CHAPTER THREE
A/N: Updates will be every weekend from now on, so check back Friday-Sunday. I updated early because I was inspired by all the kind reviews! Onwards...
When Harry woke again, Madam Pompfrey was back, lecturing his half-asleep self about tearing open his side the "minute she turned her back" yesterday.
He sat up slowly, his body still aching but the pain having subsided significantly.
She pushed him back down into a laying position, grumbling and forcing a potion to his lips.
He coughed and nearly spit it out at the taste but managed to swallow it under her threats. She immediately handed him a glass of water and stood, foot tapping impatiently as he took a small sip.
"Will I be going back to school?" Harry asked her quietly after he took a few more drinks of the water, surprised at how much it soothed his aching throat.
She took the empty cup, refilling it with her wand and setting it on the nightstand.
"Of course," she said simply.
"I thought, w-" he hesitated, chewing on his lip, "-werewolves, couldn't go to school. I thought Professor Lupin was the only one who ever had."
Madam Pompfrey nodded. "You are not a registered werewolf, Harry. Order members found you. At the moment, yes, you are expelled-"
"-What?"
"-But Professor Dumbledore is working to resolve that. I believe he is going to talk to you about it before your hearing."
"My hearing?"
Madam Pompfrey sighed impatiently as she undid the bandage on his side, gently checking and redressing the wound. "Yes. You did underage magic, Harry. That is an automatic expulsion, what with the amount and nature of the spells you used."
"But I was being attacked by a werewolf!" Harry protested.
Madam Pompfrey shook her head, pulling his shirt down over the bandages and looking him directly in the eye. "It's best if you learn that is not something it is smart to go shouting about, Harry," she said in a gentle but firm tone.
Harry frowned. "I don't understand."
She sighed, closing her eyes and turning away. "Lycanthropy is an infection, Harry. A disease. It is not the fault of the infected. It does not change you-"
"-I know all of that. Remus is one of the best men I know," Harry said, jutting out his chin defiantly.
She nodded, turning back to face him. "Exactly. And Harry, though quite a lot of us know that – the rest of the wizarding world has not come to terms with it just yet."
Harry frowned. "You mean, Professor Dumbledore wants me to not tell them what happened?"
"Things would be a lot harder for you Harry if the Ministry were to find out. You would be classified as a creature, you would lose many rights to life. It is not something to be said or taken lightly. If you have any ambitions or sense to you, you will keep it to yourself."
Harry blinked, nodding stiffly. "So... I'm going to lie, at this hearing."
Madam Pompfrey pursed her lips. "I don't know what it is that Professor Dumbledore has planned, but I think it is a very wise idea to learn to keep the word 'werewolf' off of the tip of your tongue. The Minister is dying for a reason to expel you and fire Dumbledore. Do not give him anymore."
"He couldn't fire Dumbledore because of me," Harry protested.
"You're right, he could have him and the rest of us arrested," she snapped, soft eyes flashing as she put a hand on her hip. "You listen, Harry Potter – this is bigger than yourself. Keeping this secret is something that puts all of us at risk. Now, we do this without question. Everyone here cares about you. But you better have the sense to repay the loyalty of these people with some silence."
Harry opened then closed his mouth, nodding slowly and looking to the wall past her.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Her hand fell from her hip. "Don't be sorry, dear. Just keep in mind that it's important. And make sure you're resting."
"Can I get out of bed today?" Harry asked anxiously, lifting his gaze back to her face.
She frowned, pressing her lips into a thin line contemplatively.
She nodded finally, after a long stretch of silence. "As long as everything stays relaxed, I think it's good to get you moving again. The scratches are healing well."
Harry nodded and sighed as she stared at his shoulder.
"I need to redress the bandages, Harry. I'm going to have to tear off the sleeve of this shirt, if that's all right," she said gently, pulling out her wand.
He nodded mutely, looking away as she gently ripped off the top of the sleeve and surveyed the lightly bloodied bandages.
She undid the top bandage and Harry let out an involuntary snarl of pain, his eyes squeezing closed and his teeth gritting.
She cast the numbing spell again, but the affect was not as strong.
"That spell doesn't always work for bites of this nature," she said gently. "Don't worry, I'll be quick."
Harry nodded tersely and she set to work, waving her wand over the area. Harry refused to look over, not wanting to see the undoubtedly scarred and ruined skin. He bit his lip, swallowing as the memories flashed behind his eyelids.
"It will scar," she said. "As will the scratches. I'm working on a potion – I have been for many years, for Remus – that will help them to fade. Would you mind if I test this one on you? I believe it will work best when they are fresh. I promise it is safe."
Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course," he said in one breath.
A few cool drops of potion hit his shoulder and burned like ice for a moment. The feeling intensified and he gritted his teeth,
"Is it hurting?" she asked, quill hovering over her clipboard.
Harry blew out a slow breath. "Just a bit," he mumbled as the sting faded into a chill. "It's really cold," he added.
She nodded. "Thank you, Harry," she said, peering over at the wound as he took steadying breaths.
She began reapplying the bandages.
"It doesn't hurt so much now," he said quietly, gratitude in his tone.
"Really?" she asked. "That wasn't supposed to happen. Interesting."
"Is it bad?"
"I'd assume not," she said dismissively. "Interesting nonetheless," she said as she wrapped the final bandage, patting the side of his arm gently with a smile. "Well, you're all done. I've got to be going now. Remember, only small walks, try to keep the stress levels low, rest when you need to – and please keep drinking water. You were quite dehydrated when I got here."
He nodded. "Thank you, Madam Pompfrey," he said. She smiled at him warmly as she collected her things and nodded, heading out the door.
"Poppy," Remus's voice outside alerted Harry to the newcomer.
"Hello Remus," she said warmly, brushing past him and down the steps.
Remus stepped inside and offered Harry a greeting smile. "How are you feeling?"
"A lot better, actually," Harry said, gesturing to the chair to the right and pushing himself carefully into a sitting position. "Madam Pompfrey said I could walk around some today."
Remus nodded. "Harry, I just wanted you to know that if you have any questions about this, it's been a part of my life for almost as long as I can recall. I'm always willing to talk about it if there's something concerning you."
Harry nodded slowly, casting a frown over at his bandaged shoulder.
"Does the scar, the original one – does it ever fade?"
Remus shook his head slowly. "No. Poppy has been working on a solution to the scarring of werewolf attacks for a very long time. She's gotten rather good at the scratches – the ones on your side I doubt you'll be able to see in ten years-"
Harry tried not to wince at the timeframe.
"-But the one on your shoulder, I'm afraid, would probably outlast the scar on your forehead."
Harry nodded. "Right. I expected that," he said simply. He pushed the blankets off his lap, the heat becoming sweltering. "You and Sirius, you said, this wasn't an accident?"
Remus's expression darkened. "No, Harry. Fenrir... is not like the rest of us. He never attacks anyone on accident."
"You think Voldemort wanted him to attack me?"
Remus shook his head. "It's hard to say. The timing is certainly suspicious-"
"-What do you mean?" Harry cut in, eyes narrowed.
Remus blinked in surprise. "Oh, I assumed you had been told. Right – well, the Order has been keeping tabs on you all summer. It just so happened that at the time of Fenrir's attack, the man currently on watch was...missing," Remus muttered, fury morphing his usually gentle features.
"You guys have been watching me? Why?" Harry demanded, eyes narrowed.
"Dumbledore."
Harry nodded, flexing his jaw and sighing. "Right," he said. He sighed again. "Right."
"Would you like to come down for lunch?" Remus suggested, changing the subject. "The noises - and smells, especially - will be a bit overwhelming... But they are not something that go away on their own. It's a matter of practicing to ignore them. It's best to get as used to it as much as possible before returning to Hogwarts."
Harry nodded, shuddering at the thought of the hundreds of heartbeats, the conversations, whispers, shouts, the owls, the clinking of dishes that were so easy to ignore with his old sense of hearing, in the Great Hall.
Remus smiled sympathetically. "It isn't as bad as it seems when you're laid up in bed in pain," he said, walking over in case Harry needed help getting to his feet. "It'll be second-nature to ignore it all when you're feeling better."
Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood shakily, his legs feeling heavy as he finally stood on them again. His vision spun around the dimly lit room, and he swayed in place.
Remus touched his elbow to help him balance and Harry nodded his thanks, blinking until the black around the edges of his vision faded.
Remus pulled his arm back and headed toward the door, pulling it open. "If you see the house-elf, by the way, just ignore him," Remus advised. "He didn't live the best life with the Blacks, and he's more than a little mad after living here for a good number of years with the portraits."
Harry nodded, walking as quickly as he could toward the door and taking a deep breath.
Sounds echoed around the house. Something was thumping in an upstairs wardrobe, a rat was skittering inside the wall. Someone – perhaps the house-elf Remus had mentioned – was muttering to itself about blood-traitors. Sirius was downstairs. Harry found he could smell him – he smelled most like the rest of the house.
Smells were a funny thing. They were clearer than sounds, but they made less sense.
"Your sense of smell is something that you never really had a lot of before," Remus answered his unspoken question. "Therefore, even though some scents are familiar – things like foods that you like – smelling things like individual people is something you've never experienced before. It's something you'll come to understand eventually. Try not to sniff people though," he suggest helpfully.
Harry nodded. "Why would I sniff them?"
Remus shrugged. "Impulse when we are around a large group of people. We like to keep track of the people most important to us. I think it's an attempt to commit it to memory. Sort of like how we remember people's faces, but on a more subconscious level. It's normal, but, not well-accepted," he explained as he started down the steps.
Harry nodded, following after him curiously and drawing in the scents.
Molly was making a stew.
Beef stew. Beef sounded good.
Harry felt his stomach twinge with hunger and he hopped down the stairs a little more quickly.
The black-haired wizard noted it was surprisingly quiet. Someone downstairs wasn't breathing – there was one less set of air intake than there was heartbeats.
Harry hopped down the final step after Remus and headed down the dark hallway and into the quiet dining room.
"Remus!" Sirius cried in greeting, a smile lighting up his features. Harry followed in hesitantly, trying to keep his nostrils from flaring at the heavily concentrated smells.
"Harry!" Sirius greeted again, flashing the boy a smile. Remus patted Harry on the shoulder reassuringly and walked around to Sirius's end of the table, sitting down next to him.
"Harry, you're up!" Hermione cried in delight, smiling from where she and Ron sat. She ushered him over and he ignored the curious stares of a few occupants of the room and slid into the seat, smiling.
Mad-Eye Moody's false eye was focused on him particularly intently, and Harry felt himself shift uncertainly just as Molly Weasley stepped into the room carrying a large pot.
"Oh, Harry! You're joining us! Fred, grab another bowl," she instructed one of the twins that Harry had just now noticed.
Fred stood up, smiling toward Harry and tossing him a mischievous wink. "Of course Mother," he said cheerfully, heading into the kitchen.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, offering her a smile.
"Hey Harry," Ron greeted. Harry jumped, the sudden sound not being expected as he attempted to keep tabs on every heartbeat in the room.
"Hey Ron," he greeted, turning to face him and Hermione.
He suddenly understood what Remus had meant. He was getting the slightest hints of their individual scents but they were just too far away. Perhaps, if he leaned over the table and got a better smell, then-
No, no, that'd be weird. Just stay in your seat.
"Nice to meet you Harry!" a warm, unfamiliar voice greeted him from behind. He jumped again, turning to face the person curiously.
She wasn't overly tall, and she had bubble-gum pink hair. She looked to be just a few years older than Harry.
"My name's Tonks. I'm part of the Order," she said, sitting down in the seat next to him. "I'm also Sirius's cousin," she added cheerfully.
She smelled like her hair, cloying bubblegum. Harry cringed, nodding to her stiffly as he began to scoop his food, avoiding using his injured side as much as possible.
A tall, intimidating man with dark skin at the end of the table was watching him carefully, yet another face that Harry didn't recognize.
He lifted his gaze directly to the other man's, engaging in the staring contest he seemed to want to have.
The man looked away shortly and Harry glared at him.
"This is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Mad-Eye barked suddenly, jerking Harry's attention to him. "And I'm Alastor Moody. Kingsley and Tonks are aurors," he said.
Harry flinched, eyes wide. Did they know what he was? They must, if Tonks had spoken to Madam Pompfrey-
-It was also undoubtedly weird to be meeting Mad-Eye for the "first time" after knowing him an entire year.
"Relax boy. Their first loyalty is to the Order, not to the Ministry. You're safe. The vigilance is respectable, however," he said with a nod to Harry's tense posture.
Harry didn't have a lot to say to that so he nodded and picked up his fork and began to eat, picking around the vegetables subconsciously.
The meat was incredibly soft and tender, which was usually a good thing, but Harry found it somewhat lacking. He wished there had been a bit more to chew. Just a bit of toughness to it.
Arthur started up a light conversation about Quidditch at the front of the table which quickly became heated as Sirius demanded to know everything he had missed in the sports world while he was in Azkaban. There was much debate over what teams had done well.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked as Ron scooped up bite after bite of the stew, swallowing happily.
Harry shrugged and winced as his shoulder gave a nasty throb. "All right," he forced out, resisting the urge to touch the wound. "Been better, but Madam Pompfrey is expecting a great deal of improvement in the next few days."
"I think you're handling this all really well, mate," Ron said encouragingly. "You know, there are people who when they woke up and found out they'd been turned, would beg to die, and here you are-"
Hermione stomped noisily on to his foot underneath the table, her eyes wide in rage.
Harry scratched his head uncomfortably and blew out a nervous breath as his mind flitted to what it'd been ignoring.
The transformations.
He was a werewolf – sure, okay. That's easy to say when barely anything had changed. But the transformation, that was what the entire disease was named after, wasn't it?
He had read about it before, and was quite sure it was immensely painful. Intent on ignoring further speculation, he reached over to the pumpkin juice bowl and picked up the ladle.
He let out a sharp, noisy yelp of pain that startled the rest of the table into quiet as they all turned to face Harry, who had dropped the ladle across the table and was clutching his hand, eyes watering.
"Harry?" Molly said in alarm, standing up.
"It's the ladle, it's silver, I'm sorry. Remus doesn't like pumpkin juice, I didn't even think," Sirius muttered, standing up and walking over. He picked up Harry's cup and dunked it into the bowl, retrieving a dripping glass of pumpkin juice and smiling encouragingly as he set it down in front of the other.
He picked up the ladle with a look of distaste.
"What are you gonna do with 'at?" a man who looked a bit like an under-cared for weasel asked, eyeing the glittering silver greedily.
"Throw it away," Sirius snarled. "You go looking through my trash Mundungus and I'll let Kreacher have his way with you, you vile piece of shit," he snarled.
Mundungus flinched into his chair, eyes wide with horror as he looked from person to person, hoping to find a sympathizer.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, surprised that Molly at least hadn't corrected Sirius's treatment of the man. Kinglsey cleared his throat and the conversation about Quidditch began again – rather half-heartedly as Sirius sat back down refusing to say a word, instead glaring daggers into Mundungus.
"I don't understand," Harry mumbled, tapping his finger to a beat that matched the heartbeat of three occupants of the room. "Why does everyone hate him? Who is he?"
"Mundungus Fletcher," Ron whispered. "He's the one who was supposed to be on watch, when, you know."
"Oh," Harry said. "I don't blame him, I didn't need someone watching m-"
"-That's not the point Harry. He's a member of the Order, and he was told to watch you. He left because he saw Fenrir, and he comes back to find you nearly mangled to death. What he did was not okay."
Harry sucked on his front teeth contemplatively, resisting the urge to snap at the girl. "I don't need protection. If Dumbledore was so sure something like this was going to happen, he shouldn't have made me stay at the Dursleys to begin with," he said in a low, cold tone.
Hermione went silent.
"Is your hand all right?" she asked quietly after a moment.
He glanced down at his palm, the Black insignia burned into it.
"It's fine," he lied.
She frowned, leaning forward and looking down the table at Remus meaningfully. Harry glared at her. "I said it's fine, Hermione," he snapped.
"Harry if you're burned you should get it checked out," Ron said nervously. Harry shot him a hateful glare.
"Some friend you are," he spat. Ron flinched back, sighing and poking at his food.
"Are you going to eat your carrots?" he asked after a moment, peering at Harry's plate.
"No."
"Could I-?"
Harry pushed the plate over to the boy, standing up sharply, still holding his hand.
"Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Weasley," he called over to her, forcing a smile as he turned to stomp up the steps.
"You'll want to take care of that silver burn," Mad-Eye said at a casual volume. Harry froze at the bottom of the steps, turning to him and nodding. "They can be toxic to werewolves, if left untreated for too long," he said with a wink of his real eye.
Harry nodded. "Right, thanks," he said briskly, and took off up the stairs at a speed he didn't think he was quite safe to be moving at yet.
He slammed the door of his room shut behind him to drown out, if even momentarily, the sound of their quiet arguing downstairs.
His stomach was in knots as he paced, gingerly touching his burned hand every few seconds and flinching.
Nice of Mad-Eye to tell him that and not give a damn clue as how to take care of it. Where was Remus? What was he doing?
What was Harry supposed to do?
He felt as if he might be sick and he gripped the bedpost for support as his legs swayed beneath him.
The door swung open and his head shot up, Remus was hesitating in the doorway, looking concerned.
"Remus," Harry greeted, shoulders sagging in relief. He didn't think he would have handled Mrs. Weasley's doting too well right now.
"Mad-Eye was kidding," Remus offered calmly, a small frown turning the corners of his lips. "A poor joke."
Harry laughed without amusement. "You could say that again."
Remus smiled wryly. "You should treat it like a normal burn, though," he said, walking forward and holding out his hand expectantly.
Harry sighed, reluctantly placing his hand palm-up to the other wizard. Remus nodded.
"It's not so bad. But you should learn to be more careful. You can sense the silver, if you had been reaching for it a little more slowly. It's usually enough of a warning for us to move away."
Harry nodded mutely.
"Dumbledore will replace all of the silverware at Hogwarts with false silver, don't worry. He did so for me and I have no doubts he will for you as well."
"The Prophet's gonna find out," Harry said monotonously as Remus summoned some burn potion and handed it to him.
Remus nodded after a moment. "Perhaps. But you can always write off the media's word as rumor. No one will take it seriously enough to write you up."
"And if they do? Fudge hates me."
Remus sighed, frowning and looking away. "The wizarding world doesn't take kindly to us Harry, I won't pretend. Dumbledore is the only man ever to have hired me, despite my years of schooling and O's in every subject," he said bluntly. "It is not that there are laws against hiring us in many cases, as those have been abolished in the past few years. It's more to do with the fact that we must state to our employer what we are before listing anything else about ourselves. The individuals in the world are incredibly..."
"Blind?" Harry asked, sitting down in a chair by his bed.
"I would have said cautious," Remus said with a small smile.
"You're not dangerous Remus," Harry said dismissively. "You're one of the best men I've ever known. If you believe any of that rubbish about yourself – that werewolves are dangerous, or don't deserve something better, then is that how you feel about me?"
Remus's jaw dropped a bit and his eyes widened as he blinked several times. "Of course not, Harry," he said.
"So we have a... what was it, furry little problem? Yeah. But it only becomes an issue once a month. It's not who we are," Harry said firmly.
Remus smiled faintly. "I know, Harry. I know."
Harry nodded as he rubbed the burn salve into his palm, sighing in relief as it took effect. "Thank you Remus," he said sharply, looking up.
The werewolf raised his eyebrows in surprise. "For?"
"For being there, for me," he mumbled. "I don't know..."
Remus extended a hand, setting it on the boy's shoulder and offering a smile. "Nothing to thank me for Harry. Sirius and I – we'll always be here for you, all right? You may not have one with the Dursleys but you've got a family in us, as long as you want it."
Harry nodded and Remus turned toward the door. "Going to head down and finish my lunch. We're having steak for dinner, Molly's trying to be thoughtful," he said with a smile.
"Does it hurt, Remus?" Harry blurted without thinking, looking up and swallowing hard, green eyes wide.
Remus paused, mouth falling open for a moment. "The transformation," he stated.
Harry nodded.
Remus paused and stopped to lean heavily on the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed.
Harry bit his tongue, hands balling into fists as he looked down at his feet.
"I'm sorry Harry. Yes, it does."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Harry mumbled. "I knew that, I just... I don't know," he said, heaving a deep sigh and looking up to the ceiling.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Remus murmured. "Try not to think about it. There's nothing to do in the way of preventing it, and you've got another few weeks before that's something to worry about. Severus will be making you Wolfsbane, anyway. I believe a great deal of the pain is in losing the control, which you will never have to suffer."
Harry nodded. "Okay. Thanks. I think I really am going to try to nap," he said finally, standing up and moving into his bed with a sigh, not bothering to pull the blankets over himself.
Remus nodded. "Should I send Sirius up to get you for dinner?"
"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled, burying his face into the pillow.
