Lost: Young Man, Answers to Harry
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Harry and Sirius did not speak to each other for two days. Harry thought this was a very childish way for his godfather to act, but then he remembered how angry he was and decided he didn't care. If Sirius refused to tell him the truth, Sirius could just go and sulk until he relented. Harry was certainly not going to apologise.
Sirius knew he was sulking, and that he was being childish, but he decided he didn't care. His godson was too young to understand that Sirius was only acting in Harry's best interests. If Harry wanted to ignore Sirius for the rest of the week, well, that was just fine. Sirius was certainly not going to relent.
Harry sat in his bedroom, reading books and talking to the empty picture frame that hung on his wall. Sometimes he heard Sirius' footsteps coming up the hall and stopping outside his door, and waited hopefully for Sirius to come in and talk to him, but the footsteps always went away again. Sometimes Harry rushed to the door and flung it open, ready to bellow his apologies at his godfather, but Sirius had already vanished. Often there was a tray of lunch sitting outside the door, carefully prepared. Harry always ate the food and left the tray in the corridor.
Sirius roamed the halls of the house, looking for things to clean and glaring at Kreacher whenever he crossed his path. Sometimes he found himself walking past Harry's door without meaning to be there. He would pause, put his ear to the door and listen to make sure his godson was still alive in there. His hand would rest on the doorknob, and he had to tear himself away, determined not make the first move. Instead, fearing that Harry would starve himself before he would come out of his room, Sirius left trays of food outside his door, with a repelling spell to stop Kreacher nibbling the crusts off the sandwiches. He would pick up the empty tray later on.
This would probably have gone on for the rest of the month, if not for the owl in the chimney. It happened on the third morning of not-speaking-to-each-other. Harry finally gave in to his craving for a hot breakfast and slipped down to the kitchen to make himself eggs and toast. He was certain it was too early for Sirius to be up, and he was right. The kitchen was empty and the pantry full, and Harry settled himself down to a proper meal.
His ears were pricked for any sound of his godfather coming down the stairs, so he heard the clanking and the squawking at once. Something was trapped in the chimney of the big iron stove, and it sounded as if the chimney might well be digesting it. Harry leapt to his feet and located the hatch that opened the pipe for cleaning. He threw it wide open and out fell a battered, soot-covered owl, which lay on its back on the stove and shrieked angrily. There was a newspaper attached to its leg.
As soon as Harry took the newspaper, the owl jumped up and began to peck him. He realised it wanted to be paid, but he didn't have so much a knut to give it, so he tied one of the expensive silver spoons to its leg and released it back up the chimney. Its hooting echoed down to him as it flew upwards and disappeared. Then Harry took the paper back to the table and unfolded it.
He was very excited to see that the photographs were moving. It was a wizarding paper, with the heading The Daily Prophet written along the top in curly letters. Harry had never seen a wizarding paper before, but he realised that Sirius must have taken out a subscription while they were in Diagon Alley. He flattened the paper and began to read eagerly. His face fell as he took in the front page story, and his stomach twisted.
WEREWOLVES ATTACK RALLYWizards and witches across France were in mourning yesterday as the magical community in Paris began to count its dead after a horrific attack on bystanders by a crowd of anti-Ministry protestors.
The protestors, who were marching against the Ministry's new werewolf registration program, were headed off by brave Ministry officials who tried to prevent their reckless display of magic in front of a street full of muggles. However, a fight broke out when Mallory Algernon, the leader of PAWR (People Against Werewolf Restraint) took the stand and began to encourage the protestors to rise up against the Ministry. A number of werewolves in the midst of the protesters turned on the crowd of muggle and wizard bystanders, letting loose a series of blasts that killed or injured over forty people. The full death toll is not yet known, but is estimated at ten wizards and at least eight muggles. Algernon is today being questioned about his involvement in the attack.
The French Ministry hopes that this disgusting display of hypocrisy by the werewolf supporters will help the decent wizards and witches of France see the need for their new lycanthropy registration program. Minister Moody today released a statement saying that he is already looking at a similar law for English werewolves, which could be put forward to the Wizengamot by the end of the year…
Harry realised his hands were shaking. He felt angry and sick at the same time. Was this what was happening in the world? Was this why Sirius wanted to keep him away from other wizards – because he was afraid Harry would turn out like these other werewolves?
It can't be true! Harry thought, reading through the start of article again, I'm not like that, I know I'm not – why would other werewolves be so different from me? He shook his head and turned the page.
The article continued on pages two and three, complete with several large photographs, one of Algernon standing on a podium, of the French Minister visiting injured wizards in hospital, and of a jail cell where several sombre-looking faces peered out at the camera. The caption of the last photo read, "Werewolf supporters arrested after the attack remained in custody yesterday. The French Ministry say they will continue to hold any protestor they suspect of being a werewolf until the next full moon, in three weeks' time.
Harry looked at the photo again, wondering if any of the gloomy faces looking out at him really were werewolves. How terrified they must be, awaiting the full moon with even more dread than usual, and with no knowledge of what might happen to them after that.
One man, slumped against the back of the jail cell, was looking straight at him, and Harry felt a frown crease his forehead. He knew that man. The face was a little older, the hair a little longer, but Harry felt a thrill of recognition.
"Moony," he whispered.
He jumped up, snatching the paper off the table, and bolted for the stairs. As he scrambled down the corridor towards his godfather's room, nearly tripping over Kreacher, who was loitering in the entrance hall, he began to yell, "Sirius! Sirius, get up! We have to go to France!"
As he reached the end of the hall, the door to Sirius' room was thrown open and Harry's godfather leaned out, looking bleary-eyed with his unbound hair falling across his face, "What?" he said sleepily, trying to pull on his trousers and button up his robes at the same time, "what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did you say Kreacher stole your pants?"
"No, no, I said we have to go to France!" Harry waved the paper and resisted the urge to jump up and down at the same time.
Sirius relaxed and rubbed his eyes, "why?"
"Look at this," Harry thrust the paper at Sirius and followed his godfather into the bedroom. Sirius, still trying to focus his eyes after his sudden awakening, sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the paper, "you've got it upside down," Harry said impatiently, turning the newspaper the right way up, "read it!"
"Oh, that's better," Sirius finally focussed on the paper and began to read. His face grew puzzled, and then stormy, and then furious, "what is this?" he muttered, "I thought it was People Against Werewolf Repression, not Restraint. And why would any werewolf do something this stupid?"
Harry turned the page for him and stabbed his finger at the photograph of the jail cell, "look! Look, this man here!"
Sirius looked. His eyes widened. He raised his head to look at Harry.
"We have to go to France," said his godson, "now. We have to get him out of there."
Sirius rubbed his head, "Harry, how are we going to get to Paris? The Ministry watches all the borders. You can't get out of the country without special permits and things."
"You were an auror," Harry crossed his arms, "you know secret ways out of the country. I know you do. You could apparate us there in ten seconds if you wanted to."
Sirius waved his hand at the photograph, "even if we could get there, how can we help him? Do you think they'll let him out if we ask them nicely?"
"Sirius!" Harry looked exasperated, "did you even read this? They're holding them until the next full moon! Don't you see? If they have caught any real werewolves, they're going to blame them for the attack on the rally. They're just using the attack as an excuse to get rid of as many werewolves as possible – what do you think they'll do to them? A slap on the wrist and a warning? If they don't kill them, they'll imprison them for life!" Harry's voice rose into a squeak at the end of the sentence.
"Harry, you don't understand how dangerous this would be…"
"Stop saying that!" Harry fumed, "stop saying I don't understand! There's only one thing I don't understand – how can you just sit here and argue with me? He's your friend, Sirius! We have to help him!"
Sirius blinked. He looked as if he was about to make another damning retort, then he shook his head, "you're right," he said, "what am I thinking? We're not going to just leave him there. Grab yourself a cloak, Harry, we're going to France."
"Really?" Harry looked surprised that Sirius had conceded so quickly.
"Really," his godfather replied, "Remus Lupin needs us, and I'll be a Death Eater before I'll abandon a friend in trouble."
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Sirius knew his way to the Paris Ministry from previous visits while he had been working as an auror. But even once they were inside the Ministry, convincing anyone to take them to the prisons was quite another matter. The man at the reception did not seem to speak a single word of English, and it took ten minutes for Sirius to convince him to go and find someone who did. At last, a young woman with red hair appeared and lead them around the corner to talk to them.
"My name is Carrié," she said, "Is it a permit you are looking for? I'm sorry, I do not understand."
"No, no, we've come for a man whom you're holding in your prison," Sirius explained, "he was arrested on baseless charges three days ago and we've come to take him home."
Carrié frowned, "you are talking about one of the anti-ministry protestors. I'm sorry, they will not be released until we are satisfied they are not guilty of causing this awful tragedy."
"You mean, until you're sure they're not werewolves," said Harry furiously, and Carrié turned to look at him, "well, he's not a werewolf," Harry snapped, "he's a British wizard who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you have not right to hold him here when you know perfectly well he had nothing to do with the attack!"
"I assure you, young man, we have every reason to hold these protestors," Carrié replied, "they have proved themselves to be disorderly and violent and they are a danger to those around him."
"Now, look here," said Harry, clenching his fist and raising his head proudly so that his scars were glaring the young woman in the face, "this man is my Uncle. His name is Remus Lupin and he is a schoolteacher at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Sirius stared at his godson, wondering how Harry knew this, "he is not a werewolf any more than I am a werewolf, and he is certainly not a danger to anyone. And keeping him in your prison is nothing more than a waste of space!"
Carrié seemed taken aback. She muttered for a moment about pushy English children, then said stiffly, "I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. Only the prison coordinator can release prisoners. You should both go home and come back after the full moon, once we know for sure your friend is not a werewolf."
"Then take us to this prison coordinator," Sirius growled, "and we will talk to him."
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The prison coordinator was a glum-looking wizard with an enormous moustache. He listened to Sirius and Harry for a few minutes, then linked his fingers together, leaned back in his chair and said in a heavy French accent, "I'm sorry, but eet cannot be done."
"Why not?" Harry demanded, putting both his hands on the desk, "how can it be legal to hold a man in prison on suspicion of being a werewolf?"
The prison coordinator shook his head, "I cannot be done," he repeated, "I am sorry," he did not sound sorry at all, "Carrié, please take zese two back to reception."
He looked around. Carrié was nowhere in sight. The prison coordinator muttered something rude in French and got to his feet, "where 'as she gone?"
Suddenly the red-haired Carrié reappeared in the doorway, "Je suis désolé, monsieur, but there are two more people to see you. They – er – they also are looking for this man, Remus Lupin," she was suddenly pushed out of the way by what looked like an angry, flaming meteor.
It was a young woman wearing denim robes and with short, spiky hair that flashed from dark scarlet to fiery orange with each step, "sir, I demand you release Professor Lupin at once," she cried, striding past Harry and Sirius and thumping down a piece of parchment onto the prison coordinator's desk. She was followed by a stout, freckly young man who looked no less vexatious. He folded his arms and stood behind the woman, who was pointing at the parchment with a look of commanding respect on her face, "this is a letter from Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He has sent us with the urgent request that you release his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at once. Your ridiculous suspicions are totally baseless."
The prison coordinator seemed very surprised. But after a moment he blew through his moustache and leaned forward, glowering, "now, look 'ere," he said, "I weell not be bullied by some old fool an 'is letters."
"It would be in your interests to do as Professor Dumbledore requests," the woman drew herself up, "he has many contacts in the English Ministry of Magic. He is also very good friends with Minister Alastor Moody. My name is Nymphadora Tonks and I am an auror, second in command under Minister Moody. My companion is Charlie Weasley, whose father runs the department of defence in the ministry."
Harry stared at the woman, "Tonks?" he gaped, "Tonks! Do you remember me?"
Tonks swung her glare in his direction, and her fury vanished, "good lord!" she said, and threw her arms around Harry, "Harry! What are you doing here? I never thought I'd see you again, you little beast!" she looked up at Sirius, "Wotcher, cousin! I knew you weren't working for Death Eaters. I suppose you're here for the same reason we are?"
"Of course," said Harry, and both he and Tonks turned back to the prison coordinator, who looked furious that his foes had just allied themselves against him.
"Look, you may shout at me all you like!" he glared, "but I weell not release any of zose traitorous protestors before ze full moon, and zat is final!"
Harry, Tonks, Charlie and Sirius all began to speak at once, but the prison coordinator put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, "I weell not leesten to any of you any longer!" he cried, "all of you, geet out of my office!"
"Excusez moi, monsieur," said a voice from the door, and everyone turned to see the most beautiful young lady enter the room, her long silver hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Behind her stood a tall, freckled man with a red ponytail.
"Bill!" Charlie yelped, and grabbed his brother's hand, "you're alright! Mum's so worried, your letter didn't say anything about the attack…"
"Shush, Charlie," Bill put his finger to his lips, "Fleur is doing her thing."
Charlie turned and realised all eyes were on the silver-haired beauty standing in front of the prison coordinator's desk, sweeping her shining locks away from her face.
"Je veux vou dire en Remus Lupin," she said haughtily. Everybody in the room was watching in silence, holding their breath.
The prison coordinator made a blustering noise. Fleur continued to look down her perfectly-shaped nose at him. He blushed red and his hands began to fiddle with the ring on his finger. Harry, young though he was, could feel a kind of aura spreading out of the strange girl, demanding every male in the room keep his eyes on her.
The prison coordinator said something in French. Fleur replied silkily. The prison coordinator said something that sounded angry and embarrassed. Fleur tipped her head to one side and spoke, softly and coldly, for almost a minute, while everyone watched with their hearts thumping in their chests.
"Carrié," the prison coordinator tried to snap his fingers but there was just a sort of soft click, "please go down to ze prisons and escort Monsieur Lupin to my office. Tell heem he is free to go."
"But, sir-" began Carrié.
"Now, Carrié," said the prison coordinator. He got to his feet, "I must go and geet a glass of water. Madame, je suis," he gave a sort of lopsided bow to Fleur and fled the room.
Tonks threw her hands in the air and whooped, "we did it!"
"We didn't do nothing," Charlie laughed, kissing Tonks on the cheek and sitting down on the desk, "my brother has some powerful friends."
Tonks, grinning, her hair a glorious bubble-gum pink colour, sat down next to Charlie, knocking the prison coordinator's pencil case to the floor, and cocked her head at Harry, "and you!" she said.
Charlie nudged her to be quiet. He was looking at Bill. The oldest Weasley brother was standing in front of the gorgeous Fleur, holding her white hands in his own brown ones, speaking quietly to her. She replied, "zen I will persist!"
"Bill?" Charlie asked softly, and Bill turned to look at his brother, "Bill, where is Iolanthe?"
Bill looked away, and Harry realised he was blinking back tears. After a moment he said, "she's was hurt in the rally. I…I watched her die."
Silence rang through the room. Tonks put her hand to her mouth. When she had been younger and she had spent summer holidays at the Burrow with Charlie, she had idolised the fiercely spirited Iolanthe who often came to visit Bill.
Charlie looked at his lap, "it wasn't werewolves that attacked the rally. That was just a lie the Prophet made up."
Bill nodded, "they arrested everyone they thought might be a werewolf. Professor Lupin and I were brought in together, and he helped me after Iolanthe died…I mean, he just talked to me. I needed someone to talk to. Then they let me go, and I had to leave him behind. I asked Fleur to come back with me to help him."
"They let you go?" Charlie frowned, and looked at Fleur, "I don't get it. What does she have to do with all this?"
Fleur tossed her mane of silver hair into the air, "Bill 'as saved my seester from ze man 'oo attacked ze protestors! 'E 'as my undying gratitude, and I weel spend all my life repaying zis debt to 'im. Getting 'im and his friend out of jail was nothing. I am glad to 'elp Mr Lupin as well, and I will do everything else Bill asks of me."
"I don't need anything else," Bill mumbled. He seemed embarrassed, "I'm grateful to you, but you don't need to do anything else for me."
Fleur clutched his hand, "Bill, never 'ave I met any man who is as gallant or as 'umble as you are! I will never meet such a man again! Even if you turn away from me, I will follow you to ze ends of ze earth."
Charlie raised one eyebrow at Tonks, and she slapped his arm with a disapproving expression on her face, "don't you give me that look!" she hissed, "Bill needs you."
Charlie nodded and got up and whispered quietly to his brother, while Fleur left the two brothers to be alone, arranging herself on a chair in the corner. Bill looked weary and broken as Charlie lead him out of the room to talk to him in private. Tonks turned to Harry and Sirius.
"You two have some explaining to do," she said furiously, "you know, I'm only here at all because of you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry frowned, pushing himself up onto the desk where Charlie had been sitting, "I'm surprised you even remember me after all these years. I'd completely forgotten about you."
"Charlie and I have been looking for you," Tonks replied, "because Charlie's brother Ron saw you in Diagon Alley the other day. We thought you were dead, you see – Lupin always gave us that impression. We couldn't believe you were still alive, but we were determined to track you down. But when we went to find Lupin to get the truth out of him, he wasn't home. We went to Hogwarts to see if he'd gone to school early, but he wasn't there either. Finally we got in contact with Dumbledore and he said Lupin had gone to France, and it was just afterwards that the news came through about the attack on the rally and Lupin and Bill being arrested. Dumbledore wanted to come himself, but we reckoned we could handle it, so he gave us a letter and off we went. He felt it was his fault, you see. They were letting those protestors go who had British visas, like Bill, but Lupin only got to France because Dumbledore had pulled a few strings. So he didn't have a permit. The French Ministry thought he had left England illegally, that's why they were so sure he was a werewolf."
Sirius suddenly interrupted his cousin, "Tonks, listen to me," he said, and there was a recklessness in his voice, "if you value Harry's life, you won't tell Dumbledore or the Ministry that he is still alive or that you've seen him. They must never know where he is. Promise me you'll keep us a secret."
Tonks looked surprised and curious, but after a moment, she said, "alright. I promise."
Sirius nodded, "thank you. Did you say before that you're an auror? I didn't know that."
Tonks puffed up her chest, nearly elbowing Harry in the face by accident, then grinned sheepishly, "yeah, I did say that. But, er, I'm not really second in command or anything. I'm not a real Auror at all. I've only been in training for a few months now."
"You did seem awful young," Sirius smirked, "and I suppose Arthur Weasley isn't really head of the Department of Defence, either?"
"Well, no," Tonks admitted, "but he does work there. And Dumbledore isn't really good friends with Minister Mood, but it hasn't always been like that," she looked back at Harry, "now that I've promised not to reveal you, you have to tell me where you've been for the last seven years."
However, they were interrupted by Bill and Charlie returning to the room, followed by Carrié. Walking behind him, rubbing his wrists, was Remus Lupin.
Harry and Tonks both jumped off the desk. Carrié stepped hurriedly out of the way as Tonks hurled herself at Lupin, giving a wordless cheer as she threw her arms around his neck. Lupin stumbled under her weight and nearly fell over, but Charlie steadied him and Tonks quickly pulled back, though she could not let go of her old Professor's shoulders. Lupin smiled at her, "and here I thought I wasn't loved."
"Oh, you know we couldn't let you rot in that cell!" Tonks cried, "look at you – what have they done to you? The beasts!"
"No harm that can't be mended," replied Lupin in his sleepy voice. Indeed, Tonks had reason to exclaim. The DADA teacher's robes were hanging loosely on him, and there were bruises on his face and neck, and a swollen lip that looked as if it had been bleeding freely. But then Lupin cast his eyes around at his rescuers and the smile slipped from his face as he saw Harry and Sirius.
"Hello, Moony," said Harry, and he, too, threw his arms around Lupin, although, unlike Tonks, he could only reach the professor's waist. Lupin covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide with shock, then detached himself from Tonks and bent to hug Harry in return.
"You are too much," he said, and he pulled back and touched Harry's scars with gentle fingers, "oh, Harry," he said quietly, "I'm so sorry, for everything. I've missed your whole life," then he raised his eyes to look at Sirius, who was still standing back against the wall, "and you," he said, "you – I've just missed."
Harry suddenly found himself crushed between his godfather and his honorary Uncle. Sirius had rushed across the floor so quickly no one had seen him move, and the two old friends had embraced each other so fiercely it looked as if neither of them would ever let go. Harry wriggled out from between the two men, clutching Lupin's robes with one hand and Sirius' jacket with the other.
At last, after a minute of heavy silence, the two men parted and looked at each other eye-to-eye. A smile flickered at the corner of Sirius' mouth, "we've got everything to talk about," he said, "all of us," he added, glancing at Tonks, Charlie and Harry.
"Not here," replied Lupin, squeezing Harry's shoulder as if to reassure himself that the boy was real, "let's get out of this hole, and into the sunshine."
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TBC
A/N: Just to clear things up, I'm afraid I'm not a slash writer. I've got nothing against slash, and I do read it sometimes, but I don't write it. So, there will be nothing more than brotherly love between Lupin and Sirius nor between anyone else of the same gender. But, if you like, I will not be in the least bit offended if you decide that there is implied slash. That's up to you and your imagination. You take whatever you want away from this story.
FRENCH TRANSLATIONS: Just basic phrases in today's chapter, "I beg your pardon," "Excuse me," and what Fleur says to the prison guy is, "I want to talk to you about Remus Lupin." (not perfect grammar, but close)