CHAPTER TWO
A/N: Lots of thanks to all of my reviewers, favoriters and followers! Onwards...
Two different, low, rhythmic pulses.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Thumpa, thump, thumpa, thump.
The noise was the first thing that registered in Harry's mind when he finally came to.
The second thing he noticed was undoubtedly the smell.
Mint, freshly mowed grass. Toothpaste. Milk – who knew milk had a smell? – oatmeal, bacon.
His stomach rumbled at the smell of the bacon and his eyes opened. Almost instantaneously he regretted the action as the sun stung his sensitive vision. He groaned, instinctively reaching to the left where his glasses usually sat on his bedside table.
"Harry!" Hermione cried.
Her voice was incredibly more sharp and clear than Harry recalled it and he winced, flinching back into the mattress and rubbing at his eyes with his left hand. The thumping sound picked up in speed, and it was then Harry realized that it was a heartbeat.
"He's awake!" Ron's voice joined in the painful chorus. "Mum, Dad! Harry's woken up!"
The sound of dishes being slammed into a cabinet seemed to echo up the steps and bang against Harry's eardrums. There was some sharp whispering.
"Arthur, get Poppy, where is Remus? Dumbledore?"
"He'll be here soon, don't worry yourself Molly-"
Feet scuffing, someone took their jacket off.
How on earth did Harry know that someone had taken their jacket off? He didn't even know that had a sound.
He looked blearily around the bright room and jumped when he felt Hermione pressing something into his hand.
"Your glasses," she said softly.
Harry nodded silently, putting them slowly on to his face and blinking as he peered around. The room was in blurred splotches around him, and his eyes immediately began to ache. He pulled the spectacles off, frowning at them.
When the lenses were moved from his eyes, the world cleared up again.
Really cleared up. He could see better than he ever recalled having seen even with his glasses on. He looked up sharply, peering around in bewilderment.
Dust particles danced like magic through the air, twirling and swinging. He exhaled and watched them stir off in the distance, as if startled by his very breath.
"Oh, she mentioned this might-" Hermione mumbled, snatching the glasses up from his lap and waving her wand over them swiftly. "-Sorry, Harry, here, try these," she said, pressing them back into his hands.
He said nothing, mechanically reaching down and putting them back over his eyes.
The world was no longer in painted, blurred splotches, but the glasses seemed to put a wall between him and the world. The dust particles became fuzzy and harder to focus on. Or perhaps it was the pounding in his head that made it harder to focus, or the footfalls that were getting nearer each second, or the incessant rustling as Ron shifted his weight again and again.
"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, eyes round with worry and...
Pity?
Harry opened his mouth to respond just as he shifted in a way that caused his shoulder to split with pain.
He gasped, falling back immediately and pinching his eyes closed. He stretched up a hand to pat the shoulder tenderly and felt the thick, heavy bandages surrounding it.
His eyes slipped closed as the memories came pouring back from the other night. A heavy knot of stress curled in his stomach as it all began to make sense.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice cut through his thoughts in worry. "Are you all right? Madam Pompfrey!" she cried, jumping to her feet just as the door swung open.
"Harry dear?" Madam Pompfrey's voice was softer and gentler than he ever recalled it being before as she stepped into the room. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," he answered, slowly opening his eyes again to survey his surroundings.
He was in a dimly lit, large room in an unfamiliar house. There weren't many decorations all around him, but as he took a deep breath, the scent of the place struck some familiarity in the back of his mind.
Madam Pompfrey took a step forward and waved her wand over him. She murmured an incantation at his shoulder and he had the strange sensation of ice running over the skin beneath the bandage.
It faded then, and his shoulder felt decidedly numb.
He blinked, too many thoughts swirling in his mind for him to know what to say. He nodded his gratitude once, settling himself back against the pillow and watching as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley darted into the room.
"Oh Harry," Mrs. Weasley cried, tears in her eyes as she rushed over to his bedside, grabbing his hand and shaking her head.
He swallowed and gave a small smile. "I'm all right, Mrs. Weasley," he said encouragingly, attempting to soothe her in a rasping tone.
Somehow, this seemed to upset her further and she shook her head aggressively, giving a choked sob.
His own voice was surprisingly loud to him now. He made a mental note to quiet it down in the future, and gave her hand a hesitant, reassuring squeeze.
"Mum, come on," Ron said awkwardly. "Harry's all right."
The woman nodded unsurely, wiping at her tears with the back of her available hand. "Yes, yes of course – Harry? Harry, oh you must be hungry, I'm sure. They n-never feed you, those m-muggles," she mumbled in a watery voice, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I'll get you some food, I'll send Sirius up with it in a bit-"
"-Sirius is here?" Harry asked, cutting her off unintentionally as excitement brightened his gaze.
Mr. Weasley nodded in response from where he stood.
Harry shifted his gaze to his friends and offered them a smile. "Hey Ron, 'Mione," he rasped.
"Hey, mate," Ron said suddenly, as if surprised Harry had noticed him.
Hermione shot him a glare that wasn't missed by Harry. He sighed – of course they were fighting. Again.
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, his gaze locked on to Harry's heavily bandaged shoulder. "Poppy, is it, then-"
"-Yes," she said in a clipped tone, scribbling something on a clipboard with her quill.
"And there's nothing, to-"
"-No, Arthur," she said stiffly.
He nodded, clearing his throat and offering Harry a sad smile. "Harry," he said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room except for the still sniffling Mrs. Weasley. "Do you, remember what happened?" he asked very gently, falling heavily into a seat next to the hospital bed.
Harry looked into his lap, opened, and then closed his mouth. He nodded mutely.
"I got bit," he said monotonously. "By a... wolf."
The entire room seemed to tense at the word.
"I'm a werewolf?" Harry tried the thought out loud.
The room, if possible, seemed to drop in volume even further and Harry let out a low, dry laugh.
It's actually a bit funny, if you think about it. In an ironic sort of way. I can see the headlines now – Chosen One, Howling Mad! Harry Potter Kills Family of Bunnies While in Werewolf Form Not on the Full Moon!
Oh, Rita Skeeter would have a field day.
The entire room was silent after his statement except for the light scribbling of Madam Pompfrey on her clipboard.
The mediwitch looked up suddenly, eyes narrowing. "I'd prefer to keep it to a maximum of two visitors at a time for now. Harry needs his rest," she said. "You took more than a Quidditch fall this time Harry. You will not be moving around much for the next few days."
Harry nodded and Madam Pompfrey turned to the still-lingering visitors. "Two visitors. You heard me," she snapped.
Harry felt a swell of gratitude as he glanced to his lap. The pitying glares were strangely heavy, his newfound senses picking up every single one, along with each and every one of their strange, distracting heartbeats.
It was enough to make one rather dizzy.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood, nodding and telling Harry that they would be back to visit soon. Mrs. Weasley kissed him on the cheek and told him to rest well, and he felt a surge of affection for the witch.
"Nothing's changed, you'll always be the same Harry to us dear, all right?" she said, as if he had been fearing rejection. He didn't question it though, and offered her a soft smile.
He watched her go, uncertainty fluttering up inside him as he frowned at the closed door.
Ron hung around the door, shifting from foot to foot as if unsure if he should leave as well.
"Hey, Ron," he croaked, offering a crooked grin.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, leaning over the bed and embracing him gently, steering clear of his injured side and shoulder. "Oh Harry, it's awful. He won't get away with it, he can't, you'll see. I'm so sorry Harry, we're so sorry," she rambled in a choked voice.
He patted the back of her hair awkwardly. "It's all right," he managed. "I – uh, it's a lot to take in," he said. "Where – where exactly are we?" he asked, sitting up very slowly and ignoring the twinge in his side.
"Grimmauld Place," Ron cut in, taking a few steps toward the bed with his hands in his pockets. "Headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix."
"Oh," Harry said, frowning. "What?"
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione repeated rather quickly.
Harry arched one eyebrow at her and she swallowed thickly as if nervous about his reaction to what she was about to say. "It's a group that has been dedicated to fighting Voldemort since the first war," Hermione said. "Oh Harry, we wanted to tell you about it, we tried, it's just that Dumbledore told us we weren't to tell you anything, and-"
He had been hiding under windowsills in the dirt listening to jingles about cereal, trying to hear something about what might be going on, and they had been living in the headquarters of the resistance.
"-Wait, how long have you been here?" Harry snarled. Hermione flinched back, eyes wide, and Harry felt the anger flutter in his chest as her pulse quickened and she seemed to shrink into her seat.
Is she afraid of me?
"Harry, mate," Ron said, stepping close to Hermione, eyes wide. "We, we've wanted you to be here. Everyone has! But Dumbledore-"
"You've been here all summer, haven't you?" Harry yelled as loudly as his weak voice would allow, his hands balling into fists in his sheets.
"Harry, we're so sorry," Hermione said. "Please don't shout, just lie down, or-"
"-YOU'VE BEEN HERE ALL SUMMER!" he roared, green eyes flashing. His throat screamed in protest at the shouting but he couldn't find it in him to care as the injustice of it all welled up inside him. "I WATCH VOLDEMORT RETURN, WATCH CEDRIC DIGGORY GET KILLED AFTER WINNING THE BLOODY TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT, AND I GET SHIPPED OFF TO THE DURSLEYS TO BASICALLY LIVE OUTSIDE IN THE DIRT BECAUSE THEY BLOODY HATE ME, PICKING NEWSPAPERS OUT OF BINS SO I CAN TRY TO FIND OUT WHAT HE'S PLANNING, AND YOU'VE ALL BEEN LIVING IT UP HERE IN THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX-"
The doors were thrown open sharply and Harry's shouts died in his throat as Sirius and Remus stepped inside, eyes wide with alarm.
A strange scent twined around Remus that Harry had never noticed before, and he blinked several times in quick succession, staring at the man and swallowing.
Remus offered him a slow, crooked smile. "Hello, Harry," he said.
Harry scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks heating up as he realized the man had probably heard every word of his tantrum. He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze.
He looked to the other man who had just entered. Sirius offered him a warm greeting smile, no hint of pity he had seen in the others as he glanced between him and his friends. "Everything all right?"
"Yes," Hermione said quickly.
"Sirius – oh, Sirius, it's good to see you!" he blurted out, smiling warmly at the other and shifting upright as much as his energy allowed.
Four heartbeats, four different patterns of breathing, the noises from downstairs, the rattling of dishes. The hoot of an owl – oh, it's just smacked against the window. Ron was talking, what was he saying? What were those smells? Unfamiliar, stressful, floating up from downstairs...
He groaned suddenly, overwhelmed by the speed at which thoughts were flicking through his head. He reached up his hands, pressing them into his throbbing temples.
Sirius and Remus's heartbeats were much slower, easier to keep track of than the rest of the people's had been so far. But there was still four of now, when before there had been only two.
He was angry that they were all afraid and pitying him. He was so happy to see Sirius. He had a lot of questions. He was confused. It was too much, and they all just needed to go away. One at a time – he could do one at a time.
Remus watched him slowly and his gaze flicked over to Hermione and Ron.
"Could you give us a moment to talk to Harry?" he asked quietly. Harry was relieved that for once someone seemed to be respectful of his newly sensitive eardrums.
Ron nodded, waiting for Hermione to get to her feet before heading toward the door.
"Harry," Sirius said warmly, taking a seat by the boy's bed and smiling. "You're awake."
Harry licked his dry lips and swallowed, his throat twinging. "How long was I out?" he croaked, voice even weaker than before. His head throbbed.
The screaming had been a terribly bad idea.
"A few days," Remus said, taking up the seat on the other side of his bed. Harry looked over to him and then down at his hands, nodding slowly.
"I'm a werewolf, right? That wasn't a normal wolf, what attacked me." Harry knew the answer, but no one had spoken to confirm it last time.
"No, it wasn't," Sirius said. Harry's eyes drifted closed. "It was a werewolf." The bespectacled wizard nodded slowly, blowing out a slow breath as he attempted and failed to wrap his mind around it all.
"His name is Fenrir Greyback," Remus cut in, his voice cold with hatred.
Harry opened his eyes, his mouth dropping open in shock. "You mean, the one who-?"
"Turned me, yes," Remus said in a much gentler tone. "He works for Voldemort, Harry. This was... not an accident." Sirius's expression morphed into one of murderous rage as he sat back, lacing his fingers together in an almost contemplative way.
"Oh," Harry said again, blowing out a slow breath and nodding. "So, Voldemort, he, he ordered this attack?" he croaked, unsurprised.
"That is what we believe – yes," Sirius said shortly, raking a hand through his dark black locks and looking to Remus intensely.
Remus nodded and Sirius continued. "As we are aware you just learned – you are in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, Harry."
"It's your home, isn't it?" Harry asked, lifting his head. "I mean, as much as the Dursleys is mine," he said. Remus looked at him curiously.
Sirius opened his mouth before shutting it, nodding. "Yes. I inherited it a while ago. I hadn't made much use of it until now, but I'm offering it to Dumbledore as a headquarters. About the only useful thing I've been able to do, actually," he said, his expression morphing into frustration at the end of his response.
"That is not true," Remus snapped. "Just because you aren't out fighting does not mean you haven't been valuable to us all."
For the first time, Harry really looked at his former Professor.
The man had more grey hairs than before and he seemed to have lost a significant deal of weight in a short amount of time. He hadn't shaved very recently, but in contrast to how Harry remembered him, his clothes were clean, new and soft.
Harry could smell the woods on him. He hadn't been living in this house the past few months like Ron, Hermione or Sirius – that much was certain.
"Where have you been?" Harry asked quietly, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.
Remus's eyes widened and he sat back.
"Doing missions for the Order," Sirius cut in in a cold, angry tone. Remus's gaze turned toward him softly and he frowned, looking to the ground.
Harry nodded, dropping the subject. "Why couldn't anyone tell me about any of this? Why didn't Fenrir kill me? If Voldemort wanted me dead, I should be dead."
But of course, nothing is ever as simple as that for me, is it?
The two men exchanged an unsure look. Remus frowned and Sirius sighed, a contemplative look on his features.
"Dumbledore requested, that you be informed as little as possible," Sirius began slowly.
Harry's green eyes flashed and Sirius continued quickly, "Because he felt that the more you knew, the more of a target you were."
"Clearly I was already a target," Harry snarled. "I've been a target since I was born."
"Not a death target, Harry," Remus corrected.
Harry nodded, looking between the two curiously. "What, then? What does he want? Does he want something from me?"
Sirius opened his mouth and Remus shook his head.
"We have our suspicions Harry, but nothing is concrete," the sandy-haired wizard said. "That's enough about that for now."
Sirius nodded and Harry glared at the two of them, not ready for the subject to be closed.
"We'll tell you more, if we can, when you are walking around again," Remus said firmly. "You are handling this all remarkably well Harry, but that does not mean you are ready for the mental stress."
"I'm fine," Harry insisted, struggling to sit up and ignoring the shooting pain in his side. "I want to know."
"Aren't there other questions you might have right now, Harry?" Remus asked gently, gaze flicking to his shoulder and then back to his face.
Harry's stomach curled, face paling as what he meant registered. "Oh," he said, hoarsely.
"Oh."
He slowly laid back, his hands beginning to shake as the memories flooded back.
The horrible burning pulsing through his veins and the snap of his shoulder's bones beneath the giant wolf's jaws. Blood everywhere and-
"Piers," Harry blurted, eyes wide with horror as he sat up too quickly, his side ripping painfully.
He gasped, touching a hand to the bandages that began to soak through with blood.
Sirius stood, whipping out his wand and flicking it. A small brown vial flew out of a nearby drawer and into his hand and he moved forward. "Harry, I need you to lie still," he instructed.
Harry nodded weakly, his head feeling oddly heavy. Sirius pushed up his shirt, gently undoing the bandages and dripping a few drops of the potion into the newly opened wounds.
Harry gasped in pain, hissing and pulling away. Remus was at his other side however, holding him steady as the stinging potion bubbled in the wound, quickly knitting the skin back together.
"That's a good sign," Remus said. "If esscence of dittany is working on them again."
Sirius nodded mutely, waving his wand and summoning clean bandages.
Remus took over, clearly having more experience with them, and began gently bandaging up his side once more.
Harry's breaths came short and labored as the pain slowly began to fade.
"Try not to move so quickly again," Remus instructed quietly. Harry nodded shakily, swallowing dryly and his eyelids pulling rather heavily.
"Piers," he croaked again.
Sirius frowned. "What's Piers? Or who?"
Harry licked his drying lips, forcing his aching eyes to stay focused on the two men. "Piers is one of Dudley's friends," he continued. "He was attacked, so I went to help, that's when I..." Harry said.
Remus and Sirius exchanged a dark look and Harry's throat tightened.
"Piers, is he-is he-"
No answer was forthcoming and Harry's vision spun for a moment.
"Tell me, please," he begged.
"A muggle boy was found at the attack site," Sirius confirmed finally after a long, contemplative stretch of silence. "It was too late when he was found."
Harry's eyes drifted closed and he gave a faint nod. "Oh," he whispered.
"It is not your fault Harry," Remus said firmly, extending a hand on to the boy's uninjured shoulder.
"If I had gotten there sooner," Harry mumbled, shaking his head.
"No," Sirius said. "You had no way of knowing. The fact that you went out to save him at all is more than any average man would think to do. He was a muggle, Harry, even if he had lived, the odds of him surviving the first transformation were significantly low."
Harry's eyes opened wide and unfocused as horror clutched his chest. Remus shot him a furious look and Sirius just seemed to have realized what he had said, eyes widening slightly.
"Harry, I didn't mean-"
"-Sirius, would you go get him some water?" Remus snapped.
Sirius scowled but nodded, slowly getting to his feet.
"It's fine you know," Harry mumbled when the door shut behind the taller man. "I'm not that bothered. It was just, surprising to hear it, like that-"
"Sirius has known me and my affliction for over fifteen years, Harry. He is so familiar with it all that he can be blunt without meaning to."
"No, no," Harry insisted. "I think it's better. I mean, Mr. Weasley won't even say it, and that's..."
"Worse, yes. There is something to appreciate about Sirius's attitude toward it all," Remus said fondly, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
Harry closed his throbbing eyes and yawned, eyes half-lidded as the door swung back open.
"Mrs. Weasley would like to know if you are hungry, Harry," Sirius said stiffly as he entered, setting a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed.
Harry shook his head. Remus smiled at Sirius and he returned the look, glancing to Harry whose eyes were drifting closed.
Harry's eyes snapped open again sharply and immediately began to droop closed as he repressed another yawn.
"You can sleep, Harry. We'll both be here when you wake up again," Remus said reassuringly.
Harry nodded. "Tell Ron and 'Mione I'm sorry for yelling?" he asked quietly.
"Of course," Sirius said, standing and heading for the door. Remus followed after him slowly.
