13. Harry's Training and Lupins Wolf

Nothing came of Crabbe and Goyle's threat, in fact, Harry rarely saw them over the next few weeks, and as the days passed, he studied every spare moment he had, practicing non-verbal casting with Ron and Hermione and learning advanced spells, some of which, he found in books Hermione had pulled from the library, others his new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher taught him.

They were finally privy to the gruff old mans name when they overheard McGonagall call him Abe in the passageway one day, though of course, the students continued to refer to him as Sir as he was not at all the type of teacher to be on a first name basis with.

He was particularly tough on Harry during his two-hour lessons, which Harry shared with him twice a week. Considering how old he appeared, he had a lot of stamina, even though he wasn't particularly nimble on his feet. He was however, very adept at firing curses and hexes Harry's way the minute he relaxed, or lost concentration, leaving him bruised and exhausted at the end of each session. But he was learning to live on his nerves, gaining confidence in his reaction time and his ability.

Ron had visited Mr. Weasley, instead of Harry because he was keen to check on his mother, who must have been spending a lot of time alone now that school was in full swing. He stayed overnight, and when he returned, he said Lupin still hadn't checked in, but Hagrid was accounted for, though Mr. Weasley wouldn't enlighten Ron any further as to his whereabouts, he had however, promised to let them know the minute Lupin re-surfaced.

Hermione had pointed out, that with Lupin unable to make contact, it might be difficult, if not impossible for Bill to continue his hunt for Bellatrix. Harry was secretly rather relieved at the thought, though he hoped daily for news of Lupins return.

Before Harry bathed, he took to standing before the mirror in the Prefects bathroom, trying his hand at full body transfiguration. It seemed impossible for him to complete the transformation, many times finding himself staring back at some grotesquely half formed part of his body, wondering if he was going to have to walk the halls to Madame Pomphrey's domain for all to see, to return him to normal. But he persevered; often working himself so hard he would be dripping with sweat from the shear effort of it. At meal times, on the occasions when he didn't skip it altogether, he never lingered at the table, downing something to quell the ache in his stomach, then resuming his studies.

When he slept, his dreams were full of dark and frustrating images; snakes and menacing shadows, and the people he loved, who looked completely normal one minute, laughing and chatting, suddenly dropping to the ground lifeless, the next. One dream he had when he was still back at The Burrow had begun re-occurring. It was always the same;

Sirius, his knuckles white and his body stretched out behind him, struggling to keep from being sucked into the endless black mouth of a doorway, and Dumbledore staring wordlessly at Harry, one arm held aloft from his flowing robes, as if in offering. Harry had the feeling if he could just reach him, if he could get to whatever it was Dumbledore held in his hand, he would be able to save Sirius.

But always, Harry's struggling got him nowhere, fighting uselessly and desperately against an unseen force. Then Snape would appear, standing before them, both arms above his head, grasping a shining object. He would thrust it down just as Sirius called Harry's name in warning, and at exactly that point every time, Harry would wake, his sheets locked around him and drenched in sweat.

Day after day, he continued to push himself relentlessly. His ruthless workload took a heavy toll on him, and his clothing began to hang loosely off his lithe body. Hermione fussed over him, but Harry had little time to indulge her, and snapped at her motherly attempts to slow him down. Whenever he saw Ginny, or felt her near, a resentful anguish would rise in him, reminding him of what Draco had said, and of how unimportant his need for her was.

Harry's Defence classes for the younger students were improving gradually; the biggest problem still lay in them learning to work with each other. Harry had thought McGonagall had very good reasons for trying to unite them this year, and as much as it was proving a difficult task going against the schools thousand year old tradition, it was not impossible. In the end Harry took a leaf out of Slughorns book and introduced an incentive.

He decided to award seven students, seven vials of Hermiones Good Luck potion at the end of the year. This tact seemed to work almost instantly. The students took up their learning with a new nerve and ended their out and out squabbling, though they still appeared unable to help themselves unleashing the odd humiliating curse on unsuspecting students in opposing houses. The Gryffindor Common Room's atmosphere however, was stifling at times, scuffles still erupting when things reached boiling point.

Early in the evening, on the night before Halloween, Harry was climbing through the portrait hole, Ron and Hermione in tow, when he suddenly felt the skin on his neck prickle. He hit the floor just in time to avoid a stray curse, and as he picked himself up, he discovered there was an all out brawl and hex-a-thon raging before him. He was already tired and feeling more than little strung-out after another session with Sir, so when Harry walked in on the mayhem, his patience with their situation evaporated.

He walked passed the scuffling students unnoticed, and up to the boy's dormitories, where he opened every second door off the stairwell, flicked his wand, and tossed all the inhabitants belongings onto the landings. He came across the occasional straggling student, obviously hiding from the turmoil downstairs, and when they saw Harry tossing all their belongings magically out of the door, they tried to put as much distance between themselves and Harry as they could, regarding him dangerously. When he reached the room below his, he turned and clambered back down over the debris, locking the newly emptied rooms with a charm Hermione had come across in one of the books in the Restricted Section of the library. When he began climbing the girls to do the same, forgetting about the fact that the stairs would convert into a slippery-dip in his anger, a quiet voice interrupted him.

'I'll do it, Harry' Hermione had stopped him with her hand on his shoulder and a worried look on her face. He waited as she climbed the stairs and repeated his actions on the girl's belongings, barring anyone trying to enter the stairwells to see what was happening. By the time she returned, word was spreading that people had been thrown out of their rooms. There was a lot of whispering and scowling, all fighting forgotten, as many of them eyed Harry nastily in anticipation. He finally climbed a couple of steps and turned gravely.

'You were warned if you didn't grow up and learn to get along, then you would be thrown together, until you do.' His chest was heaving angrily 'those who's belongings now lie on the stairwell, can move into another room, I don't care which. And as this is your doing that has caused this upheaval, you will not be calling on the house elves, if there aren't enough beds, tough!' He said threateningly 'I've locked the doors, and they will stay locked until you change your attitudes!' Hermione and Ron were watching Harry intently as a murmuring swept through the faces, growing steadily from quietly angry protests to louder, more prominent, outrage.

'Who do you think you are?'
'YEAH!'
'It was bad enough the way things were!'

'WELL, OBVIOUSLY IT WASN'T! BECAUSE YOU STILL DON'T GET IT!' Harry yelled furiously. All went quiet as sparks shot out from the end of his wand as it hung by his leg.

'This school is under threat. At anytime, Death Eaters, or worse could come marching in here and start killing, just because that's what they do!' You could have heard a pin drop as Harry opened them up to his fears, fed up at their ignorance.

'You're not safe here; you're deluding yourself if you think you are.' He glanced at Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle, who were scowling angrily at him 'No matter what house you are from.' Harry was gradually calming as he went on. 'Neither are you in any more danger than if you were at home. But your stupid, petty squabbling could actually get you killed. If we were attacked right now, almost all of us would fall.'

Harry raised his wand, pointing to the ceiling 'and the younger students in the Ravenclaw tower … what hope do you give them if they had to stand alone? They are family too, in some cases, your brothers, your sisters … ' Harry's words appeared to be sinking in. 'you cannot pretend none of this is happening, nor can you hide in ignorance. Voldemort is closer than you think. No one is safe.'

Again Harry eyed Zabini and his fellow Slytherins 'Voldemort kills his own as easily and as cruelly as he kills innocents. And if he took Hogwarts, then our school, our families, our entire future, will be lost.' He glared at them, waiting for some sort of backlash, but he was met with grave silence.

'We don't stand a chance if we can't unite.' The room was completely still. Harry looked at their stunned faces, then he dropped down from the step and crossed to the portrait hole, the students parting as if worried they might bring undue attention to themselves. He climbed through it and was gone, leaving silence in his wake.

He was still bitterly imagining the uproar in the common room that would have ensued after he left, when he pushed the front door of Number twelve Gimmauld Place closed behind him. Someone must be staying, he thought, as he registered the dull glow of a lamplight, drifting up the stairs from the kitchen. He tucked his invisibility cloak away and descended the stairs noiselessly, another trick he was learning from his Defence teacher, who had taken to teaching him tactics for what he called 'keeping yourself alive before, during, and after battle', eventually emerging at the foot of the stairs.

'Lupin?'

A figure was hunched over the thickly wooden table. The head turned slowly, menacingly, to look at him. Harry grabbed the doorframe to steady himself at the shock of finding himself standing under the gaze of a semi-transformed werewolf. Lupins upper body was heaving slowly and heavily, and his hands were stretched out before him on the table, his long claw-like fingernails imbedded in the wood. His robes were torn and matted with dark stains, and his bloodshot eyes glittered dangerously at Harry.

Harry was frozen to the spot. He had not thought to note the moon was only just passed full, and he certainly hadn't expected to find Lupin here suddenly, when they had no news for weeks. But he was here, and he was still partly transformed, and he was eyeing Harry in a most discomforting way.

'Lupin...'

Lupin didn't move, whether due to the pain of the transforming, or the slight, but very unlikely possibility he recognized Harry. Wincing, Harry realized the dark patches on his robes were blood. The stench of it had hit his nose. Harry took a half step backwards as he saw Lupin's face, it was distorted and animalistic, his mouth was bloodied and alien to Harry. He had no idea how to react, so after standing there for a while, he moved slowly and cautiously, one foot at a time, into the kitchen, keeping his eyes locked on Lupin.

Lupin did not move, just watched Harry warily with heavy eyelids. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Harry decided to make some tea in the hopes that the normalness of the action would settle his nerves, but as he reached for the cups, he stupidly knocked one crashing to the floor with a shaky arm.

A vicious howl echoed through the empty stone kitchen.

Harry froze.

That was thick! He chided. When it appeared Lupin had calmed slightly, Harry resumed his slow movements of making a pot of tea, being meticulously careful to not make any clattering noise, which might set him off again.

Finally Harry placed the teapot and cups on the table, and then hesitantly sat down opposite Lupin, alert to him, but not looking him directly in the eye. They must have sat there for close on an hour, Lupin slowly losing his wolf features, his breathing becoming more natural, Harry could even hear the sound of his bones crunching and reforming every now and then, as Lupins face contorted with the pain, the occasional gasp escaping his lips.

It was a slow and horrible process and it pained Harry to watch his friend have to endure it. A new appreciation of loathing and disgust for the beast that did this to Lupin, Fenrir Greyback, grew inside of him. At one point near the end, Lupin had looked in so much agony his eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a long strangled moan. Harry automatically reached out for his hand, whose claws had finally retreated to fingernails, and clasped it firmly. Lupin gripped his fingers, squeezing them painfully for a moment, and then releasing them.

It was over.

'I made some tea.' Harry pushed an empty mug across the table and heated the pot with his wand, then poured them both a drink.
'Is it always like that?' he asked gravely.

'If I'm lucky, and I have someone to sit with me.' Lupin looked up at Harry from under his eyebrows. 'That was an incredibly dangerous thing to do, Harry. If you'd have come in only moments before, I might have ripped you to shreds, or worse.' Harry new he meant he might have bitten him and turned him into a werewolf. 'Its worse when I'm out with-' Lupin stopped abruptly.

'I know you're back with them.' Harry said darkly.

Lupin and Harry sipped at their tea. Lupin did not seem to want to elaborate on his time with the werewolves, so Harry drew his attention to the dark stains on his robes.

'What's all the blood?' He asked hesitantly.

'Blood?' Lupin said blankly. He followed Harry's gaze to his chest and pulled at his robes, trying to see what Harry was talking about. Harry watched as Lupins breathing quickened. A look of repulsion spread across his face at the still sticky smears of blood. Turning his eyes on the table in agitation, he muttered 'I don't understand', and then looked up at Harry, frowning. 'I can't remember … I thought I got back in time.' Lupin had a pained expression on his face. 'I-I remember … I-I think…'

Harry swallowed his hot tea hard. 'You wouldn't have hurt anyone. Not you!' Fear swept across Lupin's face as he stared down at the blood on his chest. Harry struggled to help him remember. 'Think! What's the last thing you remember?' he said, trying to hide the fear in his own voice.

'I-I … I was …' Lupin stumbled. Harry could tell he was in shock, already thinking the worst. 'I-I was trying to get back here … before I transformed. I was ill, didn't think I'd make it … had trouble seeing the path at my feet by the time I got here … yes!' Suddenly he looked back at Harry 'I got back here in time, I remember. I remember standing outside and saying number twelve Gimmauld Place! I came inside ... down here … and lit a fire in the sitting room…'

His face dropped as he glanced over his shoulder to the doorway behind him. Harry looked beyond into the semi dark room from where he sat, a strange sense foreboding came over him so he stood and walked slowly to the sitting room, he leaned his head in and scanned the area. The room was in darkness, but for a faint orange glow from the dying embers in the fire, illuminating odd shapes nearby. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the hanging candelabra. As the room flickered into light, the shadows receded, and the shapes became distinguishable.

Harry gasped, as he stared at the horror before him.

'What?' He could hear Lupins chair scrape along the floor behind him, as he pushed it away from the table. He came up behind Harry and stopped for only a split second, before pushing past him and moving swiftly to the centre of the room where he kneeled beside the broken body that was strewn face down across the bloodied rug on the floor.

Harry realized this had been why the smell of blood had been so strong. The armchairs were both overturned, one had been ripped and torn to shreds with sharp teeth and claws, the other looked as if it had been sprayed with blood, smeared in an ensuing struggle. The coffee table was snapped and collapsed in the centre, and the lounge had been thrown against the wall, a large crack in wall above it covered it with brick dust.

Everything in the room had been violated, candles were broken and laying on the floor, cushions with white cotton filling bursting from ragged tears littered the area, and blood streaked across the wooden floor where it appeared the body had been dragged. Lupin was hunched over the figure with his hand on its shoulder, pulling the torn clothing back from the bite marks. As Harry walked silently over to them, he could hear Lupins heavy breathing and knew what he was thinking.

He had killed an Order member who had either been here already when Lupin arrived, or had walked in on Lupin during his change. Harry crouched down on the opposite side of the body, eyeing Lupin with a mixture of pity and fear. Lupin had his eyes closed, seemingly unable to bring himself to turn the body over and see who it was. Neither of them spoke, as Harry exhaled and put both his hands under the side of the body, heaving it up slowly, and letting it roll onto its back.

He looked hesitantly up at the face. It must have been an Order member he hadn't met, for there was nothing familiar about the bloodied face. He looked at Lupin, unsure of what his reaction would be, and was surprised to see him staring at the face with fury. All of a sudden Lupin growled and tossed the body face down again.

'What?' Harry said, immediately sensing something wasn't right.
Lupin breathed heavily in relief, looking at Harry.

'This was one of Fenrir's spies! A Death Eater called Rosenberg! A thoroughly nasty piece of work. He was used when it was necessary to have someone that wasn't inflicted with the turning at every full moon.' He shook his head 'He must have followed me back here, it seems Fenrir is still wary of me.' Lupin stood up and Harry followed, getting to his feet.

'But how did he get in here?' Harry frowned.

'I stupidly said the location aloud when I came here to enter, the password to the door I suspect too. I was almost out of my mind by that time. As secretkeeper Harry, I'm not restricted the same way you are.' He was shaking his head again 'I left it too late to seek solitude before I turned, and in doing so I risked Voldemort finding out where the Head Quarters is. If Rosenberg had of reported back to Fenrir, everything would have been exposed ... eventually.'

Lupin ran a shaky hand through his hair. 'A stupid risk that could have destroyed all the progress we've made so far, not to mention the lives of everyone who comes in and out of here.' He looked pityingly down at the body again. 'I imagine he tried to hide himself, but the smell of human flesh is rather easily picked up when you're a werewolf in such close quarters.

'Considering he's rejoiced in watching Fenrir hunt first hand, even set people up for him in the past, he should have known better. Unfortunately, he will be missed when he doesn't check back, which means I'm going to have some explaining to do.' Harry's sympathy forRosenberg was rapidly disappearing. 'I'm going to get cleaned up,' Harry could tell he was disturbed by what he had done. Lupin left the room and returned a short time later, washed and in fresh robes.

Harry helped him clean up the mess, though they still had to decide what to do with the body.

'I think we'll put it in one of the rooms, I'll send for Bill and Sturgis. I need to find out what they've been up to while I was gone anyway.' Lupin said, and released a silvery patronus out of the high, tiny slit-like kitchen window. He levitated the body and floated it up the stairs.

Harry had removed the last of the blood from the floor when Lupin reappeared and stopped at the foot of the stairs, watching Harry as he picked the cups off the table and placed them in the sink.

'I think we need to have a little chat, Harry.' He said sternly. Harry looked at him blankly, and then suddenly understood the change in Lupin. He had seen the burnt out drawing room when he was looking for a place to put Rosenberg. 'Leave that, and come and sit down.' He commanded as he walked back to the table. He stood with one hand on the back of a chair, eyeing Harry's guilty expression knowingly. Harry sat down with a sigh. He knew this moment was coming; he had been dreading it ever since Dumbledore had died.

'I think we've both skirted the issue of what you and Dumbledore were up to, long enough.' He leaned both hands on the back of the chair and glared down at Harry. 'What ever it is you are doing, it is proving far more dangerous than I am sure even Dumbledore could have bargained for.'

'No it isn't.' Harry said flatly 'It is exactly what he expected.'

'I find that very hard to believe, Harry.' He sounded angry now. 'I have played along with this … this thing between you two, its gone against my better judgment, but I've given you the room you've asked for. I haven't pressured you because McGonagall told me that you made it quite clear you had no intentions of telling anyone what's going on. She said Dumbledore had instructed you to say nothing. All of this may well be true. But look at you Harry, you look tired and drawn, and bordering on mal-nourished!' His voice was gradually building into a quiet shout.

'It's clear to me, whatever it is you are doing, it is not only extraordinarily dangerous, but it's taking too heavier a toll on you physically and mentally. You cannot expect me to stand by and watch you do this to yourself.' He was frowning as he added 'I assume you are responsible for what is left of the drawing room?'

'Yes.' Harry answered, feeling his own temper rise.
'Am I also correct in assuming you were in the room at the time it was destroyed?'
'You are.'

They were glaring at each other, the atmosphere between them electric. Harry could feel himself readying to do battle. It infuriated him that Lupin seemed to be insinuating he was behaving irresponsibly. He had no idea how Harry had struggled with the weight of the task Dumbledore had left him! It wasn't like he didn't know he was in over his head!

Lupin's eyes scanned Harry's face. He appeared to realize the reaction he was provoking, and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath, and exhaling it wearily.

'Enough, is enough, Harry.' his anger slowly dissipating. He pulled the chair out and sat down with his elbows on the table. 'Help me to understand what's going on.'

Harry's anger also ebbed, aware Lupin was acting out of concern. He lifted his hand to his face and rubbed at his forehead, wondering how to answer. He could feel Lupins eyes boring into him. He would not lie to him, his relationship with Lupin had grown well beyond such action, and he was only too aware Lupin would not be fobbed off with a weak excuse this time. So he decided on the truth.

'Dumbledore discovered something about Voldemort, something that no one else knows; not even his Death Eaters.' He said. Lupin shifted in his chair expectantly. Harry thought carefully about what to say next.

'If he finds out that Dumbledore knew, if he realizes what I'm doing, then I wont be able to finish what Dumbledore started.' He watched Lupin for his reaction.

'Why is it so important?' Lupin frowned through narrowed eyes. It was Harry's turn to shift in his seat uncomfortably.

'Because ... it's the difference between me killing him,' his eyes dropped to the table, not wanting to see Lupins reaction 'or him killing me.'

There was a long silence as Harry ran his finger over the scratched, uneven wooden surface unconsciously.

'Dumbledore told you this?' Lupins voice sounded strange, so Harry lifted his gaze to him. He nodded his head. Lupin's expression was grave, and also unexpectedly angry. It was a while before he spoke again.

'I fear that is all you have to say on the subject then?' Lupin stood and walked to the kitchen bench.
'Its important you understand,' Harry said quietly, turning in his chair 'I'd ask for your help if I could, if I thought it would do any good.'

'I think I finally do understand.' He said slowly 'But I can't pretend that I don't find it more than a little frustrating.'
'I know, but there isn't anything else to say. The more people who know-'
'The greater the chance Voldemort will discover what you're up to.' Lupin finished 'It's okay. Under the circumstances it seems you might be safer doing things your way.' He said. He was focused on Harry with a look of grave concern. 'But remember, if you find yourself in trouble ... if you need to call on someone, I'll be there for you, no matter what.'

Harry would have liked to say a word of thanks to his father's once best friend, but a lump had swelled in his throat at Lupins words. Instead, he nodded before turning back to the table.

'Why did you come anyway?' Lupin asked as he started pulling food from the cupboard. Harry had almost forgotten since so much had happened.
'I left something behind that I need for school tomorrow.'
'It might be best if you stayed the night now.' Lupin stopped and eyed Harry 'I'm not exactly the best cook in the world, but it'll be edible. And you look as if you could do with a decent meal.'
'Okay,' Harry stood and walked to the stairs 'I'll let Hermione know I won't be back until morning.'
'How?'
'Fred and George's handiwork, I'll bring it down and show you.'

As soon as Harry reached his room he closed the door and went over to the wardrobe. He pulled the scroll Snape had given him from his crumpled backpack. It had lain there since the night it had come into his possession, safest well away from Ron and Hermione's enquiring eyes. He turned it over in his hands, feeling relieved, yet slightly nauseated to be looking at it again, before replacing it and retrieving the small emerald message log. He wrote a brief note to advise Hermione of when he would be back, placed it in his pocket, and then he washed up and headed back downstairs.

Lupin was appreciative of the twins seemingly endless inventive magical abilities as Harry explained how it worked, and even though the log contained nothing anyone else could read in to, Harry was still eager to whisk it back into his pocket after Lupins initial flick through. As Lupin stirred the pot on the stove, Harry tried to steer the conversation to what Lupin had been doing the last few weeks, but he would not be drawn into the subject, no matter how determined Harry had seemed.

Eventually he asked straight out what he thought Bill might have been up to, but understandably, Lupin explained that he wasn't able to tell him, even if it wasn't for the oath he took, as he had had no contact with anyone from The Order the whole time he had been underground. So Harry had to content himself with waiting in the hopes that Bill turned up in answer to Lupins call.

Between reluctant mouthfuls of tinned stew, he took the opportunity to express his unease at Lupins own situation. But as Lupin had readily pointed out, everyone was taking risks these days, and it was a necessary price to pay if it could make a difference in the war against Voldemort.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time Harry crawled between the sheets, Bill still yet to show. And though his mind was buzzing with the contents of his backpack, he managed to sleep fitfully until dawn. Bill still hadn't turned up when Harry appeared downstairs, though Tonks was there. Harry quizzed her immediately about Bill, uncaring that his interest in him all of a sudden appeared suspicious. He was bizarrely comforted by the fact that Tonks was adamant Bellatrix was still at large, but was unable to get any further information from her. She was somewhat preoccupied, and Harry noticed with dismay she seemed to tremble slightly when Lupin came into the room. Something Lupin also appeared to notice.

He told Harry that Sturgis and Kingsley had already taken Rosenbergaway, all the while his eyes flickering to Tonks who had her back to them, pouring cereal into bowls. Harry hated to see the uncomfortable way they dealt with each other for the rest of the morning, but he had bigger things to worry about today.

With no further word on Bill all he could hope was that he was still a way off trying to close in on her. He left before first classes were due to start, taking his backpack with the scroll still inside, and after some awkward goodbyes, and a knowingly concerned look from Lupin, Harry reached Hogwarts, strolling up the grounds in the early morning light, making his way to the Common Room.