself into a frenzied, frustrated ball of nerves. He retreated to his rooms wracked with guilt. Another attempt on Harry's life and he still hadn't told anyone about the secret passages, hadn't told anyone about Padfoot, hadn't done anything to ensure Harry's safety from the man who broke out of prison to hunt him down.
The joy he had felt over seeing Prongs again curdled in his gut. He had failed James three times now, once for each obvious chance he'd had, and missed, to tell Dumbledore the truth. To protect Harry. If Prongs had any substance in his body he would be impaling Remus in the chest with both antlers. It would be what Remus deserved.
He couldn't possibly face Prongs with that culpability hanging over him. He would have to tell Dumbledore, first thing in the morning.
But Dumbledore would surely fire him, and then he'd have to leave the school, leave Harry, and then he would never see Prongs again, not even to apologize-
New plan. He would pull Harry aside, first thing in the morning, apologize personally to him, have him cast his Patronus, apologize personally to James- no, no, best apologize to Prongs first, and then Harry, just in case his first apology upset Harry so much that he struggled to cast a full Patronus.
Okay. Apologize to James, apologize to Harry, tell Dumbledore about Padfoot and the illegal animagery he roped his friends into as a student werewolf, and accept his termination with good grace. And then... Well, no one was hiring before Dumbledore, and certainly no one was likely to hire him now, with a dishonorable discharge from Hogwarts under his belt. But his Professor's wages had been decent enough that he had a little money saved up, enough to pay for a month's rent somewhere while he trawled the muggle establishments for work.
Or. He'd pay his penance to Harry and James by hunting down Sirius. Nobody knew him like Remus; wasn't that the whole reason Dumbledore had hired him in the first place? And, alright, he'd done a shite job of that, but no longer. He'd go off on his own, he'd check all of Sirius' old haunts, he'd keep an eye out for a giant black dog, and when he found him, he'd finally get vengeance for Lily and James and Peter and maybe then when he next met Prongs he'd be able to look him in the eye without shame.
Remus spent the rest of his restless night pacing the cold stone floors of his quarters, unable to sit still for too long. He felt a tinge of regret in the morning when he finally sat down for his morning tea and both his hips protested the wear, but no matter. He had more important things to worry about.
He gulped down the remains of his second cup of tea at eight-fifteen, figuring Harry must be down to breakfast by now, and headed for the Great Hall. On a normal Sunday, most of the castle would still be in bed, but this was no normal Sunday. Remus had no idea how gossip from Gryffindor tower could have already spread to the dungeons, but every single student he passed on his way to breakfast spoke of nothing but Sirius Black.
Each whispered rumor only heightened Remus' shame, but he pushed it all down and strode purposefully into the Great Hall. Thank Merlin, there was Harry, unharmed; pleased, even, based on his regular grins at Ron Weasley, who was energetically and quite dramatically recounting last night's events at his side. Remus hurried towards their section of the Gryffindor table and stooped to Harry's other side, so as not to interrupt Ron's fifteen minutes of fame.
"Good morning Harry," he said.
"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed, turning toward him. Across the table, Hermione looked up from her oatmeal with interest.
"Harry, might I have a word with you after breakfast? You're not in trouble," he added quickly.
Harry's face darkened nonetheless. "If you want to be the fifth person to tell me to be careful about Sirius Black-" he started, irritably.
"No, no, not exactly," said Remus, as Hermione chastised Harry. Harry flicked a grumpy hand at her, waving away her admonitions for disrespecting a teacher, and Remus had to bite back a grin. James couldn't be cheerful before nine AM either. "It's about your Patronus, actually. I don't think it can wait until Thursday night. What do you say?"
"Er, alright then, Professor."
"Thank you, Harry. Would you mind meeting me in my office when you're done here?"
"Yeah, okay, see you then," Harry said.
Remus nodded and straightened up. He considered proceeding to the staff table for breakfast, but took one look at the food in front of him and decided that he wouldn't be able to stomach anything anyway. He turned on his heel and walked back out of the Great Hall, skirting the main hallways as much as possible to avoid the latest rumors about Sirius Black.
...
Remus was pacing again, burning calves ignored, when Harry finally knocked on his office door.
"Come in!" he called, definitely too quickly, and forced himself to at least lean on his desk so as not to scare the kid off.
Harry sidled sheepishly into the room. "Er, sorry about earlier, Professor," he began, rubbing his neck. "Hermione reckons I was rude to you-"
"Oh don't worry about it Harry. Your father was much worse at your age."
Harry stared at him with an open mouth and bright eyes. "So you really knew my dad."
"Oh, yes." Remus sighed. "That's partly what I wanted to talk to you about. We were close, James and I and the other two Gryffindors in our year: Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Now I don't know how much you know about your father and Black and Peter, but for now, suffice it to say we were close." Harry looked about to burst with questions, so Remus hurried on, adapting the half-lie he had told Dumbledore the day before. "Close enough that I know James' Patronus, his real Patronus, took the form of a stag. The exact same stag, in fact, that I saw you conjure yesterday at the match."
"I did it?" Harry exclaimed. "I made a real Patronus?"
"Yes, didn't you see it?" asked Remus, momentarily taken aback.
"Not exactly; I was more focused on catching the snitch."
Remus didn't bother to hide his wry smile. "James would have done the same thing. He was quite the Quidditch player himself, you know."
"I know he was captain; Hermione showed me the plaque in the trophy room when I made the team. But, wait- his Patronus was a stag? And mine is too? My real Patronus?"
"Yes; we call them corporeal, when they take the form of an animal. It's exceedingly difficult to produce a corporeal Patronus, especially at your age, Harry; you should be proud of yourself."
Harry blushed. "Thank you, Professor," he mumbled.
"I did notice something odd about your Patronus, however; or, more exactly, your Patronus behaved in a rather odd way yesterday. I'd like to test it out with you today, if you don't mind?"
"I mean, yeah, sure, but- what was odd about it?"
Remus considered, for a moment, the wisdom of coming entirely clean now, and decided he didn't want to get Harry's hopes up if he had interpreted too much from yesterday's startling events.
"A Patronus, once conjured, can charge off dementors and certain other Dark creatures; it can even, with practice, find and deliver messages to individuals, but usually once its task is complete, the Patronus either fades away or circles back to the caster. Your Patronus, yesterday, did something else- it approached someone else. It, well, it approached me, seemingly of its own volition."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"To be frank, Harry, I have no idea, which is why I'd like to try it again and see what happens."
"Er, yeah, okay." Harry peered around the office. "Where's the boggart?"
"I don't think we need a boggart today; I'd rather not have one draining your energy. All you need to focus on right now is producing a real Patronus. It's exactly the same process you've been practicing with me all term."
Harry screwed up his eyes in concentration. "Expecto Patronum!"
A great wall of silvery mist erupted from his wand: larger than any of the barriers he had managed to conjure in past lessons, but decidedly incorporeal.
"That's alright, Harry, we'll try again," said Remus encouragingly. Harry nodded, dropped the spell, and tried again.
"Expecto Patronum!"
More white mist.
"Expecto Patronum! . . . I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know why I can't do it again."
"That's alright, Harry, don't be too hard on yourself. Spells like these take a lot of practice. I would have been extremely impressed if you'd managed to start producing real Patronuses on the first try, every time."
Harry huffed and fell back into a chair. "It's just, I didn't know my dad could make a stag. I would've liked to see mine too."
Remus hummed in agreement. "I thought that might interest you. How would you like to hear a story about him? I was there the day you were born, you know."
"You were?" Harry's voice was awestruck, his whole body leaned toward Remus with eagerness.
"Well, James was the only bloke allowed in the room itself during your birth, mind you; our other friends and I had to wait in the living room. But I have it on good authority that James got so anxious that Lily had to petrify him, at one point, to keep him from making a mess of things. He had a habit of pacing wildly and gesticulating with his hands when he got worked up about something, which was apparently not a very soothing presence to have in a delivery room." Remus grinned at the visual and Harry grinned right back. "Lily was in labor for a good twelve hours and I also have it on good authority that our friend Mary had to take Lily's wand away to keep her from outright hexing James by the end of it. But that was the happiest I've ever seen them. James cried when he held you, which got the rest of us started crying too, and Lily had to take the mickey for a whole minute to get us to stop. And then it was just James crying still, and she said, 'yeah, you should be sorry, you sod, you gave him your hair and I bet he'll never forgive you for it.'"
Harry's own eyes shone, and Remus graciously examined his scruffy shoes until Harry's sniffling died out.
"Why don't you try another Patronus," Remus suggested gently.
"Expecto patronum," Harry whispered, equally softly. A shining white wisp floated out of Harry's wand, followed by Prongs, looking prouder and more majestic than ever. He cantered a victory lap around Remus' small office and then rushed to Harry, nuzzling his cheek where a fresh tear meandered towards his jaw.
"Prongs," Remus whispered reverently. Prongs lifted his head from Harry, who looked at Remus with shock. But Remus only had eyes for the gleaming incarnation of James, who sat on his haunches and mimed howling at the moon, clear as day.
"Do you know who I am?"
Prongs nodded his head, down, up, down, and then tossed it back again in his endearingly awkward attempt at 'Moony.'
"Do you know who that is?" Remus pointed at Harry, who was clutching his wand tightly as his eyes flicked between the stag and his Professor.
Prongs nodded again and pushed his snout at Harry's ear, then twisted back to face Remus.
"Do you know what year it is?"
Prongs tilted his head to the side, and for a moment Remus' heart sank. Then Prongs lifted one of his front hooves and stomped. Remus tilted his own head, puzzled, but after a moment, Prongs stomped again- and again, and again, nine times in rapid succession. Then he paused, repeated the sequence, paused once again, and stomped four more times.
"1994," Harry whispered. Remus' throat felt suddenly dry.
"Do you know- do you remember when you died?"
Prongs nodded. Eight stomps, a pause, and one more stomp.
"Do you know what's happened since you died?"
Prongs nodded.
"So you-" Remus tried to swallow and found he couldn't. "You know Sirius escaped from Azkaban?"
Prongs nodded again and twitched his tail, side to side, like a dog's wag.
"What?- Oh Merlin, Prongs, it's been so long, I must have forgotten some of our signals; didn't that used to mean 'good?'"
Prongs nodded. Remus' throat made a small whine of confusion entirely without his consent.
"No, Prongs, he's coming for Harry, I'm so sorry, James, I-"
Prongs started to shake his head emphatically.
"What do you mean, no?"
Prongs kept shaking his head.
"No, really, I have to apologize, I've let him too close to Harry, I just needed to apologize to you now before I tell Dumbledore about Pads and then I'll resign-"
Prongs, still shaking his head 'no,' started to flicker and then disappeared.
"Don't resign," Harry whispered.
Remus started; he had almost forgotten that Harry was the one who had conjured the Patronus. He was slumped over a nearby desk, panting, arms trembling.
"Oh, Harry," said Remus, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have expected you to hold it that long. Honestly, it's amazing you held it as long as you did. You should be very proud of yourself."
Harry shook his head forcefully. "Was that my dad?"
"Er, yes, actually I do believe it was. Why don't you sit down? I think I have a bit more explaining to do."
Harry slid gratefully into a chair behind the desk, and Remus rummaged through his desk drawer for a bar of chocolate before pulling another chair over to face him.
He had debated, the night before, telling an abridged story, just wolf and stag, swot and jock, clean and concise and minimizing the number of dead or despicable friends left at the end. But he couldn't bring himself to lie to Harry when he'd already endangered him so much by doing the same to Dumbledore. So he sighed, accepted the chunk of chocolate Harry held out for him, and started talking.
He talked about a lonely werewolf boy and his three best friends, brilliant and charismatic and reckless and loyal. He talked about the trauma of full moons and the salvation of his first moon spent in a pack- wolf and stag and dog and rat. A friendship spanning trains and OWLs and NEWTs and war and hiding and childbirth. He didn't talk about the night James died, and Harry, thankfully, didn't ask. He just chewed on his last bite of chocolate, wiped his hands on his trousers, and stood up.
"So you think that was literally my dad, as a stag?" he asked.
Remus nodded. "I have no idea how; it should be impossible, but..."
"I'd like to try again," Harry announced.
Remus blinked. "No, Harry, you should rest. We can meet again at our normal time on Thursday."
"My Patronus is literally my dad, and he can kinda sorta talk back to me! That's a million times better than the Mirror of Erised."
"You already found-?"
"You just told me I can conjure my real life dad with one spell! I'm either going to try again here with you or try again back in my dorm in ten minutes." Harry crossed his arms and stuck his jaw out stubbornly, looking so much like Lily when she dug her heels in that it took Remus' breath away.
"I understand why you want to, Harry; trust me, I do. But you must be exhausted and you struggled to even conjure him the first time-"
"I just found out that my dad befriended a werewolf and became a teenage animagus to turn into a stag and run around with him on full moons! That is the coolest thing I've ever heard! I feel like I could cast a thousand Patronuses!"
Remus knew a lost cause on a Potter when he saw it. "Alright," he muttered. "But let me get you an Invigoration Draught first. I should have a couple vials left in my desk- ah! Here." He tossed the potion to Harry. "Drink up."
Harry didn't argue; he tossed the potion back with an ease Remus himself had mastered at that age, which was frankly a little concerning, but he didn't have time to remark on it.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Prongs burst back into existence and pounced on Harry, doing his best to lick Harry's face with his long cervine tongue and wagging his short tufted tail furiously. Harry laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Prongs nosed him once more on the chin and then turned back to Remus, sat down, and tried to howl.
"Prongs, for Merlin's sake, don't talk to me; spend time with your son."
Harry wiped his nose on the back of his hand but kept his wand steady. Prongs looked at Harry, hung his head in apology, and then turned back to Remus and mimed 'Moony.'
"I'm sorry, Harry, he keeps saying he wants to talk to me."
"That's alright, go on," said Harry. "I bet you miss him too."
Remus' heart clenched, but he had to force himself to focus because the teary teenager in front of him wasn't going to be able to hold the spell forever. "Fine, Prongs, what do you want?"
Prongs stomped his left hoof twice.
"Padfoot?"
Harry gasped softly. Prongs nodded.
"What about him? Do you know where he's hiding?"
Prongs nodded, then stomped his left hoof twice and wagged his tail.
"Padfoot… good?"
Prongs nodded.
"James, he turned you over to Voldemort."
Prongs shook his head.
"You don't remember making him Secret Keeper?"
Prongs shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.
"Okay, I have no idea what that was supposed to mean."
Prongs stomped his hoof twice, wagged his tail, scrunched his nose, and bared his teeth.
"Padfoot, good, Wormtail… bad."
Harry made a confused choking sound. Remus could relate.
"James, Padfoot killed Wormtail."
Prongs shook his head furiously.
"What do you mean, no? Half a dozen witnesses saw him blow up a muggle street, obliterating Peter and twelve innocent bystanders."
Prongs shook his head, slowly; scrunched up his nose, then bared his teeth.
"You're not making any sense."
Prongs' ear twitched in frustration. It wasn't an established code word, per se; more of a well-known habit; but it got the point across.
"Am I at least interpreting you correctly?"
Prongs nodded.
"Merlin. Okay. Let's start at the beginning. Voldemort was after you."
Nod.
"You and Lily and Harry went into hiding."
Nod.
"You performed a fidelius and made Sirius your Secret Keeper."
Prongs shook his head.
"You didn't perform a fidelius?"
Prongs rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"You did perform a fidelius."
Nod.
"You… oh god. You didn't make Sirius your Secret Keeper?"
Prongs shook his head.
Remus closed his eyes for a long moment against the sudden wild beating of his heart.
"You made Wormtail your Secret Keeper."
Prongs nodded.
"You switched without telling me."
Prongs nodded and hung his head in remorse.
"Because… you thought I was the spy." Saying it out loud, even twelve years removed, hurt more than Remus would have expected. Saying it aloud in front of Harry hurt even more.
Prongs didn't nod, but he didn't need to. His head dropped even lower in shame. Remus closed his eyes again, bracing himself against the headache he felt building deep inside his brain.
"So Sirius killed Peter for betraying you."
Prongs shook his head.
"What? He- he's alive?"
Prongs nodded.
"He, Merlin's bollocks, Prongs, you're telling me Peter betrayed you, framed Sirius, faked his own death, and escaped? And now, what, he's in hiding somewhere?"
Prongs nodded. Remus slid a hand over his eyes.
"Harry, I am going to need to think about some things for a while. Why don't you let go for now and we can try again later?"
"Er, if it's okay, Professor, I still feel pretty good thanks to that potion. Can I, er, talk to my dad? We'll just… stand in the corner over there and let you think for a bit."
Remus glanced up long enough to ascertain that Harry looked fit enough to hold the spell for a little longer and waved him off, then sank wearily to the floor, resting his tender head back against the blessedly cool side of his desk.
Okay. So. He was casually communing with the animagus spirit of his dead best friend. Fine. Peter betrayed James and Lily, framed Sirius, and went into hiding. Okay. Sirius went to Azkaban for twelve years… Merlin. Sirius broke out of Azkaban to- wait, why?
He's at Hogwarts.
Everyone thought he was coming to Hogwarts looking for Harry. Maybe he was? Maybe he just wanted to see his godson, after all this time? But why now, when Harry had been at Hogwarts for two years already? Unless… Unless he somehow found out that Peter was in Hogwarts, and broke out to hunt him down?
As soon as he thought it, Remus felt the truth in his bones. It was so like Sirius, even whatever prison-mad version of Sirius was running around right now, to break out of sodding Azkaban to hunt down the man who betrayed James. And if he thought Peter was in Hogwarts, where Harry was… His gut twisted. How would he have known, though? Maybe he heard something from Hagrid last year? Maybe one of the guards or ministry inspectors mentioned… what, seeing a strange rat at Hogwarts?
But more concerningly, Sirius seemed to think Peter was somewhere in Gryffindor tower. But Peter used to have access to the entire castle, as a rat; how or why would Sirius be so sure he was in Gryffindor?
Again, the answer came to Remus and settled with surety in his bones. Of course he would hole up with some family as a pet rat. Easy access to food and shelter; easy access to news, if it was a wizarding family. Somehow Sirius must have found out he was some Gryffindor's familiar and set out for vengeance. And- oh Merlin, was it only last night he'd been spotted crouching over Ron Weasley's bed with a knife?!
"Harry," Remus croaked. His voice was so hoarse it barely sounded past his lips. Remus craned his head around the corner of the desk, trying to catch Harry's eye.
Harry was engaged in what appeared to be a rather enthusiastic game of True or False with Prongs; he overheard "I knew it! Just wait 'til I tell Fred and George!" and only the thought of the kind of havoc the Weasley twins would wreak if they found out there was a mass murderer in their little brother's dormitory helped Remus find his voice.
"Harry," he called again, louder this time. Harry looked over. Remus struggled to his feet. "Do any of your dorm-mates have a pet rat?"
Harry's jaw hung open for a second before he snapped it shut. "Er, Ron had a pet rat, Scabbers, but Hermione's cat ate him."
Remus turned to Prongs with his eyebrows raised. Prongs shook his head.
"He's not dead?" asked Harry.
Prongs shook his head.
Remus sighed heavily. "Don't tell me he tried to fake his own death again."
Prongs nodded.
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose against a now throbbing headache. "Well, we're never going to find him now."
Prongs nodded fiercely and traced a right angle on the floor with his front hoof.
"The map?"
Prongs nodded.
"I'm sorry, Prongs, I checked Filch's office when I got here; it's gone."
Prongs shook his head and nudged a blushing Harry with his nose.
"Er, I have the map, sir, or, should I say…" Harry's face split into a shit-eating grin so reminiscent of James that Remus momentarily forgot how to breathe. "Moony?"
Remus stared at Harry, then at Prongs, who was doing an awkward and leggy happy-dance, then back at Harry. Despite his best efforts, he felt a smile creep across his cheeks.
"You have the Marauder's Map?"
Harry reached into his back pocket and withdrew a very familiar piece of battered parchment. Remus found his breath again in a gasp.
"You stole it back from Filch?" he asked, reaching out for it with reverence.
"Got it from Fred and George, actually," said Harry, who impossibly, seemed to be grinning wider.
"Oh, no wonder they're a menace," Remus groaned.
Prongs twitched an ear in irritation.
"Yes, alright, I am also immensely proud of them, and of us for having aided and abetted the supreme mischief makers of the new generation, et cetera, I know, Prongs." He touched his wand to the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
All three of them leaned over the map as it filled in with familiar building blueprints, elegant script, and bustling dots. Remus and Harry were quiet for several minutes as they scanned the map for a hint of Peter Pettigrew, but eventually Remus sat back and looked at Prongs.
"He's not here."
Prongs hung his head.
"But I can talk to Dumbledore about tracking spells, or maybe setting new wards- what, no tracking spells?"
Prongs was shaking his head violently and tossing his head back in a way that used to mean anger.
"You don't want to try to track Peter?"
Prongs rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"You don't want to change the wards in case Padfoot gets caught in them?"
Prongs rolled his eyes and shook his head again.
"I don't understand what you're objecting to, then. You don't want me to talk to Dumbledore?"
Prongs nodded his head vigorously.
"You don't want him to know about the animagus stuff?"
Prongs both nodded and shook his head.
"Merlin, Prongs, I don't know what you want from me, yes, no, what does that mean?"
"Maybe yes but there's more?" Harry piped up.
Prongs nodded enthusiastically. Harry beamed at him. Prongs licked his cheek.
"Okay. You don't want Dumbledore to know about the animagus stuff, and you also don't want him to know… that Sirius is innocent? Yes and no. Prongs, how the hell are we supposed to protect Harry from Wormtail without telling Dumbledore something?"
Prongs tossed his head back and huffed silently.
". . . You're angry at Dumbledore?"
A vigorous nod.
"Ah. You're angry at Dumbledore for letting Sirius be wrongfully convicted."
Prongs nodded and shook his head.
"You're also angry at Dumbledore for something else?"
Prongs nodded.
"Something about Peter?"
Prongs shook his head.
"Something about Sirius?"
Prongs shook his head and then nodded.
"Okay, I'm not sure what it means when you switch the order though. Something… mostly not about Sirius, but related?"
Prongs nodded.
"Is it about me?"
Prongs shook his head. Remus sighed and threw up his hands in exasperation. His skull felt uncomfortably tight around his brain. Prongs nudged Harry's chest.
"You're angry with Dumbledore for something about Harry?"
Prongs practically nodded his entire body.
"Okay, okay. You're angry with Dumbledore because he's put Harry in danger?"
Prongs nodded.
"Because of the dementors around the school?"
Prongs nodded and shook his head.
"And also because of whatever happened in the Chamber of Secrets last year?"
Prongs nodded and shook his head.
"How did you know about that?" Harry interjected.
"Your professors talk to each other, Harry," Remus explained wearily. "I imagine you're also mad about the Sorcerer's Stone nonsense his first year?
Prongs nodded and shook his head.
"Er, I don't really know what else has happened besides that," Remus admitted.
"Because of the troll?" asked Harry.
Prongs nodded and shook his head.
"Troll?" exclaimed Remus.
"I'll tell you later. Because of the bludger? Or Aragog? Or the time Quirrel jinxed my broom? Or the time I saw Voldemort during detention in the forest? Or that time with the Whomping Willow?"
Prongs kept nodding and shaking his head. Remus held his own head carefully still to placate the pressure behind his eyes.
"I don't think there's anything Dumbledore could have done about the Whomping Willow," mused Harry. "That was really Ron's fault if you think about it. And Dobby's."
"Merlin's beard, Harry, what on earth have you been up to?"
Prongs nodded and shook his head, then tossed his antlers back again in anger.
"What, all those things and more?"
Prongs nodded.
"Is it something he did to Harry outside of school?"
Prongs hesitated for a moment, then nodded once.
"Have you seen Dumbledore at all during your summer holidays, Harry?" Remus asked.
Harry shook his head.
"Or before you came to Hogwarts, maybe?"
Harry shook his head again.
Remus wasn't sure how he had found himself playing some half-silent game of twenty questions with both Potters now, but his temple throbbed in exasperation. He tried to breathe through it.
"Then I'm not sure what you're trying to get at, Prongs."
Prongs' ear twitched. Remus could relate. Prongs stomped his back left hoof twice and nosed at Harry.
"Something to do with Padfoot and Harry?"
Prongs nodded vigorously. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose again.
"He's been in Azkaban for twelve years, Prongs, what could Dumbledore have possibly done to both Padfoot and Harry?"
Prongs twitched his ear again. Eventually, shook his head twice, then reared up on his back legs and stomped his front hooves down together.
"No, Prongs?"
Prongs nodded. He repeated the sequence, then stomped his back left hoof twice.
"No Prongs, Padfoot."
Prongs nodded. Remus wished desperately for a pain potion.
"You mean because he's my godfather?" Harry asked softly.
Prongs nodded violently.
"You're mad at Dumbledore because he didn't send Harry to go live with his godfather in prison after you died?"
Prongs rolled his eyes, nodded, and shook his head.
"You're mad he sent me to live with Aunt Petunia." Harry's voice was so quiet Remus could barely hear it.
Prongs nodded once, flickering, and disappeared.
"Harry?" asked Remus, blood suddenly pounding through his skull and rushing through his ears. "Why would he be mad you were sent to live with your aunt?"
"I dunno," Harry said, staring fixedly at his shoes. "But I couldn't hold the Patronus anymore, I'm sorry, I think I just got tired. I think I need to rest now though. I'll see you later?" Harry was already halfway out the door, map abandoned on the desk, wand clutched tightly in one white-knuckled hand, by the time he finished talking. Remus watched him go, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.
Idly, he tapped the map with his wand. "Mischief managed," he muttered, though he very strongly suspected it hadn't been, not yet.