CHAPTER FOUR


A/N: Onwards...


"Harry?"

Harry jerked upright, gasping in pain as his side and shoulder ached in protest. He looked over dazedly to the source of the voice, seeing a concerned-looking Sirius hovering by his bed.

"Oh, hello Sirius," he mumbled, sinking back on to his bed with a yawn.

"Are you all right?" he asked, stepping forward and peering over at Harry's side where he had reopened his wound the other day.

"Yeah, just surprised me," he murmured, rubbing at his face with his left hand.

"Feeling any better?" he asked conversationally, setting a plate and a glass on the nightstand next to the werewolf.

Harry sat upright again as the smell assaulted him.

Steak. When had steak ever sounded so good?

He reached over, snatching up the plate and fork and stabbing the piece of meat aggressively, picking it up and taking a bite out of it instead of bothering with cutting it.

Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Taking that as a yes."

Harry swallowed. "Oh, yes! Thank you," he said, setting the plate back down reluctantly. "Sorry, I - was just hungry."

Sirius nodded and waved a hand dismissively. "Remus got like that sometimes," he said casually. "Especially when there was rare meat around."

"Rare?" Harry asked, looking down at his plate curiously. "Oh."

"Mrs. Weasley. She thought it wouldn't be a bad idea, with two werewolves in the house," Sirius said with a playful smile.

"Why are you the only one who can talk about it like that?" Harry asked curiously, reaching for his knife this time and carefully beginning to carve the meat into pieces.

Sirius laughed. "The others will come around, Harry. They don't think anything about it when it comes to Remus. It's just because it's a new thing with you."

"Why does that matter?" Harry asked, taking a bite.

"Lycanthropy affects everyone a little differently," Sirius answered. "For some people, especially those with a bad temper, it can make not the most pleasant of a combination."

"They think I'm going to go wrong because of it?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Just keeping an eye out, not because they think that."

Harry looked down at his lap, his mind flitting to the strange impulses he'd had over the summer. The odd dreams. His temper has worsened. That was before becoming a werewolf.

What would happen now?

"What if I do?" Harry croaked, poking at his food now, stomach clenching uncertainly. "What if I do go...bad?"

"Harry," Sirius said, extending a hand to the boy's good shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. "You are a good person. We all have both light, and dark, inside of us. The world isn't split up into good people...and Death Eaters. It's what we choose to act on that makes us who we are."

Harry sat still for a long moment before nodding slowly, and lifting his gaze from the plate. "Thanks, Sirius," he murmured.

Sirius stood, offering a small wink. "Your friends will come around, Harry. They just aren't sure what they're supposed to do for you right now. Give them time."

Harry nodded, taking another bite of his steak and chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed. "Thank you, Sirius. I mean it. Oh, and Sirius?"

"Hm?" Sirius asked, holding the door open with one hand.

"If... If the hearing doesn't go well, and I can't go back to Hogwarts...could I-?"

"Of course Harry," Sirius said with a look of surprise. "You can't honestly believe I'd send you back to live with those muggles, could you?"

Harry smiled, picking up the glass from the table. "'Course not. Just checking."

Sirius laughed, waving and walking out the door.

Harry finished his meal and stretched, pushing himself to his legs more steadily than before. His pulse throbbed in his ears for a moment before fading, and he sighed, stretching his legs and walking the length of the room to peer out the window.

Footsteps alerted him to someone approached outside the door, and he turned his head, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose.

Remus.

The door flew open to reveal the other werewolf, whose eyes were darting back and forth mischievously.

Harry arched both eyebrows in surprise.

"Is Sirius here?" Remus whispered, shutting the door behind him carefully.

"No. Remus, what's wrong?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Remus beamed, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a bar of chocolate. He quickly snapped it in half, handing half to the younger wizard.

"He thinks I have a problem," the ex-Professor said with a slight roll of his eyes. "I can't tell if it's a long-running joke or a legitimate concern, but he thinks that werewolves are prone to 'chocaholism', or whatever it is he calls it."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, unwrapping the golden Honeydukes foil and taking a small bite.

It seemed to practically melt in his mouth and over his taste buds and he sighed, sinking to the ground and immediately tearing off another bite. Then tension in his upper body that he hadn't even known had been there seemed to melt away.

"It really helps, doesn't it?" Remus asked insistently, leaning against the wall with a crooked grin and taking a small bite of his own.

"You know, it really does," Harry said with a sigh, dropping his head back against the wall behind him. "You always said that in third year, and it helped some, but I mean, it really helps."

"I know," Remus agreed vehemently.

Harry took a deep breath in. The sense of smell made the taste of things so much stronger. Who knew chocolate had such a lovely, lovely scent when you could smell it?

"He never lets me buy any," Remus grumbled, balling up the empty foil.

"Why?" Harry demanded, resisting the urge to lick his fingertips.

The door opened. "Harry, have you seen – Remus," Sirius's accusing voice startled both of the dazed werewolves to their feet.

"Hello Sirius," Remus said warmly.

"Hello," Harry reiterated, adding in a small wave for emphasis.

The black-haired wizard's gaze shifted to the foil crumpled on the ground next to the two and back to Remus accusingly.

"I told you not to give him any," Sirius snapped.

"No, Sirius, it really helps," Harry protested with a smile.


The next week for Harry was a blur of chocolate bars, hot chocolate, chocolate milk and chocolate syrup over everything that it could go over. Madam Pompfrey encouraged this, talking about how it might be interesting to do a study on werewolves' common chocolate addiction.

All right, so maybe it was an addiction. But she did say if it helped his stress levels go down, then he really should go for it.

So, he did.

Hermione thought this was brilliant, and had taken up the hobby of cooking chocolate desserts with Harry. Sirius had a fit every time he saw them in the kitchen, especially because Remus never failed to sneak his way in, but was ignored.

He didn't take well to being ignored, therefore sabotaged their cooking in any way he could. This was when Harry started arranging the cooking in the middle of the night.

Hermione seemed reluctant, but she nonetheless went along with it.

"Harry, no, it says to add just one half a cup of cacao powder," Hermione protested.

"Two isn't that much more," Harry protested, dumping it inside. Hermione grimaced.

"I'll just add more sugar," Harry said reassuringly. "And maybe chocolate ice cream on the side."

"Maybe Sirius is right Harry," she said hesitantly as he dumped extra sugar into the mix, a manic smile lighting up his face.

The clock read three fifty-four, and the sky outside was dark.

Harry turned a dark glare to the girl, stirring the ingredients with an inordinate amount of force. "Right about what?"

Hermione sighed, falling into the stool by the island. "Just that maybe you have a bit of a prob-"

"-Are you making cupcakes?" Remus asked sleepily as he stepped into the room in his pajamas, rubbing at his eye with his knuckle.

Harry beamed. "Yes! Tell Hermione extra cacao won't hurt."

Remus shuddered. "More is not always better," he said, peering over the concoction Harry had started. "But maybe if you covered it in some chocolate frosting or with a side of ice cream-"

Hermione grimaced.

"-That's what I said," Harry agreed cheerfully with a nod, tapping his whisk on the side of the bowl before raising it to his lips and taking a lick, setting it aside. "I'm making brownies tomorrow," he added as he filled the cupcake cups with the batter.

"Why don't you have Ron help you tomorrow?" Hermione suggested sleepily.

"I can do it," Remus said.

Harry gave a toothy grin. "Perfect!"

Remus smiled back, yawning and sitting in one of the stools next to the Gryffindor girl.

"You can go to bed Hermione," he said with a knowing smile.

She gave him a look of gratitude and got to her feet.

"But you won't get any of the cupcakes when they're fresh," Harry said in shock, turning to face her with an open-mouthed look.

"That's all right," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "You did most of the work Harry, trust me, you deserve them."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Well if you're sure. Good night, Hermione!" he said with a cheerful wave as she turned, nodding sleepily as she hopped up the steps.

Remus smiled wryly at him as Harry turned back to the stove, staring into it as he waited for the cupcakes to rise.

"Can't sleep?" the older werewolf guessed.

Harry stiffened. "Just sick of Sirius ruining my baking," he half-lied sheepishly, curling up his toes in his socks with a sigh.

"Is that so?" Remus mused quietly.

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line and ran his fingers down the hardwood floor underneath him.

"You know, I had nightmares for a year after it happened. Every night," Remus said softly.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "I've had nightmares before. It's not different," he said stiffly.

"It is if it's keeping you up," Remus murmured. "You didn't set an alarm to get up to make these, I'd guess. Something's waking you."

"There's nothing to do about it. I'll get over it. This makes me feel better. That's all there is to it," Harry snapped, eyes pinching closed.

"If you want to talk, you know I can listen."

"Well I don't want to talk, so drop it Lupin," he snapped, standing up from where he had sat on the ground and spinning around, green eyes flashing in the dark.

Remus smiled at him. "All right, Harry," he said tiredly, sighing and leaning on the island.

Harry shifted away, frowning. He swallowed, letting out a deep sigh and scrubbing his face with both hands.

"I think Hermione's getting sick of chocolate," he said finally, after a long pause.

Remus laughed. "I'm not," he said in a cheerful tone. Harry quirked a smile, turning to face him again.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," he said quickly.

"It's all right," he replied dismissively, eyes scanning the face of the younger wizard.

He was pale, and despite Molly's vicious feeding and the overdosage of chocolate, his face looked rather thin. Dark shadows painted the underside of his moderately bloodshot green eyes.

Remus looked away, fighting a grimace as he thought of himself when he was younger. It was difficult to imagine Harry starting to grey in just a few years.

"I'm scared Remus," Harry's voice startled him from his thoughts.

He turned his hazel gaze to the boy, nodding once to show he was listening. Harry wasn't looking at him however, instead his gaze was trained intently on the wall behind.

"I'm not really so scared, of the transformation," Harry murmured. "I've never really been afraid of getting hurt, that much." He paused, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

Remus nodded again. "Are you afraid of hurting people?"

Harry flinched, looking back to his former Professor's face. "Yes," he said hesitantly. "But, not really. I suppose, I'm sort of scared, that-" he broke off, hesitating and making a gesture to himself. "-I'm scared that I'm...going to - change. Not, not like change, physically, but...mentally. Me, I'm going to change."

"Everyone changes, Harry," Remus said gently.

Harry shook his head. "I was reading, I ordered some books on it. I asked Hermione which ones might be best, you know, ones that didn't paint it in such a bad light... There's people who went mad, Lupin. Where the wolf takes over even when they're not turned, and I just-"

"-Harry," Remus cut him off. "You are a strong person. Being, or, having, what we have, it doesn't change that. It doesn't change anything about us, unless we let it."

Harry shivered and leaned heavily on to the island, planting his face into his palms and massaging his temples.

"I've just been so off lately," he mumbled. "Snapping at everyone, growling at them. And before I even got bit, I was feeling a bit off. And now, I just – I don't want to go bad, Remus. The hearing is coming up just three days before my first transformation. I know I'll be taking the Wolfsbane but it's just – it's just so much. And I don't even sleep. I was having nightmares before – long dark hallways, locked doors that I can't open... The night Cedric died, and now, now the night that Piers, and I wake up when I do sleep, covered in a cold sweat and I can hardly breathe," he rambled. A breathy, humorless chuckle followed his words. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Sounds like you have quite a bit on your mind," Remus said calmly, his eyes drifting closed in thought.

Harry nodded miserably, sinking into a seat across from the other wizard with a deep exhale.

"Have you thought about trying a dreamless sleep potion?" Remus asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to have to take them."

"You won't have to. They aren't an addictive potion. But until these memories aren't quite so fresh in your mind, perhaps it would be easiest on you mentally to at least get away from them at night."

Harry swallowed, nodding. "I suppose, yeah. I don't like running from things."

"It's not running from your problems. It's giving your mind time to sort things out. If you're constantly fighting five things at once, every day and every night, you have no time for coping. And that is what you need most right now, Harry."

"I should have saved Piers," Harry blurted. "Cedric, and now him. I can't save anyone. How am I going to save the world from Voldemort when I repeatedly fail to save even one person?"

"Harry," Remus said in a sharp, commanding tone that caused the younger werewolf to jump, green eyes wide. "It is not your job to save the world. It is not your job to save anyone. Your only job is taking care of yourself. And you don't have to do that alone. You have me, Sirius, Ron, Hermione.. Your friends, your family. We are all here for you Harry. It is not your job to take care of other people or to save their lives."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, eyes still wide as he slowly shifted his gaze away.

"It doesn't always feel like that," he whispered.

"You have a lot of responsibilities for someone your age," Remus admitted, sighing. "Many I wish you would never have had to deal with - even as an adult. But I expect you to put your own health and happiness before those."

"People expect it of me," the black-haired wizard protested, flattening his hand against the marble island and staring down into the stone. "Everyone talks about it. They think I'm the Chosen One."

"I don't care what they say," Remus snapped. "You're only fifteen Harry."

"Voldemort's back," Harry protested, hands balling into fists.

"It's not up to you to stop him alone."

"But what if it is?" Harry was raising his voice now, green eyes flashing in the dark. "What if they're right, and I've got no choice?"

He softened his volume as he remembered most occupants of the house were asleep. "And if they are, and I can't do it, what good am I? I'm-"

"-You're Harry Potter, the loudest, most angst-ridden teenage wizard ever to set foot in the noble house of Black," Sirius's voice cut through the dark, causing both werewolves to jump as he stepped into the kitchen from the archway.

Remus smiled softly as Sirius slid into the seat next to him and draped an arm around his shoulders, hugging the werewolf against him momentarily.

Harry crossed his arms on the table, proceeding to bury his face in them.

"You're my godson Harry," Sirius continued in a softer tone. "And you're very dear to a lot of people. I don't care if you're the 'Chosen One'. Remus couldn't give a damn if he tried.

"Your father and mother gave their lives so you could live Harry," Sirius said sternly. "Stop treating your life as if it were an expendable part of an elaborate game. We care about you, for who you are. I believe you're using Voldemort as an escape from your real worries."

"My real worries?" Harry spluttered in protest, raising his head and narrowing his eyes.

Remus nodded slowly. "It's normal to have regular concerns during a war, Harry. Avoiding them helps no one."

"Neither of you were there to see him return," Harry snarled. "You have no idea what that's like."

Sirius narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth and Remus grabbed his wrist sharply, eyes narrowing as he shook his head.

"Would you like to tell us about it, Harry?" Remus asked gently.

Harry looked away, shaking his head slowly.

"It's just so much," he said finally, gritting his teeth. "I've never really complained, but this, all of it, it's just so...much."

"What can we do to help?" Sirius asked, pulling his arms away from Remus and lacing them together in front of him on the table, leaning forward.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, I don't need - I don't need help, I just," Harry stumbled over his words and ran a hand through his hair, flexing his jaw and sighing. "I just, I need, I-I don't know."

Harry glanced between the two of them, their looks of interested concern setting him on edge. He wasn't sure if it was just because he'd never experienced it, but having someone staring him down like that...in a concerned, determined, downright parental way...

It wasn't something he'd ever imagined he would be around. Nor had he thought it would be quite so stressful to have someone care about you.

Sirius reached into his robe pockets, plucking out a small, clear vial of a violet liquid and tossing it. It spiraled through the air, and Harry's Seeker instincts kicked in as his hand shot up, closing around the vial.

He brought it down to eye-level, frowning at it in bemusement.

"Dreamless sleep potion. Take some, get to bed," Sirius said.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the oven almost nervously, and Sirius's eyes widened very suddenly.

"What are you cooking?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" Remus chirped, smiling. "Go back to bed, thank you Sirius," he said warmly. "I've got it from here. Harry might have some some...werewolf questions for me."

Sirius sent him an arched look. "I'm not allowed to be around for 'werewolf questions'?"

"No, no, definitely not. Very private. Indeed, very private stuff. Secrets of the trade and what have you."

Sirius's lips threatened to quirk up into a smile as he glared accusingly down at the sleepy, sandy-haired werewolf.

"I'm going to find every piece of chocolate in this house and set it on fire in the backyard tomorrow morning," he said threateningly as he turned toward the stairs.

"You wouldn't!" Harry gasped in horror, frowning in genuine sadness.

"He would," Remus said miserably.

Sirius smirked and headed rather cheerfully up the flight of steps.

The werewolves listened until they heard the door latch before they both launched to their feet.

"He didn't mean that, did he?"

"Oh, he did," Remus said gravely. "Show me your stashes. I know where to hide them. Some places he'll never look."


Harry woke slowly, green eyes cracking open.

He swallowed, stretching his arms slowly up above his head and listening to his back give a pleasant crack.

"Your shoulder's working again," Remus's voice made him start. He blinked, looking around. "That's good."

Oh, right. He'd been in the living room, talking to Remus and eating his cupcakes and some chocolate that wouldn't fit into the hiding place, and then...

"I fell asleep," Harry said sadly. "I'm sorry."

Remus laughed from where he stood, clearly having just woken himself if his tousled hair was anything to go by. "Don't apologize," he said dismissively.

"Yeah, the shoulder," Harry said distractedly, reaching up a hand to touch the bandages. "Madam Pompfrey's great."

Remus smiled fondly, picking up a crumpled cupcake wrapper as he walked toward the kitchen. "Yeah, she is," he said warmly.

"What's for breakfast?" Harry asked eagerly, hopping up to his feet and scraping some dried chocolate off the corner of his lips.

"I don't know, what do you want?" Remus asked curiously, yawning as he walked in the archway to the kitchen.

"Food?" Harry offered casually. He drew in a deep breath. The house was devoid of its normal buzz of life, and Harry frowned very suddenly.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

Remus paused, tilting his head as he strained his more practiced ears. "Ron, Molly and Hermione are upstairs asleep. The Order members are on missions," he said, nodding.

Harry nodded, tilting his head and sucking in a deep breath as he tried to see how Remus had deduced that.

A strange scent assaulted him and he paused, reeling back for a moment, eyes wide.

It was heavy with magic and a hint of ash. He hadn't known magic had a smell - he had assumed if it did, it would have hit him by now - but there was no other name for this scent.

"Dumbledore," Remus said in surprise. He straightened up and headed back into the sitting room, face lit with curiosity.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry cried in surprise when he peered in the room.

The man sat at the end of the table in a long, purple robes and was studying some strange candy in wrapper slowly. He looked up when they entered with a smile.

"Hello, Harry," he greeted cheerfully.

Harry smiled at first before it morphed into a look of anger. "You-"

Remus extended a hand to the boy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, shaking his head.

"I suspect you are very angry with me, Harry," Dumbledore said to both of their surprise. The old wizard nodded to himself. "Yes, and as you should be."

"I - what?" Harry asked finally, frowning.

Remus cleared his throat and walked the length of the room toward the staircase. "I'll be back in just a moment," he said to Harry who watched him, puzzled.

Harry turned his glare back to the old Headmaster, frowning at him in bemusement.

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore suggested gently. Harry nodded slowly and slid into a seat across from the man.

"You are not wearing your glasses," the wizard pointed out casually.

Harry reached up to touch the bridge of his nose, expression softening for a moment in surprise.

"I don't need them," he responded finally.

"Ah, but of course," the wizard said.

"Ever since I got attacked it's been better actually," Harry said bluntly. The old wizard looked as if he might wince before nodding slowly.

"That is common. Lemondrop?" He extended in his fingertips a brightly wrapped yellow candy. Its scent was citrusy and sweet as it twirled through the air and Harry shook his head.

"No, thank you."

"As you may know Harry, you have a hearing for underage magic this week," Dumbledore continued.

Harry felt his face go white. "How many?"

Dumbledore frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in clear bemusement.

"How many days?" Harry whispered, trying to beat the curling fear inside of him into submission.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, a slight frown touching his features. "Four days, until your hearing."

"Seven days," Harry mumbled miserably, staring down at the countertop. Until my transformation.

"Forgive me, Harry, I did not intend to bring such a thing up. Nor did I hope it would be so close to such a sensitive time."

Harry clenched his hands into fist and gritted his teeth, infuriated at the anxious fear. He'd fought Voldemort three times. This was nothing. He'd been cruicoed. He knew what pain was. This was nothing.

"Why were you having people watch me?" Harry demanded, not looking up from the table.

"I was afraid for you. I was hoping they could keep an eye on you, make sure nothing happened."

"That did a us a fat load of good, didn't it? Did you ever think maybe just moving me away from a place I was apparently so vulnerable might be a good idea?" he spat.

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "I admit that what has happened is entirely my fault," he spoke, his voice heavy with exhaustion and guilt. "I was being foolish, and attempting to protect you. I failed. It is not one of my strong points - it has never been. I rarely know what is best for people, especially you, it would seem. Forgive me, Harry."

Harry looked up, the fear finally draining from his features and being replaced with surprise as he looked into the - now, as Harry could see, very clearly well over a hundred year old - wizard's eyes.

"It isn't your fault," Harry protested. "That wasn't what I was trying to say. I just meant, maybe, if you hadn't kept me so in the dark, if I had known, I could have-"

"-I do not believe Harry that, had you known that young Piers was out there to fend for himself, you would have acted in any other way. It is in your nature to help people. It is something that comes very instinctively to you. In that, we are very different."

Harry frowned, guilt balling up inside him. In truth, even if he had known it was Fenrir out there, waiting for Harry just so he could turn him.. He couldn't see himself having not gone, all the same. Perhaps he would have been more cautious, but the odds of him avoiding the situation were still null.

"It isn't your fault. Like you said, it's...who I am," Harry said angrily. "It - it isn't anyone's fault, what happened," he finished lamely.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "It is very kind of you Harry, to attempt to soothe the guilt of an old man. I am afraid you were right in your first feelings however - in that this is indeed, my fault. Now, let us not focus on the past."

Harry glared at him, wanting to point out that if he was blaming himself, he was focusing on the past, but held his tongue.

"At the hearing, I suspect Fudge and his allies will be very hostile. They do not like to hear the truth Harry, and will attempt to attack it at the source. You cannot give them any weapons to use against us."

Harry nodded. "Madam Pompfrey has already told me, that everyone could be arrested, if they found out you'd been keeping me, a secret."

Dumbledore nodded. "Hiding lycanthropy is indeed a very grave crime in the eyes of the Ministry. It will not come up in your trial."

Harry nodded.

"Now," Dumbledore said. "All I ask of you, is that you speak only when spoken to. Do not argue. They are particularly good at twisting your words. The confirmed story will be that you were attacked by Dementors."

"Dementors?" Harry asked.

He nodded. "We will not mention feral dogs, or wolves. Though this may seem easiest at first, the attack was made on the full moon. It does not take a very great mind to take this knowledge to the next step and suggest that perhaps, it was a werewolf."

"Why would I attack a Dementor with those spells?" Harry asked with a frown.

Dumbledore smiled. "You have only the knowledge of a fourth year student, Harry. The Patronus is a very advanced spell. It has not been taught to you yet, and as Fudge likes to suggest - you are utterly ordinary, so why would you know the specific spell to ward off Dementors? It is also easy to assume that you would see Voldemort when being attacked, thus inciting your offensive spells. Dementors force us to relive our worst memories."

Harry nodded slowly, scuffing his foot against the floor. "All right, okay. The story is that, painfully ordinary Harry Potter, was attacked by a Dementor, and reacted defensively."

Dumbledore nodded. "This is also useful because we will not be asked to bring in any witnesses. Muggles cannot see Dementors, and you were in a heavily populated muggle suburb."

"Right," Harry said with a nod. "Right, okay, got it. Ordinary, Dementors, saw Voldemort."

Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond, an unfamiliar, horned owl flew in the window, dropping an official-looking letter before Harry.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Your hearing has moved time and date.

Please make yourself available at 11:00AM, this morning.

Many apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.

Warm regards, Mathilda Hopkins.