Lost: Young Man, Answers to Harry
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Harry began to learn magic for the first time, and he revelled in it. Living in the old Black house, it was not hard to find ways to practise, because everything around him was magical and commonly could not be handled without magic. Sirius had gone to Diagon Alley and bought him The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) as well asPolicant's Philosophy of Magic, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and a few other schoolbooksHis godfather also dug up, from the extensive Black library, a number of other books he remembered finding helpful when he was learning magic, such as The Red Book of Costamaret and a vast volume called Tangential Magic, which even Harry found daunting when he saw it for the first time.
"Lupin will know some other good books," Sirius said, as Harry warily opened the cover of Tangential Magic, "but we can get started with basic spells. My charm work was never fabulous, but Lily was always very good, so I'm sure you'll pick it up. And I've forgotten most of my Magical History, but we can get books for that, and Lupin can give you tests when he comes to visit."
However, finding time for magic lessons was easier said than done. Harry was now attending a muggle school in the city, and Sirius had gotten a secretarial job in an office block. He usually did not get home until six or seven in the evening, and was often too exhausted to even make dinner when he did. Harry was getting better at cooking meals and sorting his own transport out, but it was still a pain when Sirius got home late in the evening and promptly fell asleep on the couch without even having a bite to eat. It was lonely in the big house with only Kreacher and the portrait of Sirius' mother for companions, neither of them being very good conversationalists.
He was also having trouble making friends at his new school, because of his scars and also because he was quite good at his lessons. It was difficult, knowing he could never invite other children home to his house or give anyone his phone number. And the teachers, as they always did, saw his scars and asked him constantly if he was having problems at home. They never seemed to get the hint, no matter how many times he assured them he was perfectly fine.
However, he soon made friends with a tall Latino girl named Patty, and spent his spare afternoons at her house, or walking around town with her. She was an avid reader, and one Friday morning at school she saw the top of a book poking out of Harry's bag and snatched the volume up before he could hide it. It was A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, which Harry had forgotten to take out of his bag after a weekend lesson with Sirius, and her eyes boggled as she flicked through it.
"This is amazing!" she said, skimming down a page about the differences between a real apple and an apple that was really a transfigured block of wood, "it looks just like a real schoolbook. I suppose it is some kind of joke book?"
"It's not a joke," he muttered, trying to grab the book back without drawing the attention of their teacher, who was demonstrating long-division on the white board with her back to the class.
Patty looked curiously at him, "is your Dad in one of those hippie cults where they think they can do real magic? You know, commune with spirits and stuff? Is that why I'm not allowed around to your house?"
"Of course not," Harry said, ducking as the teacher glared at him for talking, "could I just have the book back?"
"Can I hang on to it for a while?" Patty continued to flick through the pages, "I'd like to read it properly. Do you think if I waved my hand and said these words, these spells could work?" she was grinning mischievously, but Harry was furious. He thought of what Sirius would say if he found out Harry had given his magical schoolbooks to a muggle.
Patty picked up her pencil and mimicked the wand movement described on the page, "Makus Murine!"she said, laughing and pointing at the bottle of twink on the edge of her desk while reciting the spell to turn a bottle of ink into a mouse.
Harry, who had learned the spell the weekend before, ground his teeth and found that he had pulled his wand out of his pocket without meaning to. For a moment he held the smooth wood in his hand, resisting the urge to try and summon the book, since he had yet to master any summoning charms. Even though he had promised Sirius he would never take his wand to school, it was hard to resist once he had learned the spell that instantly solved algebra sums for him.
"Makus Murine," he said, pointing at the twink bottle under his desk. Suddenly a white mouse was sitting on Patty's desk where the twink bottle had been a moment before. Patty shrieked and her hand flew to her mouth. The mouse blinked in confusion, then it scampered across the desk, leaving tiny white twink-footprints in its wake, and jumped down onto the floor. Harry took the chance to grab the Transfiguration book back and slip it into his bag.
Alerted by Patty's shriek, other students turned and saw the mouse. Most of them laughed and pointed, but two or three of the girls screamed and jumped onto their chairs, gibbering. Patty just stared in amazement as the mouse ran down the aisle between the desks towards the teacher, who suddenly saw what had distracted her class. She, too, gave a sharp squawk and, as the mouse headed straight for her ankle, she brought her foot down right onto the tiny creature.
There was a squelching sound and white twink burst across the floor like a tiny balloon filled with paint. The teacher looked up at the class, which was in the early stages of chaos, and bellowed, "SILENCE!"
Everyone was quiet and still at once, "who released that foul rodent in my class?" cried the teacher.
Several people swung their heads to look at Patty, who slowly raised her hand, a look of shock still plastered across her face. The teacher's cheek were flushed red and she looked ready to explode, as the mouse had.
"Miss," Harry threw his hand into the air, "it wasn't Patty, Miss. It was my pet mouse. I was just showing it to her and it got away."
The teacher's eyes locked onto Harry's like a cruise missile, and he sunk down in his seat as the whole class turned to look at him, "Mr Potter. I would not have expected it from you. Bringing animals to school – really!" her voice rose, "you will see me after class, and you will clean up this mess on the floor," she frowned at the twink congealing on the lino, as if trying to figure out why a mouse would have white blood, "now, everyone stop giggling and finish this problem," she returned to the whiteboard, visibly seething.
Patty did not look at Harry for the rest of the lesson, but as the bell rung for morning break and they got up to leave, she leaned over and said quietly, "thanks for taking the beating for me."
"It's alright," he replied.
But her eyes were glittering, "you did that. You did it. The bottle…How?"
"It was a trick," he said desperately, still whispering, "the mouse was in my sleeve."
Patty just shook her head, smiling, "I'll see you later."
Gloomily, he put his bag at the front of the class and the teacher unlocked the cleaning cupboard so that he could begin scrubbing the white splash on the floor. He expected her to go for her break in the teacher's lounge, which would have been nice, because then he could have had a moment alone to think up ways to explain the mouse to Patty. But no such luck. His teacher sat down at her desk and began to watch him spray cleaning fluid onto the splash of twink.
"Are you having any problems at home, Harry?" she asked sweetly.
Oh no, not again. Here came the questions. Are you having problems at home, Harry? Where did you get those bruises, Harry? Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it, Harry? Harry had long ago decided it was something to do with the scars on his face and teachers' unquenchable determination to find something rotten about him. Often, they seemed to take one look at Sirius' long pony-tail and unmarried status and call the social welfare services. Once or twice, the principal of the school had invited Harry into his office to try and wriggle the truth out of him. They all seemed to believe, without a shred of doubt, that Harry was being abused in some way.
"No problems," he said, kneeling to scrub the twink with a cloth, but he seemed to be doing nothing more than spreading it around.
"I noticed that the phone number we have on record for your house doesn't work."
"Why would you call my house?" asked Harry, scrubbing harder. He shouldn't argue: arguing always made them more suspicious. But it was so hard not to argue.
"Well, I was worried," the teacher replied in a sugary voice, as if she had forgotten she had been yelling at him not half an hour before, "when you came to school a few weeks ago with all those scratches on your neck."
Damn those scratches, thought Harry. Usually, his godfather was very careful to heal or, at the very least, conceal, any wounds he received during the full moon. But four weeks ago, after the previous moon, Sirius had had to go to work early in the morning and had not had time to do anything more than cast a quick pain-relief spell.
"I told you, my cat attacked me," said Harry, "it's a little brute. Its name is Kreacher, and it tends to get grumpy if I don't pay it enough attention," vapid details about his home life often reassured the teachers of his wellbeing.
"It's alright to talk," the teacher said, putting her hands together in her lap as if holding something very fragile, "if there's anything going on at all. I know your father works long hours, and you're so quiet in class. Perhaps I could help you make some more friends, if I had a word to some of the other children?"
"I've got Patty," said Harry, his head still bent as he scratched at the dried twink, "and I can make my own friends," he was very worried that both these statements might no longer be true.
"Well, alright," said the teacher, "once you've cleaned that up, you can go." She got up and walked to the door.
Harry refused to look up until she had shut the door. Then he whipped out his wand and muttered "scourgify." Maybe he couldn't do much magic yet, but if there was one thing you learned very quickly when you lived in Grimmauld Place, it was how to get things clean.
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He didn't talk to Patty for the rest of the day, though she tried to get his attention several times. Maybe, he hoped, if he ignored her, she would forget what she had seen. But apparently muggles were not that stupid. Patty cornered him once the last bell had rung for the day.
"Please tell me what I saw was real," she said, as he tried to busy himself with fixing a rip in his schoolbag, "I want to believe it was real, but I can't."
He shook his head, "it isn't real. It was just a trick. You should just stop thinking about it."
"Alright," she said sadly, but she didn't walk home with Harry that afternoon, which put him in a worse mood than ever. In his irritated and distracted state, it took him forever to get the door of Grimmauld Place unlocked, since you had to tap it in just the right place, in just the right way. Finally it swung open and he stormed inside, slamming it after him.
"And here now I thought you were looking forward to seeing me."
Harry swung around and saw Remus Lupin coming up the stairs from the kitchen. At once all his frustration melted away and he dropped his bag in front of the portrait of Mrs Black (who shrieked at him that she would never have allowed untidy scum like him into her home) and threw himself into Lupin's arms, "Moony! You came!"
"You doubted me?" Lupin shouted over Mrs Black's shrieks. He gave Harry a quick hug and then the two of fought to pull the curtains back over Sirius' mother's portrait, "did you have a bad day?" he said loudly.
"Nothing I can't handle!" Harry shouted in return. At last Mrs Black's ravings were silenced and Harry lowered his voice to normal pitch, "how did you get into the house, anyway?"
"Floo powder," replied Lupin as they meandered down to the kitchen, "not my favourite method of transport, I admit, but I only have the weekend off and I did not want to waste time with broomsticks and trains."
"Have you had something to eat?" Harry asked, pulling out a loaf of bread to make himself a sandwich, "I think Sirius got the toaster to stop biting again."
"No, thank you, I prefer an empty stomach before a full moon," Lupin waved him off.
"Really?" asked Harry through a mouthful of bread, "I always like to eat a lot. But Sirius says that's just because I grow two inches every month," he swallowed the last of his sandwich. He rarely had a chance to talk to Lupin about their mutual affliction, "I'm glad you decided to come," he said, "but you'll be on Wolfsbane, so I suppose you won't be much different from having Padfoot around."
Lupin frowned, "how did you know I'm on Wolfsbane?"
"Guessed," Harry shrugged, "I'm not as dumb as you all think I am," he grinned, "besides, there had to be a reason why Sirius spello-taped those two pages of my potions book together. He didn't want me reading up on Wolfsbane. I think he's scared I'll try and brew it myself."
"Speaking of potions," said Lupin, arranging himself comfortably on the chair, "can you tell me what's the most important ingredient in most revival serums?"
"Mandrake root," said Harry, making himself another sandwich.
"And which syllable is usually emphasised in the words of a floating charm?"
"The second one," said Harry. He was getting used to Lupin's quizzes. The Professor seemed determined that if Sirius was going to be Harry's only magical tutor, he should at least get everything right.
"And which important law was passed during the International Warlock Convention of 1289?"
"Oh, that's not fair, how am I s'posed to know that?"
"History is just as important as everything else," said Professor Lupin, leaning back in his chair, "and you should know the answer to that. It was the first Werewolf Protection Act, the constituents of which, unfortunately, have been largely forgotten by today's wizards."
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, "you're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. So, teach me some Defence Against the Dark Arts. I like that best."
"And I suppose you need it, living in this house," smiled Lupin, "so, where did I leave off? Oh, that's right, we were talking about the difference between Light and Dark magic…"
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Lupin was still explaining the difference between Light and Dark magic to Harry when Sirius arrived home at around five, soaking wet because it had begun to rain outside. He had gotten off work early, as he always did on the day of the full moon.
"Hello, hello, hello!" he said brightly, shaking himself like a dog as he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, "I see Remus forgot to turn up, and had to send his identical twin Professor R.J Lupin instead."
Lupin gave him an exasperated look, "James will strike me down if I allow his son to be educated so despicably," he said sternly, "you have to teach him some more theory of magic, not just dribs and drabs of spells and charm-work."
"Harry's doing alright, aren't you?" said Sirius with a floppy grin, now trying to dry his hair by blowing warm air onto it from his wand.
"I would if you'd let me practise on Kreacher," said Harry. He was in no mood to start an argument about his education between his two tutors.
"Well, I wouldn't object, you just have to catch him first," began Sirius, but he was interrupted by a sudden ringing sound, tailed closely by a violent outbreak of screaming from Mrs Black's portrait.
"Good lord, was that the doorbell?" said Lupin, getting to his feet, "who on earth would be ringing your doorbell?"
"I keep meaning to disconnect that thing," said Sirius grimly, standing up straight to tie his hair back again, "but since that's the first time it's been used since we got here, I didn't see the point. We'll just ignore it, it's probably one of our neighbours asking for a cup of sugar or something."
"You can't ignore someone standing on your doorstep," said Lupin, heading for the stairs, "especially not when it's raining. Besides, we have to get your mother to be quiet before they think we're running some kind of…well, goodness-knows-what they'll think."
He and Harry went up into the hall and dragged the curtains shut over the portrait of Mrs Black, who was drooling enthusiastically and shouting rude words at the umbrella stand. Then, Sirius hanging back with a reluctant look on his face, Lupin unbolted the door and opened it.
A tall, sour woman, whom Harry recognised immediately, was standing on the doorstep, raising her hand to press the doorbell again. As soon as the door was open she stepped up onto the threshold and thrust out her hand for Lupin to shake.
"Good evening, I'm Dorothy Balder," she said firmly, "I'm Harry's teacher at school. You must be Mr Potter, Harry's father."
"Pleased to meet you," said Lupin, looking a little taken aback, "and, no."
"I'm sorry?" Mrs Balder squinted at Lupin as if she were missing her spectacles.
"No, I'm not Harry's father," said Lupin, smiling in a bemused kind of way, "I'm his uncle, Remus Lupin. This is Harry's father," and he stepped back to accommodate Sirius into the doorway.
"Oh. Well," Mrs Balder leaned back a bit to gape at the scruffy, lean, long, dark-haired man looking down at her with the kind of blank expression usually worn by hostile gorillas. This was the look Sirius kept for people he disliked on sight. She took a moment to compose herself, "well, it's a p-p-pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Potter," she said to Sirius, but she did not offer him her hand.
Sirius waited for her to continue. Lupin was still standing aside with that same bemused smile. Harry was bobbing at the back, trying to figure out whether Mrs Balder's face had gone green yet. That was what had happened to all the other teachers who had come calling, concerned about Harry's well-being.
However, Mrs Balder, it seemed, was made of sterner stuff, "actually," she said after a moment's silence, "it isn't a pleasure. I've come to talk about Harry's behaviour in class."
The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach. Mrs Balder was not here to accuse Sirius of being an abusive father. She was here about the mouse.
"Harry's been bad?" Sirius had apparently reverted to gorilla-talk out of shock. He looked down at his godson, evidently just as surprised as Harry to hear that Mrs Balder was not calling the police on him.
"No, not exactly," said Mrs Balder. She seemed to sense she had hit a weak spot and plowed ahead, "most of the time he is very good-natured, and his grades are certainly not displeasing. However, I am concerned about his…shall we say…tendency for mischief, which has escalated as the year has gone on. I have, twice now, caught him with plants in his desk, though how he got them in there I can only guess. I have reason to believe that last week he put some kind of stink bomb in my rubbish bin, causing the loss of an entire afternoon's work because the classroom had to be aired out. And today he released a mouse – a live mouse! – onto the floor with the pure intention of observing the panic it would create among the other students. Though he is a model student in nearly every other area, this lack of respect for authority and the classroom environment concerns me intensely," her speech complete, Mrs Balder drew herself up to her full height and waited for Sirius' reaction.
"I see," said Sirius slowly, after several seconds of heavy silence, "well, thank you for telling me all this, I was unaware of such behaviour in my son. I promise I will have a good talk with him and hopefully he will produce better results over the rest of the year."
"Yes, but-" Mrs Balder tried to step into the hall, but Sirius was completely blocking her path.
"Thank you, Mrs Balder, and I hope you have a good weekend," said Sirius, and with that, he shut the door very firmly. Then he turned to Harry.
"Oh, no," said Lupin rubbing he nose.
Sirius folded his arms, "plants in your desk?"
"I was practising that instant seed-growth charm during History," said Harry miserably. Sirius did not get angry at him very often, but when he did, it always ended in both of them sulking. And he had been so looking forward to a weekend with Lupin.
"And stink bombs in the rubbish bin?"
"I wanted to try out those dung bombs Charlie and Tonks sent me," Harry explained.
"And a mouse in the classroom?"
"That was sort of an accident," said Harry, wincing, "it was a bottle of twink. And then it was a mouse. And then it was on the floor."
"And you think that is acceptable behaviour at school?" said Sirius, his chest swelling.
Lupin rolled his eyes, "here it comes."
"Harry, your father would be ashamed of you," said Sirius, and Harry saw, to his enormous surprise, that his godfather was struggling to suppress a smile, "if you wanted to grow plants, I could have recommended you a much more powerful spell than that little charm. And surely you cannot be so careless with a dung bomb as to be caught by a teacher? You clearly need a little lesson in espionage. As for the mouse – one mouse, Harry? Just one? By God, if I'd been in your shoes, there would have been hundreds of the little buggers running across the floor! And they would have been purple and gold striped while I was at it!"
Harry blinked. Lupin was glaring at Sirius with a look of enormous and barely-restrained condemnation, while Sirius was beaming with such pride anyone watching might have thought Harry had just been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class.
"You're not angry at me?" Harry frowned, trying wonder if he should be pleased or concerned.
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, "Harry, I couldn't be angry with you even if I wanted to. I long thought Lily's good sense had completely overwhelmed any spark of mischief-making that you had inherited from James. I am very glad to be proved wrong," he grinned and shook his head, "all these years, I thought I had failed you as a father, unable to fan the flames of disorder that James would surely have roused in you. But it seems I have still managed to live up to his expectations. Harry, all you need now is a little tutoring in how not to get caught."
Lupin cleared his throat, "there's still the little matter of doing magic in front of muggles," he said dryly, "I'm as game for a good laugh as you are, Sirius, but I hope I am not being too dour if I remind you that the ministry can detect magic performed in front of muggles?"
"Bah," Sirius waved his hand, "they'll never look into anything smaller than an unforgivable curse these days, not with a war on and everything. Now, in case you two hairy lumps have forgotten, we've only got an hour until moonrise. We had better get moving."
And, still grinning and rubbing his hands like a man who has just discovered a loathed enemy has contracted incurable dragon pox, he headed downstairs towards the basement. Harry followed him, feeling buoyed up with happiness, and Lupin walked beside him, still sighing his steadfastly-ignored disapproval to the air.
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The morning after the full moon saw Harry and Lupin slumped at the kitchen table, both exhausted and mildly irritable, a common post-moon symptom. Sirius was making the two of them a breakfast of French toast, sausages and fruit, despite Lupin's assertion that he would never be able to look at anything French again.
While his godfather watched the breakfast, Harry spoke to the DADA professor in a serious voice. He had never had the chance to transform with another werewolf, and, even though at the time he was not in any state to observe, the process of transformation had fascinated him.
However, "You're ashamed of it, aren't you?" Harry asked quietly.
Lupin looked over at him, and did not seem able to reply.
"Ashamed of what you are. As if it's something dirty, monstrous," Harry continued.
"Yes, Harry. I suppose I am," said Lupin. "It's hard not to be ashamed."
Harry shuffled forward a little, "you shouldn't be. I'm not."
"You're not?" Lupin frowned a little, "what makes you say that?"
"I'm not trying to make you feel better," the boy said, "I just don't ever want to let myself be ashamed. I couldn't live, thinking I was some kind of – I don't know, monstrosity. That's no way to live."
Lupin stared at Harry, as if properly seeing him for the first time, "then you're stronger than I have ever been," he said at last.
Harry shook his head, "you don't need to be strong. You just need to see it as something ordinary. I mean, after all," he raised his voice, "it's no worse than having a foul mouth and a drinking problem, like Sirius."
From the other side of the kitchen his godfather, still watching the toast in the frying pan, waved the spatula in their general direction, "I do not have a drinking problem! Do not believe that child's lies, Moony! He's rotten to the core, just like his father!"
Lupin's face broke into deep, rolling laughs, and he put his chin on his elbows, "both of you," he said, "are the most terrible influence on me. And that's no mistake."
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TBC