Chapter 03 - Orange Potion and Secret Keeper

Harry had been right. Malfoy was insufferable.

"Oï, Potty, Weasel! Look, Trelawney has come back to haunt you a bit more!" he exclaimed while holding out his loupe in front of one eye, uncaring whether professor Snape heard him or not. The wizard always let petty comments slide when it was Malfoy who'd uttered them, whereas the lightest sigh from the trio of Gryffindor friends often meant points taken if not an hour of detention.

And the git knew it… "Fainting yet, Potter?"

"Don't snap, Ron, or he'll make us miserable for the rest of the hour," mumbled Harry, stirring a dash of leech juice in his cauldron. Oh, how he wished this had stayed between Gryffindors. The news that he had fainted during divination and then succinctly quit the class were no secret to any member of the castle now.

"Don't worry, I'm biding my time," his ginger friend answered, a vein pulsing steadily on is freckled forehead. "We'll see how he fares by the time the first quidditch match arrives. I bet he'll be greener than this bloody potion." The fact that their potion was actually not the required acid green did nothing to alleviate Harry's mood.

He glanced at Hermione's cauldron, next to theirs. It was perfect, as always. Though glancing a bit harder, Harry couldn't seem to find the witch in question. "Blimey, Ron! Hermione's disappeared! Do you think she swallowed a tad of shrinking solution by accident?"

Ron had a strained laugh, carefully cutting his roots. "Nah, she's reading under the table. Mental, that one, can't take a break… I dunno what Snape will do when he catches her but I'm not eager to find out."

Harry frowned. "You know she's taking too many classes, right?"

"Right, but what can we do? I mean, honestly Harry, what d'you think will happen if we're the ones to tell her to slow down?"

Harry could effortlessly imagine their bookworm of a friend's reaction. He had had to pry his Spellbook from her death-grip yesterday to finish an assignment at the last minute. She had been clinging to it in her sleep, her sleep! Not to mention it was during their lunch-break.

"I reckon we should ask some friends for help..."

Ron gave Harry an incredulous look. "Who'd be mad enough to-"

"Mister Longbottom, tell me… What is this… Soup… supposed to be?"

Neville was quivering in fear as Snape swooped down on him, his billowing robes coming to form a halo of darkness around the pale student. "Oh, no. Poor Neville." Harry couldn't help but agree with whoever had whispered his precise thoughts.

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some potion up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange, you idiotic child. Can't you read the most basic instructions-"

And so Snape went on, berating the nicest student of his class to the point of bringing him on the verge of tears. Harry couldn't help but scowl at the delighted face of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Actually, he was appalled to find that nearly all the Slytherins were snickering at the expense of Neville, save from Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, otherwise occupied finishing their perfect looking potion. It was during times like this he found himself seriously doubting the Sorting Hat's competences. To think he had had to battle his way into Gryffindor…

"HARRY! LET GO!"

"What?" The young wizard yelled, startled out of his wits.

"Let go off the bloody cauldron! You'll burn your hands!" said Ron urgently, tearing his hands off the burning metal. Harry let him blow on his palms like a madman, too surprised to do anything. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding onto it in the first place. He hadn't felt the heat. At all.

"What this yelling? Potter and Weasley, again?"

"Ron he's coming!" At once, Ron let go of his wrists and Harry hid his hands behind his back.

The black eyes of Snape danced with a sadistic light as he bowed to look at them. "Potter! Weasley! Concocting a shrieking solution doesn't require to scream on top of your lungs. Detention, tomorrow night!" Ron moaned, Friday night was the quidditch try outs. Harry knew he'd at least would have liked to watch. "This is looking far too yellow to be efficient work. Apply yourselves, you dunderheads." And in one swish from his wand, Snape had vanished their cauldron's content.

The minute his back was turned, Ron unleashed a furious stream of silent injures. Harry would have laughed at his red face if not for the fact he was equally furious. "Granger, what's this! Don't you have a chair, you silly pathetic excuse of a witch! Ten points from Gryffindor." Watching Snape violently toss aside Hermione's book, although she had completed his given assignment, he felt even worse.

"This bloody bat…"

"Hey lads," suddenly said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales.

"Not a good time, Seamus," Ron answered, his gaze firmly fixed on the greasy hair at the back of his professor's skull. Seamus didn't seem to mind his murderous tone, exuding with excitement himself. "Haven't you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"What? Where?" said Harry and Ron, quickly turning to face the boy. On the other side of the class, Malfoy looked up, as though he could hear them from the distance.

"Not too far from here," replied Seamus, who looked thrilled. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…" Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely from the other side of the room. "What, Malfoy? Need something skinned?"

But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixing Harry. He leaned across his table. "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

Harry gave him a tired look, his annoyance taking the better of him. "And why in the freezing hell would I risk doing that, Malfoy?" he said, mindful of Snape and his good hearing. Fortunately, he was busy criticizing Parvati and Lavender's work, a few tables behind.

Malfoy had an exaggerated lift of eyebrows, delighted he could rile him up so easily. "Well, don't you know?" he asked, as though the answer was obvious.

"Know what?" Harry snarled, quickly losing his patience.

"Are you daft, Potter?"

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron uttered in a rough voice. The vein pulsing on his forehead was back.

"I'm talking about what Black did, of course!" The boy sneered in his direction, before focusing solely on Harry. "If you were a good son you'd at least know what happened to your poor parents the night they were killed like two vulgar flies."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Malfoy merely smirked in answer. Harry clenched his fists so hard he felt his nails dig in his skin.

"Potter, again! Detention for the rest of the week! Can't you be quiet for a minute?"

Next to an irate Ron, Harry took a long, shaky breath. The second after, he strode out of the gloomy potion class.

"Harry!"

"Potter… Potter! Come back here this instant!"

Harry was long gone when Snape decided to storm of the classroom as well.

Somewhere on the third floor of the Serpentine Corridor, a deafening racket made Professor R. J. Lupin jump about a feet in the air. This impromptu bout of gymnastics had the unfortunate consequence of spilling his lunch on his desk. And before he could clean it up, another clang resonated. Lupin winced, his werewolf hearing far too attuned to metallic sounds.

A second later, he was opening the door of his classroom, peering into the hall and vaguely expecting to have to calm a rampant Peeves.

But the poltergeist was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a few meters on his right, a skinny teenager with wild black hair and round glasses stood next to a wrecked suit of armour. "I'm sorry I bumped in you! It was an accident! I'm sorry! Could you stop hitting me with that arm?"

Lupin's breath caught in his throat as he got a whiff from the teen's scent. He indubitably had been fooling around with potions ingredients, judging by the foul stench of the dungeons. But underneath it all, the man was shocked to find the scent familiar. In between this and the wild hair, it could only mean one thing. "Harry?"

The teenager blinked owlishly in his direction and it was enough of a confirmation for Lupin. Harry had his mother's eyes down to every last speck of green. It was quite unnerving, to say the least.

"Oh, hello professor Lupin," Harry said, trying to escape the wrath of the collapsed armour. "Err, how come you know my name?

Lupin opened his mouth, too overwhelmed to answer. A second passed, and then another… Harry didn't seem to appreciate his sudden silence, seeing how his face darkened. "Oh well, I suppose I'm as famous as professor Snape would like to believe," he mumbled with a deep frown.

Lupin took a few steps in his direction, surprised by Harry's sudden mood swing.

It was unfair to compare the young man that faced him to the baby he once knew but he couldn't help himself. Harry had grew, a lot. He was slightly short for his age but if he was anything like James, he'd start growing like a weed next summer. He looked a lot like his father, the professor mused. He recalled McGonagall warning him about their uncanny resemblance. However, his werewolf sight found the differences to be actually quite numerous.

James had a dimpled chin and rounder cheeks, for instance. His skin tone was darker than his son's, and he didn't have freckles on the bridge of his nose. And he definitely hadn't had any scar marring his face. Not like that shiny one his son was sporting on his upper lip in any case…This scar that had been caused mysteriously… Lupin pushed the events of the 1st of September that tried to resurface in the back of his mind and forced a smile.

"Oh, I don't think it would be wise to listen to professor Snape when it's his spite that does the talking for him… I, I simply knew your parents, Harry."

At once, the teenager's face transformed, filled with about a dozen of different emotions. "Is that true?"

Lupin chuckled, "Yes, we were friends during our Hogwarts years, and beyond... Lily and James were wonderful people," he recalled fondly. "Though I have to admit I only became Lily's close friend after she gave in and started dating your father. Mind you, he had calmed down by then..." he added softly.

"What d'you mean 'gave in'? Er, sorry what do you mean, sir?"

"Lupin is more than fine, Harry. No need to call me sir. Out of the classroom, I'm just good ol' Remus." He fully laughed at the flabbergasted look the teenager gave him. "Why don't you come in and have a cuppa? You ate, didn't you?"

Harry followed Lupin, his raven hair obscuring his expression. He did seem to be blushing, though. "Well, not really… I was just getting away from the dungeons and then I got lost in my thoughts."

Lupin eyed him carefully, taking note of the distrustful little looks he kept giving to the back of the corridor. "Did you leave in the middle of a class?" the professor asked more out of a joke than anything. He was going to add a piece about Severus tracking the teen through the corridors when he saw Harry's face redden even more. "Oh. You did, didn't you?"

"Malfoy insulted my parents and Snape didn't say anything! To him at least… He gave me detention for the rest of the week, even though we're Thursday. I left before doing anything rash."

Lupin closed the door behind them and went to vanish the rests of his spilled lunch from his desk. He was quite shocked by the teen's behaviour, but equally pleased. Harry definitely was the son of a Marauder. "And what might have been a rash reaction?"

Harry snapped out of his observations of the room. Lupin guessed it must have changed a great deal since he last came here. In a good way, judging the teenager's expression was so full of wonder.

Harry accepted the cup Lupin had conjured for him with a smile. Then, he snorted. "A rash reaction would've been socking Malfoy on the nose. Or insulting Snape… I care about my life so I did neither of those, especially the latter."

Lupin couldn't help but chuckle. "Indeed, that could never go anything but badly," he lightly remarked, pouring some scalding tea in Harry's cup.

Harry drank it in one go, to his professor's amazement. He seemed eager to ask questions, but Lupin was not quite ready to talk about his deceased friends to their son. "So, Harry, tell me, did you have a nice week so far?"

The teenager gave Lupin a puzzled look, as if he wasn't asked this question often. "It was not bad, per see… But it was hardly brilliant. Third-year is lot harder than what I originally thought."

They launched into a light conversation about school-work. Lupin noticed Harry barely skimmed certain subjects, such as his interests in anything other than academical, not seeming to trust him a great deal. It hurt the wizard a bit, but he forced himself to understand. This was probably one of the first time in his life Harry had met someone who claimed to be a friend of his parents in the past. And if he knew about this traitor of Sirius, it was more than understandable he'd be wary telling Remus all about his life…

"McGonagall told me you're quite the Seeker, Harry. She hasn't seen anyone fly with your talent in decades, apparently," Lupin said, smiling when Harry beamed. His scar was less noticeable when he did so.

"She's the one that let me in the team in the first place. She made an exception for me in first year," he explained with a bit of pride. "I love it. Flying, I mean."

Lupin's smile didn't waver when Harry's expression turned a bit sad, but he got curious. "I couldn't fly this summer. I'll be so rusty they won't want me in the team now. And Ron and I can't go to try outs tomorrow…"

The wizard flicked his tongue and drank a bit more tea. However, he didn't forget to blow on it before. His tongue was quite sensible. "I hardly think your team-mates will have had the chance to train intensely this summer. You'll be fine, Harry. But what's this I hear about you not going to try outs?"

"Snape gave me a detention Friday night. Well it might have been several, really…"

"Oh, yes, of course, you told me."

A silence fell on the room, and though peaceful it was slightly awkward. Lupin was still marvelling at seeing James and Lily's boy talking in front of him, in this very chair. Harry was nothing like he had imagined, being his own person and at the same time so painfully similar to his parents. The wizard remarked he would scrunch his nose the same way his mother did whenever he had an unpleasant thought. And he had James' nervous habit of running his hands through his hair.

"Professor Lup- Hum, Remus?" a timid Harry finally said, snapping Lupin out of his thoughts. "Do you know what happened between my parents and Sirius Black? This morning, Malfoy was insinuating something about their- their deaths…"

Lupin was thankful Harry couldn't seem to be able looking in his eyes at the moment. Otherwise, he'd have had to explain the sudden fury that, he was sure, was now distorting the lines of his face. "Sirius Black is a foul man, Harry. We were friends, once. Him, your father, another boy and me. We called ourselves the Marauders… But, he chose to betray us for his master and then killed Peter," he spat, trying to control his voice. "Do you know what a Secret Keeper is, Harry?"

The boy looked at him and then shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Lupin made a small gesture to indicate it was fine. "A Secret Keeper is the recipient of a very powerful charm, the Fidelius, meant to keep things or even people very well hidden," he explained. Realizing his fists were trembling, he hid them under the desk before pursuing. "It is a very dangerous position to assume, as a Secret Keeper is virtually the only one to be able to give out the secret he was entrusted with. Although it is impossible to bewitch or torture the information out of them, many have in the past been subjected to… Certain curses. Black didn't require to be tortured, though, Harry… He was your parents' Secret Keeper when they had to go into hiding… He was the one to give out your parents' location to Voldemort."

Harry's face was chalk white when Lupin lifted his head from his shaking fists to study him. The adult couldn't discern any clear emotions on the teenager's face, but his eyes had a suspiciously wet sheen. He saw a glance of it for the first time then, when Harry ran both of his hands in his hair, exposing his forehead. The lightning bolt scar, tiny and faded above his right brow. Voldemort's scar.

"Thank you for telling me, professor."

Lupin nodded, feeling a weariness he was far too young to experience settling in his bones. "You're welcome, Harry."

The werewolf could suddenly hear the low rumble of students quitting the Great Hall, their bellies full. He sighed, his next lesson was with the third years Gryffindors. "We'd better get a move on. I need to tidy the classroom before your comrades arrive."

Harry didn't even seem remotely surprised by the time it was, lost in thoughts. Lupin lay a gentle hand on his shoulder, briefly self conscious of his tattered robes. "Whatever happens, You can come talk to me anytime, Harry."

The smile Harry gave his professor was a bit wobbly on the sides but Lupin wouldn't have exchanged for anything in the world. At least, it was genuine.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus, an hour later.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" asked Lavender out loud, thoughtful.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags. Thankfully he hadn't forgotten to bring Harry's from potion class. Snape would have likely dissolved it in one of his acids had he had the chance...

"Professor Lupin seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart —"

"What would it have been for you?" sniggered Ron. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"

"Ha-ha, very funny Ronald," Hermione gave him an annoyed look. "I can't exactly be sure but I think it might have something more to do with vertigo… What about you, Harry?"

Trailing a bit behind the group, Harry glanced at Hermione and her expectant look, still lost in his thoughts. "Yes," he said, completely clueless.

She huffed a little laugh. "It was an open question, Harry. Are you feeling quite alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he answered in a quiet voice. "See you in the common room!"

And under the bemused look of his friends, he sped past them to retrieve his bag in the class, uncaring if he bumped into a student or two. "What d'you reckon's been possessing him?" asked Ron to Hermione in a worried tone. "He was mostly fine until potions happened..."

"Well, maybe it is because potions happened, Ron. Think about it, Malfoy said some pretty mean things, and Harry seemed already quite snappish."

"I don't know, Mione… He's being a lot weirder than usual. I can tell. He grabbed a cauldron with bare hands today, this nutter…" Ron shook his head, recalling the incident.

Hermione's eyes widened. "We'll try to talk to him after diner, then."

"Suit yourself but I still maintain something's wrong with him," told her Ron. "Ugh, detention with Snape is going to be so much fun."