Title: Harry Potter and the Werewolf of Azkaban Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, settings or anything else from Harry Potter.
Warnings: AU
Chapter Five
"...the only fully magical village in the whole of Great Britain," Hermione explained, the latest in a series of facts about the village she had been offering to Ron and Harry on their way, starting with its founding and covering every event in its history since. "So, really, it's going to be fascinating isn't it? I mean, Diagon Alley is wonderful but it's not completely wizarding. There's still Muggle London right outside the Leaky Cauldron, and even with all the protection spells they still have to be careful that Muggles don't find out, but here they haven't got any sort of problems like that."
Harry made a noise of agreement, not really listening but planning what he was going to do. The Shrieking Shack, Zonko's, the Three Broomsticks; he wanted to see everything. Beside him, Ron also seemed to be lost in his own thoughts rather than admiring Hermione's ability to memorise really shockingly boring facts.
"...and you know, they say that - oh look," Hermione gasped, pointing ahead. Harry looked up to see Hogsmeade laid out before him, a cluster of little thatched building huddled together and looking chocolate-box picturesque."Isn't is wonderful?"
Harry didn't answer, but his wide grin spoke volumes, and he mentally thanked Sirius a thousand times over.
A few hours later, and Harry's money bags were considerably lighter, but his pockets were bulging with all manner of sweets and tricks. Honeydukes had occupied them for a good hour alone; the free treats were really too good to pass up (although Ron got a nasty burn from a Pepper Imp, and Hermione berated them for even contemplating the Cockroach Clusters).
"Where d'you fancy now, then?" Ron asked. "The Three Broomsticks or the Shack?" The look of exhaustion on his face plainly stated which he would prefer, and he didn't seem at all sorry when Hermione and Harry both said they would prefer the comfort of the Three Broomsticks to another trudge through the cold to the Shack.
Inside the pub it was warm and comfortably crowded, cheerfully noisy. Madame Rosmerta had decorated for Christmas already, and the twinkling fairy-lights on the Christmas trees dotted around the room added a friendly sparkle to the space.
"I'll get the Butterbeers," Harry offered. "You go and find us a seat, yeah?" Hermione and Ron moved off through the crowd and Harry dug into his pockets, searching for a few Galleons that had escaped his spending spree, but instead of the cold metal of coins, his fingers brushed the roughness of parchment and, frowning, he pulled it out. Oh, of course, the Map; he'd forgotten to put it away somewhere safe. He wondered if it would work here...
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he muttered, careful that no-one around him could hear the words or see the inky lines curl gracefully out from the point of his wand and fill the sheet. The Map showed Hogwarts and the grounds, and Harry was about to clear it, slightly disappointed, when a setting and a label caught his eye:
The Shrieking Shack was pictured, and just outside it was a label marked in that elegant script Remus Lupin.
Harry stared. It couldn't be, could it? But it was. For a moment he felt afraid - someone who wanted to kill him, so close. And then he remembered his earlier conviction that Lupin had not appeared to be a murderous lunatic, and his pity for the emaciated figure in Professor Fell's class. An idea rose and shaped itself in his mind, and it was absolutely and completely ridiculous and dangerous, and if Sirius knew about it he would take away Harry's permission slip and tear it into a million little scraps, and if Hermione knew then she'd do that McGonagall voice she was so good at, and she'd common-sense him out of it, but deep in Harry's gut he knew he had to do it.
Stuffing the map back into his pocket, he pulled out a few Galleons and hurriedly bought three Butterbeers from the bar, then made his way to the table that Ron and Hermione had managed to get.
"I'll be right back," he promised, setting the bottles down with such haste that he spilt half of their contents over the table. "I've just remembered that I need a new, um, quill. I won't be long, I promise."
And ignoring Ron's questions and Hermione's protests he raced out of the pub and towards the Shrieking Shack.
It was really cold now, the bright blue of the sky marred with heavy, iron-grey clouds that promised snow in the near future, and close to the Shack it was bitterly cold with a wind that seemed to lance straight through Harry's robe and cloak. With numb fingers he traced his progress on the Map; the footsteps of Harry Potter growing ever closer to the label of Remus Lupin until they were so close that Harry looked up, expecting to see Lupin right in front of him.
Which he was.
Harry felt again that strong gut-instinct telling him that Lupin was not going to kill him, and that wave of pity too, but through his rational brain ran the mantra, thirteen people dead, thirteen people dead.
"Hello, Harry," said Lupin, with a crooked smile that stretched the scar tissue tight over the bones of his skull. Long ago it would have been a friendly, appealing smile; you would have liked Lupin instantly, Harry felt.
"Hello," said Harry, in the absence of anything better to say. "How did you know I'd come?"
"I smelled you coming," Lupin said, tapping his nose playfully, but Harry felt that he was only half teasing. "You know what I am?"
"Yes."
"And that doesn't...doesn't frighten you?"
"No," Harry said honestly."Should I be afraid?"
"Most people would be afraid, when coming face to face with a werewolf who massacred thirteen people. But I'm not going to kill you, Harry, if that's what you mean."
"Then you did kill all those people?"
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did, yes. I didn't say the words of the curse, and I wasn't holding the wand, but I suppose I did kill them."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I, Harry. But I am going to. I am going to find out what happened. That's why I've come here."
"I-" Harry began, but Lupin cut him off.
"Somebody is coming," he warned. "Not close yet, but getting closer."
Harry pulled out the Map and checked. "It's Malfoy," he sighed, disappointed to have the meeting cut so short. "Draco Malfoy," he began to explain, looking up at Lupin, but Lupin wasn't listening; he was staring at the Map.
"Where did you get that?" Lupin said breathlessly, stepping close to Harry and peering at the Map with a strange expression on his face. He reached out and touched the edges of it gently. "I haven't seen that in a long, long time."
"How do you know what this is?" Harry asked, but Lupin was already drawing away towards the trees.
"We'll meet again. But maybe you'll hear from me before then," he added cryptically, throwing Harry a parting smile and a wink before disappearing into the leafy shadows.
Harry gazed fixedly at the spot through which the werewolf had vanished, with more questions raised by the meeting than had been answered. He had an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach and was beginning to wish that he hadn't had this ridiculous idea.
"Here you are, Potter," Malfoy's voice disturbed Harry's thoughts, and he turned to find the other boy heading up the path towards him. "What are you doing here all alone, I wonder. Meeting somebody?"
"Get lost, Malfoy," Harry responded automatically, too confused to formulate a slightly better insult.
"My my, we are touchy, aren't we? What's the matter, Potter, have Mudblood and the Weasel dumped you?"
"I mean it Malfoy, just get lost." Harry pushed past Draco and stormed down the path towards Hogsmeade town. Draco followed.
"Were you looking for your lunatic stalker, Potter? Trying out the old heroics again?"
Harry stopped dead. "How do you know about that?"
"When you have friends in high places, you get to hear about these things. Of course, you wouldn't know," Draco sneered. "But I don't blame you, of course. If it were me, I'd stop at nothing to get him."
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry was exasperated by the knowing, superior tone of Draco's voice.
"Well, you can't just let a person get away with doing something like that to your family, can you? If you ask me, Azkaban was too good for him. My father, for one, voted for the silver bullet."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. Just leave me alone, alright?" Harry turned very deliberately away from the other boy and started off again down the path. Behind him Draco laughed.
"You mean you don't know? Oh, this is perfect! This is priceless!" Draco's high, silvery voice followed Harry all the way down the deserted path.
When Harry reached Hogsmeade again the students were grouped together in the town square, being counted and getting ready to make their way back to Hogwarts
"Ah, there you are, Mr Potter. Glad you could join us," McGonagall said, ticking his name off on her list with great deliberation, as though he had inconvenienced her greatly. "I don't suppose you've seen our Mr Malfoy on your travels, have you?"
"He's on his way," Harry mumbled and made for the back of the line, where he could see Ron and Hermione anxiously looking about for him.
"Harry, where on earth have you been?" Hermione snapped as he approached. "We waited for ages and you never came back."
"Yeah, we thought you were taking a while for a few quills," Ron said, dryly. "Where were you, mate? Why couldn't you tell us about it?"
"I'm sorry. It's complicated," Harry sighed. "I'll tell you later, I promise."
"Yes, well, you're not the only ones with things to tell," said Hermione, and she stuck her nose in the air and refused to say anything more on the subject.
The Gryffindor Common Room cleared early that night, the older students worn out by their trip and the younger sick of the talk of fun they couldn't join in on yet. By eleven o'clock only Harry, Ron and Hermione were left up, settled close to the fire.
"I think it's safe now," Hermione decided. "So come on then, tell us what was so very important."
Harry had thought a lot about how much to tell his friends, because it wasn't just the meeting with Lupin, was it? It was the Map too, and that could get Fred and George into trouble as well. He'd struggled with it, and finally come to the conclusion that honesty was probably the best policy, so long as Ron and Hermione were sworn to secrecy.
So he told them everything, watching them carefully. Hermione started off calm, listening eagerly, and moved through various degrees of indignation (at the Map), shock, and horror (at Harry's meeting with Lupin). Harry was grateful for Ron, who listened intently throughout and threw warning glances at Hermione whenever she seemed close to interrupting. At last Harry finished his tale, and he sat back and waited with trepidation for their verdict.
"Can we see the Map?" Ron asked eventually.
"Yeah." Harry pulled out the Map and spoke the words, then handed it to Ron.
"It's...amazing," Ron said, studying it carefully. "I dunno why Fred and George never showed it to me."
"Perhaps they thought you'd have a bit more sense and would hand it in to a teacher," Hermione snapped in exasperation. "Oh, Harry, can't you see how dangerous this thing is? Can you just imagine what would happen if it got into the wrong hands?"
"Yeah, but it's not going to, is it? I've got it."
"For now, yes," said Hermione ominously. "But I think you ought to hand it in to McGonagall, or Dumbledore, or someone."
"And get Fred and George into trouble?" Harry snorted. "No way. I'm not giving it up."
"But Har-"
"No, Hermione. Subject closed. Now, what did you have to tell me?"
Hermione went very quiet, and glanced at Ron, who was resolutely gazing into the fire and would meet neither her nor Harry's eyes. Harry began to feel uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Come on, you can tell me."
"Promise you won't get angry, Harry. You've got to just listen to us, okay?"
Harry nodded. Hermione took a deep breath, and began.
"We were waiting for you in the Three Broomsticks - because we had no idea where you were so we couldn't go looking for you, could we- and who should walk in but McGonagall, Hagrid, Cornelius Fudge and Sirius-"
"Sirius!" Harry broke in. "He never said!" Hermione silenced him with a look, and went on.
"Anyway, they ordered their drinks and went over to a table just behind us. They never saw us, though, because we were hidden behind a Christmas tree. Madame Rosmerta brought their drinks over, and they were just talking about ordinary things." She broke off, and Harry waited as she seemed to collect her story. "And then they started talking about Lupin. Madame Rosmerta asked when the Minister was going to send the Dementors back to Azkaban, and he said when they caught Lupin but that it was difficult finding a werewolf and they were all doing their best.
"And then Hagrid started talking about the day Lupin was arrested. Fudge was actually there; he said it was awful. McGonagall used to teach Lupin, and she said what a good boy he'd been in school and how Dumbledore had fought for him to be let into Hogwarts in the first place. She - she said how pleased she'd been when he found friends." Hermione stopped again, steeling herself for the revelation. "Harry, Lupin's best friends were Peter Pettigrew, Sirius and your father. And he betrayed your parents to Voldemort. That was how Voldemort found your parents and - and -"
"Killed them," Harry said blankly. "He killed them."
"Harry, I'm sorry. We had to tell you." Hermione bit her lip, looking as if she were about to cry. "Dumbledore did a Fidelius Charm on Lupin, so he was the only one who knew where your parents were hiding."
"And that was the opportunity he was waiting for, wasn't it? They played right into his hands." Harry chuckled darkly. "Sirius knew, and he never told me."
"Maybe he thought you'd go after Lupin," Ron said. "He just wants to keep you safe. You're his only link to his best mate, aren't you?"
"Draco Malfoy knew," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He said something about it today, but I didn't know what he was on about then."
"How could Malfoy know?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"I bet everyone knows," Harry said bitterly. He got up and walked away a few paces, hiding his tear-filled eyes from his friends. "I bet everyone knows, and I'm the only one who doesn't when I'm the one person in the world who should know."
"Sirius probably feels really guilty he never spotted that Lupin was a spy," Ron suggested. "Maybe that's why he never told you."
"I don't care. He should have told me. I'm going to write to him," Harry decided, and he headed to the staircase that led to the boys' dormitory.
"Harry, no!" Hermione stopped him, grabbing his am. "He'll know we listened to their private conversation."
"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have in the first place," Harry snapped.
"You're too angry tonight, Harry. You're not thinking straight. Leave it until the morning."
Harry stood still, his mind a turmoil of thoughts. He'd trusted Sirius, and Sirius had been keeping this from him all the time. He'd trusted Lupin, and Lupin had turned out to be not only a murderer, but the murderer of Harry's own parents. How could his judgement be so bad? How could he trust it again?
"In the morning, then," he said quietly. "But I am going to have it out with him. This is too big."
"I know. I'm sorry," Hermione breathed, and she let go of his arm. "We had to tell you."
"Thank you," Harry said. "And you, Ron," he added.
"No problem, mate," Ron smiled, moving to stand next to Hermione. "Somebody's got to look out for you, haven't they?"
Harry nodded and smiled weakly. He was so tired, just wanted to lie down and let all this go away. In the morning, he told himself, in the morning, it will be better.
A/N: For anyone still reading this after the six months since the last update, I can only say that I'm really, really sorry for the delay. Life sucks, doesn't it?
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and remember, the feedback button is always your friend.