A/N: Wow I'm really going through these chapter quickly.. hopefully my muse stays inspired! So, without further delay, here's chapter three

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. "Anything," interestingly enough, encompasses "Harry Potter."

Chapter Three

Harry's heart thudded noisily against his chest, the sound of it startling him even further. Moony, or Professor Lupin (he really had to decide which name he was going to call him) was standing right there. Not twenty feet from him. Harry blinked, his confused ideas not making themselves clear on his face.

Lupin seemed to take the hint that he was going to have to be the first to speak. He cleared his throat, again making the gesture where he cracked then rubbed the side of his neck. The one Harry recognized from his dream-memories of his uncle Moony.

"Err-" the man began unsurely. He shifted, seemingly wanting to approach the boy in the bed, but unsure how best to do so while still being polite. "I don't think I rightly introduced myself after our... encounter, Harry." He said this rather fast, as if he was scared he would chicken out if he slowed to normal speed. "My name is Remus Lupin, and I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts."

Harry was still staring at the man in complete shock, barely registering his words. The professor shifted under Harry's blatant staring.

"Oh!" The third year said then, realizing it was his turn to speak. "I'm Harry Potter... but you already knew that, didn't you?" It was more of a hypothetical question, really. What witch or wizard in London, heck, all of Europe didn't know Harry Potter and his famous scar?

"Yes," Lupin agreed, smiling reminiscently. "You are." Again, he looked at Harry in a way as if were remembering some distant and slightly painful memory. His eyes clouded, and for a second it looked as if he were relishing the flashback - but he immediately gained a sour look on his face. As if something (or someone) had ruined it. Harry wondered who or what it was.

"Sooo..." Harry said weakly, unsure what he wanted to speak to him about. This seemed to break the man out of his trance. He straightened, and gained a rehearsed look about him.

"Ah yes." He began. "I wanted to talk to you about the incident on the Hogwarts Express, and to talk to you a bit about more-" he faltered a bit here. "-personal matters, you might say." Harry furrowed his brow. Personal matters? This only makes it more confusing... what would a professor who I've never seen before - except possibly in a dream - have to talk about with me in a personal way? Unless... his mind couldn't help but wander back to his old suspicions. Unless he really is uncle Moony.

"Uh, okay." Harry answered after a second, still confused about the enigma of Lupin/Moony. "So I also wanted to apologize for... well. Fainting on the train." He looked down at his feet ashamedly, reminded once again that he was the only one who had collapsed. I'm weak. As if sensing his thoughts somehow, the professor was by his side in a flash - sitting rather stiffly on a hard-backed, wooden chair Madame Pomfrey had placed there for any visitors he got.

"Those were called Dementors, Harry. The others didn't collapse like you did because... because, well, they haven't seen the really horrible things you have. Their worst memories include a spider in their bed sheets, or a time they got lost at Diagon Alley when they were little. Yours, on the other hand, are indefinitely worse than that." Harry relaxed, leaning further back onto his pillows.

That, he guessed, explained it. Though he was not self-important, he did know for certain that he had gone through more hardship and sadness than many do in their entire lives. I really do like the Professor, whether he ends up to be Moony or not. He decided. That decision released a weight on his chest - making him feel less (though not entirely) guilty.

There was silence for a good while, each wondering how they were going to breach the subject they were both wondering about; the incident with the train and the dementors. And Moony. Lupin shifted a bit on the end of Harry's bed, playing with the end of his covers. A few times, he opened his mouth as if to begin to speak, but chickened out - deciding to hold the silence instead. Finally, Harry couldn't stand it any longer.

"So, are we going to talk about the train thing, or not?" He asked, trying to be confident. The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he'd worded them differently. This way, they sounded too... pushy, or forceful. "Sorry!" He apologized quickly, cringing back into his bed a little bit. Lupin looked taken aback - unsure how to deal with or even understand this new part of Harry's personality.

"There's no reason to apologize," he said, after recovering from his surprise. "You made a good point. I think we both want to ask some questions about that." Harry hesitated for a second before nodding. He most certainly agreed with the man. An explanation was needed, and badly. However, his confidence seemed to have been lessened, and so he waited for the professor to begin instead of starting himself.

The professor in question looked like he was battling himself or trying to decide what to say. Finally, he blurted out, "I think it's best if I tell you right now that I was good friends with your father." He said this all very fast, and Harry almost didn't catch it. And even then, it took him a good ten seconds to comprehend it.

"Wha-what?" He stuttered, completely shocked.

"I was good, no, great friends with your father - James Potter. In fact, he was one of my thre-" he hesitated a bit here, "I mean, two best friends." Though Harry - being a very observant person - had seen the man's hesitation, he didn't comment. His brain was still catching up.

"Really?" He managed to say, still unsure if this were some cruel joke. Lupin nodded, smiling reminiscently.

"Yes." He replied. "In fact, the time we were in school together was without a doubt the best time of my life; perhaps excepting when your mother gave birth to you." Harry was completely flabbergasted. Me being born was one of the best moments of someone's life? This fact seemed so distant and impossible to him. Why would anyone care so much about him?

Before he could stop himself, he began to let loose a torrent of questions he had been pondering on his entire life.

"What were my parents like? Did they look like me? Where did they live? How old were they when I was born? Were they nice? Who is-" Harry could have probably continued on for a good ten minutes, but he stopped when Lupin let out a hearty, amused laugh. His laugh was deep, and sounded (to Harry) like an echo.

"One question at a time, Prongslet." He said amusedly. Harry furrowed his brow. Prongslet?

"Prongslet?" He asked curiously, tilting his head a bit to the right. "Where did that come from?" Lupin blushed slightly, and looked a bit embarrassed at what he had called him.

"Oh! Sorry," he apologized quickly. "That's just something your father, his other two best friends and I used to call you when you were a baby..." he trailed off, looking reminiscently into the distance. Harry was quiet for a bit, letting the man stew in his thoughts before he could stand it no longer.

"So, why 'Prongslet'?" He asked. Lupin looked startled, as if he had somehow expected Harry to know the answer to this one.

"Sorry." Harry said quickly, not wanting to get into trouble. "I should have-" But the professor once again cut him off.

"No, it's fine, Harry. For a moment there, I forgot you didn't know about..." he once again stopped, this time looking more scared. "Never mind. Anyways, while we were in school, each of our little group had a nickname, you see." Harry forgot the man's previous frightened attitude immediately at any sign of parental information.

"Really?" He asked, though he immediately felt stupid for saying it. If he didn't mean it, he wouldn't have said it. Not everyone lies all the time. Just my family. "Sorry." He once again said.

"You know, you don't need to say 'sorry' all the time. There's nothing to be sorry for," Lupin reprimanded slightly sternly.

"Sor-" Harry stopped in the middle of apologizing, and looked down at his hands, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Though Harry could tell the professor was holding in a laugh, he was merciful and just continued the story without commenting on Harry's mess up.

"Anyways. Nicknames. Your father, James Potter, was nicknamed Prongs. I was Moony, and Peter was Wormtail." Harry's heart nearly stopped. Moony? MOONY!?! He didn't see how this could be possible. He was a dream. They were ALL dreams. He tried to calm himself. Technically, it could just be a huge coincidence... plus, that would explain why the man had reacted to violently when he'd whispered, "Moony" on the train. He'd thought he was talking about him, not his Moony! Harry drank this in, then paused - puzzled. But then, who was Paddy?

"Hey, I thought you said my dad had three best friends? What about the third?" He asked. Lupin's lips tightened.

"Oh, him." He said in a tone that implied he didn't like to think about him. Harry wondered if they had some sort of feud, or falling out in school. Maybe they had never liked each other in the first place. "He was only your dad's friend for a while. He didn't have a nickname."

I guess he's not Uncle Moony, then. If Uncle Moony was real and alive, then he would tell me about Paddy. Harry's heart felt like someone had shoved a rock into it. He had wanted the professor to be his Moony so much... and he seems so nice!

"What about my mum?" He asked, trying to change the subject from such a painful one. The professor's eyes brightened at the new question.

"Lily Potter." He said, smiling again. "Maiden name: Evans. An amazing witch. Did you know that she hated your father with a vengeance up until seventh year?" Harry gasped, and Lupin chuckled at his response. "Yes, it's true - you can ask McGonagall if you really want to know. Lily and James were some of her favorite students, I believe."

Harry wasn't sure how to take in the fact that McGonagall had known his parents. Even that she liked them. Why hadn't she told me anything about them? He felt a stab of self-pity, then dismissed it. She has better things to do than to talk to him about dead people.

"Why did she hate him?" Harry asked.

"Oh, your father was the leader of a legendary prank group called, 'The Marauders.' I don't think she really hated James specifically, but she hated all prankers with a fierce passion ever since first year when someone two years above us charmed her so her hair was green for months." Harry snorted with laughter, but immediately felt bad at laughing at his mother - and stopped.

Harry's laughter, however, seemed to bring out a more... mischievous side of the professor. His eyes glinted, and if Harry didn't know better, he would've thought it was Fred or George who was making that face.

"So... you like pranks, huh?" He asked in a faux-casual voice.

"More than normal, definitely." Harry replied truthfully. "But I've only played a few small ones." This was a bit hard for him to admit (he would have liked to say that he had a large pranking history like his father apparently had.) This didn't make Lupin's wolfish grin disappear at all, though.

"Ever played one in the magical world?" He asked. Harry blinked.

"No, I don't think so. Well, unless you count that time when I charmed all the Ravenclaw's pens to make them have bad spelling..." Harry snickered at the memory. For some reason, however, Snape had been sure he'd done it and had given his a month's worth of detentions. Or would have, if his Head of House hadn't stepped it.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor laughed. "We did something like that, once. Except we spelled the Hufflepuffs, and we made them have bad handwriting for a week!" Harry laughed. Maybe the whole "Moony vs. Dream-Moony" was nothing, after all. Maybe he'd been tricking himself... this person really did act and look like his Moony.

He was silent for a few seconds, thinking about that subject again. Then, he looked up and saw Lupin looking at him quizzicly.

"Something wrong, Prongslet?" He asked, then started as if realizing something. "You don't mind if I call you that when we're not in public, right?" Harry got the feeling that if he said no, his and Lupin's friendship would take an uncomfortable turn. Plus, he really did like being called a pet-name like that. It made him feel like a part of a real family.

Sure, he loved the Weasleys, but they were so... complete. They didn't need another child to take care of, and he most certainly didn't see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as parent-figures. More like... your favorite Aunt and Uncle.

"No, I like it," Harry admitted a bit shyly. Lupin smiled in relief, and began to speak again - though he had lost a bit of his previous mischievous look.

"So. Would you be willing to take lessons from a master?" For a second, Harry was confused. Lessons on what? He thought back to what they'd been talking about before the professor had asked him if it was OK to call him Prongslet. Unknown third-friend, mum info, Marauders... pranks!

"Lessons on pranks?" He clarified, feeling excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"Yeah," the man said, looking for all the world an excited schoolboy. Then, he seemed to remember that he was indeed a teacher, and he sobered, looking a bit stern. "I'd have a few rules, though." Harry nodded immediately. Even a few rules were worth getting prank lessons. From an (apparently) legendary prankster, no less!

"Sure!" He agreed a second later.

"Okay." Lupin seemed to contemplate what he should have as rules. About five seconds later, he had apparently come up with a list, so he began. "Rule number one: no dangerous pranks."

"Of course," Harry said right away, confused that he should have to point this out. "Wait... what's your definition of 'dangerous?'" The amber-eyed man smirked.

"Unlike what I should be telling you, 'dangerous' to me doesn't encompass much. Pretty much, don't play any pranks that could go very wrong, or that end up with someone getting hurt." Harry nodded. This wouldn't be hard.

"Number two. No targeting all your pranks at the Slytherins, or at Malfoy." Harry started to protest, but the Professor Lupin cut him off with a shake of the head. "Sure, you can prank Slytherins, too, but not all on them. Don't forget about the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even pranking Gryffindor once and a while. Don't play favorites, and leave the lions alone when you do all-school pranks, either."

Harry nodded, slightly sullenly. "What else?" He asked, significantly put out.

"Harry." Lupin reprimanded. "How are you different from Malfoy if you just prank one person or group? Isn't that just bullying?" Harry almost immediately began to say, 'No!' rather vehemently when he realized he was right. It was bullying. He felt ashamed. How could he even think of doing something like that when he'd be just like Dudley or Malfoy? The thought made him shudder.

"Yes, sir."

"No need to call me sir, Harry. You can call me Remus, or even Moony if you want to." He looked hopeful that Harry would choose to call him by his Marauder nickname, but Harry felt uncomfortable calling anyone else than his dream-uncle that. It would just be strange.

"Sure, Remus." He smiled, though he did look a bit disappointed. Harry had to try hard not to apologize.

"Good. Anyways, rules." Lup- Remus re-begun. "Ummm... let's see. Oh! Always remember, make your pranks recognizable as your pranking style, but don't leave any evidence that makes it obvious that it's yours. That way, teachers aren't allowed to give you detention or take points." Harry nodded, feeling as if he should be taking notes.

"Got it." He said in affirmative. "Anything else?" Remus thought for a few seconds, but then said:

"No, or at least none that I can think of now." The man paused, looking unsure. He bit his lip, as if trying to decide something. "Harry-" he began slowly, "-we never really did talk about the train." Once again, Harry's heart skittered through his chest. (Metaphorically, of course.) How will I explain that I don't actually remember him - just a dream that looks like him, and has his name? Won't that hurt his feelings? Harry gulped. How was he going to do this?

"I... I-" He tried to begin, but his throat was suddenly dry. It would seem so... final to say that the Moony he was talking about wasn't him. As if it would dismiss the (now nearly impossible) hope that he was, in fact, his dream-uncle.

"It's fine, Harry, you can tell me anything." Remus was exceedingly gentle in his tone of voice, and for the first time, he scooted up and touched Harry's arm comfortingly.

"I- just thought you were someone else." He finished lamely. Remus raised an eyebrow, looking cynical.

"Is that so? Exactly how many 'Moony's do you know?" He was joking here, though Harry could hear the undertone of hurt in his voice. Harry bit his lip. He really did want this Moony to be his dream-Moony... but how would that be possible? Dream-Moony was exactly that. A dream, no matter how much he wished he wasn't.

But... Harry couldn't help but wonder, is he a dream? Could it be possible that those things actually happened? But no, how could they? I was at the Dursleys. They could be memories... but Remus didn't mention Paddy. And Paddy was just as real as dream-Moony - who I'm not even sure is real at all... This is so confusing.

Finally, Harry decided it was best to tell the truth. He took a deep breath, and dove in.

......o0O0o......

It had taken a good thirty minutes to tell the story of dream-Moony (excepting, of course, the part about him living in a cupboard and his uncle occasionally punching him) and his confusion about Remus/Moony himself. It felt indescribably good to be able to tell someone about this after having kept it holed up inside him for so long.

"... that's why I'm unsure about calling you Moony, and why the thing with the train happened and all of that." When he finally finished explaining and answering Remus's various questions (he'd been rather suspicious about Harry's level of discomfort when talking about his relatives,) he almost wished there was still more to explain. Even talking like that was better than just sitting there with Remus looking at him like he was now.

The professor in question was staring at him unashamedly; his eyes filled with confusion, amazement, relief, and - strangely - fear. For a good minute or so, they just sat there looking at each other in a sort of staring contest. Finally, Remus spoke.

"Harry..." he began unsurely, but almost excitedly, "-I'm frankly not sure if this is what you wanted to hear, but I think that those dreams of yours - with your 'Uncle Moony' and parents are, indeed, memories of your first year and a half when you really did live with them." For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Harry's stomach dropped somewhere into China.

The Boy-Who-Lived was completely unable to think of how to respond to this. This was what he'd wanted. Exactly what he'd wanted, in fact, and what he still did want. But he didn't know if he should believe Remus/Moony. There were a few gaping holes in his story - no matter how much he wanted to believe it. Steeling himself for learning that the professor was doing this just to cheer him up out of his medicated state, Harry asked the first (and most noticeable) question.

"Remus, if that's true, what about Uncle Paddy? I'm not stupid. You didn't mention him during your explanation of the Marauders, or anything." Remus winced, pain flooding into his eyes - along with anger. His eyes narrowed, and though Harry could tell his anger wasn't directed at him, he winced back into his pillows as if he was going to be struck.

"Don't call him uncle." Remus finally said hoarsely. "Just... don't."

"Why should I do what you say if you just evade my questions like that?!"

"You wouldn't believe me!" They were yelling now, though each looked more hurt and scared than angry. "And you don't want to know what happened to 'Paddy'" He spat out the name 'Paddy' like it was poison. Harry jerked back, narrowing his eyes.

"So there is a Paddy!" Suddenly, Remus's anger dripped away, leaving him an empty shell. His shoulders drooped, and for the first time since he had entered the hospital room, Harry once again noticed the dark bags and gray hairs he had noticed so quickly in the train car.

"Yes. There was a Paddy, once. But he's long gone." Dead? He wondered. How Remus had said it implied that he wasn't dead... just gone. Harry was hesitant to ask the inevitable question his answer raised because of the pain it seemed to cause the professor. They sat for a good three minutes in silence, just sitting, before Harry decided he had to ask.

"Remus?" Remus turned to him tiredly with an expression that asked, 'Yes?' "What-what happened to P-Paddy? And who was he?" Remus sighed, looking up at the sky through the domed glass above them.

Harry wanted so much for him to say, 'Paddy is totally fine! I've just been kidding you, c'mon, you can live at my place now - no more Dursleys!' But that was pretty much a fantasy. Whoever Paddy was or is, Harry knew it wasn't going to make him feel better. Not at all.

"Padfoot... or Paddy as you seem to know him," he paused, trying to figure out how to form his words. "He betrayed us. The Marauders, that is." Harry cocked his head. Betrayed them? But surely he wouldn't have... he was so nice! And now he knew that Moony was really his Uncle dream-Moony!

"B-betrayed? How so?" Harry asked in a quivering voice, afraid to hear the answer. Remus/Moony sighed exhaustedly, staring at Harry beseechingly, as if asking for Harry to drop the idea all together. But Harry shook his head firmly. I need to know. He thought.

"Padfoot, or Sirius Black, is... the reason for your parent's death, Harry." And Harry's heart broke.

A/N: Sorry it's a bit short (3,896 words) but I thought that this was the right place to end.

Okay, I need your input on something: How long should I make this story? I would put it in a poll, but I already have one going. 'Kay, so just PM me, or review.

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~AQUAHINA