Carry On

Carry On

By: Teenlaunch

Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing if I owned it.

a/n: Honestly, I lost track this time. I don't remember when this one was due. But, I think this one is, what, a month late? Sorry about that. It's the end of the school year, what do you expect? I'll get better at updating, promise.

b/n: I try to keep her in line, I swear! But my disapproving glares don't have much of an effect on her, I'm afraid…

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. He took a long swig of pumpkin juice and yawned. Sirius looked up at him, his hair ruffled. "What's wrong with you? You look awful."

"Gee, thanks." Harry rubbed his eyes again. He had been out all night, running to Diagon Alley to collect all the ingredients for his potions, except the DNA, which he had painstakingly preserved that night after tearing apart Slughorn's office to find it. Harry yawned again, remembering how close he had been to being caught. Sirius had shot up in his bed when Harry had stepped on a creaky board and yelled, "Unhand my chicken wings, Snivellus, or I'll chop off your fingers!" He made a vicious slashing motion in midair and dropped back into bed, snoring loudly. Harry stared at him, shook his head, then crawled into bed too.

He sighed. There was no way he was going to stay awake in class. A sharp peck suddenly brought him back to the physical realm. Harry stared at the owl a moment before pulling out his money to pay it. As it took flight, Harry picked up the Daily Prophet, ignoring Sirius's grumbling about feathers in his pancakes. Harry unfurled the prophet and started thumbing through it. He stopped at a picture of a werewolf, and scanned the article.

Young, attractive, Rita Skeeter, ace reporter has interviewed a victim of the renowned werewolf Fenrir Greyback. While little is known about the werewolf, his reputation spreads all over the world. Jack Harlem, a resident of Lancaster, was discovered outside his home at the hour of seven AM, shortly after sunrise. Harlem suffered lacerations to his arms and torso, including bite marks on his shoulder. Werewolves, known to hold grudges, are slightly larger than a normal wolf. Able to walk upright if needed, werewolves are vile, bloodthirsty monsters in need of being captured and terminated. Silver is the best-known defense against them. It will produce large burn marks that most times will leave scars. If ingested, silver is deadly to werewolves, whether they are human or not.

Harry stared at the paper and almost yelled in frustration. The paper suddenly burst into flames. The Marauders yelled and tried to douse it but it seemed to thrive from the water, only reacting by flaring and sparking violently when the water hit it. Harry watched it smolder, imagining a beetle sitting in the middle of the flames. "Rita, you right old cow," he growled. Harry stood and slunk out the door. He didn't even notice Remus demanding a paper as his friends dragged him after Harry.

The Marauders followed Harry down the hall, skirting out of sight whenever Harry turned a corner. He slipped into a room at the far end of a corridor. The Marauders crowded around it. Something crashed loudly behind the door.

"Harry, what's going on?" someone asked.

"That's Century. This must be his living quarters," James whispered and the others nodded.

"The Prophet, Rita Skeeter, bane of my existence, that evil hag, that's what!"

"You saw the article," Professor Century sighed wearily. The boys glanced at the paper clutched in Remus's hand.

"Of course."

"What's the problem?"

There was silence for a moment, then, "What's the problem? What do you think? She's practically telling everyone to pump any werewolf they meet full of silver or something!"

"And this has infuriated you."

"No. Really?"

"I was stating a fact, Harry. Why are you infuriated by this?"

Harry must have slammed his fist on Century's desk from the loud bang that could be heard from outside. "Why do you think?"

Remus scowled and hissed, "He lied to me!"

The others turned to him. "What?" Sirius asked. Remus shook his head, his lips pursed.

"Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private."

"You are not getting out of this so easily! We should do something!"

Century sighed again. "Why get mad over-"

"Because it's worth it! Just because you never stand up about this issue doesn't mean others won't do it for you!"

"Harry, I don't think you need to get involved."

Harry snorted. "When do I not get myself knee-deep in something?"

"Knee-deep?" Century laughed. "What are you smoking? At least neck-deep, never, in your life, any less."

"And you're any different?"

"I never said that."

"You were thinking it."

"Harry, all I'm saying is that maybe you could be a little less involved here. Consider it a vacation."

Harry growled. "Think about what you're saying! Voldemort – is – here. He knows we're here. He put us here. He is running the show. What can we do but wait?"

"If I know you, get involved in every form of trouble: legal, illegal, perfectly safe, life threatening, completely humiliating. Have I left anything out?"

"No. I think that's about it. I'm just not used to being on the sidelines. And I won't stay there for long, even if Voldemort isn't issuing orders."

James tapped the others' shoulders and motioned toward a classroom farther down. They had just closed the door when Sirius burst out. "He's working for Voldemort! Both of them are!"

"I told you! Didn't I tell you!" Peter shrieked.

"All my evidence can support that theory," Remus murmured.

"All along! He's been working for him since he arrived! A Death Eater, Harry!"

"There were so many clues!"

"He's always so tired and he was out last night," Sirius groaned. "I saw him come in."

"He's doing all that research," Remus sighed.

"We should chuck him out!" Peter yelled.

"He has no place among us honest men!" Sirius nodded.

"Shut up and sit down!" James yelled. The others quickly dropped into chairs. James sighed and leaned against the board. "We have reason to believe that Harry is a Death Eater. We will continue investigating and then decide our course of action. Agreed?"

"But what do we do if he really is a Death Eater?" Remus asked.

"Chuck him out!" Peter interjected.

"Tar and feather him!" Sirius growled.

"I was thinking Veritaserum," James said.

Remus shook his head. "We've already done that. We'd have to take him to Dumbledore."

James ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Well, let's just try to act normal for now."

"Normal?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. We can't let him know we know yet."

"I won't be able to stand him for long."

"I know, but we have to try. It may help us get information."

Harry slid down the wall. It was way too early in the morning, and when running on no sleep, it was ridiculous to even think of being up. Harry looked up at the window across from him. The sun had already risen, meaning the Marauders would be coming back from the Shrieking Shack. He'd have to hurry to make it back to the dorm before they did.

A loud crash sounded down the hall. Harry turned his head so quickly his neck cricked. A few well-chosen curses rent the air. Harry draped his invisibility cloak over himself and curled into a ball, watching for whoever was around the corner. Lupin shuffled into view, his face drawn and body tensed.

He stumbled and leaned against the statue beside Harry, not seeming to notice him despite his heightened senses. Harry chuckled and took down the hood of his cloak. Lupin looked down and yelped, falling backward onto the floor. He stared at Harry's head for a moment then snarled, "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to take a nap, actually. You look like you could use one too."

Lupin ignored this and stood up, stumbling slightly. "You've been out all night! You're lucky you weren't caught!" Harry rolled his eyes. "WHAT were you DOING?"

"Just…preparing."

Lupin glared down at him. "Liar. I want a straight answer."

"That was straight. Nothing else to it."

"Stop playing games with me! I'm not in the mood."

"Couldn't tell."

Lupin snarled. "I am tired. I am hungry. And I feel like I've been ripped apart. If you don't answer me now, I swear I'll not speak a word to you until you tell me the truth! I know that you won't be able to get by without talking to me for very long."

"Who says? I've done it before, haven't I?" Lupin's glare intensified, his eyes turning gold. Harry ignored him, knowing the reaction and attitude were only because the full moon had been that night. "I mean, that's lame! Can't you come up with something else? You already know anyway! Do you just want me to tell you for the sake of it?" Harry strode past him a ways, stopping outside the Room of Requirement, which, he realized with a shock, must have been where Lupin had just come from.

"I do not know!" Lupin spun Harry around and gripped his arms tightly. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking, would I?"

Harry jerked away from him. He was tired and cranky, and there was no reason for Lupin to be this upset. He snapped, "Then you're letting age catch up to you. If you can't tell what I'm trying to do for you, then you're losing your touch. Get away, werewolf!" Ringing filled Harry's ears. His eyes widened in shock. Lupin's eyes dilated, a hurt expression crossing his face, his frustration doused immediately. "Remus, I…I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Good day, Harry." Lupin turned and walked away from him. Harry whipped into the room and slammed the door behind him. He immediately picked up the furniture nearest him and threw it across the room, watching it shatter against the wall. He continued smashing things until he picked up a bottle of clear liquid. He was about to throw it when he realized what it was, the animal DNA. Harry sat it back down and crumpled against the wall, his head in his hands, a single tear running down his face.

"Tell me why we're doing this again," Remus said, exasperated as he locked the door with a flick of his wand.

"Because we're the Marauders, Moony! And because Harry and Century are 'on the outs'." Sirius answered, walking around Harry's trunk.

"That sounded really weird, Sirius. Don't say it again." Remus sighed, tossing his wand onto James's bed.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, snooping-"

"Sticking our noses where they don't belong-" Remus interrupted, glaring at him.

"-is what we do best!" Sirius finished, shouldering James away from Harry's trunk. "Let me try." Sirius fought the lock for a moment and suddenly jumped back. "It bit me!"

"That's what you get when you rush head first into things," Remus said with a smile.

Sirius pouted. "But, Moony. It really hurts!"

Remus sighed and picked his wand up again. "Let me see. Not your hand! I meant the trunk." He tapped and prodded the trunk for ten minutes. He was about to give up when it suddenly glowed and clicked, opening wide.

James cheered. "Good job!" He plunged his hand into it and pulled out a leather-bound book. He shrugged and reached in again, finding a spiral-bound book. "Well, let's see what we have here." Sirius took the leather book and Remus the spiral-bound. They both tried to open them, tugging relentlessly, but the books stayed firmly glued shut. After trying to pry the covers apart for five minutes, the books turned a nasty red and the boys dropped them quickly. Their fingers were raw.

"It burned me!" Sirius yelped, sticking his fingers in his mouth.

"Me too," Remus whined, shaking them.

James reached down and picked them up gingerly. When they didn't react to him, he gently lifted the cover on the spiral book and it glided open. Sirius and Remus grumbled. "Why can you open it?" Sirius huffed, still nursing his fingers.

Peter laughed. "You two loosened it up for him."

James's eyes widened. "Harry's an artist."

"What?" Remus craned over James's shoulder to see, ignoring his throbbing fingers. "That's Century."

The picture was that of a room, a very dark room at that. A fireplace was to the left, Century to the right. He was sitting in an armchair at an angle to the hearth. He looked exactly as he did now, but perhaps a few years younger. He was staring sightlessly into the fire, head resting on his right hand, a slightly drawn and grim expression on his face. Harry had drawn himself leaning against the left chair leg, his head tilted toward the chair. His eyes were dark, his face set. Century's left arm draped lightly over the chair arm, his hand resting on Harry's head. Their clothes were rumpled and torn. Blood lightly streaked Harry's face and Century's hand. The firelight illuminated them, but everything else was a dark blur. Behind them, a hazy shadow stood with its hands on the back of Century's chair. The only feature actually drawn on the shadow-man was his eyes, and even they were dark, haunted.

Sirius shivered. "That's creepy-"

Peter pointed to the bottom of the page. "What's that?"

Remus squinted at it. "Let his light shine, dated summer 1996."

"What is he, a seer or something?" James asked, his eyes still locked on the picture.

"He probably just accidentally switched the numbers. He probably meant '69," Sirius said, shrugging.

Remus rolled his eyes. "So, he was nine when he drew this, even able to guess what he would look like eight years later?"

Sirius colored slightly. "It's possible!" He flipped the page to change the subject. "Whoa."

A young girl with long hair stared up at them. Harry had actually taken time to color half of it in, unlike the other which was done in ink, accentuating the shadows. This one, however, was very bright, the complete opposite of the previous one. The girl's long red hair lay gently about her shoulders. Freckles were placed precisely on her face. A gentle smile played on her mouth. Her eyes were large and filled with happiness, but were not given color. James's hands shook. "That's Lily."

"What? How can you tell?" Sirius asked, looking closer.

"It is. I know it is. He's in love with her! That git!" James slammed it shut and tossed it back in the trunk. "Let's look at the other one." James watched as Peter tried to open it. He shrieked loudly.

"It bit me!" Blood was dripping from tiny punctures in his fingers. Remus wrapped Peter's hand in cloth and handed the book to James.

"What?"

"Try to open it." Remus pressed it into his hands. James nodded and opened it with ease. "Only you can open it with injuring yourself. Interesting."

James flipped to a random page and started reading. "'Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars, drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are, as my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost, wake me up when September ends. Greenday.' That's odd."

"It's a poem, or maybe a song." Remus said, sitting down beside the trunk. "It's written like one."

"It's still odd," James grumbled.

"Yes, yes. Turn to the last entry."

James flipped to it and his eyes widened. "Looks like he was pretty…upset." The page was blotted heavily and many words looked as though a child had gotten hold of the quill. "M-maybe someone else should read it. Moony?"

"No. Let Sirius."

"Oh, alright." James handed Sirius the book carefully. "Okay, here we go." Sirius cleared his throat. "'I hate this! Being stuck here has to be the worst thing that could have happened to me. Nothing seems to be going right. First, the Marauders have to find out about me being a Parselmouth, then Rita publishes that absurd article, and now this! I have one friend whom I know I can trust with anything and I say that to him! That horrid word that has hung over him his entire life! He must hate me. I hate myself. He's been persecuted for so long. Now I start! I betrayed him. It seems I have a habit of betraying everyone. He hasn't been eating, I can tell. I hurt him so badly that he's starving himself, and not sleeping too, by the looks of it.' I think he's talking about Century." The others nodded. "'I'm going to make it up to him. I have to. He's…' It just ends there."

"Okay…" James took it from Sirius. "What do you think?"

"I think it's time for Potions."

"Mr. Times, the essay you turned in the other day was not acceptable."

"How so, sir?" Harry asked scathingly of Century, trying his best to seem disrespectful. The entire class turned to stare at him in confusion.

"Your essay, which featured werewolves, was…highly inefficient and inaccurate. You see, Mr. Times, werewolves do not see any difference between friend or foe. And they also are known to hold grudges, making them extremely vicious because of the stress they create for themselves."

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry spat. "But I believe you are mistaken." A couple Ravenclaws gasped. "Most people only consider the animalistic side of the werewolf, as you are."

"Explain."

"Various studies have found that one in twenty werewolves tame their primal side over the course of their lifetime. Yes, that is a small amount, but it does show that it is possible. The werewolves who do not manage to tame themselves either by use of sedatives or through a group of friends, usually end up locking themselves in a room so they cannot harm anyone. In fact, most werewolf bites have been accidents. Either someone stumbled upon said werewolf during the full moon, the wolf was able to break free of its restraints, or the werewolf intentionally placed himself outside where he could go anywhere he wanted.

"There are even now extensive studies on the personality of a werewolf, and tests are being run to find the closest thing to a cure that a werewolf will ever be able to get, the ultimate sedative. The expected result will be that the werewolf will be able to simply curl up wherever they transform and keep their mind, that they will be able to control their actions. No one believes it will work, but it's worth a shot, if not to help the werewolves, as it is intended to do, then to give the general public security.

"Besides, most wizards who have based their lives on the study of werewolves have found that the man behind the beast determines the wolf. For instance, one werewolf could be vicious and outspoken. This is likely because he is angry and frustrated at his being a werewolf. But there are a select few that are kind, loving, and secluded, most likely because they have accepted that they are a werewolf."

"I believe I do not see where this conversation is going. Perhaps you are trying to win approval from me?"

"No." Harry snapped. "I'm trying to-" Harry bit his lip to hold back what he wanted to say.

"Continue, Mr. Times."

"I'm trying to save my masochistic friend from himself!"

Century stared at him. The class stared at the two, waiting with bated breath. "Detention, Mr. Times."

Harry nodded. The bell rang and he scooped up his things. The Marauders walked along behind him silently. Harry knew why. They'd become suspicious of him, more distant, cold even, now that they saw him as a threat. It was infuriating. First he'd lost Lupin. Now he was losing the Marauders. It wouldn't be long before they decided to cut him off completely. "Can my life get any worse, I ask you?"

Snape rounded the corner, a sneer on his face.

Psalm 69:26 For they persecute those you wound and talk about the pain of those you hurt.