a/n (im gonna call total bollocks on the fact that no one noticed their brother was sleeping with a mysterious name every night. a name that, in canon, Ron recognised as one of the victims of Sirius Black. Rowling said, in regards to this plot hole, that the weasleys wouldn't have recognised the name so it didn't matter. but Ron did, so why wouldn't his brothers? even if they didn't, it's suspicious enough that there's a person in their brother's bed. scabbers sleeps in ron's dormitory. we know that. in addition: the twins would've played pranks on the people in their own dorm, so they would've looked at the map during those times. esp. pranks on their own brother. so why did they never notice?) but yeah 'm gonna run w/ this plot hole anyway 'cause it'd break everything otherwise.
i hate malfoy goddamnit get out of my story stop stealing harry's thunder
also, check that you didn't skip a chapter :)
He recognised his mother's voice immediately.
Harry was still reeling from the embarrassment of fainting at the sight of a Dementor when was he was released from the Hospital Wing. Still reeling when Malfoy laughed at him and said he was a pansy. He knew it was just supposed to be a jibe, that Malfoy couldn't have know what Harry was really hearing, but when he flinched, looked up, and caught the slightest glint of mirth in those grey eyes, it hit him. The truth was that Malfoy actually did enjoy talking shit. It wasn't just a 'joke.' It wasn't 'for show.'
Harry saw that truth, and just absolutely, absolutely, had enough.
Putting up with appearances, letting Malfoy 'pretend' to antagonise him for Hermione's sake – Harry was absolutely done. He was so done taking shit from people. Dudley. Malfoy. Aunt Marge. He thought he and Malfoy could've actually become friends.
When Malfoy broke off with his cronies to go to the bathroom, Harry stalked him like a dark mist. Then he slammed into the other boy and threw him into an empty classroom, sending him skidding across the floor. The door smashed shut behind him. Malfoy turned around, saw Harry, eyes widened, and he said, "Are you unhinged?"
"No." Harry said lowly. His wand was drawn. "But I'm starting to wonder if you are."
"Me? What on earth has gotten into you, Potter–"
Harry exploded. "You bloody like doing it, don't you?! All this time! Does Hermione even mean anything to you?" Harry yelled, slamming a hand on a desk, sending dust flying. "All of that– you lied to her! That's just who you are, isn't it, Malfoy?! She could never get that rotten core from you – the only love you've got is for spitting on people!"
Malfoy had gone terribly pale, but he'd pulled out his wand and had it aimed at Harry between white fingers.
"Want to know what I heard, Malfoy? My mother dying! I heard her begging for her life! You want to laugh, Malfoy? You want to keep laughing at how my parents are dead and I'm stuck with people who treat me like a slave, who never let me learn magic or have friends and force me to scrub their floors? Go on, Malfoy! Laugh! Laugh!"
His words echoed the distance between them.
"You're right." Malfoy said blankly, eyes staring nowhere. "You're right."
His wand clattered to the floor.
"I'm shit."
Harry felt a twinge of doubt.
"I don't deserve her at all." he spat. "I spend my days looking for– validation. So much that I can't stop even for my soulmate."
(Validation that he's not weak. Just like Tom.)
"Aren't you just glad you don't have a friend like me?"
Harry would spare a heart for Tom. ...He would spare a heart for the other children of the Dark, too; for the validation he suspected Malfoy had never got, not once in his lifetime, who was forced to scrounge for scraps in the corridors through bullying and posturing and a reign of self-agony. Hadn't Dumbledore been talking to Malfoy last year, too? Dumbledore must've given Malfoy a chance. Harry should've, too.
He scrambled for his words. For his mistake. "No."
"No?" Malfoy looked up at him, grey eyes suddenly sharpening.
"I'm–" Harry cleared his throat. "You should be glad you don't have a friend like me, who stupidly yells at people all the time and hurts their feelings."
Malfoy stared at him for a moment. Then he snorted in a sort of half-laugh. "My feelings are not hurt." He finally said, imperiously.
"Look, Malfoy... you'll be good for Hermione." Harry said, leaning against a wall and sliding down, so he was on level with the other boy. "You know what you're doing wrong. You feel regret. You try for her. You…" really do love her, he wanted to say, but his throat closed up and he couldn't speak anymore.
Malfoy tilted his head and tried to meet Harry's eyes. But Harry looked away. "Can't talk about love?" His eyes flashed, like those of a fox in the night. "Ah. You found out who your soulmate was, didn't you? And you don't think they'll feel regret for you or try for you." Or love you.
Harry said nothing. But the Slytherin knew.
"Is that why my jokes really get to you? You can take laughter from muggles, other Slytherins, but not the one who also has a soulmate on the other side of the war? Someone 'like you'?"
"No." Harry said. Malfoy snorted again. Harry wondered if Malfoy had Legilimency skills, too. He vaguely recalled Hermione mentioning it. "That's got nothing to do with it."
"Oh, don't lie to me." Malfoy scoffed, his usual snobbish demeanour quickly reforming, as if Harry's shouting had never happened.
Harry stared back at him. "Are you using Legilimency on me?"
"It doesn't work like that, you idiot. You'd know if I was."
"Really?" Harry knew, could feel it, that Malfoy wasn't lying. But he remembered those little twinges he'd felt when Petunia or Vernon said something, or that once with Dumbledore. "Not for me."
"Oh bloody wonder," Malfoy groaned. "Of course the little Boy-Who-Lived has some more magical talents."
–––
He'd managed to coax Malfoy into giving him Legilimency lessons, although he suspected that the little blond was actually quite curious about Harry's skills. And willing to laugh at Harry's abysmal use of them. At least it'd offer another outlet for Malfoy. Harry could take mocking about skills Malfoy was actually better at, but not jeers about his status or blood type or whatever else was actually offensive and not truthful.
(Who knew, it might even encourage his studies.)
Their first session was, quite terrifyingly, abysmal. They sat in one of the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms, with a rather awkward air, as Malfoy explained there were many different ways people chose to use their skills. Offensively, or defensively. (Learning the Mind Arts was illegal. Imagine what would've happened if Malfoy went and ratted Harry out to the papers. Well. Hermione would absolutely ream Malfoy, for sure.)
Malfoy tested Harry's Occlumency skills first, heard Lily screaming, and emerged pale-faced and suggesting they tried Harry's Legilimency instead.
Of course Harry had to be standing there, the incantation on his lips and on hair trigger, his wand pointed at Malfoy, when the door opened. And of course Harry whipped around so quickly that he ended up sending the spell at the intruder.
"Oh, sorry, I was just trying to look for–"
It really had to be Professor Lupin.
A tall boy with black hair, looking just like Harry, but his eyes – not green – they were–
Harry pulled out as soon as he realised it was his professor, who was standing staring with surprised eyes. "Were you two trying to duel in here?" He asked.
"Um," Harry began, hastily stuffing his wand away. "Of course not, sir."
Even Malfoy had the decency to look abashed.
"At least, we weren't, yet." Harry said, to make the story more plausible. Lupin sighed and shook his head.
"Harry, Draco, I'm not going to press you for what you were doing, but please try not to break into more classrooms in the future."
"Yes, sir." They both said meekly, before escaping out the door. Malfoy never asked Harry what he'd seen.
–––
It seemed like every third-year student was leaving to Hogsmeade except Harry. They laughed with each other, a whole sea of hustle and bustle, and made for the doors of the Great Hall. Harry was still at the breakfast table, eating alone as he watched this friends go. They kept casting guilty looks at him. Something about bringing things back for him or staying with him next time.
Someone shrieked in the crowd. It wasn't a terrified shriek, but one that was bursting with elation. Harry looked over, and he saw a very many heads also turn to the source of the shout, where there was a black-haired girl absolutely beaming as a boy stared at her, wide-eyed.
Then the people around them began to cheer. "Cho!" they yelled. "It was Cedric?!"
The girl looked close to tears, nodding in response to her friends as she met the eyes of the boy in front of her.
They must have brushed hands in the crowd. Then felt it, the feeling of meeting your soulmate for the first time.
Harry abandoned his breakfast and left.
–––
Sirius Black slashed up the Gryffindor tower and when Harry was standing there, gesturing with his hands as he said to Hermione and Ron: "We've got to find some way to catch him. He was my father's friend, and a traitor–!" His mind froze.
His father.
–––
Why did the improvement of his Legilimency skills do nothing to make the words on his hands more coherent? Did this mean that Harry's Occlumency skills would have no effect in disguising his thoughts, either?
Those were idle thoughts in his mind. His primary focus was, actually, finding and talking to Professor Lupin. He knew were Lupin's office was – courtesy of the Marauder's map that he'd been gifted (he decided not to go to Hogsmeade, because right then lying back and enjoying himself was the last thing he needed) – and soon he was invited in for a seat. "Harry," Professor Lupin said, standing by his desk and packing his quills and papers into neat bundles. "What did you want to ask? Did you find the lesson difficult?"
"No, your classes are great. I wanted to ask… did you know my dad?" Did you know that black-haired boy I saw in your memories, when you looked at me?
Lupin paused. "Yes, in fact, I did. Who told you that?"
Harry had prepared an answer. "Hagrid. Does that mean you knew Sirius Black, too?"
The heap in Lupin's hands went clattering to the floor, an ink jar thudding as its lid popped off.
"I did." Lupin said shortly, not making a move to pick any of it up, even as ink began to ooze. Harry stood from his chair, instead, and started towards the mess on the floor. "You don't need to do that, Harry. And you don't need to go trying to find Sirius Black, either."
"I'm a person of action." Harry said, scooping quills into his hands. "And most of the time Dumbledore wants me to solve things on my own, anyway. He helped me along the way with Quirrell and things."
"He… He does what? That's awfully dangerous." When Harry looked up, he saw that Lupin's eyebrows were knitted together in concern. "I ought to talk to him."
"No," Harry said. "It's good for me."
"Harry, you were eleven. Twelve, still only thirteen now. You must be misinterpreting his intentions. Dumbledore wouldn't put a thirteen-year-old in such danger."
"He's training me to be alert. To use my head, to find my skills." Harry stood, placing a bundle of quills on the desk. "In a roundabout sort of way."
"Surely there are less dangerous ways to train–"
"I've always been in danger," Harry said gently, "since I was born. Isn't Sirius Black proof of that? And of course I need training. I'm the mascot for the Light."
Lupin really looked at him then, as if seeing him for the first time, and Harry saw him for the first time, too. Someone tired and weary with the world, who hadn't seen enough candles to light his way through life. "If only James could see you now…" The mention of his father sent a sharp pang through Harry's heart. If only. "He would be so proud that you were so brave, so happy that you were clever, and absolutely brimming with laughter that you're as much as a mischief maker and risk taker as he was."
The sunlight in the room seemed to dim, the shadows close in, and the absence of his family harrower. Lily and James.
Harry had seen Lupin's hands a few times and the chicken-scratch of handwriting that had crossed them. Most of the time they were curse words, which was absolutely hilarious, because Professor Lupin didn't look like he'd curse at all. But Lupin had taken some days off sick now and then, and he always looked drawn and pale, yet Harry had never seen his soulmate around to support him. Standing there in Lupin's office, he couldn't see any sort of photos of a wife or children, either. The other teachers all had little photo frames on their desks even in their teaching classes.
Lupin was old, and he was tired and alone. But Harry saw words cross his hands. I can't believe someone just left this lying around! They read in a spiky scrawl. Just you fucking wait, Peter! Who was Lupin's soulmate, who never went back to her other half? I'll hunt you down.
"Can you tell me about my dad?" Harry asked. Lupin brightened.
"Of course I can. Anything you want." he said, waving his wand and watching as the ink unspilled out of the carpet.
"Actually… first, do you think you can you teach me how to stop Dementors from affecting me so much?"
–––
"Why…" Harry began, "wait, the Ministry keeps a record of everyone's soulmates, right?" He couldn't get his mind off the criminal running around the castle. The criminal who was the reason why he parents had died. Black occupied most of his mind, except that little corner that kept thinking about the huge black dog he kept seeing.
"In a way." Hermione said from behind a book at her favourite armchair. "Most people give the name of their soulmate when they go and work for the Ministry, or any sort of job."
"Do they have criminals' soulmates?"
Hermione slowly lowered her book. Ron, who had fallen asleep in front of the fire, stirred. "Oh my god, Harry."
"What?"
"You're a genius!" she exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and dashing towards the girl's dormitories. "Just wait, let me get something!" She returned a moment later, a startlingly heavy book in her hands that she was scanning as she hurried. "Records– ahah! They do, so they know who to keep track of in case they try to break their soulmate out of Azkaban!"
"So if we find out who Sirius Black's soulmate is–"
"We can find him!" Hermione finished for him, smiling widely.
"Aren't they private, though?"
Hermione's smile grew wider. "I have Draco."
Harry paused. "I forgot about that. How do I even forget the power his dad has in the Ministry?" He asked himself.
"You know, Harry, actually, Draco told me he's been giving you Legilimency lessons." Harry's heart stopped, because he hadn't told any of his friends. It was illegal, and he really didn't want Ron to, say, accidentally spill the beans. Or for Ron to even just talk to him about it and have someone overhear. (He guessed that Hermione was hiding something these days, too. With what like disappearing in thing air, and such) More importantly – what if Hermione knew about his soulmate, too?
"What? Why?"
"Because his Legilimency," she looked around, checking that the general bustle of the common room covered up their conversation, "is getting better, and he popped into my dream the other time and I was very surprised."
Harry stared. "You can do that?"
"You can do anything with magic! Except bring people back from the dead, or make food or money, or–"
Ron chose that moment to wake back up, opening his eyes groggily and saying, "Eh? What are you two so excited 'bout…"
Harry grinned at his friend. "We're going to find Sirius Black!"
–––
It really was stupid of Harry. Why, in the light of their soon-to-be-successes, did he sneak out for a Butterbeer? And why did Snape just have to catch him under the cloak? Harry had been sitting at the table (which, in hindsight, was stupid. He should've crouched underneath it,) and the big bat must've seen the indent in the cushions.
Before he knew it, he was being dragged away and reprimanded. Snape stuck in hands into Harry's pockets and wrenched out the Marauder's map.
And then it was gone, and he wouldn't be sneaking out again for a long while.
–––
Draco was laughing when they met for the Legilimency session. He was laughing so hard that he had to double over and clutch at a desk. "Ah," he said, wiping at his eyes. Harry just stared at the odd display. "Is Hermione here yet? Or your churlish friend, Ron?"
"Ron is not churlish." Harry protested. He didn't know what the word meant, but it sounded like an insult.
"Legilimens!"
"Argh!" He didn't know what the word meant– And then Malfoy's presence in his mind was gone. (Malfoy never liked to linger, in case he stumbled across things like Harry killing Voldemort, or Harry being bullied by muggles, or Harry's mother being murdered… )
"Crabbe and Goyle are churlish." Malfoy said smugly. "Ron is churlish. 'Rude', in your simple terms. And your Occlumency is still appalling." Especially in comparison to his Legilimency.
Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. "Maybe you're just a rubbish tutor!"
The door opened and a bushel of brown hair peeked in. "Is this the right room?"
"Hermione." Draco said, suddenly looking like he wanted to laugh, again. "Do you happen to have a foul-tasting plant behind you?"
"A… plant?" she asked, stepping in, followed by Ron.
"A ginger." Ron muttered, glaring. Harry, traitorously, snorted in laughter.
"Did you find Black's soulmate?" Hermione asked instead, choosing to make no comment on the jab.
Malfoy nodded. All eyes snapped to him. "Well," he drawled, "the Ministry already contacted him–"
"Him?" Ron exclaimed. "Sirius Black, serial killer, mass murderer, is a poof? No–"
"–and he says that what Black's thinking doesn't make sense; Azkaban's driven him nutters."
"Ron," Harry said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could while his own mind whirled. "Shut up."
Malfoy's grin grew predatory, his blonde hair glinting eerily white in the dim classroom. Harry though he looked like a ghost. Or a demon. "At least, that's what Remus Lupin told the Ministry." Then he began to laugh.
Harry saw a myriad of expressions cross Ron's face, one of them disgust. He saw Hermione's shock, and he– well, he really hadn't been expecting the revelation, either. Of course it was Lupin. Of course. How didn't he see it earlier? Lupin, whose soulmate was never there for him, who had no photos of a happy couple. Who had been best friends with Sirius Black in Hogwarts.
"I guess, out of all men, it would've been Lupin." he said tightly. "They were close friends, after–"
"What?!" Ron cut in. "How could you have 'thought so'? You just thought Black was a poof and that he happened to be shagging our DADA teacher? Look, I knew there was something wrong with Lupin too, but I could've never guessed–"
Halfway through Ron's sentence, Harry strode right across the room, each step taken with deadly intent, raised his hand which was already curled into a fist, and sunk it straight into his friend's face. It connected with a sickening crunch.
Hermione yelled something. Then Harry was being dragged away by a pair of hands. "How dare you!" Harry hissed as he struggled. "How dare you! He was one of my father's best friends! Both of them were!"
Ron stared at him, face pale, blood running from his nose.
The corridor was startlingly bright, and he could hardly hear Hermione through the rage of his thoughts. Couldn't hear, couldn't see through the red until he was shoved all the way back into the boy's dormitories and realised Ron didn't come back to the tower that night.
–––
There was a shuffling. The sound of things being thrown and riiiiiiip. Like there was a miniature storm next door, growing and whirling faster and faster in the dark.
Harry sat up in bed, abruptly, like some equilibrium had been displaced, like there was some disaster occurring. A distant shattering. Something–
Bang!
The sound was so close that Harry jumped. Something was moving right outside his curtain. He couldn't imagine what it could be. Except... Sirius Black. Which meant he was there to murder Harry.
He gripped his wand tightly, and then a memory flashed in his mind. Just you fucking wait, Peter! I'll hunt you down. It had been written on Lupin's hand. He had a lot of questions for Black. About why he betrayed Harry's parents.
He also had to have a lot of luck that he didn't get murdered.
With that, he flung open the curtain, and froze in complete, seizing shock. The room was in ruins. Feathers drifted downwards from a torn pillow, Ron's mattress was slashed and flipped and all of his belongings were strewn everywhere as though they had been gutted and then left for crows. The perpetrator perched at the foot of Ron's bed, facing away from Harry so he could only see stringy matted hair, knife glinting in his hand like bone.
"Where is he? I'll fucking kill him!" Harry heard Black growl, gravelly and shredded. Moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains and what little Harry could see of Black's skin was pale as stone. A gargoyle.
Ron's slashed bed. Ron's slashed belongings. None of the other beds had been touched. Harry's mind churned. Black, inexplicably, was trying to kill Ron. But wasn't he looking for Peter? Harry must've misinterpreted the thoughts–
Black turned and Harry caught a sight of his face. Sallow, sharp, but in that one instant where they locked gazes, Harry saw the intelligence behind those dark eyes.
Black knew exactly what he was doing. He lucid, and dangerous.
"Hey, Harry." he said suddenly, mouth twisting into a grim smirk. His scratchy voice froze Harry in place. "Tell Lupin I love him, will you? And, since he hasn't gotten it yet, tell him Peter's not dead – think about what illegal things we used to do." His voice was hoarse, but devoid of mocking. It was earnest. The situation was obscene, here, in a room bathed with twilight, a murderer was talking to Harry about– about– what?
Then the man leapt off the bed in a movement like creaky hinges folding and unfolding and disappeared out the door. Harry was on his feet in seconds, his heart hammering away as he thought of his friend sleeping somewhere outside because he was too angry or too ashamed to come back to face Harry.
Also, what in Merlin's bloody arse had Black meant when he said that? Harry's world was being torn out from the roots and flipped inside out. He was too confused to process exactly what was happening.
What he did manage to register was that Sirius Black must've been looking for Ron. Ron was going to die and it'd be Harry's fault. His head pounded – how did he always get people killed? If only he still had the Marauder's map. Instead, he snagged the Cloak and slinked out of the dormitory, alert and watching, but saw no sign of Sirius Black. He swung open the portrait door– and stepped onto something decidedly warm. Was that a body?
"Ah!" he yelped, and was greeted with the sniffling face of Neville Longbottom.
"Harry! Who came out just then? They rushed past and woke me up." Neville cried, scrambling to his feet where he'd been curled up right outside the portrait hole. "I–I lost my list with the passwords on it, and I couldn't get back in!"
Harry's heart dropped to his stomach. Oh, Neville. Oh poor, poor, Neville. "Get back in," he said. "I need to go look for Ron."
"Ron?" Neville asked tearfully, looking around the dark corridor as if Sirius Black would leap out at any moment. "But– Black's out there, Harry!"
"I don't know why, but he's after Ron." Harry said firmly. "I've got to go find him." Maybe he could break into Snape's and use the map or something…
"Just tell the teachers, Harry! They can look for him!"
"There's no time for that." Harry replied.
"There's no time to be looking through the whole castle!" Neville did have a point, Harry thought. And wouldn't the teachers be patrolling the corridors at this time? They were all on high alert, there'd be no sneaking around them, and they'd be able to help. It wasn't as though Harry was breaking the rules this time.
"All right. Go back inside. I'll find one of the teachers!" He said, and then he dashed down the corridor.
Harry ran down the winding hallways, skidded up stairwells, spotted a tell-tale bun, and mentally groaned. He shouted, voice carrying. Then his Head of House turned around with an expression so thunderous Harry froze in place.
"Harry Potter!" she said, nostrils flaring dangerously white, striding over to him in a sweep. She loomed and Harry swore her cloak made a Snape-worthy flutter. "What do you think you're doing, wandering the corridors at night when there is a murderer–"
"Sirius Black was in the Gryffindor tower." Harry blurted, looking up at her. "He was– he was in our dorm, and he tore up Ron's bed and then he left, but he was muttering about looking for someone and killing them, and I don't know where Ron is but–"
"How did Black get in?" McGonagall demanded.
It was easier if Harry told her now. She's let her anger out now. She'd find out anyway, and Harry would really rather not watch her eviscerate Neville in front of everybody. "Neville lost a list of his passwords." he said.
His professor hissed, her features contorting to look positively eagle-like. She flicked her wand and a white burst that Harry recognised as a patronus leapt into the corridor. "Black's in the castle. Find Ronald Weasley. Black might be after him." she said curtly. The patronus – which was a cat – immediately ran off. "Now, Harry, return to your dorm."
"But–"
"There will be no protests." she said sternly. "Go."
He went.
When he flopped back onto his bed, he heard an indignant squeak. Was that Scabbers? "Scabbers?" He whispered, and saw that the rat was under his pillow. Merlin. When had it gotten there? "Ron isn't here." he said to the rat. "Go sleep in the stuffing of his bed or something."
Scabbers squeaked again, then darted away.
–––
The bright new morning was marred with a crowd of Gryffindors in the common room whispering to each other and casting furtive looks at Neville, who was in the corner, sniffling. Harry hadn't gotten a wink of sleep after the incident and was still high strung, thinking of where Ron could be, while shuffling, bleary-eyed, down the staircase.
"'ey, hey, Harry!" someone called. "McGonagall just made an announcement; is it true that Longbottom let Black in?" He could feel heads turn to him, expectantly.
Harry just nodded. Then the noise started up again and the wide berth around Neville grew even larger. Shame dripped from the boy's face.
Oh, Harry was just sick of this. "Leave him alone." he said, loudly. Most people stopped to look at him. "If Black didn't get the password from Neville, he might've taken one of you instead and tortured you until you gave him the password. At least no one got hurt, okay? Just leave him alone." No one looked very convinced, so Harry just left through the portrait-hole. He had to find Ron.
It swung open and there McGonagall was, giving his red-haired friend a stern talking. "–I expect to see you washing out the teacups in your Divination professor's classroom." Ron, uncharacteristically, was looking cowed. Then he caught sight of Harry and his eyes widened.
"Yes, Professor." Ron said. With one last sharp look, McGonagall swept away, leaving Harry and Ron staring at each other rather awkwardly. "Look, mate," Ron began, looking nervous, "can we go somewhere to talk for a second?"
Harry didn't say anything, but he stepped out into the corridor and let his friend lead him away. He didn't trust his mouth right then. "I–I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have called Lupin that." Ron began, wringing his hands. "It's just– it's weird to me, you know? It's not like I see poofs all the time – Fred and George are a different thing. A–And when I said there was something wrong with Lupin… I meant the way he's always away and stuff, not that he's… gay, right? Just that there had to be something shady with his soulmate. Like, criminal shady."
His black-haired friend looked at him and sighed. "Ron, look, you're my best friend," something in his tone must've given him away because the other boy looked up with hopeful eyes, "well, Hermione is too, but… I might've overreacted yesterday." He couldn't be too touchy about it. In case Ron or Hermione suspected the gender of his soulmate. That'd probably go down far worse. So he pretended the statement Ron'd made wasn't as hurtful as it had been. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I really am. I'm your best friend... I should never hit you. And it's all alright, what you said about Lupin, because you are trying to change your mind on gay people."
"I deserved to be hit a bit, to be honest." Ron said, looking down at his feet. "Just give me some time to adjust, yeah?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah. We're good?"
His best friend grinned back at him.
–––
It was the weekend, and all the other students went to Hogsmeade. "Sorry, Harry, we'll bring things back for you," they said again. "Or I'll try to," Seamus muttered, because he was usually the one who smuggled back all the sweets, although he'd managed to misplace his wand that morning. Meanwhile, Harry went knocking on Professor Lupin's door. He was still intent on finding Sirius Black, and there were still many mysteries about the man. What was his goal – why Ron? How did he escape from Azkaban? How did he sneak into Hogwarts? And Black had actually said 'Peter's not dead – think about what illegal things we used to do.' Big clue. But who was Peter? Harry had definitely heard the name before, but he couldn't quite remember...
So apparently these 'illegal things' were the key to some of Harry's questions. He could just ask Lupin, straight up. But what if Lupin's eyes just widened in understanding and he never told Harry? Or just lied to Harry?
"Professor?"
The door opened, and Lupin looked out. The man looked weary, with more grey hairs than he deserved, and his eyes lacking shine. "Harry?"
"Could I come in? No one else's in the castle, and I didn't think you'd be too busy…?" Harry said, poised as if to leave if Lupin thought he was an inconvenience.
"Oh, no, no. Harry, you're always welcome to visit me. Do you want a cup of tea?"
Harry's wispy patronus was a good as could be, an achievement enough already, so the conversation inevitably turned to Lupin's Hogwarts days. Lupin told Harry about Snape, even. Snape, who'd believed Lily was his soulmate and that he'd just happened to have missed the 'spark' the first time they'd touched, and was too shy to ask. He'd only been mistaken for a year, but James would never let him live it down.
Now that Harry was watching, he could see the lingering sadness whenever Lupin mentioned Sirius during their escapades. A momentary whimsical flicker. But mostly the sadness: the sadness that his soulmate had turned to murder.
It also turned out that they had been the Marauders. Harry mentioned the map and the four founders, and asked who was who.
"James was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, Peter was Wormtail, and I was Moony." Lupin said with a smile, remembering.
"Why the names?" Harry really did want to know everything about his father that he could. The man who was always there but not. Who always influenced Harry's life, but was never in it.
Lupin shifted in his seat. "They represented animals we liked. A stag, a dog, a werewolf, and a rat. We thought we'd each pick an animal and run with them. The lion was excluded, of course." Harry didn't even need his innate, passive Legilimency's nudging in his mind to tell him that Lupin was lying about something.
"Peter wanted to be a rat?" Harry asked, trying to nudge Lupin into revealing more of the truth. He had remembered Peter as soon as Lupin had mentioned his last name earlier. The man who Ron had told Harry had been killed by Black. Peter, who Black was looking for, who Black said wasn't dead. No wonder they thought Sirius Black was delusional. Peter Pettigrew was killed in front of witnesses! ...But Sirius Black couldn't be mad. He was too clear, too calculated for that. None of his other actions pointed towards insanity.
Lupin shifted again, his fingers fiddling against his teacup. "He said they were unappreciated, so yes, he chose a rat as his favourite." He was lying. Again.
Harry did like Lupin. Lupin was a generous, earnest, person. When he told Harry that he was always welcome for tea, Harry couldn't sense any lies. Lupin had also helped him out the first day on the train and was actually a competent teacher. He was a good man, and Harry regretted what he'd have to do to him.
"Do you think you could convince Snape to give the map back so we could see if Black appears on it?"
"That's a brilliant idea, Harry, except I doubt Severus would approve… with his grudge against me."
"He hates my dad because my dad was an enormous bully. He doesn't hate you. Why would he? I guess if he really did, I could always ask Dumbledore, instead."
"He does loathe me, too." Lupin said. Lie-free. "He doesn't approve of me teaching here, not with my lifestyle." The man looked around at his office for a moment, where everything was homely and a set of well-worn robes hung off the back of the door.
"Because you're poor?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Lupin hesitated. "Something like that." Harry's magic tugged at him again, his Legilimency nudging at him. So Snape was in on it, too. Which made sense, because Snape was around during the Marauder years, and Black did say that they did something illegal in the past. Snape might have witnessed and known it.
Oh, balls to the subtlety. Harry couldn't dance around the subject like other people did. So he resorted to something incredibly rude and reckless. Went in just for the kill. He leaned forwards from where he was seated, placing his teacup on the table between the two of them. "Your soulmate's looking for Peter Pettigrew, isn't he."
Tea splashed onto the carpet as Lupin jolted. His eyes were blown wide, face a mask of vulnerability. "How–"
"He sends his love, by the way." Harry said calmly, even though he was giddy inside. "And I think he's a bit offended you all think he's mad, because he's sure Peter is alive." He paused. "Apparently you still haven't realised the truth, and it's got something to do with whatever you used to illegally do."
Harry couldn't have imaged Lupin any more pale. "He–He told you this?"
"Yes." Harry said. "We sat down and had a cup of tea together."
Lupin's elbows hit the table, and he stared at the wood, head between his hands. "I don't see how it's relevant."
"What is it?" Harry asked. "What did you two used to do?"
He could see Lupin hesitate.
"Black killed my parents." Harry said quietly. "I know he betrayed them. I'm not going to leave until I know why and how he's free."
"...Don't you all wonder why I'm always ill?" Lupin finally asked, wearily. He looked defeated. "I'm a werewolf."
Oh.
"You're a werewolf." Harry repeated. So that was the 'lifestyle' Snape hated. He was struck suddenly by another idea. "They overlooked that and wanted you to teach here because they wanted you to look for Sirius Black, didn't they?"
"No," Lupin said. "Dumbledore genuinely only wanted me to teach." Harry wasn't sure if he believed that. Dumbledore never 'only' did something; the old man was talented at setting people up for a chain of events. "But it makes no sense. Sirius, James and Peter used to smuggle me out on full moons, but there's no relevance to Sirius' escape."
"You used secret passages?"
Lupin nodded.
"Then Black's obviously using those." But it still didn't answer the question. "That's all you did? Smuggle you out, and leave you there for a whole night?" No other illegal illicit activities? They didn't learn how to teleport wandlessly?
"Some of the teachers knew." Lupin said miserably. "They encouraged the ghost stories about the Shrieking Shack."
He didn't answer the question.
"There's more, isn't there." Harry said abruptly.
Lupin stared at his teacup. "It's not a petty, minor crime." he said. "I'd go to Azkaban if it got out."
"I wouldn't send you to Azkaban."
"Some of the teachers here read the minds of their students regularly."
Harry grinned, and it was disconcertingly close to a smirk. Smirking wasn't an expression he thought he'd ever wear. "Professor," he said. "But you see… I'm not exactly defenceless." He only caught a flash of Lupin's shocked eyes before he pointed his wand at the man and said, clearly, "Legilimens."
–Animagi. A great black dog, a regal stag, a small scruffy wolf and an oddly familiar rat–
Harry resurfaced with a gasp. "Scabbers!" he said, but it couldn't be. And that dog, the one he'd seen all throughout the year… "My God."
"... You can use Legilimency." Lupin said. "I cannot believe you used it on me. Merlin, Harry, you conflict me–"
"You four were unregistered animagi." Harry said, his mouth moving on its own. "I knew it! Sirius Black isn't insane because Peter Pettigrew is actually alive!"
Lupin froze. "Pardon?"
"Peter is alive." Harry repeated. "He's my friend's rat, and he's the one Sirius wants to kill."
–––
After facing one teacher, Harry felt confident enough to stand up to another.
He'd left Lupin in a state of shell-shock. The man still needed time to process, apparently, that Harry could use Legilimency and also that Peter was alive. But most of all, that his soulmate was actually sane. Lupin said he'd contact Harry later, once he managed to get in touch with his soulmate and got more answers.
In the meantime, Harry was standing, terrified, in front of Snape's door. He mustered up his courage and knocked.
A pregnant pause.
It opened too suddenly, and Harry was faced with his most dreaded teacher. There was a thick smell of something bitter that wafted out the door. "Professor Snape," Harry said, because Snape didn't look like he wanted to greet Harry at all. "Do you, uh, think I could have my piece of parchment back?"
"Your piece of parchment." Snape repeated drily. Harry swallowed.
"Yes, I– uh– it makes jokes because I was using it as a part of one of my projects for charms."
Snape's eyes narrowed so that he looked even more predatory, as though gauging up Harry's worth. "Unfortunately," he drawled. "It seems that your little parchment went missing a few days ago."
Harry's heart stopped. Seriously?
"I must've mistaken it for trash and tossed it away." Snape said coolly, "My apologies." Then he shut the door in Harry's face.
–––
A tail brushed against his leg just as he was about to climb through the portrait-hole. "Hey, Crookshanks." He said a little miserably, giving the cat a scratch. "I think we're on the same agenda tonight. Let's just hope Peter is up by Ron's bed."
Ron and Hermione were in the common room, and Harry waved to them. Crookshanks, in the meantime, dashed past and towards the boy's dormitory. The door to their room was always open, which was probably how Crookshanks kept getting in.
A certain red-head honed onto the cat in an instant.
"Stop your stupid cat from killing my rat!" he shouted and threw himself after Hermione's pet. Heads turned; the cat bolted past, though, right through Ron's hands and towards the boy's dormitory. Harry ran after the two of them and met them on the stairs, where Ron had managed to get hold of Crookshank's tail.
"Argh– stupid– damn– cat!" There was a hiss in reply and three angry claw marks appeared on Ron's arm.
"Ron, just let him go!" Harry said. His friend gave him an incredulous look. "I'll explain everything later, Scabbers isn't what you think he is, just, please–"
Their dormitory door slammed shut. Their heads both jerked up towards the noise. Crookshanks slipped out of Ron's grip, crashed into the door, and began to yowl.
"Dean, Neville and Seamus are all downstairs." Ron said slowly. "I was playing Snap with them ten minutes ago!"
Harry fought the urge to swear, then he tried the handle. "Oh no, oh no, bloody hell." He muttered alohomora, but the thing refused to budge. "Hermione!" he yelled.
"I'm already here," she said, appearing behind them, "obviously, because Crookshanks–"
"Can you open our door?" Harry asked. Hermione frowned.
"Sometimes we all hate Blagdon Blay." she muttered, and they watched her wand move and heard the door click open. "Now, why–"
Harry threw the thing open just as he heard glass shatter.
There was a person who looked like a vulture perched on one of the window sills. He was a stubby sort of man, the type whose neck had shrunken back, whose eyes were perpetually squinted and beady, and whose hair was matted with sweat and filth. In his knobby hands, one of which was missing a finger, he gripped a wand and a piece of parchment Harry recognised as the Marauder's Map. Shattered glass lay across the floor and the wind howled in from outside. The window was a dark cavern, where night outside was already painting the sky an inky black.
"Peter!" Harry yelled. He didn't think he'd get much time for explanations, so instead, for the second time that evening, he pointed his wand and said, "Legilimens!"
Harry, standing there, but then his eyes morphed colour and he was James and there were two others beside him: Sirius and Lupin, and then Peter was crying and he was scared because Lord Voldemort was too powerful, much too dangerously powerful –
– Peter telling a man in a hood that everyone bowed to, "That's where the Potters live!"–
– a street full of muggles and then Peter yelled and blasted the ground–
A shout broke him from his reverie.
"Stop!" Hermione screamed, and Harry's world came back in focus in time to see Peter disappear out the window.
The window of the dormitory that was seven floors high.
They ran across the glass, craning their heads out of the window in time to see Peter cast a cushioning charm on the air below him and slow in his fall. Ron was yelling in his ear, and Hermione was beginning to sound hysterical. But another movement caught Harry's eye: a dark shape that lunged out from the shadows by the wall of the castle. Sirius.
Peter transformed again, dropping the wand and the Map, disappearing into the grass. The black dog followed, streaking through across the grounds like a dark arrow.
"Is that the Grim?" Ron demanded.
"Forget the Grim," Hermione said, "do you see the Dementors?"
Harry hadn't seen them until then. Hadn't seen the dark wave growing on the horizon. The Dementors approached; a tidal wave that drained the light from the world as it loomed closer and closer. A boiling storm. He felt their chill all the way from the top of the tower, like winter crawling up his spine.
The dog faltered, and although he could no longer see the rat, Harry knew Peter was still running. Chase on! He wanted to yell. Chase on! He pointed his wand arm out the window and yelled "Expecto patronum!"
There was nothing but a small, nebulous, mist. It didn't even reach down to the ground floor.
The Dementors continued on.
Then the dog turned back, racing towards the castle, and the rat escaped once and for all.
a/n still have to wrap up book 3 before we move onto goblet of fire :)) because clearly harry has lots of the year to go that we're gonna fill with non-canon stuff
this fandom has so much hate for dumbledore it's– it's astonishing. it does upset me a little to see people trashing a character an author worked so hard to create... defacing him to a point where he's this 2d antagonist people just take the piss out of. and i know it's difficult not to just follow with the popular opinion here on ffnet, but please, if you're reading this and you happen to be one of the bashers, bear in mind that all characters deserve respect...