A/N: So. I saw nine reviews when I first checked back, and started laughing until my poor beast of a dog went tearing from the room. Next thing I know there's twenty-three. I completely heart you all, most sincerely. I expected maybe a handful of reviews and flames. So .. I thought I'd do the follow-up as a bit of a thank you! I suppose it could be turned into a lengthier story, but there are so many Post-OOTP Lupin confronts Harry 'fics that I'm a bit hesitant to try one. Don't want to get anymore cliche than I've already gotten xD. Anyway, this will be in two parts for now, as l don't really want Harry to seem .. ah, well. I guess you'll see what I mean. Thanks a million for the reviews, I read all of them and would respond if not for the most illustrious fanfiction dot net making such excellent, wonderful, completely acceptable habit of terminating every story to do so. But.
Hypothetically .. if you were ever called .. unlikely2 , Tondo-the-half-elf (who's name I thought I recognised from FA and was very excited to see. Hypothetically, I mean) , SeriousSiriusFan , NKB (Peanut butter or chocolate chip?) , crimkid, GinnyHarryP (I did consider that actually, it was in one of the drafts, but it seemed too awkward to me. You're not paranoid at all:D Proverbially.) , The Rogue Raven, Dragon, Insanepyroshorty, Dreamer, Larna Mandrea, anon, Sugar E. Quill (Am thoroughly flattered!) , carzla (see aforementioned!), fleur, porcupineapple, Von, SailorChibi (You hypothetically convinced me to get off my rear and do it, so thanks very much! D) , SexyBlack (Oh I agree, I even loved Pensieve!James despite his busted giveadamn about bullying people!) , abay, and / or HeathenGoddess .. and you ever left .. a review .. it was very, very much appreciated. This is all just rhetorical, of course.
/askingfortrouble>
Disclaimer: Jo does. I don't. Some of the text in this chapter has been taken directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They will likely be the only well-written and edited portions of this story. I beg your premature pardon.
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"It no longer bothers me that I may be constantly searching for father figures; by this time, I have found several and dearly enjoyed knowing them all." -- Alice Walker
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It was raining outside, and for once Aunt Petunia was allowing Harry to do as he pleased rather than, "Track mud all over my clean carpet with your grubby trainers, they were never so filthy on Dudley," as she so eloquently put it. Normally Harry would consider this a vacation in and of itself, and be celebrating with some of the Honeydukes chocolate left over from his last Hogsmeade visit -- he'd saved it suspecting he'd once again have to survive on grape fruits, but oddly enough, Dudley's diet had come to a screeching halt. The diet was not the only thing which had drastically changed since his last summer (Sirius, Sirius I -- ) which had been decidedly less pleasant than the present. And yet, Harry could not enjoy it. Would not enjoy it.
But he would not think about that, because he'd been thinking of it since the Incident and it felt like -- it felt like -- Like I will bleed to death with the pain of it, Harry thought, blandly.
He'd think about -- his birthday. That was certainly safe, wasn't it?
"... Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather ..." No, stop it.
Ron. Ron and Hermione and .. Ginny and Neville and Luna --
"Harry? I ... I don't think Sirius is here." Enough!
There had to be something he could think of! Quidditch --
"You fly as well as your father did, Harry ..."
STOP IT! In a horrible fit of grief and rage, Harry raised his hand and slammed it against the side of his head so that his eyes watered -- It was of course, Harry knew, the only reason his eyes were watering, because nearly-sixteen year-old men did not cry.
But there was no escaping the fact that he could think of nothing else, every thought led back to Sirius, Padfoot, Snuffles, Black, it was maddening. You've had a month to deal with this, Potter, Harry reminded himself miserably, you ought to be over it by now. Except that he wasn't, except that he couldn't imagine ever being over this. Except that the mere thought of 'being over this' made his stomach contract with fear that he could not understand. If he didn't grieve Sirius, who would?
Lupin would, said Harry's conscience quietly, and Harry supposed this was true, but he did not very much want to think about Lupin right now. Just the thinking of his ex-professor lit a furious fire in his chest, and he was certain that spending too much time contemplating this irrational anger could not be healthy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was well-aware that the werewolf did not deserve Harry's hatred for saving Harry's life -- if anything, Harry ought to be finding a way to repay him. Right now, however, this did not particularly matter to the Boy-Who-Was-Forced-To-Continue-Living.
If Lupin hadn't held him back, Harry could right now be --
Dead, drawled his conscience.
with Sirius. Yelling at his godfather for being so stupid (You're not being fair, Potter) or apologising to Cedric Diggory, or kissing his mother on the cheek, or embracing his father.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Sirius hugged you twice during the Christmas hols -- well, sort of, the first bit was horribly silly and undignified, and the second bit was too dignified and --
"I am an ungrateful wanker." said Harry.
"I've been saying that for years," moaned Dudley, who seemed to have developed a knack for coming along when Harry was least in the mood for it. It did, however, give Harry a suitable distraction.
"Dementor dementor dementor --!"
Dudley's face contorted in genuine horror, his piggy face paling several shades even as he retreated quickly to his room. Instantly, Harry was ashamed of himself. Who was he to mock a person for having ill-effects to dementors? What would Sirius think of him? (Oh God, Sirius ...)
Dudley, as it turned out, had been suffering far worse from the dementors than Harry thought possible. A year from when the event had taken place, his cousin still had reoccuring nightmares that sent his mother to his bedside, bawling along with her oversized son. Oddly enough, Uncle Vernon seemed less tolerant of such nightly happenings, and on one occasion Harry had even heard his uncle snarl, "Not again!" as Dudley woke from his slumber, howling. But perhaps this had less to do with Dudley and more to do with Uncle Vernon, who had reached new heights of temple-throbbing rage this summer. Harry was not worried, of course -- for one, his uncle could not move very fast, weighing approximately that of a small bull, and nor was he likely to punish Harry any further than a cuff on the head after the Order's warning.
Cuffs on the head had been becoming more frequent, on the other hand, and oftentimes they occured for no reason at all except for Harry's uncle's desire to see if his nephew wouldn't retaliate and allow Vernon to discipline him further. Harry had not yet spoken so much as a word about it, yet his patience was rapidly thinning as the smacks became more frequent, and he had taken to hiding his wand in the sleeve of a particularly old and shabby rain-jacket whenever his aunt ordered him to tend to the garden. Harry feared that if his uncle was feeling apopleptic enough and noticed Harry carrying his wand in his pocket, he might confiscate it. Vernon had not yet noticed its new hiding place, which was just as well. The teenager did not dare to use magic outside of school again -- he really didn't fancy the idea of another hearing -- and his wand would only be used for Threat Leverage if the worst were to occur.
Which was why, when a few hours later Harry found a man standing in the corner of his bedroom on the way back from nicking a biscuit from Dudley's special treat-box, his first reaction was to shout something unintelligable, stumble backwards, and promptly tumble rear-first down the stairway. The man in Harry's room let out a shout of dismay, and stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, clearly horrified.
Harry had landed in a dishevelled heap on Aunt Petunia's mercifully soft carpet, his head throbbing several times worse than it had been earlier in the day (which was saying something, he allowed) yet he paid his bruised rear, skull, and pride no attention -- this was a feat which was only possible if well-practiced, and Harry had a great deal of expertise in the area. In any case, his attention was currently set firmly upon Remus Lupin, who was standing at the top of the stairs.
The flame began to grow in his chest again, and he felt the horrifying coiling of a snake that he doubted had anything to do with Voldemort.
"Harry -- oh, Harry, I'm terribly sorry, I never meant to frighten you!"
Harry said nothing. This was due mainly to the fact that he was biting his tongue as hard as he could manage.
Rip, tear--
"It's too late, Harry!"
"Sirius I ... I think I'm going mad ..."
"Yes, I knew him. Or I thought I did."
"It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me --"
"Harry? Harry are you--" Vaguely, Harry registered the note of anxiety in his old professor's voice.
"Get -- get out." Harry stammered, stumbling over the words in his haste to make the man leave.
"I ...Harry I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"You ...I don't want to see you. I don't -- I can't -- get out!"
For a moment Lupin looked as though he was going to retreat -- he always does, Harry thought viciously -- but after a moment's hesitation he made his way down the stairs quietly, stood for hardly a second over where they raven-haired boy still lay on the carpet, and extended a hand to help him up.
The snake in Harry's chest began to rise up.
"I'm not -- I won't -- you have to leave." And Harry's voice, which was laced with fury, betrayed none of the panic growing in him.
Lupin ignored this, and stared resolutely at the wall directly across from him. Harry could see that his jaw was clenched.
"I've come to see how you're doing. Dumbledore thought you'd need someone to talk to."
Harry could not speak. Dumbledore, of course. It was always Dumbledore though, wasn't it? Dumbledore interfering with every aspect of Harry's life, sending this man to talk to him because he, Dumbledore, could not be bothered to do it himself. Damn him! Damn all of them!
"Meddling old fool," Hissed Harry, and yet he could not recall summoning the words.
"Harry!"
Lupin's face was apalled, shocked, and he was kneeling down and reaching forward as though to grip Harry's arm. The man's hand made contact with Harry's skin, and suddenly he was terrified, furious, panicking because he knew what was going to happen, and he had to warn Lupin--
And then his head split open, and nothing seemed to matter except the raw, blinding pain that was the beast inside of him.
"Filthy werewolf, can you not see the boy loathes you?"
This time it was Lupin who recoiled from Harry, the shock on his face elevating several levels.
"Yes, you fool, he is mine once more. And yet, you look so surprised! Did you perhaps think Dumbledore's plans to be foolproof? Did it never occur to ... ah ... Dumbledore's Army ... that having taken Potter's blood, I would not be perfectly able to breach his charming wards through the boy's scar? No? Well, I suppose it is understandable. Even Lord Voldemort believed Dumbledore would have putsome measure in place to prevent such a ...tragic ...occurance as this."
"How--?"
"Through Potter's emotions, you stupid creature. I would have thought it obvious."
Emotions ...
"Although he is most easily accessible when he is feeling a powerful rage. I always was an advocate of teenage agression."
"Harry's not -- get out of him! Leave my -- leave him be!"
Your ...?
"Oh? Your what, Lupin? Your cub? How sickeningly melodramatic."
...Cub?
"Harry, Harry you've got to fight him!"
"Give it up, werewolf. Can you not see? I reside in him because of his overwhelming desire to harm you!"
...No!
"Harry would never --!" But Lupin did not sound so sure of himself anymore.
"No? It is all here in his mind, you fleabitten fool. Oh, he blames you for many things. Leaving him here, to begin with--" Harry tried to stop the words even as they escaped him, but the monster inside of him was ripping him from the inside out.
"--and then of course for believing your best friend could have killed his parents, yes, that one is particularly pungent--"
Lupin flinched sharply.
"--and, oh I quite like this one -- for not saving Black and then restraining him from throwing himself through the Veil of Death. And really, werewolf, you'd have saved me quite a lot of trouble --"
...No! I don't ... it wasn't his fault! Sirius ... Sirius ...
The snake hissed furiously, shuddered, and released him, yet this time Harry could feel it linger, feel it hide in the darker corners of his soul, waiting for its next oppurtunity to strike. Voldemort had been repelled this time, yet he would wait. But Harry didn't care, not now, not when it felt as though a scab had been torn open in his chest, and this time it was not Voldemort whom was making it difficult for Harry to breathe properly.
"Oh God, Sirius!" And too exhausted to feel properly ashamed, Harry slumped to the floor and sobbed.
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Perhaps the most terrible thing about werewolves by far -- in Remus Lupin's rather qualified opinion, anyway -- was their irritating insistance on continuing to live. Contrary to popular belief, he was not incessantly fighting down an irrational temper, nor was he overly fond of undercooked beef, or in a constant struggle to maintain control over what James had affectionately referred to as "your violent alter-ego, all that penned up rage has to go somewhere, mate." On the contrary, it was very rarely that he was ever conscious of the wolf in his mind with the exception of, say, the three days leading up to the full moon when Remus got weaker and Moony got stronger. At these times it was rather like having an irritating devil on his left shoulder, whispering in his ear things like, "You can't let Snivellus treat Peter like that! Peter is pack! Make that slimeball submit!"
This "whispering" was very easily ignored, all though it did tend to make him a bit -- to quote another of his friends -- "More Gryffindor."
Oh, Padfoot ...
Which was likely why Dumbledore ("Irritating man!" grumbled Moony) had so mildly suggested that Remus check on Harry. While quite used to ignoring Moony's very forward suggestions, the -wolf was having nothing of his feeble protests, and the were- did not very much feel up to arguing the point. Remus had not felt up to very much at all lately, and there had been a small explosion in the form of Alastor Moody when it had been discovered that he'd stopped eating three days following the full moon, when Moony was in no position to protest the surrender of his will to live.
And Harry ... ("Pack!" Moony had howled, "Padfoot! Prongs! Wormtail! Gone!") he was all that Remus had left.
And Remus should not be angry with him.
("Fetch my cub! Get him--")
"Get him -- save him, he's only just gone through!"
("--he hurts! Think of Prongs!")
How could he not think of James?
("Pack! We are nothing without the pack!")
Harry has his own pack. He has Ron, he has Hermione.
("He has no stag, no dog, no rat!")
Thank God, no rat. I cannot replace James and Sirius.
("He has no WOLF!")
Harry was still crying, still sobbing on the floor of Privet Drive with his head in his hands, slumped from exhaustion. Voldemort was gone, Remus could not sense him anymore, and Moony no longer snarled from within him. Harry was still crying, and Remus was still standing there.
He wanted so dearly to comfort him, and yet ... and yet Voldemort's words rang through his mind. Harry blamed him, Harry loathed him, Harry wanted to harm him!
("Cubs are unreasonable! Show him love!")
He felt his resolve weaken with his knees, until he had sunk down onto the carpet beside Harry, but made no move toward him.
"He's gone," Harry choked, shoulders heaving and back stiff with the effort of silencing himself.
"He's gone," Remus agreed, his voice husky and far less even than he would have liked.
And just as Moony began to howl his indignation at Remus' stoic attitude, Harry lifted his face so that green eyes met hazel, and Remus' irritation with Harry disappeared in an instant. He knew the raw pain staring back at him, had felt it so many times in his chest, in his heart. He knew that behind those eyes there was the same burning desire to no longer exist as Remus could feel in himself. Harry was sobbing, shame written all over his face, and yet he did not remove his gaze from Remus'. Remus did not cry, but Moony howled his agony in the depths of the man's mind.
"P'fessor ...'m sorry ...s-so sorry ..."
And quietly, moving with a gentleness he had not felt since Harry was only an infant, Remus hooked an arm around Harry's shoulders and leaned him forward so that the not-quite-boy's head rested on his shoulder, and Harry's arms gripped his back tightly, as though determined to keep him from leaving just yet.
It was awkward and heart-breaking and Remus could not for the life of him understand why it had taken him so long.
And even though it was not a smiling situation, Remus smiled.
"If you apologise again, Harry, I shall have to take points from Gryffindor."
Harry didn't smile, but he did make a choking sort of sound that could have been a laugh or a sob, or perhaps a bit of both.
For quite a long time they were both silent, and even after Harry's tears had dried and Moony had become less aware of his terrible loss and more aware that his "cub" was leaning against Remus, Harry did not loosen his grip.
"I miss him."
Remus was surprised to hear Harry's voice, hoarse from his sobs and oddly restrained. He was more surprised to hear himself speak.
"So do I."
Best Friend and Godson held each other, united in grief and -- though they were not yet aware of it -- family, until the Dursleys returned later in the evening.
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Author's Notes: End Part One. I know this chapter was much angstier than the previous, but I couldn't for the life of me think of a way to get around it. I realise there are quite a lot of versions of this sort of situation, and I hope it turned out relatively believable, but now seems a good time to mention that criticism is very, very welcome if I am not being In Character or have made errors. That said, I hope you enjoyed it! The next part shouldn't take too long to get up.