Sleepless
by a true Elsewhere
Chapter 2: The Boy Who Lived, Lives Again.
"Hello Harry. It's been a while."
Harry stared up at the white haired elderly wizard as his lanky, pale body (still malnourished form the lack of real sunlight he had received in the sterile hospital room at St. Mungos) was sprawled on the ground, sloppily.
Harry hated floo travel. He hated it more now than he did before and the fact that he could feel part of his rib arch from landing like a heap mess on the ground was more or less not helping his remove his dissatisfaction. It also didn't help that Harry had felt weak and sore already. His body easily tired from various tasks, it was a toll from not using his body for the past two years.
Professor Dumbledore extended his hand out to help the young boy up to his feet. Harry stared at the old man's withered up warm that protruded in front of him and couldn't help but shudder. For some odd reason, the last person he wanted to touch him was Albus Dumbledore. Sometime inside of him clammed up at the thought of letting this all-knowing wizard of an unknown but fairly high age touch him.
Harry proceeded to get up off the ground by himself.
"Hello Professor," Harry responded to him awkwardly, as his body felt heavy as he attempted to balance himself up on two feet. His eyes, like two polished emeralds renowned to look like his mothers, were finally getting a really good look at the Professor. The old man looked older, line of age was more highly defined on him and his hair the same long unruly mess that it was before. His eyes still twinkled, all-knowing with a slight of Gryffindor mischief in him.
Harry soon noticed that a certain burry giant was no longer behind him, pecking at him like a mother hen. "Where is Hagrid?"
"Ah, Harry. This is not the only fireplace that Hogwarts possesses. I suspect that Hagrid has found himself routed to another fireplace somewhere in this castle. He should arrive again shortly." Dumbledore answered his question. A translucent figure, hidden behind the heavy velvet curtains, was waiting for his moment that was ideal for him to leave his hiding place. He couldn't help but conclude that this was as best of a moment as any. With that decision, he shot up through the heavy curtains and next to Professor Dumbledore with a large grin.
"I just meet him in the kitchen. Tripped him good I did, he barely even knew what hit him. He fell down with a loud thud (knocking over a few house elves and a couple dozen pots and pans) and cursed my lot he did, curse me real good. Would have made me worried for a second, that is, if I wasn't already dead, you know?" Peeves said, before switching subjects. "Well now, if it isn't Harry Potter. So you aren't dead at all. Moaning Myrtle was convinced that you were going to inhabit the bathroom with her in due time. Shame, you would have been great partner, we could have done great things you know, great things…"
"Great things!" A loud voice rumbled in the room. "Ya googling ghost, there ain't anythin' good ta what ya do. 'arry's best alive and well lik he shud be."
"Sorry 'bout that 'arry, wud have come here quicker but Peeves here…" Hagrid glared at the ghost, who took the half-giant's open dissatisfaction as his cue to leave. Of course, he did make sure to knock down a few chairs before he fully disappeared through the walls. Dumbledore took his wand out from his shirtsleeve and waved it about, fixing up the chairs that Peeves had just unceremoniously felled.
"Thank you Professor, for letting me stay at Hogwarts." Harry thanked. "I really am grateful."
"It was nothing my boy," Dumbledore responded with a smile. "This time is a perfect time for us to talk too. You do know that your title as the Boy Who Lived has once again been reaffirmed. I never heard of someone surviving Basilisk poisoning before, especially to the extent of poison that was in your blood circulation. But mostly, I wanted to ask about…"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, and shook his head. "Ah, but it could wait for another moment. Come Harry, I'll show you where you'll be staying until your classmates join you."
Harry nodded, relieved that he didn't have to tell Dumbledore anything just yet. No, he wasn't ready to tell the white wizard about how it was he that saved Harry from death or why he did it. Not when he wasn't even sure about the answer to that question himself.
"Mysteries are what excites and dooms us."
Harry frowned.
"The Defense Against Dark Arts Professor has volunteered to be your guardian for the remainder of the summer," the headmaster told him while leading him to his temporary home before the start of the school year.
A chill ran down his spine at the mention of the DADA professor.
"It's not Lockhart is it?" Harry asked, unable to stomach the idea of staying with the frilly, egocentric Defense instructor form his second year. The man was a fraud, stealing stories from wizards and witches, erasing their memories, and then publishing their exploits in books and claiming it as his own. He couldn't help but warm up to the idea (though only slightly) of changing his mind and staying with the Dursleys instead of with the pompous fool. Given the way his second year turned out, he would probably be left to answer the man's fan mail from love struck witches. At least with the Dursleys he wouldn't be spoken too. Lockhart had a habit of talking about the only topic that interested him: himself.
"Ah, Lockhart," Dumbledore said. "I nearly forgot he was your professor when you were at Hogwarts. No, child, I'm afraid your old professor had a mishap with a broken wand and a memory spell that has left him unable to continue teaching at Hogwarts."
Although Dumbledore spoke it in a sympathetic tone, the white wizard was twinkling. Harry took it that Dumbledore had also realized how inept the other man had been in teaching. "The Defense professor currently is a Mr. Remus Lupin. He was a rather close friend of your fathers back in their days at Hogwarts."
Harry's ears perked up at the mention of James Potter. "My father's friend? Really?"
"Ah yes, Professor Lupin is one of the inseparable four that your father was apart of. During his days at Hogwarts, he, along with your father and two others, spent much time together just like the way Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger and you do. However, they were more prone to mischief making and left behind a legacy."
The mention of Ron and Hermonie made his heart squeeze up in a strange way. He had received owls from them after his revival at St. Mungos. Though they had really wanted to, both of them were unable to visit him at the hospital during his time of recovery. Currently, Ron was spending time with his family in Romania; he was hanging out with his brother Charlie and his dragons. Hermonie's parents had to go to a Dentist convention in the States and had taken her with them. Though they weren't able to meet, the both of them had promised to go to Diagon Alley with him a week before school started to get some school supplies.
Lost in thought, Harry didn't notice that Dumbledore had halted right in front of a portrait until he found himself breaking quickly in order to not run down the elderly wizard before him. Harry managed to stop himself just in time to prevent any collision.
The portrait of a knight, by the name of Sir Wellington, in full suited armor. He was using his lance as a leaning post and had abandoned his head piece in the river that flowed through his scenery. His slightly wavy hair was frizzy at the ends, his armor had a bit of a rust on it, and overall, he looked rather bored, yawning every few minutes until he had taken notice of the two that stood in front of him.
Summer break had always left the castle idle and lonely for company.
"Greetings Headmaster, Harry." The knight said while straightening up a bit. "Professor Lupin had asked that I let you two in when you arrived."
The door swung open with a "clank".
"Thank you Wellington," Dumbledore said with a smile before making his way through the entrance, Harry followed after him. Wellington shut close the door back from behind them before reclining against his lance some more before contemplating if he should ask for some polish for his rusting suit of armor.
Harry's temporary guardian's new place was decorated in Gryffindor colors. Red and gold splashed itself throughout the Defense professor's living quarters. Remus Lupin had a collection of books organized neatly in a slightly beat up bookcase that ranged from some Defense books to some contemporary wizarding literature to some books on magical creatures and werewolves. He also had a sort of cabinet to store his potions that were neatly lined up in its storage.
After surveying the room, Harry was disappointed to see that there weren't any photographs sitting anywhere in the room. He had been searching to possibly find any pictures that the defense instructor might have with his parents in it (he had a photo album with their pictures in it but since he had been in a coma for so long, he wasn't sure where his stuff had went, though he did plan to ask about that soon).
Harry found it a bit odd that the Defense Against Dark Arts professor was not greeting them until he had taken notice to the form that was sleeping in one of his chairs. The main was pale and frail looking, with slightly messy hair and a light snore. There was a book open in his lap, probably one he was reading until he fell asleep.
Dumbledore placed a hand on the professor's shoulder, gently rousing the tired man. The sleeping professor jumped up from his seat, surprised. The book that was once in his lap tumbled out of it's position and into the plush carpet. His hand quickly reached for his wand, stopping once he caught sight of who it was that was there.
"Oh," He said, his tense shoulders loosening up. "I apologize; I must have dozed while reading…"
"No harm done Remus," Albus said, pulling out his want to levitate the book that had fallen and then moving it so that it was on the small stand that was next to Lupin's seat. "I was just bringing Harry here to stay with you."
"Ah, yes, that was today…" Remus said softly before taking real notice of the other boy in the room. The professor's stormy eyes examined him, looking at his figure, his scar, his eyes, and his scent. Harry couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down his spine at Lupin's examination of him. Soon the DADA instructor closed his eyes, his breath a bit more heavy, and his tone nostalgic.
"His scent is the same but a bit different from how he use to smell…" Remus said softly, his eyes lingering on the scar, the obvious perpetrator to Harry's change he believed. "And… we use to tease James about how Harry didn't look much like him when he was a baby, although now it's obvious whose child he is, with his looks and his eyes…"
"He's very much like both his parents," Dumbledore said in agreement. "Though he is more like his mother when it comes to his personality then his father. I must be leaving you two. I have a meeting with the Minister of Magic soon. I'm sure you two will get along with another."
Harry and Lupin bid their farewells to the wizard who returned their sentiments before leaving the two of them behind as he went to his meeting. Strangely enough, Harry couldn't help but feel tired after that bit of walking he did to get to Professor Lupin's wing. It wasn't as though it was such a long walk, but for some reason flooing and walking exhausted the little energy he had. Especially since he still hadn't adjusted to being awake and being alive.
"Let me show your room," Lupin said to Harry, noticing signs of fatigue on the boy's face.
"That'd be nice, Professor Lupin." Harry said.
"Call me Remus, Harry. Either Remus or Moony," the professor requested of him, "You use to call me that when you were young…"
"Okay… Moony." Harry said, finding that the name rolled off his tongue easily because he knew he probably said it over and over again when he was younger. Remus looked a bit relieved when he complied to his name change, obviously recalling memories of the past better than he was.
His bedroom was a moderately sized bedroom with a bed, a desk, and familiar objects furnishing the room. A snowy owl hooted from her cage on top of a dark trunk that he had bought many years ago; the owl was flapping her wings in excitement as she sees her owner for the first time in many years. There was a familiar wand, sitting in a box on top of the roll top desk that he nearly forgot that he didn't have.
Now he needed to go through his trunk to see if everything he had was still in there. With the intent of going through his trunk, a hand reaches up and fusses his hair a bit. "Go to bed first; you look like you want to sleep standing up. Your stuff can wait for tomorrow."
Hedwig hooted in agreement.
Minutes later, Harry found himself in bed, dead asleep.
I had a good page and a half written like, a year ago but never did anything more to it because Mizy was suppose to do it. However, she was just as stumped on it as I was. Then I drifted out of the fandom and now I'm back into it so I decided to hurry up and write more of this fic because I really like it. Sorry if it's not really grammatically strong. I'm just way too lazy to find someone to proofread things for me.
