Thank you to everyone who reviewed!
I've got sunburn on my arms so bad it hurts to move my wrists, but I'm back. If any of you ever get to drive an ATV, make sure you either wear long sleeves or put tons of sunscreen on your arms and the backs of your hands.
Anyways, I've got the next chapter here for you, hope you enjoy it. I know I haven't responded to all of the reviews from last chapter, but I will try to do so over the next couple days.
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Harry awoke later that night to a knocking on the door of his room, and moved into a startled sitting position with a bleary and confused "Wha?"
"Harry? Dinner's ready sweetheart." He blinked at the door, bewildered for a moment before his senses came back to him.
"I'll be right down!"
"Okay, sweetie." There was the sound of footsteps leading away, and he rubbed at his face. Something moved in his hair, and he reached a hand up, panicked before they touched something smooth, which he pulled away to reveal his newly bought snake. Mettle? Metty? No, Metis. He nodded to himself; that sounded right. She hissed sleepily at him and he set her down on his pillow.
"Stay here." She mumbled something that could have been agreement or a curse, and he climbed out of the bed and stretched. He had slept with the glamour on, so after straightening his clothes and taking off his robe and throwing on the bed, he was ready to go. Oddball crawled out of his robe and hopped after him and he stared at the red puffball with bewilderment. Had he slept with the creature in his pocket? How had he not squished him?
Oddball squeaked excitedly and bumped against his leg, attempting, and failing, to climb him. He chuckled, and, on a whim, picked up the Puff and set it up on top of his head. The little creature cooed happily and spun in a circle before settling down comfortably with a sound that, in words, would be 'chuff'. He grinned at its' antics, and headed downstairs.
Those in the kitchen stared at the little creature on his head when he walked in, and he shrugged. They seemed to take that as answer enough, and Moody and Dad returned to the conversation they had been in previously; something to do with the ministry, while Remus continued to stare at him and Mum bustled about the kitchen fretfully as she tried to make everything perfect. He sat down and shifted uncomfortably; Remus' gaze making him feel awkward.
"Here you go dear." Mum settled a plate in front of him with a pot pie without a top. He hadn't seen it made that way before, and would have questioned it except that the smell suddenly hit nose, and all other thoughts went quickly out the door. The scent was divine, and he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He couldn't help thinking that Voldemort would turn his whole life around and become a saint if he ever had so much as a bite of Molly Weasley's cooking. It helped that he was still a teenager, and prone to bouts of hunger as he grew. Thoughts of Remus' staring or anything else were forgotten in the heaven that is a proper homemade meal.
He was nearly done when he heard chuckling, and looked up to see the adults laughing at him. He flushed with embarrassment and ducked his head.
"Slow down, boy. It's not gonna jump off yer plate." Moody chuckled.
"You never know." Dad winked at him, and he looked away, ashamed; eating the last few bites much more slowly.
"Oh stop teasing him. It's not his fault he's a growing boy. At least he has table manners." Mum admonished, eyeing Moody pointedly; who looked almost mutinous.
"I've got table manners."
"Table manners of a Troll, maybe." Harry couldn't help but laugh with the others at the Auror's expense as the old man grumbled in false irritation; his own embarrassment already forgotten.
The rest of the meal passed in a similar manner, with everyone teasing and joking; even Remus joined in eventually. The meal wasn't nearly so loud as a dinner at the Burrow, but it was nice, and full of laughter, and Harry felt very much like a part of a family. He was almost sad when it ended, and everyone started to wander away; Moody off to do who knows what, Dad back to the Burrow to look after his other children, and Remus up to his own room in Grimmauld.
Only Harry and Mum remained, to clean up the kitchen. They worked in silence, Harry taking care of the dishes while the woman looked after everything else. When they were done, she kissed him on the cheek and told him she would be in the living room with a book if he needed her, and Harry went back up to his room.
He stopped outside the door, and froze, suddenly realizing why the location of the room was so familiar. It had been Sirius' room, before. He had never gone in it before, though he had seen inside through an open door once, and at the time it had looked like it hadn't been changed or touched since his time before Azkaban; the inside messy with posters and pictures covering the walls, and various devices for pranking scattered about.
He opened the door now, and something in him ached painfully when he looked around. He hadn't really done so before; tired as he was. The room was empty and bare; everything of Sirius' likely having been taken elsewhere. The blue walls held no posters, and there was nothing in the room itself but the bed, a dresser, a desk, a window, four walls and the floor and ceiling. He closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. Oddball scratched at the top of his head and made a sad noise.
"I'm okay." He told it, never questioning that Oddball could understand him, even though Pygmy Puffs weren't supposed to have a high intelligence level. Dogs could feel their owner's emotions, and learn what certain words and phrases meant, why couldn't this little creature do the same? "I'll be alright." He turned back down the stairs, his good mood from dinner now long gone, and went to the living room. Mum looked up just after he entered, sitting in a ragged green armchair with what looked like a cooking book, if the picture on the cover was anything to go by. Something in his face must have shown his distress, because her own face turned worried and she stood; book forgotten on the arm of the chair.
"What's the matter dear?"
"Where's Sirius' stuff?" His voice cracked in the middle and he breathed in deeper. She watched him a moment, seeming to debate with herself, and sighed.
"We put it all in a trunk in the attic. Dumbledore thought it might be better for you to not have too many reminders around." Her voice was soft, gentle, and while he felt sharp anger rolling inside of him like a ball of needles, he directed it only at the headmaster; not able to be mad at this woman. He nodded sharply, teeth gritted, and turned back up the stairs, hearing her sigh behind him.
Just because he couldn't think of the man as his father didn't mean he hadn't loved Sirius, and the headmaster should have spoken to him first before deciding what was and wasn't best for him. He had to concentrate to not stomp as he passed through the hallway and to the next set of stairs. There was a third floor before the attic which contained only four rooms as opposed to the previous floor's six, and was preceded by a door at the end of the third floor hallway. Scratching noises came from one of the rooms but he ignored them, having eyes only for the door at the end of the hall.
It let loose a great deal of dust as he opened it, making him cough and wave a hand around, and when it settled he found himself facing a set of much more rickety and narrow steps than the others in the house. His shoulders touched the walls almost constantly as he ascended, and nearly every step gave a groan or a creak of some sort. It was dark at the top, and he could just barely make out a hanging chain, that, when pulled, filled the dusty old space with dull yellow light. There was a layer of dust on the floor that was broken by a single set of footprints and drag marks. The footprints lead into and out of the attic, while the drag marks led over to an old, ornate trunk that was larger than Harry's school one.
He stood there and stared at it for over a minute, breathing hard. Eventually he calmed, and moved over to it. He reached a hand out, and shakily ran it across the top. There was a bronze plaque at the front, near the latch; Sirius Black III engraved into it in elegant script. He reached a hand to open it and then stopped and shook. He sat down in front of it, no care at all for the dusty floor, and put his head in his hands.
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Harry groaned, and pushed himself up. His back ached terribly and something tickled his nose; making him sneeze. He blinked around himself, and straightened his false glasses on his face. He stretched, his back aching even after being cracked, and found that he had fallen asleep in the attic. His clothes were covered in dust and dirt, and he sighed, sitting cross-legged. Oddball nudged his leg with a questioning coo, and he gathered the red ball of fluff into his arms. He pet the creature, and looked carefully on the trunk he had passed out in front of. The tiny attic window showed darkness outside, and he wasn't sure how long he had been out, though the utter silence of the house suggested that it was very late.
He stood up, stretching again. His back cracked again a bit, though it still didn't ease the pain of it, and he grumbled. It seemed he would just have to deal with that for awhile. He sighed tiredly, and touched the trunk. Where the rest of the attic was particularly dusty, the trunk was spotless. He shuddered and turned away. He would be in Grimmauld for the whole week, and the trunk wasn't going anywhere. It was late now, and he could always come back up after some proper rest.
His stomach grumbled as he slipped down the attic steps, going slowly so as not to make them creak too much. He shut the door behind him and opted for the kitchen rather than his, no, Sirius' room. He kept silent as he slipped through the house; not wanting to wake anyone up. He cringed with every floorboard or stair that made a noise, and was extra careful when sneaking by Mrs. Black's portrait. If he woke her up, she'd wake everyone up. He slipped into the kitchen backwards, and closed the door with a sigh and little more than a 'pop' as it closed.
"What're you doin' up?" Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, and spun quickly around to find Moody sitting at the kitchen table with what looked like a glass of liqueur; if the half-empty bottle next to it was anything to go by. Both the man's eyes, the normal and the magical, were fixed on Harry, and the only light in the room was a single candle on the table that cast strange shadows over the Auror's heavily scarred visage. Harry gulped, realizing that his plan to avoid being alone with the man seemed to have failed spectacularly.
"I- I was hungry." Moody nodded towards the cabinet.
"There's some bread under stasis, and water, too, I think. Glasses w'll be up there." He pointed towards a cabinet above the other, and Harry moved carefully over to them, body tensed with nerves that only grew worse once his back was to the man. No attack or anything else came as Harry gathered up a glass of water, some bread, and even an apple he had found in the back, and he settled himself in at the table across from the old Auror.
He ate in silence, acutely aware of the other's eyes on him but refusing to look up. The sound of him chewing seemed unreasonably loud in the silence, and the man didn't say a word until after he was almost halfway done.
"I can make a guess or two as ta how ye' came to look the way ye' do." Harry's eyes snapped up to him. "I've seen something similar a time or two. People who rush through trying to become an animagus and forget to take the proper precautions." Harry looked back down, setting the bit of bread in his hand back on the plate; no longer so hungry. "That said, I've never seen anyone who ended up lookin' quite the way ye' do now." Harry's hands began shaking, fear and dread like beasts in his stomach, as he grew acutely aware of the fact that this man was an Auror, retired or not. "Calm down, lad. I ain't gonna turn ye' in." The teen's eyes snapped back up, meeting the Auror's single blue one, but he could detect no trick there.
Moody's inner animal was a scarred up old tiger in a ghostly shade of grey, and it had made no movement or sound from its' place at the Auror's feet aside from the flicking of its' tail. The beast had a poker face just as great as the man it belonged to, and looked rather calm. The sight of it calmed him somewhat, but nerves still twisted unpleasantly inside him.
"Here." Moody filled his glass halfway and pushed it along the table towards Harry, the sound filling the room. Harry stared at the clear liquid, not unfamiliar with alcohol; nights in the dorms after a Quidditch game being fully able to attest to that fact. Moody gestured a 'go ahead' signal with his hand, and Harry picked it up. It wasn't as strong as firewhiskey. It didn't burn as sharply when it went down, for which he was thankful, and there was an undertone of something like peppermint or some similar thing. Harry hummed, pleased with it.
"What is this?"
"Rumple Minze. It's a muggle liquor from Germany." Harry nodded, and sipped at it, the other getting up to get another glass. "Calms yer' nerves, don't it, lad?"
"A little."
"Good." The old man sat back down with a grunt, and poured a glass for himself. "A lot of people, don't know it, but there are a lot more kinds o' magic in the world that jus' dark and light. Fer' instance, a lot o' the time, what we call dark, is really black. Do' ye know the difference between dark and black?" Harry shook his head and the man hummed. "Well, dark magic, unlike light magic, is just magic that requires a price. Something like, a vial of human blood in exchange for healing a nasty wound, or a bit of energy for makin' a fire or the the like. Dark magic, it's volatile. Ye' can only guide it, not control it outright, cuz it's wild. Wild like a wolf, or the weather, or the sea. It might do what ye' want it to, but only it it wants to, too. Ye' can't ever make dark magic do anythin' it don't wanna do. That's why people are so scared o' dark creatures. They'll always do what they want. They'll go where they want, eat what they want, and mate what they want. If a dark creature decides it's gonna live in a forest, and doesn't wanna share it's home, and a wizard tries to move in, it's not gonna stand for it. It's gonna attack em' and drive em' out. Tha's why wizards w'll say dark creatures are dangerous, cuz they are, but only when ye' don't respect 'em." Harry nodded, knowing some of this from the research he had done with Sirius last summer.
"A- and black magic?" Moody eyed him.
"Black magic, is just evil. It's cold and vicious an' merciless. It's the stuff of nightmares and made up of anger and horror and all sorts of nasty things in the world. It's the sort of stuff that asks for death or rape or torture in exchange for usin' it, and even then, it always turns on the person bargaining with it. It belongs to demons and monsters, and ye' can't get away with messin' about with those sorts o' things." Harry gulped, and set his glass down; now empty. Moody poured more into it, and the teen mumbled out a thanks. "That's why people mix em' up see. Cuz they they think that somethin' that needs pain or torture to do it, can't be all that different than somethin' what just needs blood. There's other things too, what get mixed in and called 'dark' when they're not even dark or black."
"Like what?"
"Like the killin' curse." At Harry's disbelieving face, the Auror chuckled. "It's true. Killin' curse is a neutral spell, a grey spell, if ye' will. Man who invented it did it so he'd have a humanitary way to kill cattle and pigs and the like for food without havin' to gut 'em. Wasn't until some bastard thought to use it on other people that they made it illegal and called it 'dark'." Harry bit his lip.
"Why are you telling me all this?" Moody stared intently at him.
"Because, I want ye' to know that I know the difference between something that's dark, and something that's evil. The law, and people, ain't always right, and I'm not an Auror anymore." Moody sat back in his chair. "I'm no fool, boy. I know when trouble is brewin'. I don't know what ye' got planned, but I'll be here for ye' if ye' need me to be." Harry fidgeted.
"Even if that meant going against Dumbledore?"
Moody stared at him with a sharp gaze. "Even if." Harry watched the man for a minute, and nodded. The Auror grinned, the expression seeming so misplaced on his scarred face, and raised his glass. "To havin' people in yer' corner." Harry clinked his glass against the other's and downed it with a smile.
It was nice to have people on his side.
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The next morning, when Harry awoke to a book on defensive spells next to his pillow, a note on top saying that Moody expected him to master them all by the next summer, he nearly changed his mind. He glared at the man when he came down for breakfast, but was only offered a bright, gnarled smile in response that only made his mood darken further. He had never been a morning person.
"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Mum's voice was almost wary, careful, and he was confused as to why for a moment until memories of the day before returned to him and he flushed with shame. He had been rather rude to her, in his anger towards the headmaster.
"I'm feeling much better Mum." He couldn't bring himself to apologize, but the woman smiled anyways. Her own inner animal showed no signs of anger, so he figured it was genuine. He had hardly ever noticed the creature previously; the little red mouse being so at odds with her bounding and loud personality that he still couldn't understand how it could possibly represent her as a person. Dad's animal, which he also rarely took notice of, was, by comparison, a golden cat, that, if solid, would likely be a Russian blue or some similar breed. It was such a strange match up, not just in the animals to the personalities, but also in the animals to their relationship with one another, that he tended to ignore the intangible creatures entirely, if only because it was so difficult for him to find any correlation between animal and person. With most other people it seemed fairly straightforward, so the odd ones were utterly confounding to the teen.
He had, at one point, considered if the animals had any connection to family; as in family members having similar animals. This theory had been utterly abandoned after Christmas the previous year, when he had been in a house with all but two of the Weasley family. Dad was cat, Mum a mouse, Bill a wolf, George a hyena, Fred a fox, Ron a dog, and Ginny a horse of all things. He hadn't yet met Charlie or seen Percy since gaining this ability, but the animals currently shown to him ranged from equine, to vulpine, to canine, to feline, to rodent. On the other hand, all three Malfoy's were cats of various forms. He had seen Mrs. Malfoy the previous year in passing while school shopping, and the woman's animal had been a lanky cougar. He knew that Draco was a kneazle, and when he had seen Lucius Malfoy during that debacle at the ministry, the man had been tailed by what he thought was a particularly large bobcat.
He wondered if a person's animal changed as they grew up and thus had something to do with the way they were raised, or if a person's inner creature was determined at birth. He hadn't come across any young children to test this thought, though he would look into the first years from last year and see if any of their animals had changed at all this year. He pushed the thoughts away with a shake of his head and sat down, Mum having gone back to the stove to fiddle with breakfast. He would need to give her a proper apology later when there wasn't a lump in his throat and he could trust himself not to rant about the headmaster, but the matter could wait for the time being.
Remus didn't look to be down yet, for which he was grateful. He had made his choice about family, choosing to stick with what he knew and let sleeping dogs lie, and while he would like very much to include Remus in his little impromptu family, he wasn't sure how to explain himself without offending the werewolf. He considered talking to Severus about it, but after a moment of thought abandoned the idea. Severus might be willing to try and play nice with Remus, but he still avoided the other when possible, and it wouldn't be the best idea to turn to him with problems regarding him. It would be best just to either handle it on his own or see if either of the twins had an idea of what to do.
"Here you go, Harry. Eat up." Thoughts of all else were set aside in the face of breakfast, and Harry dug in with great joy. The rest of the world could wait until his stomach was full.
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Ron, Ginny and Hermione arrived after breakfast alongside Dad, and Harry retreated upstairs to Sirius' room to read. He wondered for a moment as to why exactly Hermione was here, since he and the brainy witch weren't really friends anymore, before recalling that she was dating Ron. It didn't matter really. Ron had given him a guilty look when they had arrived, eyeing his new scar and looking as though he wanted to say something, but Harry had pointedly ignored him. It might be rather childish, but at the moment he didn't care if the other teen wanted to apologize or try and make up for what he had done. The wound left by what was, firmly in Harry's mind, his betrayal, was still too fresh for him to be willing to open it yet.
So instead he settled himself on Sirius' bed with the book on European law and tried to find the section on Lordship and emancipation. It proved to be as dull a read as he had thought, but he carried on with determination, and jotted down everything he felt he needed to recall in a notebook; one of many he had bought from a convenience store a couple blocks from Privet Drive. The book, while dull, was informative, and he didn't regret its' purchase even as he groaned at the research. He hated studying anything that didn't have to do with something interesting, like runes, or Quidditch, or dragons or something.
By the time he stopped, stretching in discomfort from having sat in one position so long, he was surprised from a look at the clock that he had been into it for nearly three hours, and it was almost time for lunch. His stomach groaned at that knowledge, and he wondered when he had apparently lost the ability to keep track of when he was hungry. He scratched Oddball under the chin and put the furry creature back up on his head before leaving the room; Metis latching onto him before he could and curling into place around his wrist in silence. He was too tired to bother trying to make her stay, though she had been much calmer and more amicable since he had taken her from the store.
His trip downstairs showed that the kitchen was empty, so he figured it likely wasn't as close to lunch as he had first thought, and he grabbed an apple to stave off the hunger. He threw it from hand to hand as he left the kitchen, intending to go back to the room and debating on whether he should continue where he had left off or take a break and delve into something more interesting, like runes.
"Harry?" He looked up to find Ron blocking his path to the stairs and his expression darkened. The other teen looked from his face to Oddball, lip twitching a moment, and then back, any amusement gone at the sight of Harry's quickly forming scowl. "I... Um... Can I talk to you?"
"No." The redhead spluttered, and then his face began reddening; a reaction Harry was well familiar with.
"Why not?" He snapped.
"Because I don't want to hear anything you have to say." He pushed past him to go back up the stairs. He knew he was being unreasonable, and perhaps even petty, but his anger at the other was still too fresh for him to really care. Ron snorted.
"Should of known. You're just as much of a prat as Malfoy now. That snake give you lessons on how to be a ponce?!" Anger flared sharp and bright through his mind like a hot blade, but he ignored it and Ron, knowing he would only make matters worse if he rose to the bait. He made his way up the stairs and had reached the fourth step or so when Ron spoke again. "Can't even say anything can you? Nothin' but a damned coward, no different than Black, hiding in the damn house instead of helping the Ord-."
With a snarl he had spun around and Ron was slammed up against the wall before the redhead had even seen him move. He made a bang as Harry pinned him, and the curtains covering Mrs. Black down the hall flew open.
"FILTH! HORRID BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY HOUSE-" He ignored her screeching; putting his mouth close to Ron's ear so the other could hear him.
"Don't you dare, ever, insult Sirius," His voice lowered. "Or I. Will. Kill. You." Fury burned through his heart, fueled by grief and pain and Ron paled rapidly, looking so white that his freckles stood out far more and made him look strange and sickly. Harry growled at him, and dropped the teen just as Mum, Remus, and Moody finally came running in. He could hear more footsteps upstairs, so the others were likely coming as well.
Moody took one look at him, then at Ron, and snorted. Mum ran to her biological son, slumped on the floor as he was to make sure he was alright. Remus looked rapidly back and forth between the two of them and down the hall towards the screaming portrait; as though he didn't know what to do. Harry walked away from them, towards the portrait. He stood in front of her, the woman screaming out obscenities at him and glared. He slammed a hand into the painting and the lady stopped, stumbling back from the front of the frame as though she had really been struck.
"Shut up, or I'll set your frame on fire." She glared out at him, but didn't begin screaming again at least. He stared her down, and then pulled the curtains shut, not having to fight with them as the portrait wasn't working to keep them open like she normally would. He turned back to the others and headed up the stairs, brushing past the girls (who had indeed come looking to hear what the fuss was about) as he did so. Everyone watched him go without a word, not wanting to incite his temper further.
He found himself passing by Sirius' room and going up further; up to the attic.
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The trunk proved to be filled with everything that had been in Sirius' room, plus some other things that Harry hadn't seen, and assumed had been in the trunk to begin with, or hidden away in drawers. All of the posters of Quidditch and half-naked muggle women that had once adorned his walls had been rolled neatly up and stacked right on top. Beneath them were the various devices and prank items that had once littered the dresser, desk and floor, and beneath that were books, and clothing. The books were relatively few in number, and consisted of things Harry might have expected from the man; like a book on interesting potions, and one on long-lasting transfiguration. There was also a ledger, that appeared to be a list of all the pranks and their effects that the Marauders had done while at Hogwarts; who came up with them, how they did them, what happened, whether or not they were caught, and if they were, what punishment they were given as a result.
It was filled with four different sets of writing, each of the marauders having taken turns recording their exploits. This Harry pulled close, along with the other two books, and decided to keep. He wasn't really one for pranking, but the ledger held so much knowledge about the Marauders, and it had sentimental value. The other books might have something helpful in them that he could use at some point, even if not for a prank.
Many of the various devices looked warped or broken, but of the few that were not, he found what looked like, and proved to be, an old telescope, and a little thing that twisted about like a globe without the Earth, and made music. The sounds that came from it sounded like classical music, from pianos and violins, and the like, and, while not really fitting in with most of the other things, was nice. He put these two to the side, leaving most of the others to return to the trunk. He would have left the clothes be entirely, except for the jacket that sat atop them all.
It was soft brown leather, roughened in places, with patches having been sown into the elbows, one shoulder, and a pocket because of all the wear-and-tear. He recognized it, barely recalling a time he had seen Sirius not wearing the thing, and pulled it out of the old trunk gingerly. He smelled it, and choked back a sob. It smelled like wood, and smoke, and sweat, and something unique. It smelled like Sirius. He pressed his face against it and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to fight back the tears.
After several moments, and a great internal debate, he unfolded it gently, and pulled it on. It was big on him, the shoulders a bit too wide, and the sleeves a little too long. The bottom went past his hips, where it had been above Sirius' hips, and he wondered to himself. Had Sirius really been so much bigger than him? He smiled bitterly, and looked down.
"He would have wanted you to have it." He jumped, and found Remus standing in the stairway. The man walked over to him, and plopped down next to him on the floor, a puff of dust raising up as a result. Harry chuckled while the werewolf coughed. The older of the two pulled out his wand and vanished the dust around them. "We never did get around to cleaning the attic." He sighed, and put his wand away. Harry looked away from him, fingering the sleeve of the jacket. "I can spell it for you, so it'll be your size. I'm sure I could even charm it to grow with you."
"No thanks. I like it the way it is." Remus smiled sadly, and nodded, looking towards the other things, and the ledger in Harry's lap.
"I thought he might have kept that." He pointed to the book. "May I?" Harry nodded and handed it over. The man opened it, and leafed through it, smiling. He handed it back after a minute, without a word, and Harry took it. "Those were good years. At least in the beginning."
"Just the beginning?"
"Well no, but they were more carefree then. The war started picking up and becoming more of a problem in our fourth year, so, after that, it wasn't the same. We still had fun, but it was always tempered with worry and what not about Voldemort." Harry nodded.
"I can understand that." Harry looked down, and Remus' smile faded. They were quiet for a few minutes; the silence growing suddenly awkward. Harry bit his lip. "He told you, didn't he?"
"About the potion?" Harry nodded. "Yea. He didn't want to believe it. Not at first."
"Did something... What changed his mind?"
"He asked me to go to Gringotts for him." At Harry's puzzled expression, he elaborated. "There's a tapestry in one of the Black vaults with a self-updating family tree. They used to use it to update the one downstairs. He wanted me to check if your name was on it, and it was." Harry nodded, and a thought occurred to him, making him nervous.
"My mom's name too?" Remus shook his head.
"No. The tapestry is only spelled to show biological relations, and married couples. Lily was married to James, not Sirius, so her name isn't on it." Harry relaxed.
"Did he... Did he say... How..?" Remus shook his head.
"Sirius had no memory of being with your mum. He couldn't recall it. There were a lot of blanks in his memory though, from his time in Azkaban, so there's no way of knowing. I keep trying to think of when it could have happened, but nothing comes to mind. As far as I know they were never alone together, and Lily never seemed like the type to cheat." Harry sighed. At least Remus didn't know about his mother. That was a can of worms he didn't want to have to open just yet.
"I have so many questions, and it just seems like I'm never any closer to answering them, even when I find out more. I just end up with more questions." Remus smiled faintly.
"I know how you feel. I don't understand any of it either, and I knew them all for years." Harry felt a pang of pity for the man, having not previously thought about it from his point of view. Between Pettigrew's betrayal, and this, he probably felt like his whole life was a lie. "Ah well," He groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He looked down at Harry, and clasped a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I may not have all the answers, but if you ever want to ask something about them all I'm here, and I'll try and give you an answer." Harry nodded, and the werewolf left. Harry felt guilty when he realized that he didn't trust the man enough to share his plans with him.
He hoped Remus wouldn't be too angry with him at the end of it all.
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No one commented overly much when they saw Harry wearing the jacket the next day, and he continued to wear it during his stay at the Grimmauld, and put it on over his school uniform and didn't wear a cloak the day they went to leave for the Express. He felt closer to Sirius when wearing it, and less guilty about calling Mr. Weasley his dad. Dumbledore never showed up, though other Order members did, and for that, Harry was very thankful. He didn't imagine that it would be at all easy for him to hold his temper in check in the face of the old man.
He wound up in a compartment alone, and no one came by. He didn't mind overly much, since he knew that Daniel and Luna had other friends in their respective houses, and Blaise, like most other Slytherins, used this time to scope out the current social scene among the snakes. Oddball, who had taken to going nearly everywhere with him while riding on his head, had calmed some over the previous week, and was currently asleep, his tiny snores making Harry's bangs shift around. Metis, on the other hand, was slithering around and around in a circle in excitement.
"First day of school! First day of school! First day of school!" He laughed at her.
"And what could a snake possibly know about school?" She froze, cocking her head at him. He frowned. Had she gotten bigger?
"Nothing. But it's exciting, isn't it? Like chasing yummy mice!" He smirked.
"I suppose it can be exciting, sometimes. But it's not really meant to be. School is for learning."
"OOOOH! Like how to catch mice or dance or bite things?" He blinked.
"Sort of, but humans don't do those things. We learn how to use our magic here." She considered this, nodded, and went up to wrap herself around his upper arm, beneath the jacket where she wouldn't be noticed easily. Yep, she had definitely gotten a bit bigger.
"Can I eat when we get there?"
"Tonight, after the feast, when we are in the tower."
"The lion's tower or the hidey tower?"
"The lion's tower. We'll be staying there for a week, and then we'll move to the hidey tower." He received a sleepy hiss in reply, and then soft hissing snores. He raised an eyebrow. What kind of snake snored?
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The sorting and the feast went relatively well, and Harry noted that there was a new potions professor, whereas Severus would be teaching Defense. Good. The man was a ruthless teacher, but that might be just what they needed now. He was glad that Umbridge was gone, though he wondered what had happened to her.
The woman had damn near tried to take over the school the previous year, and had been thwarted only by the headmaster pulling some archaic laws about schools technically being outside the purview of the Ministry. She had been furious about that, but in the end had been forced to back off. All the same, he hadn't been aware of the woman suffering any terrible fate or problem like their previous professors, and there had even been rumors flying at the end of the last year saying that the toad had somehow managed to break the curse on the position.
He hadn't believed that for a moment, and, regardless of whatever had actually happened to her, she was gone now, so it didn't really matter. He didn't pay much mind to the headmaster's speech and avoided looking at him as much as possible. He was still so angry with the old coot for keeping important information from him (nevermind that he was hiding things too) that the last thing he wanted was to have any involvement with him until he could ensure that he wouldn't lose his temper.
The night passed without trouble, and Harry was happy to see his roommates, Seamus and Neville especially, in good health. He settled in, getting Metis and Oddball tucked into his bed, and waited until he was sure all the others were asleep. Then he slipped out of bed and into the castle, leaving behind only Sirius' jacket, as he didn't want to risk leaving it in the forest. He didn't bother with the map this time, relying instead upon his own senses to guide him through the castle undetected.
He was confident in his abilities, but still breathed a sigh of relief once he had successfully slipped outside the castle walls. He headed into his familiar spot in the forest near the lake, the location unchanged except for maybe more leaves and mushrooms growing about the ground from the summer. He left all his clothes but the armor, which he almost never took off these days, knowing that it was likely responsible for him still being alive after the end of the previous school year. He slipped off the rune-covered band last, though he dug a small hole at the base of the old log in the clearing to hide it in, rather than risk leaving it out like his other belongings. He had learned from his encounter with the Wyvern. He had a spare hidden away, but he still wouldn't want to have to go about making another; especially when he didn't actually know what kind of stone it was that Sirius had sent him to use.
The water was a balm on his soul, serving to sooth him in ways that showers, baths, or even the smaller lake near Privet Drive could never quite accomplish. He nearly moaned at the feeling, and the anger he had been holding so close to the surface so long he no longer noticed it was suddenly gone. He likened it to growing one's hair particularly long and then shaving your head. You never noticed the weight until it was no longer there.
He twisted into the seaweed, patting at the Grindylows that still seemed to see him as some great wonder, and stayed in human form rather than change. He wanted to be able to greet the merpeople properly, with words, rather than in the form of a beast incapable of speech. The giant squid was unusually close to the underwater village than was normal, and it waved a huge tentacle at him in 'hello'. He waved back, and the giant creature began drifting away; simply allowing the current of the water to carry it. He passed it by, and smiled as his eyes lit upon the fluorescent stones lining some of the village buildings. The chief's wife was there to meet him first, and she smiled widely at him and pulled him into a cold, yet not, embrace.
"Welcome back, little guardian." He smiled at her as he pulled away, his tail twisting happily and nearly turning him upside-down. She laughed and righted him, keeping a hand on his arm to hold him in place.
"I'm well. How are you and your people?"
"We are fine. The fish have been plentiful this summer." Her smile faded some. "But we grow restless. We sense a coming darkness, and we do not know what it is. There is talk of returning to the sea."
"Because of Voldemort?" Harry frowned.
"Who is this you speak of? A land-dweller? Like you?" He stared at her, open-mouthed, before it occurred to him just how little care the merpeople had for things happening on the surface. If it didn't affect the sea, or wherever they dwelled then they didn't care much for it.
"Yes. He's a surface-dweller. An evil wizard who is creating war on the surface." The merwoman scowled, and grasped his hand.
"Come, we must speak with my egg-partner. You must tell us all you know of this 'Voldemort'." Harry nodded with a furrowed brow, and let the merwoman drag him away.
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Moody has always been one of my favorites, no matter how weird he is. Regarding the alcohol, meh. I was younger than that the first time I my grandma made me a margarita, and whatever she used was a lot stronger than Rumple Minze.
As for him talking to Harry about the different types of magic, I just wanted to start making a clear distinction between types. I've had a couple people comment that Harry's nature doesn't constitute as dark, and, going by canon definitions, that's true. But this isn't canon, and hopefully this clears up any confusion about the nature of things.
Don't really have any other comments to make on this. I realized recently that I spend a lot of my Author's notes giving warnings and asking for forgiveness, as though I would allow the story to be changed based on the opinions of my readers. I think I should stop doing that. This story will only ever be what I want it to be, even if not all of you are okay with everything in it. So I'm done asking for people to keep reading when they don't like everything. Either you will or you won't, so that's that.
Sorry if that came off more insulting than I meant it to, but I just needed to get it out. I hope to receive some positive or helpfully critical reviews on this. See you next week.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate