Lost: Young Man, Answers to Harry

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"You're going down, scar-boy."

"Not gonna happen, Weasel."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, perhaps you could tell me what this is?"

Ron pushed his queen smoothly across the chessboard. Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses, and Ron smirked as his mouth moved soundlessly, trying to find an escape route.

"No!"

"Oh, yes," Ron leant back as his Queen expertly wrestled with Harry's king down, finally knocking the tiny chess piece to the board and standing on his chest with her arms upraised. The rest of Harry's chessmen fell flat on their faces and began to beat their fists on the ground, like a toddler having a tantrum.

Harry growled as he began to pack up his chessmen, which were an old set that Ron had stolen from his brother Percy for Harry's use, "next time, I'll get you. I was raised by a pathological cheater. I'll find a way."

Ron laughed dismissively and they both turned as they heard the door to the Room of Requirement open. Hermione slipped inside, panting, and pushed it closed quietly, a guilty expression on her face. She looked as if she had been running.

"What's up with you?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione shuffled over and sat down opposite Harry, "it's just Neville. He wanted me to help him with his potions homework and…well…I know I'm his only friend, but couldn't he sort of…maybe…" she trailed off.

"Hermione," Harry scolded, "Neville's probably really missing you."

"I know, I know," Hermione ducked her head, "but…"

Ron sniggered, "not exactly loyal, our Hermione."

Hermione shot a very sour look at Ron, then turned back to Harry, "anyway, I was going to say that this weekend most of the third-years and above are going to Hogsmeade, and I thought we could go and practise your transfiguration work in an empty classroom…"

Ron cut her off, "Hermione, he doesn't want to spend his weekend doing homework. Come on, Harry, I'll get a hold of a couple of school brooms and you can show me your flying."

"And where do you propose he go flying?" Hermione said indignantly.

"Well, on the Quidditch pitch, I suppose. Nobody will be using it."

"And you think no one will see him, flapping about in broad daylight on a broomstick? Are you mad, Ron?"

"I'm just trying to suggest something fun, Miss Old Maid!"

Another row was breaking out. Harry felt his stomach sink. He knew flying was out of the question, and he didn't want to spend his weekend being taught how to turn a spoon into a shrew, but he would have enjoyed spending a whole day with Ron and Hermione all the same. However, he knew that it was not possible: tomorrow night was the full moon.

When Harry had first run away from Grimmauld Place, he had imagined that once he had reached Hogwarts, finding Dumbledore would be easy, and everything would sort itself out from there. As it had crept closer, the full moon had weighed at the back of his mind, but he had been sure that somehow he would get to talk to the headmaster before it finally came around. Now he knew he could not avoid it any longer. They still hadn't found Dumbledore – and that meant that, for the first time in eight years, he would have to endure his transformation alone.

Hermione started barraging Ron with exactly what she thought of his recklessness, but Harry cut her off with a sharp, "stop it, you two."

They both looked at him, surprised by his abrupt tone, "did you hear what she just called me?" Ron said, looking outraged.

"Ron, please shut up for a moment. I have something very important I need to ask you," Harry said, leaning forward, "and you have to promise me you will do it, no matter what."

Hermione and Ron leant forward so that their three heads were almost touching, "we promise," said Ron.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"Tomorrow evening, I need you to stay away from this room," said Harry seriously, "you mustn't come to visit me. You mustn't come near here. You can see me during the day, but at least two hours before sunset, you have to go away and not come back. No matter what."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, "why?" Ron asked at once.

"I can't tell you," Harry said, trying to ignore the lump in his throat, "but will you please do that, okay?"

"Alright, Harry," said Hermione, "we promise."

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The light through the windows was rosy as the sun sunk slowly towards the horizon. Harry had waited until Hermione and Ron were out of sight, then he had taken all his belongings, including the invisibility cloak, and hidden them in a classroom nearby. He had gone back to the Room of Requirement and walked up and down in the front of it three times. At last, a door appeared in the wall. It was a solid oaken door with a heavy bolt drawn across the outside. Harry opened it and stepped inside.

The contents of the room had completely changed from the cheerful living area Harry had been occupying for the past two weeks. The floor was bare boards, smooth and clean, and the walls were all stone, forbidding and cold. There was no furniture or decorations. But on the far side of the room, two thick bronze rings were bolted into the stone, and looped through the rings were short, heavy chains, ending in huge, heavy manacles.

The last rays of the sun were shining through the windows in the corridor as Harry stepped into the room. He shut the door firmly, but there was no bolt on the inside, which disappointed him. However, he had no time to think about it. Without a moment's hesitation, he took off his glasses and his robes, folded them and laid them in the corner of the room near the door, and moved towards the chains.

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"Ron, where are you going?"

Hermione stood up from the table where she had been helping Neville with his potions questions. The red-haired boy had one foot out of the portrait hole. Hermione strode over to him and grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think I'm going?" he glared at her.

Hermione lowered her voice, "don't you dare," she whispered, "we promised."

"Something's wrong with him," Ron tried to pull away, but she was gripping his arm too tightly, "you saw him today. He was sick as a dog."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione hissed, though she agreed with him. Harry had not been himself all Saturday: he had looked ill and worried, and he had snapped moodily at them several times.

Seamus and Dean, whom Ron had been sitting with before he had got up and gone to the portrait hole, were glancing at him and Hermione, sniggering into their hands. Ron shot them a withering look and turned back to the bushy-haired girl.

"Don't you care?" he said.

"Of course I care," Hermione looked at him coldly, "but we gave him our word. There has to be a good reason he didn't want us to be there to look after him."

"But what if he needs help?" Ron shucked her off and pushed the portrait hole open properly, "he knew he was getting sick. What if he just didn't want us getting in trouble? We can't just leave him there to suffer!"

"No. But we have to do as he says."

Ron turned away and went out into the corridor. Hermione hurried after him, pushing the portrait closed as she went, "Ron! Don't be an ass!"

"He's our friend," Ron called back to her.

Hermione ran after him, "well, I'm coming with you, then."

Ron didn't reply. They walked quickly through the torch-lit halls, passing a group of yawning Hufflepuffs, who were heading off to bed after a late night in the library.

"If we aren't back in the tower in half an hour, we're going to get a detention," she said tremulously. Ron gave her another sour look.

"That's all you care about, school and your own reputation," he sneered.

"That's not true!" Hermione raised her fist, resisting the urge to punch him, "you've always hated me, just because I'm smarter than you! Why do you have to be such a spoiled brat? You're as bad as …as bad as that horrible Slytherin, Draco Malfoy!"

Ron's mouth fell open and he ground to a sudden halt, but he was so shocked by this insult he could not think of any reply. After a moment he started walking again, but much faster, making Hermione run to keep up with him. He refused to even look at her.

At last, they reached the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The wall on the other side was smooth and bare. Ron walked past it, with Hermine trotting at his heels, once, twice, three times, thinking I want to see Harry. But no door appeared.

"You're thinking the opposite!" Ron accused, snarling at her.

"I am not," said Hermione, but she said it a little too quickly, and he knew she was lying. He grabbed her arms and marched her backwards.

"Stand there. Don't move," he commanded. She stood, shaking with repressed rage, as Ron walked past the tapestry three times again. He heard her give a little gasp, and turned to see that a door had appeared. It was of thick oak, and there was a heavy bolt on the outside, but it was not drawn.

"That's not the usual door," Hermione squeaked as they both stood in front of it. She was holding Ron's arm again, but this time, instead of pulling him back, she was clinging to him, trembling a little. Her fear made Ron feel braver.

"Come on," he said, reaching his hand out and pushing at the door, which gave way slowly. Inside it was pitch black, but Ron stepped in, Hermione still clutching his arm. As they entered the dark room, he pushed the door open fully.

Something from within gave a deep growl. Hermione emitted a quiet moan of terror. Ron braced himself, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. There was a square of light that the open door was illuminating with silver moonlight, casting their shadows across the bare wooden floor.

"Harry?" he called. He could see into the room now. A dark shape was moving against the far wall, and with another rumbling growl came what sounded like the clinking of chains. Hermione's grip on his arm tightened, and he saw that she was raising her wand.

"Lumos," she whispered, and suddenly Ron was almost blinded by a bright white glare that sprang from the tip of Hermione's wand, filling the room with light, and casting the creature curled against the far wall into sharp relief.

It was hunched into a ball, its eyes shining a luminous green in the light from the wand. It looked like a wolf, a wolf that was not quite a wolf, because it still had traces of human form about it. These human elements made it grotesque, a mockery of proper animal shape and lupine fluidity. Its lips were drawn back from white teeth that glinted like arrowheads, and the black, black fur that covered it's body rippled as its muscles tensed.

Hermione screamed and pulled Ron back, just as the creature sprang towards them. Ron heard a yell being torn from his own throat as he raised his arm to protect himself, waiting for the full brunt of the wolf to smash him to the ground, its teeth snap his bones like toothpicks and rip the flesh from his throat. But there was the clatter of chains and the yelp of a frustrated animal, and after a moment Ron realised no teeth were chewing on his neck and nothing had landed on top of him.

Trembling, his breath coming in short gasps, he lowered his arm. He found that Hermione was peering around his shoulder, and he realised – to his embaressment – that he had thrown himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. But there was no need.

The creature was still growling and snapping, but its prey was out of its reach. Two shining silver chains, manacled to the wolf's front paws, tethered it to the far wall. It strained against them, the stench of its hot breath making Ron wrinkle his nose, but it could come no closer. After a moment it gave up and paced back and forth on its short leash, snarls rumbling in its throat.

Hermione was still pointing her lit wand at the creature, clinging to Ron's robes with her other hand, and she was taking deep, gasping breaths, her eyes locked on those green, glowing eyes.

"What is it?" Ron gaped, stepping back and drawing his own wand, "lumos," a second light shone out at the creature, "what is it? It's eaten Harry! Oh, I knew we should have come earlier!"

Hermione gulped. She directed her wand at the corners of the room, looking for more clues, and recognised Harry's clothes, neatly folded and carefully place beside the door.

"We have to kill it," Ron babbled, "should we get a teacher? We have to kill it."

"No!" Hermione turned and to Ron's bewilderment, she stepped back and pushed the door shut so that the creature's growls were muffled from the corridor outside. She turned back to the wolf-monster, her eyes wide and still a little fearful, but not terrified, "no, we mustn't tell anyone."

"It's eaten Harry!" the boy sobbed.

Hermione shook her head, very slowly, her eyes running over the wolf's not-yet-adult body, the glowing green eyes, and, most importantly, barely visible beneath the monster's shining black fur, the twists of knotted scars around its right eye, "it is Harry."

"What?" Ron stared at her as if she had just told him the sea was made of elderberry wine, then he looked back at the creature, "what?"

"He's a werewolf," Hermione breathed, "and it's the full moon."

Ron shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as if hoping everything would go away.

"It's true," Hermione nudged him, "that's why he wouldn't let us come tonight. I told you he knew best."

Ron was still shaking his head, and stepping back to fumble for the doorhandle, "no," he said savagely, "he would have told us," he opened the door and pushed out into the corridor beyond. The wolf howled at his retreating back.

"Ron!" Hermione leapt into the hall after him, pulling the door closed behind her and driving the bolt home. Ron was running down the corridor, his wand tip still glowing, bobbing along with him like a will-o-wisp. Hermione dashed after him, whispering, "nox," to darken her own wand. But Ron's legs were much longer than hers, and he had a head start.

She only caught up with him at the portrait hole, "Ron, stop!"

The fat lady was glaring down at them, "what are you two doing out of bed?"

Hermione ignored her. She grabbed Ron's shoulders and pushed him up against the portrait, "listen to me, Ron!"

"I'm going to tell Percy," Ron growled, not struggling against her, "I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall. That's we should have done on the first day of term. You were right, we should have told a teacher."

"Don't you dare," Hermione gasped.

"Hermione, he's a werewolf!" Ron shook his head, his face full of revulsion, "he could have killed us anytime! Don't you see that? We could be dead right now."

"Only one night a month," Hermione snapped, "are you going to betray him because of one night? The rest of the time, he's no more likely to kill you than I am!"

Ron wriggled weakly, "you don't understand," he hissed, "you're muggleborn. You don't know what werewolves do. They kill people all the time. That Greyback fellow – he's killed children. You read the papers, you've seen him!"

"You know Harry's not like that!" Hermione shouted.

"How do we know?" Ron clenched his fists, "we don't know anything about him. Don't you see? That's where the scars on his face came from, that's where he was bitten. He's been lying to us, Hermione. All that nonsense about you-know-who and needing to speak to Dumbledore – he's probably working for you-know-who. His godfather's probably a Death Eater. He's snuck into the castle to kill Dumbledore, that's what he's done. And we believed him, like idiots!"

"Ron, that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!"

"It all makes sense," Ron was breathing heavily, "he got onto the train, and from there, into the castle, but he couldn't find Dumbledore – so he came to me, asking me to hide him. He made up the story about you-know-who killing his parents to make us feel sorry for him. That's probably why Charlie and Tonks never talk about him: they know he's working for Death Eaters, they just didn't want to say it. That's why he's not allowed to come to Hogwarts. I've been such a fool!"

Hermione paused, then she took her hands off his shoulders and stepped back, "alright," she said softly, "go on. If that's what you believe, go and tell Professor McGonagall. I won't stop you," her face was cold and disdainful, "you can tell her I helped him, if you like. I'll say you had nothing to do with it, I tricked you into it, so that you don't get into trouble."

Ron raised his balled fists, bitter fury twisting across his face. Then he dropped his arms, and his expression turned to one of misery. He slumped and slid slowly to the floor. His head hung limply, bent forward as if in mourning.

"I can't," he said.

Hermione knelt beside him and put her arms around him. She was warm and had the lingering smell of sweat about her, but it was not a nasty smell, "of course you can't. He's your friend."

Ron put his arms around her waist. He was glad she couldn't see that there were tears sparkling on his cheeks.

That was how Percy found them, when he returned to Gryffindor tower a few minutes later, "Ron!" he cried, "you should both be in bed!" there was no hint of humour on his face. Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet, Ron quickly brushing away his tears. Percy issued them both with detentions, to which Hermione wailed in protest as the prefect drove them both through the portrait hole.

"You deserve it, both of you," Percy huffed as he pointed them towards their respective dormitories, "honestly! Don't let me catch you at that kind of business again, Ron, or I'll write to Mum!"

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Hermione drew back the bolt on the door and pushed it open. Both of them listened intently for a few moments, but only silence rung from the Room of Requirement. Ron stepped past her and raised his wand, "lumos."

"Oh!" Hermione hurried forward, Ron hot on her heels. They knelt beside the pale figure curled against the wall, trembling like a newborn puppy, eyes closed as if in fevered sleep. Ron pulled off his cloak and draped it over the shivering Harry, to keep him warm as much as to cover his nakedness.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and raised his head, but without his glasses he was nearly blind in the dim light. Someone was holding his wrist, gently unlocking the manacles that bound him, and he heard the chains clatter away.

"Who's there…?" he murmured, raising his head, "Sirius?"

"It's us, mate," said a familiar voice, and moments later an orange blur turned into Ron's face as his friend lowered Harry's glasses onto his nose. Harry shuddered and tried to sit up.

"Hold still," Hermione's soft voice instructed. She was unlocking the second manacle, and a moment later it too fell away. Harry realised a cloak that smelled of Ron was draped over his shoulders, and he pulled it tighter around him, embarrassed to be seen in such a state. He straightened his glasses.

"You know, then," he said flatly, as Ron put Harry's folded clothes down in front of him. He couldn't understand why they were here, why their faces were not riddled with disgust. He raised his head, so that the scars on his face shone, "I don't care if you go and tell the teachers," he said fiercely, "I'm not ashamed of it. I never will be."

"We're not going to tell the teachers," Hermione replied quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder, "why should we?"

"We're still your friends," Ron added, and he sounded as if he was saying this for his own benefit as well as Harry's. But his face was filled with empathy, and he did not shudder as he pressed Harry's trousers into his hands, "you better put some clothes on, mate, before you freeze to death."

"We'll look away," Hermione smiled, standing up and turning towards the doorway. A gas lamp was hanging from the ceiling, filling the room with a warm, steady light. Harry quickly put his clothes on, but he left Ron's cloak draped over him.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He felt slow and muggy, as he always did after a transformation. But more than that, he felt bewildered. His memory of the night was blurred, at best, but he knew that Hermione and Ron had come: he remembered their human smell filling his nostrils and driving him to madness. They had seen him, and run away. But now they had come back? It didn't seem possible.

"It's sunrise on Sunday," Hermione told him.

"You know," said Ron, slowly, "no one else is up this early. If you wanted to go for a walk outside with us, no one would see you. I mean, if you want to…"

Harry blinked, and smiled, "yes," he said hoarsely, "I'd like that."

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Rubeus Hagrid yawned as he put his empty breakfast bowl in the sink. The early morning sun streamed in through the window, filling the wooden cabin with golden light. Fang the boarhound wandered between his master's legs, whining.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll let yer' out," Hagrid grumbled, scratching his beard. He went over and opened the door of the cabin, and Fang dashed out onto the lawn, heading for the pumpkin patch to do his morning business. Hagrid stepped out onto his doorstep, breathing in the warm morning air, full of the smell of grass.

"Frost coming soon," he muttered to himself, watching Fang returning with his tongue lolling happily. Suddenly the hound's ears pricked up as the sound of laughter floated across the lawn.

Hagrid turned towards the sound and squinted at the source of the merriment. It was just some students, running towards the castle, calling to each other. They had been playing down by the lake by the look of it, and now two of them, a pair of boys with red and black hair respectively, were chasing the third, a bushy-haired girl, back to the castle.

Hagrid smiled to himself. Funny that students were up this early in the morning. Most of them preferred to sleep as long as they could, especially on a Sunday. Well, it's good for them to be up, Hagrid thought as he went down to the pumpkin patch, to stop Fang digging around his new fence-posts.

As Hagrid packed the dirt which Fang had disturbed back down, the boarhound gave a soft bark. Hagrid looked up and saw that the boarhound was staring towards the forest. Hagrid frowned, trying to see what had alarmed the hound.

Then he saw a dark shape standing in the shadows under the trees. Hagrid straightened up and walked towards the forest. It was a huge black dog, shaggy and bright-eyed. As Hagrid approached, the dog paced back and forth beneath the trees, whining quietly. Hagrid had seen this particular dog many times in the last few days. It had been hanging around, just inside the forest, for over a week now. Hagrid had left food for it and the black dog, which had seemed frightened of him at first, now seemed only to want to reach him.

"Here, now, you silly mutt," Hagrid called to it when he was a few feet away. Hagrid was not a superstitious man, so he did not believe in nonsense about a Grim that warned of coming death. This poor dog was probably just a stray that had been driven out of the village and run wild in the forest, "yer can't get in that way, Mutt, as I see you've discovered," Hagrid said aloud. The dog lowered its head and whined piteously.

The dog was not coming any closer for good reason. There were heavy wards all around the school, like invisible walls, that prevented anything larger than a rodent getting onto the school grounds. Hagrid was the only one who could open the walls that guarded the forest. He waved at the dog, "go on, get outta here, yer not gettin' my sympathy," he growled at the dog.

The dog lay down and put its head on its paws and continued to moan and howl. Hagrid grumbled to himself, "too soft for me own good," then headed back to his cabin, the dog's howls following him all the way. After a few minutes he returned to where the dog was waiting, carrying a pink umbrella under his arm.

"Yer not to go running amok tho', yer hear?" Hagrid told the dog as it stood up, it's tongue hanging out and its tail wagging happily. He raised the umbrella and tapped the place in the air where he knew the invisible wards to be. After a moment, the air shimmered and the wards became visible. From Hagrid's point of view, it was as if he was looking at the dog through a wall of gently rippling water. The dog sniffed the now-visible wall and barked a warning at it.

Hagrid pushed the umbrella into the shimmery wall until it had gone as far as his hand, and then turned it, like turning a key in a lock. The air in front of the dog cleared. A door had appeared in the wards.

The dog bounded joyfully through the door without a moment's hesitation. Hagrid continued to grumble to himself as he turned the umbrella again, closing the door and tapping the ward again to make it invisible once more. But the dog stood on its hind legs and put its paws on his belly, its tail wagging furious as it grinned at him.

"Oh, get off me, Mutt," the groundskeeper laughed, and the dog dropped back onto all fours. It sniffed his hand, then licked it happily. Hagrid remembered he had just fed Fang a big steak and there would still be meat juice on his hands, "yer hungry, are ya?"

The dog barked in agreement and Hagrid chuckled, "alright, come on up to my cabin, I'll give yer a meal," he said grudgingly, but his black eyes were twinkling. Tucking the pink umbrella under his arm, he headed back to his house, whistling to himself, the dog trotting beside him. Fang growled at it as it went past.

"Oh, don't be jealous, Fang," Hagrid waved the boarhound away, "he ain't gonna hurt'cha. He's just a poor lost thing."

And with that, he and the great black dog vanished into the wooden cabin.

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TBC