A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Readers beware!
Chapter Thirty Three: Filling In
"How was your first week, Remus?"
It was the first Saturday of the fall term, and Remus Lupin's first weekend as a Hogwarts Professor. He smiled as he settled into an armchair inside the staffroom.
"It went rather well, all things considered," he said, "Just a bit unnerving to see the children of my old classmates."
His colleagues, many of them his old teachers, chuckled knowingly.
"Don't I know that," squeaked Flitwick. "It's uncanny really, how closely children can resemble their parents."
The teachers started sharing amusing examples of thereof. Remus noted everyone studiously avoided mentioning the most notable case: Harry Potter. He thought he knew why. Of all the children, the one Remus both anticipated and dreaded teaching the most was James Potter's one and only child.
Their 'reunion' couldn't have been more awkward, Remus though ruefully. The Dementors of Azkaban had boarded Hogwarts Express, and Harry was most severely affected by the foul creatures. Remus had to Apparate directly to Hogsmeade to take him to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. Hagrid was beside himself with worry when Remus handed the still unconscious boy over for him to carry. Madam Pomfrey was very grim, but only half surprised to see Harry when they brought him to the Hospital Wing.
"Setting Dementors around a school," Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate…"
Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey exchanged a dark look.
Remus stood an indecorous amount of time at Harry's bedside, studying his pale and pinched features that so looked like a sickly version of childhood friend. Then he forcefully reminded himself he was a stranger to Harry and took his leave. Hagrid stayed behind.
Harry didn't return for the welcoming feast that evening. Hagrid confided to Remus that Harry had a panic attack when he woke up and was sent back to London to his adoptive family's home immediately after taking a Calming Draft. That was when he learned Harry no longer lived with Lily's sister. Petunia and her family had been dead for several years, and Harry had been utterly alone until he was adopted by a childless Muggle couple who incidentally saved Harry from the horrific explosion that claimed the lives of the rest of his family.
Quite a few students were deeply concerned when Harry failed to show up the next day. McGonagall reported the evening of the first day of classes all of the Gryffindor boys in the same year as Harry, plus Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, also in Gryffindor, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones and Julia Lestrade from Hufflepuff had inquired about his whereabouts and wellbeing. Many second years were similarly worried. A seventh year Gryffindor, Oliver Wood, was positively frantic. This sentiment of worry, however, was not universal. A Slytherin boy, Draco Malfoy, had taken to doing spirited imitations of someone fainting in terror and making loud, derisive comments about Potter running to his mummy because of the scary Dementors.
Harry returned the day after and was present for his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. All of his classmates were crowding close to him, Ron, Hermione and Neville in particular. Harry's expression was hard to decipher. It looked as though he'd shut the doors to his heart to guard himself against the outside world, something he'd never expected of James and Lily's child.
He covered Boggarts that day. He knew before the class could properly start Severus Snape had singled out poor Neville Longbottom for his bullying. Neville showed far more maturity than he expected when Snape made snide insinuations that Remus shouldn't entrust him with anything difficult unless he had Hermione Granger whispering instructions to his ear. The boy went red, but took the insult stoically.
"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," Remus said in reply, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
And he did. Severus wasn't even his greatest fear; it was, oddly enough, a hideously large green snake. It got tied into a bow when Neville cast the Riddikulus charm.
The class went very swimmingly until the Boggart transformed into a six foot tall, hairy spider for Ron Weasley. The spider's legs vanished and the legless body rolled over to Harry's direction when Ron cast the Riddikulus charm. Remus quickly stepped forward.
"Here!" he shouted. The legless spider vanished and turned into a miniature full moon with a loud crack. "Riddikulus!" he said easily, and the full moon turned into a cockroach, "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!"
Neville charged forward looking determined.
"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of a fangless snake wearing a lacy bonnet before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.
"Excellent!" cried Remus as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone … Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart— ten for Neville because he did it twice— and five each to Hermione and Harry."
"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.
"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Remus said lightly, "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. For homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me. To be handed in on Monday. That will be all."
Harry cast one last, searching look at Remus before joining his chattering classmates. It was slightly unnerving to see such a foreign expression on one looked so much like James.
"So who's dying this year?" asked Vector, snapping Remus out of his reminiscence. Apparently his fellow teachers had moved from talking to the manifestations of hereditary to Sybil Trelawney's habit of predicting the death of one student a year. How, he had no clue.
"One of mine," said McGonagall sardonically. "Neville Longbottom, if I could make a guess."
"No one applauded when you transformed into a cat?" said Vector knowingly.
"That was one clue," said McGonagall, smiling a little. "The second clue was finding Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter assuring Mr. Longbottom that Professor Trelawney, I quote, is an honestly deluded drama queen."
Everyone started talking about their respective first week of classes after a long bout of laughter. Vector gloomily reported the usual crop of students who quit Arithmancy after the first day. Charity Burbage reported the students, the Muggle-borns in particular, responded positively to the change in the Muggle Studies curriculum, which now included practical demonstrations of Muggle life and snippets of subjects Muggle students were expected to learn, and thanked Ms. Jacqueline Shin, the music teacher (a new addition to the Hogwarts education Remus was pleasantly surprised at), for proposing and help implementing the change. Jacqueline turned pale pink and hid her face behind her ceramic teacup.
"Mine was glorious!" Kettleburn boomed, waving his clamp about. "I should've asked Hagrid to be my assistant ages ago! The Monster Book of Monsters turned out to be a great teaching point! Those kids now know better than to just subjugate those majestic creatures they so glibly call monsters! And with Hagrid around, I could start the new batch of third years with Hippogriffs without much of a trouble—we only had one cut arm!"
Jacqueline looked sideways over the brim of her ceramic teacup. McGonagall muttered exasperatedly, "Only?" while Sprout and Flitwick shook their heads.
"Lucius Malfoy was very displeased to learn his son was injured in his first Care of Magical Creatures class," drawled Snape from his corner.
Kettleburn sneered at him. "The boy got what he asked for. Calling a Hippogriff an ugly brute to his face, what else was he expecting? If he doesn't want to get injured in class, he should listen to his teachers."
"Indeed. Please do tell that to his father when he marches up to Hogwarts to lodge protest against gross negligence. Speaking of which," Snape looked condescendingly at Jacqueline. "When will the promised new feature rollout, Miss Shin? The in-class mobile usage is getting out of hand."
"This evening, just like I told you," Jacqueline said patiently.
"Couldn't you have done this before the start of term?"
"That would've been ideal, but the Ministry of Magic only returned my network hardware a week ago," Jacqueline replied. "Shutting down Floo connections for only class hours takes a lot of time and planning."
Snape curled his lip. "Surely it doesn't take more than a day to do something as straightforward as disconnecting a crude version of the Floo-Network from nine to three. Unless," his sneer grew, "you're having trouble understanding second year level spellwork?"
Oh, really, Remus thought, aggravated at Snape's constant taunting of Jacqueline's lack of formal magic education.
Jacqueline lowered her teacup. Her hands were steady and her expression was perfectly bland, but there was a dark glint sharpening in her eyes, which was intent upon Snape.
"Thank you for your understanding, Professor Snape. Your empathy is such that I'm starting to suspect you have the ability to actually read the heart of man."
Snape dropped his sneer. There was a moment of silence in the staffroom as he glowered at Jacqueline, who looked calmly back for several beats. Then she set her teacup to the side and rose to her feet.
"Excuse me. I have a long day of arduous network maintenance to perform."
"Really, Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed after Jacqueline left the staffroom. "Ms. Shin is working as hard as she can! There is no need to provoke her!"
"I remember seeing her enjoying a leisurely cup of tea here," drawled Snape. "I thought she needed a reminder…"
"For heaven's sake, I invited her here! She was looking close to fainting from overwork, so I more or less forced her to take a break—"
Remus left the staffroom, muttering his excuses. He headed to the Music Chamber. As he expected, Remus found Jacqueline there, hunched over a tiny desk with her back to the door. Her face was in her hands and her bony shoulders were shaking.
"You don't have to worry about me," said Jacqueline when Remus shut the door behind him. "That wasn't the worst I've ever heard."
After wiping her eyes with her palm, Jacqueline turned around. She looked calm, but her eyes were red-rimmed and full of fatigue. No wonder, as Ms. Shin had been teaching Remus how to create clones per Dumbledore's request (so students wouldn't grow suspicious of Remus' monthly absences) on top of her duties as music instructor, assisting Burbage's Muggle Studies classes, working on the Magical Mobile Network and her engineering job in the Muggle world. Quite literally, she was doing the work of four people; Dumbledore's wry comment that he should triple her salary was not just a joke.
"I wish I could help you," said Remus earnestly. "My charm work is pretty decent and I have experience creating enchanted objects. Perhaps, once I understand the concept of mobile phones, I could lend a hand."
"Thank you, but the network isn't built on charms. It's not like I could've, seeing as I have trouble casting the most basic of spells," Jacqueline said, wilting under the weight of her self-deprecation. "I never expected it to become so popular. It's just a glorified walkie-talkie, for goodness sake."
Remus didn't know what a walkie-talkie was, but refrained from asking. "Still, if there is anything I can do…"
Jacqueline regarded Remus thoughtfully.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," she said, "But were you friends with Harry Potter's birth parents?"
Remus felt himself paling. "How did you—"
"From the sheer amount of loathing Professor Snape is projecting towards you, I can tell you were friends with his childhood enemies, Harry's father in particular," said Jacqueline. "I always wanted Harry to talk to someone who knew James Potter as a friend. I'm afraid the first person to mention their personal opinion of his birth father to Harry was Professor Snape."
Remus commanded himself to calm. "How did this happen?"
"Harry and his adoptive mother joined the group tour to Diagon Alley when he was a first year. When the time for purchasing school equipment and books came, the students and their parents went separately with a teacher as their guide. Harry's mother picked Professor Snape because he looked about the same age as Harry's birth parents."
So it was an innocent mistake. "Do you happen to know what he said about James?"
"Arrogant, mediocre, determined rule-breaker and bully."
Remus sighed. If he was honest with himself, three out of the four were rather accurate. "It will be awkward."
"I know. But should you ever find the opportunity, I would really appreciate it if you talked to him. Don't worry too much about being awkward. Harry's adoptive father is a bit of an eccentric. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry is more used to dramatic, out-of-the-blue pronouncements than careful by-the-ways."
"I'll keep that mind," said Remus, smiling.
Jacqueline smiled back.
"Thank you very much. Now could you please excuse me? I really need to get back to work."
Remus left music chamber thinking various (unlikely) ways he could start a conversation with Harry.
It was only until a lot later did he realize Jacqueline hadn't asked Remus to do anything that would help her.
-oo00oo-
Two months swiftly passed since the first weekend of the term. The new feature of disconnecting all student phones from the Magical Mobile Network (MMN) during their class hours were put in place as promised. Many students howled in protest, but since the alternative was banning all magical mobile phones from Hogwarts, their mutters didn't last very long. Jacqueline's workload, however, remained ridiculously high. The MMN required regular maintenance and expansion due to the rapidly growing customer base, and Remus was having trouble mastering the cloning spell, producing a very exhausted greyscale illusion of his own self at the best of times, so he had to keep going back to Jacqueline to ask what he was doing wrong. Remus himself was very busy, teaching and procuring materials for his classes, and grading when he wasn't practicing the cloning spell or plotting ways to talk to Harry.
Harry led a very busy life, Remus quickly noticed. He had violin lessons with Jacqueline every afternoon except Sundays. Once Quidditch season started, he was spending an hour at Quidditch practice three times a week (the hour restriction was Madam Pomfrey's doing, and she was positively draconian when it came to its enforcement). Monday evenings he was at the Charms club, Tuesdays he was usually spending time with his Hufflepuff friends, Wednesday and Thursday he was assisting Jacqueline with the MMN, and Sundays he spent long hours talking to his Ravenclaw friend Terry after Chapel. It made Remus wonder how Harry fit in his studying, because he was clearly doing quite a bit of that, too. Harry was taking Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures on top of the regular subjects, and he was doing quite well in all of them (except Potions, but he kind of expected that). He was certainly not slouching on practicing spells. After teaching the third years about Red Caps, he knew why the teachers said Hermione Granger was cleverest student of her age, but Harry was the best at spells.
"He has a very intuitive grasp of spell-casting," said Flitwick when Remus mentioned it over dinner. "Very much like his mother in that aspect. I was rather expecting him to take after James when Minerva told me his talent in Transfigurations."
Remus naturally asked McGonagall about this, because it was rare for his old Head of House to be impressed.
"His approach to Transfiguration is more intuitive than rational," McGonagall confirmed. "He rarely relies on theory and looks for associations when he does the Transfiguration exercises. The method works for him; the only time he had trouble was when I had them transfigure a worm into a lizard last year. He managed once I pointed out their difference as an invertebrate and vertebrate."
Remus started to see this more and more as time went by. Besides his general looks, Harry's mannerisms were extraordinarily like James, from the way he walked, the way he buried his fingers into his messy black hair when he was pouring over his schoolwork, the cat-like way he leaned back into his chair when he stretched, and to the way he jutted his chin when he was feeling stubborn. But then Remus would find him handing out enchanted maps to younger students who were having trouble finding their way around the castle, encouraging Neville Longbottom and Julia Lestrade (both known for having a surprising amount of difficulty learning magic) and talking to the Muggle-borns who were having trouble adjusting. That was all Lily. And whenever he read Harry's essays, he was struck at how he wrote his 'g's and 'y's the same way Lily did.
But Harry had a few oddities Remus couldn't trace back to any of the Potters or Lily. For example, Harry had a habit of splaying his hands next his head exclaiming 'Think!' when he was trying to make a point to his friends. He also employed logic as rigorously as Hermione Granger when he wrote his essays, if not as verbosely—not something he expected from one who was so intuitive. Also, while injecting humour to his writing like both of his parents, the flavour of humour was quite different. It wasn't cheeky like James or witty like Lily, but there was a subtle vein of pawky humour Remus learned to guard himself against. Harry also had a rather disquieting habit of abruptly wiping his face clean of all expression, and standing military straight with his hands in loose fists to his sides when he had a reason to feel angry.
"He's imitating his adoptive mother," Jacqueline explained when Remus caught Harry doing the back-straight-loose-fists-to-the-sides stance again at Draco Malfoy's taunting. "They're very close."
"Are you two friends?"
"Yes."
"What is she like?"
Jacqueline grinned briefly. "A lot like him."
The other teachers were similarly vague about Harry's adoptive parents. McGonagall had a habit of turning thin-lipped whenever his adoptive father was mentioned. Curiously enough, Snape smirked in a non-malicious/derisive way when Jacqueline complained 'J' (as she was wont to call Harry's Muggle mum) spoke of 'the curious incident of the bed sheet in the Buckingham Palace' without explaining what the devil she meant by it. None of the teachers would speak of their names, which made him wonder if they referred them as 'You-Know-Which-Parent' in their minds, like they did Lord Voldemort.
Thus so the days went by. Before he knew it, it was Hallowe'en, which was incidentally the first Hogsmeade weekend for third years and up. Remus had breakfast at his office to avoid Flitwick and Burbage, who kept hinting he should take Jacqueline out for a drink at the Three Broomsticks or tea at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. He wasn't expecting any visitors.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," called Remus.
The door opened, and Harry's head poked in warily. Remus did a double take.
"Harry, what are you doing here? Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"They're down at the Great Hall having breakfast," said Harry, in a would-be casual voice. "I just … There was something I wanted to ask you."
"Ah," said Remus carefully. He considered Harry for a moment. "Well, come in. Don't mind the Grindylow; we'll be studying it for our next lesson."
"What's a Grindylow?"
Remus spread a hand to a corner of his office, where in stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.
"Water demon," said Remus, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."
The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.
"Cup of tea?" Remus said, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."
"All right," said Harry awkwardly.
Remus tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.
"Sit down," said Remus, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid."
"That's fine," said Harry, as he sat down and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. "Uh, professor," he said suddenly. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?"
"Yes," said Remus slowly.
"Why didn't you let me fight it?" said Harry abruptly.
Remus raised his eyebrows. Of all the questions he thought Harry would ask him, this was the least expected.
"I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
Harry looked taken aback.
"Why?" he said again.
"Well," said Remus, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."
Harry stared. Apparently he had not considered Voldemort to be his greatest fear. Interesting.
"Clearly, I was wrong," said Remus, still frowning. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."
"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Harry. "I— I remembered those Dementors…"
"I see," said Remus thoughtfully. "Well, well … I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is— fear. Very wise, Harry."
Harry said nothing and wordlessly accepted a chipped mug of tea from Remus.
"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" said Remus shrewdly.
"Well … yeah," said Harry, and suddenly he looked a lot happier. "Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors—"
He was interrupted by a second knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.
"Ah, Severus," said Remus, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"
Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Remus.
"I was just showing Harry my Grindylow," said Remus, pointing at the tank.
"Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."
"Yes, Yes, I will."
"I made an entire cauldron full," Snape continued, "If you need more."
"I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."
"Not at all," said Snape. He backed out of the room, unsmiling as always when forced to act professionally.
Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Remus smiled.
"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," he said. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.
"Why—?" Harry began. Remus looked at him and answered the unfinished question.
"I've been feeling a bit off-colour," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."
Remus took another sip as Harry continued to stare.
"You were sick last month too," Harry blurted out.
"So I was," said Remus mildly as he took another gulp of potion.
Harry nibbled on his lower lip, another oddity mannerism. Remus drained the goblet and felt his face and stomach contort.
"Disgusting," he said. "Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. Have a good time at Hogsmeade. I'll see you at the feast."
"Right," said Harry, putting down his empty teacup. "Uh, Professor Lupin—"
"Yes?"
Harry hesitated for a beat before he plunged in:
"Professor Lupin, are you a werewolf?"
-oo00oo-
The first thought that rattled inside Remus' brain after Harry blurted out the question he dreaded the most was: two months.
Then the crushing despair came as he madly thought, 'Two months. I only lasted two months, how did he figure it out, how could I have slipped, what gave me away this time, no, no, no…' until he finally caught himself and steeled himself against the inevitable.
"Why do you think I'm werewolf?" he asked quietly.
"When I saw you at the train," said Harry awkwardly, and Remus felt vaguely relieved he didn't look afraid, "you looked really ill and, uh, your robes were, well, old. So I first figured you had some kind of chronic condition … thing … that didn't allow you to work and you don't have any family members who can help you. I asked Madam Pomfrey what kind of condition, but she wouldn't say, and normally she gives me some kind of idea because I want to be Healer. You were healthy for most of September except that one weekend. I checked the Hospital Wing when I heard you were ill, but you hadn't been there. I could tell from the way the beds were made—none of the sheets were freshly laundered, just magically cleaned, and Madam Pomfrey always changes the sheets to fresh ones when she has patients. That's when I started to think something else was going on. Your chronic condition thing doesn't affect you daily, obviously, and since you're a very skilled wizard, there's no good reason for anyone not to hire you as long as they're willing to accommodate your sporadic 'sick days'. So why were you not able to find paying work until you got the Defence job, which no one wants because it's jinxed, supposedly? I made a guess there might be some kind prejudice. I asked Terry and he mentioned werewolves. I checked the dates, and the September weekend you were ill there was a full moon. It could've been a coincidence, but—"
"Professor Snape came to my office, bearing a potion on the week when there will be a full moon," Remus finished.
"And your Boggart was a full moon," Harry added.
Remus heaved a sigh. "That was a splendid bit of reasoning."
"My Muggle father taught me how to observe and deduce things," said Harry, looking both pleased and desperately bashful. "I'm not as good as he is."
"I can hardly imagine someone being better," said Remus honestly. "You figured it out faster than anyone I know."
"Sherlock can figure out a person's life story within a minute," Harry muttered.
"Sherlock?"
"Sherlock Holmes," said Harry. "That's my Muggle father's name."
Now Remus had a name, for all the good it would do. "You don't seem very afraid."
"Should I be?" asked Harry, sounding quite bewildered. "You're not a wolf now."
"But I will be later this week."
"Didn't Dumbledore arrange something to make sure everyone is safe?" asked Harry. "That potion Snape made, does it stop you from transforming? No, that can't be it, or you wouldn't be ill…"
"The potion, which is called Wolfsbane, makes me safe. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform…I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"What happens when you don't take it?" he asked.
"I become a full-fledged monster," Remus said flatly.
Harry eyes softened, "It must be painful."
Remus felt his throat thicken as he took in the gaze entirely devoid of fear or distrust. "It is."
There was a short silence.
"I won't tell this to anyone," said Harry firmly. "I was wrong. You're not a werewolf."
"But I am," said Remus, frowning.
"No, you're not," said Harry fiercely. "You're a wizard who — who has a monthly problem…"
Remus couldn't help it—he burst out laughing.
"Sometimes you remind me a lot of your father, James. He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."
Harry gaped at him. "You knew my dad?"
"I did, as a matter of fact," said Remus, smiling brightly for the first time in years. "We were friends at Hogwarts. He, too, noticed my monthly absences and eventually figured out why. I was afraid to tell him because I thought he might abandon me if he knew. But he didn't. On the contrary, he started to look for ways to make my transformations less painful. The Wolfsbane Potion hadn't been discovered yet when I was a student, you see, so I had to be locked up when there was full moon, away from people I could bite…"
Harry nodded silently with his mouth hanging open.
"He did that?" he whispered.
"Yes," said Remus. "Listen, Harry — I don't know exactly what other people said about James, but that's the man I remember—the one I befriended as a boy."
Harry nodded again. Neither spoke for another beat.
"I believe your friends are waiting," Remus said.
"Oh, yeah, right," Harry jumped to his feet. "Thank you so much. I'll see you later. Bye!"
Harry dashed off.
Remus was still staring at his office door long after he left it.
-oo00oo-
"Werewolf, huh?" said John, "That explains a lot."
It was late in the afternoon, right after Harry and his friends arrived from their first trip to Hogsmeade and visited—everywhere: Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks, and many places besides. Harry was having so much fun roaming around the most picturesque all-wizard village with Ron, Neville and Hermione, buying and eating the most succulent sweets at Honeydukes, staring at the two hundreds of colour-coded owls sitting on shelves at the post-office and studying the interesting patrons of the Three Broomsticks drinking foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, he temporarily forgot about the unexpected, but very significant conversation he had with Professor Lupin. But he was back in the dormitory now and had a bit of time before the Hallowe'en feast, so he called up Sherlock and John told them all about it.
"I always wondered why I couldn't get hold of any of your Dad's old school friends," said John. "Lupin must've felt too awkward to mail us back."
"Why would it be awkward? He did fine this morning," said Harry.
"He was probably alone for too long," said John sagely. "Can you imagine? Almost every single time you get close to someone, they reject you for that one problem you have no control over. It's a very tiring business, rejection, not to mention it hurts like hell. Soon it's hard to see the point of trying at all: All you want is to be liked, but any attempt looks like a failure waiting to happen. Better off not trying; at least you won't face rejection."
Harry knew the feeling all too well. During his worse days at primary school, when his fits alienated him from everyone and made him a target of the worst bullies, he toyed with the idea of just … giving up. It was only John's fierce and constant reminder that things get better, to never give others the honour of ruining his life, that made him push the terrifying idea aside.
"How did you find out Lupin is a werewolf?" asked Sherlock.
Harry told him how he figured it out. It was the first time he'd attempted a deduction on his own, and he was very nervous about it. He didn't know if he was just lucky or he actually thought it thoroughly enough.
Harry waited anxiously for the verdict when he finished speaking. Sherlock stared at him for a long time with a strange blank look on his face.
"That — was good," he said at last, "Very well thought. Good job."
Harry dropped his phone. He was so happy that he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him or he was going to explode into a million pieces. I did it. I actually did it right.
Harry had only a vague idea of what happened afterwards. He seemed to remember Ron herding him downstairs to the Great Hall for the feast, but he had no memory of the food or the entertainment. All he could think was one thing in the ringing of his ears:
I did it. Sherlock said I did a good job. I actually did it right.
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Snape is no longer Neville's greatest fear, not after Quirrellmort and the Basilisk. Quirrellmort was probably more nightmarish, but the Basilisk is more recent memory, so I went with that (it's also easier think of ways to make it look funny, but I digress).
Sherlock is starting to get the whole Dad business. John is so proud of him.
Shorter chapter this time, but there was so much going on I had to stop here. The real meat of what I planned for third year shall commence in the next chapter. You have no idea how much I want to write about it.