Chapter Nineteen

With the exams in full swing, Malachi had hardly seen Harry all week.

But that wasn't so bad, this time, not as much as it would normally be, anyway.

In the past, Malachi would be either hiding himself away in the library, or in his dorm room, when Harry was indisposed, so long as he wasn't out alone, in the open, hoping to avoid incurring the wrath of his Housemates simply for breathing.

Now, though, he had been taken under the wing of a little cluster of third years – the prissy ones, as Malachi and Harry had always called them, for they always seemed to look down their noses at everyone else – consisting of Zabini, Greengrass, Nott and Draco.

They were actually alright.

Most of the time, they chatted about normal things, like Quidditch and school work and the professors and books they were reading. Of course, they sneered at mentions of other Houses, especially the Gryffindors, and the terms mudblood and half-blood were tossed around as a perfectly acceptable term of phrase but Malachi could easily turn a blind eye to it, closing his ears off to the insults because, quite frankly, it was easier to ignore that than it was to ignore the various stinging and tripping hexes that the kids in his own year found oh-so-amusing to throw his way when he was going it alone.

It seemed as if, by being accepted into this group of 'Nobles', Malachi had become shrouded in a protective bubble which allowed him to actually leave his bed in the morning without fear for what was going to happen to him next.

It was liberating.

And he was so very grateful that, for the first time since stepping foot off the Hogwarts Express, he could actually walk down the corridors of the dungeons without falling flat on his face, or open his schoolbag without worrying it had been hexed to squirt some disgusting slime in his face, or not have to fear that his homework was going to spontaneously burst into flames the second he had put the final full stop at the end of his assignments.

Malachi finally felt like he actually belonged at Hogwarts, for the first time in forever.

Even if the people in his new circle of 'protectors' really didn't seem all that sure about him.

"Do you really believe the Statute ought to be abolished?"

Malachi glanced up from the book he was reading, leaning back against the tree out on the grounds, at the person who had spoken.

Daphne Greengrass.

Zabini, Nott and Draco were all off taking their Divination examination.

Malachi cleared his throat, closing the book a little; "Uh. Yeah."

"That's very convincing."

Malachi quickly made to make himself sound more convincing, lest he lose favour and be kicked back out to the wolves; "No. I do. Why should we be the ones who have to hide?" Then remembering his dad's letter sent into the Prophet, quickly improvised; "No other time in history has it been the stronger societies that's had to bow down to those who were weaker."

Greengrass pursed her lips together, and then she smiled, snickering a little; "You obviously read that somewhere."

"Does it matter?" Malachi said, feeling himself redden; "We all read. The point is to make us think, right?"

"And, so, from your reading you think the Grindelwald values are the right way for us to go?" Greengrass looked entirely sceptical but amused at the same time, speaking to him in the sort of tone you would to a silly child; "To rise up? Make the world a place for wizards to rule?"

"I guess so."

"I doubt your father would be happy about his son's way of thinking."

Malachi shrugged, remembering what his dad had told him about the Statute himself, when he had confronted him about being a Death Eater; "My dad's not an idiot. Obviously, he thinks it would be better if we didn't have to hide from the muggles."

"Obviously. Yes." Greengrass looked at him, in a considering manner for a moment, before she tossed her own book aside and pushed herself onto her knees on the grass, facing him more fully; "He was best friends with my father, you know. Your father."

"He was?"

Malachi couldn't help but be intrigued. It was the first time anyone had mentioned his father to him at Hogwarts, ever, without any sort of disdain or dripping sarcasm, scorning him for daring to be his son.

"Yes. When they were at Hogwarts together. They ran the Club, the one that preached the bigger, better world we could have, without the constraints of the Statute," Greengrass stated, telling him things that ought not be surprising to Malachi, considering all that he now knew about his dad, but he still was.

Greengrass' eyes narrowed, as she went on, though not with malice. Just saying it as it was; "There's a reason people call him a traitor. He really was one of us, once upon a time. Not a follower, no. One of the top guns. He riled people up; got them on board. He believed it all, completely."

Malachi swallowed, remembering the letter. The words. The arguments written with such conviction.

"I know."

"He taught you to believe it, too?"

"No."

Greengrass gave a humourless smile; "No. Of course not. It would do no good, after all, to the persona he tries to present to the world now if it were revealed that his only son believed exactly the same things that he did. The things he now tries to wash his hands of."

"His persona?"

She raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with derision; "Oh, look at me and how sorry I am for my dreadful past."

Malachi bristled; "That's not how he is."

"It's pretty pathetic, actually. Throwing his life and everything he believes in away just to try and make everyone else feel better about themselves."

"That's not what he's doing," Malachi shook his head; "He believes in everything he does now. The Foundation. Helping people. He's a good man."

"Nothing honourable about a man who turns his back on his own principles," Greengrass shrugged; "But then, he is a Black, which I suppose accounts for that. Honour and loyalty aren't exactly their strong suits."

Malachi wasn't offended by the slight to his name. He didn't care.

"I don't know much about them."

"Toujours pur."

Malachi frowned; "I don't know what that means."

"You're kidding."

She looked genuinely shocked.

Malachi glanced around the clearing, students beginning to pour out from the Great Hall now, the exams coming to an end; "Um…do you want me to leave?"

She obviously didn't think much of his family, his name, even if she didn't really know him.

"No," she shrugged, as if she couldn't care less; "I don't want you to leave. You're actually quite interesting."

"Oh," Malachi frowned, wondering if he should be offended; "Well…thanks?"

"I just find it strange that you'd even want to be involved with people like us," Greengrass stated, eyeing him with distrust; "Surely your father would tell you not to?"

"He's not here to do that, so."

"Or maybe he wants you to spy on us."

"What?" Malachi was stunned at the suggestion; "Why would he want me to spy on you?"

"Oh, who knows?" Greengrass rolled her eyes, as if the answer were obvious; "It's not unheard of. Getting us to fish about, learn what we can about the other sides kids."

"My dad wouldn't do that."

"My father thinks he would. He thinks there's very little most men wouldn't do in a war, in their desperation to win it."

Malachi felt himself grow irritated, the constant jibing at his dad's character beginning to grate; "Well, I guess that's where our dads are different."

"No, where they're different is that your father started killing people."

Malachi was suitably cowed by the assertion. The grim, blatant actuality.

He swallowed; "Your father wasn't a Death Eater?"

"No," Greengrass said it, almost laughing when she did, as if the very idea was ridiculous, then stuck her chin out, speaking as if reciting a motto; "Let the riff-raff sully their hands in the muck of bloodshed and war, so he says. My parents are pacifists."

"Pacifists?" Malachi repeated, stupidly.

She eyed him, looking amused; "Do you know what that is, Black?"

"Yes, I know what pacifists are."

He just couldn't reconcile the idea of a pacifist and a Statute opposer into one and the same person.

"Well then," she raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly, as if she knew what he was thinking.

Well, if she was happy to sit there and throw insults at his father and his family and his name, then she could take it back; "I just find that even harder to believe than me maybe thinking the same as my dad did when he was a kid."

She raised her eyes, skywards, before shaking her head and speaking in a posh, irritating, matter-of-fact way that actually reminded Malachi of Harry's annoying friend, Hermione; "Only complete idiots think that mass murder and full-blown uprising is the way to go when trying to cultivate a revolution. These things take time and patience; you have to do it in a way that people don't have any idea what is actually happening until it's too late to stop it. Use influence, connections, intelligence. You can't be a Gryffindor about it."

Malachi's lips twitched, as she went on.

"Not everyone who believes the Statute ought to be abolished wants everyone who doesn't to be dead at their feet."

She smiled at him, then, in amusement, as she added; "Just so you know, for when your father has his inevitable heart attack when he finds out you've been dipping your feet in all of this."

Malachi couldn't help but smile, although the reality of a confrontation like that would be anything but amusing.

Even if he was beginning to wonder at it all, really wonder, what it was that his father had once stood for before Voldemort had come along and torn him apart.

"If you're really interested, I can get you more information," Greengrass said, her tone a little warmer now, not so distrusting, as if he had managed to pass a test; "So long as you're not a snake."

Malachi met her eyes, shaking his head; "I'm not a snake."

"You're with us, then?" Greengrass eyed him; "For real?"

Malachi found himself nodding, not quite so insincere this time. Wanting, needing, to know more.

"Yeah. For real."

Harry was summoned to his Uncle Remus' chambers immediately following his Divination exam.

Remus looked awful.

Harry had never seen anyone look so ill.

"Uncle Remus, let me help you," he went to his side, trying to take Remus' arm but he shrugged him off with a weak wave and a smile.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, Harry. I'm sure I look far worse than I actually am."

Harry doubted it.

Even Remus' breathing sounded unsteady, as he lowered himself, slowly, onto the couch with a wince and indicated that Harry take the seat next to him.

"Is it always like this?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to him, careful not to jar the cushions too much as he did; "After the full moon?"

Remus placed a hand on Harry's arm, giving him another smile; "Don't trouble yourself with thoughts of that. Oh. I should have asked. Did you want some hot chocolate?"

"No," Harry quickly stopped Remus from getting up; "No, I had a big lunch. I'm fine."

Remus nodded, relaxing and leaning back slightly.

"Is something wrong? The message said that I had to come here right away."

"Oh. Yes. Well, Poppy thought that the company might do me good."

Harry brightened up; "You mean, I can come here and look after you every month after the full moon now? I'll do that."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head; "Nice try. No, just today."

"Well, let me get you something to drink then. If I'm going to be here a while."

"Oh, you don't –"

Harry ignored his protests, heading over to the kitchenette, and began boiling water and setting about making hot chocolates for them both – because, really, he never could say no to hot chocolate! – and by the time he returned to the couch, two mugs of the steaming liquid in his hand, his Uncle Remus was sitting there, having picked up one of the framed moving photographs that Harry recognised from his first visit there.

The one of the four boys, when Remus was a student at Hogwarts.

Harry glanced at it, as he sat down next to him, putting both mugs on the coffee table; "You and Uncle Sirius look really young there."

Remus gave him a small smile and a nod; "A little older than you. Fourteen."

"That's my dad?" Harry pointed at the man with the glasses, already knowing the answer.

Remus nodded.

Harry simply stared, wondering at him, the smiling face that he knew he looked like. Everyone had told him as much, since before he could remember but especially since he'd started wearing glasses; the spitting image of James Potter.

Remus cleared his throat, finger going to the other boy; "This is Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

Harry looked at Remus sharply.

Remus only glanced at Harry out the corner of his eye, keeping his focus on the picture; "Inseparable the four of us were. While we were at school. We called ourselves 'the Marauders'."

"Wait. You…you were friends with Peter Pettigrew?" Harry turned, more fully, to face him, leaning closer to Remus on the couch.

Remus lowered the picture, turning to face him, giving a nod; "Yes. Have you heard of him?"

"He's a Death Eater!" Harry burst out, Remus raising his eyebrows as he did; "He's – he's been hiding in the Castle for months! Spying on me! And Snape!"

Remus looked like he was struggling to make sense of the information Harry was throwing his way but, even then, he didn't look all that surprised by what Harry was saying. But Harry couldn't stop the information from pouring out, even if he tried, the cap that Snape had put on his explanations the night before meaning he was still ready to burst following what he'd realised in his nightmares.

"There's a map – Snape took it away – but Peter Pettigrew was on it. Malachi and me, we thought he was just a ghost, because we never actually saw him. But I told Snape and he said not to tell anyone –" Harry realised he was defying the Potions Master by telling Remus but it was too late now; " – but the map's never been wrong before. He was everywhere. The tower. The grounds. The dungeons! It was like he could walk through walls –"

"Harry," Remus stopped him, placing a hand on his arm, "Breathe. I think I know what it is your talking about. Peter, and your father and Sirius, they were animagi."

"What's that?"

Remus explained, as Harry's heart pounded with the adrenaline that had returned to him full force, now that he was reminded of all he had seen and realised the night before, and his excitement only increased with the conclusion of Remus' explanation.

"So, he's been going through the Castle, watching us as a rat?"

"That would be the most logical explanation, yes," Remus nodded. He glanced down, clasping his hands together, before looking at Harry, carefully; "Is there anything else you remember about him? Any patterns he followed? Any strange goings on within the school that coincided with his movements?"

Harry shook his head; "No. Nothing really. I only realised what he was because of my nightmares." He paused, frowning; "Did you know? That he was a Death Eater?"

"I did."

"But you were friends with him?" Harry said, eyes going to the picture; "He was friends with all of you. Why…why would he join Voldemort?"

"Ah. I cannot answer on Peter's behalf. But, yes, he was our friend," Remus swallowed, shifting with another wince, and Harry was reminded of Remus' condition and wondered if maybe this was all too much excitement for him in his current state, but Remus went on, regardless; "Harry, the circumstances that revealed his true loyalties to us; they involved your parents. And you."

Harry frowned, looking at him curiously; "Me?"

Remus nodded, drawing in a breath; "I'm sure you are aware of the workings of the Fidelius charm by now?"

Harry nodded; "It's the charm that we've got on the house. To keep us hidden."

"Yes. Well, this is not the first time you have all been hidden, as such. Years before, during Vold – during his first attempt to seize control, information revealed that your parents were to be one of his hunted. And, so, the Fidelius was used then, also, to protect you all from him. And his Death Eaters."

Harry considered the information.

He knew little about what had happened back then. Only that his father had been attacked, tortured into madness, until his mind had completely shut down.

Harry frowned, as he remembered the memory Snape had uncovered some weeks before; being torn from his cot in the middle of the night as a baby, his mum screaming and his dad calling her to run, realising, knowing, that the memory had been of that night.

Harry swallowed, the logical reason suddenly coming to him, just knowing exactly how it was that Pettigrew's true loyalties had been discovered.

Harry's hands clenched, as he raised his eyes to Remus; "Did he…did he tell them where we were?"

Remus nodded, slowly; "Yes."

"But…only the Secret Keeper can do that."

"That's right, Harry," Remus' voice was quiet.

Harry was dumbstruck.

His parents had trust Peter Pettigrew that much. With their lives and he had been a Death Eater. He had sold them out. Could have gotten them all killed. What had happened to his dad, that was because of Pettigrew.

Harry felt a flare of white fury wash over him, as the true extent of the betrayal became known.

"Harry," Remus placed a hand on his arm, drawing his eyes back to him; "It's more than you ought to have to hear. But it's better for you that you know who we're dealing with here. In case he should try to approach you."

Harry shook his head; "I…I don't understand. Why isn't he in Azkaban?"

"He was. He escaped. No doubt due to his animagus abilities."

"But…if this happened, why did mum want to put us back under the Fidelius now? I mean, maybe there's a better way to keep us all safe." Harry was suddenly panicking on behalf of his mum and sister, now that the reality that the Fidelius wasn't foolproof had been presented to him.

"Well, I'm sure your mum has put her faith in someone whom she knows is entirely trustworthy this time."

Harry frowned; "I don't know who our Secret Keeper is."

Remus gave a shrug, when Harry looked at him questioningly, because it was surely his Uncle Remus, then. As who else could it possibly be?

Remus put end to his certainty; "Neither do I, Harry."

"How come? Don't they have to tell you? So, you'd be able to get to the house?"

"I was given the address in a note."

Harry couldn't remember ever being given a note. Couldn't remember ever being told the address by anyone. It was just the way it was, the house was always under the protection of the charm, ever since they had come to live in it. Harry had never even wondered who it was his mother had trusted with the secret that protected them, their lives.

"I shall have to go to Dumbledore about what you've told me, Harry," Remus said after a moment; "I'm sure you understand?"

Harry met his eyes; "Oh. Uh…but Snape. He said not to tell anyone."

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean the teachers, Harry. Most likely he didn't want to cause a panic. Besides, we can't have a known Death Eater on the loose in the Castle."

Harry nodded, slowly, his mind still reeling at the information Remus had given him.

"Harry."

Remus' hand was on his arm again.

"It's a lot to take in. I have said in my explanation to Professor McGonagall that you may be indisposed for the rest of the day; you can stay here if you like."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head, but maybe he would just go back to his dorm room for a bit, rather than to the library where Hermione and Ron were revising. Really, he just wanted to be alone.

"That's okay, I…I should go and study. You know, for the exams."

Remus only nodded.

Harry stood, drawing in a breath as he did, and made his way to the door. But he stopped, turning back when he did, and Remus was staring at the picture in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes as he did.

"Thanks, Uncle Remus."

Remus looked up at him, a small furrow on his brow, as if he wondered why he should be thanking him.

Harry smiled, elaborating; "For telling me the truth."

Remus' lips parted and Harry thought he saw something come over him, an almost remorsefulness in his expression. Harry frowned but, before he could identify it, Remus gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Of course, Harry."

Harry hesitated, wondering at the uneasiness that seemed to have come over him, but Remus gave him a dismissive wave.

"I should think I'd better lie down for a bit now, Harry. Perhaps once I've spoken to Dumbledore. I am rather dead on my feet," he said it with a chuckle and Harry nodded, realising he was forcing him to use up energy that his uncle really didn't have at that moment.

"I hope you feel better soon, Uncle Remus."

Remus only gave him a small smile in turn, before Harry turned and left the room.