CHAPTER 51: A Wintry Homecoming (Part 5)
Grimmauld Place Dungeon
7:15 p.m.
"Fucking self-righteous, entitled bastard," Harry muttered so that only he could hear, throwing himself back on the bed as the door shut with force.
Who the fuck did he think he was. Lecturing him as if he owed him something. And the fucker still had the gall to act coy and deny his betrayal of his parents. Far from surprising, that's what he expected of cowards like him and Lupin. It wasn't enough for them to leave him rotting while they fawned upon Longbottom and Granger and everyone else in whatever this fucking place was. They had to break his wand. Lock him up. Leave him for dead and then act as if they're the victims.
Lupin had gotten what he'd earnt… and one day… Black would too. He'd seen it. There hadn't been a night when he hadn't dreamt of fixing his wand, mending the pieces he held to with such ferocity, and reclaiming his power. Blasting out of this cell before he'd skin the two of them, and that bitch Auror. Making sure they stayed alive during the entire process as he ripped their skin out, then their muscle, then their less important organs. Ripping out small pieces of them, leaving them in unbearable pain for as long as he could before their body could not be able to physically keep them alive.
But it was all a dream. His wand was broken, and it couldn't be fixed. Especially not here inside this cell. Over four years now since he had made his promise. Never be weak. Never be powerless again. How idiotic he had been to think that was possible by excelling in duelling and leaving it at that. A child's dream.
You don't realise how insignificant being a good dueller is, how easily I beat you without even needing to raise my wand.
Even dead, the bastard was still right. He had been a fool, and now he'd lost everything. And unlike then, there was no fixing this. No second chances. What was the point of fighting if you were going to lose either way?
The door crashed open once more, and Harry didn't even bother to flinch by the sound. "Up, boy!" a familiar voice said, a rhythmic clatter, as he came down the stairs. Long white, almost silvery hair, a face tattered with scars with one dark eye and an electric blue eye. The man was wearing dark blue and green robes and was wielding a five-foot staff. "I said up!"
Eventually, Harry turned his gaze towards Moody's, though he remained seated. "What?"
"Stop whining about, it's pitiful," he barked before stomping his staff on the ground, causing a tray of food to appear on his bed.
"I'm not whining," he said, his voice hollow before he grabbed the plate and threw it on the ground. The food spattering all over the floor. "And I don't want your food."
"Aye?" His gnarled face twisted. "You better be sure because that tantrum you pulled, it just cost you your food for the day."
"I'll manage." He bit out.
"No you won't."
"A missed meal won't kill me."
"No, but that pride of yours will. Cost you your meal today, a small inconvenience for the likes of you, I'm certain. But what of yesterday's meal? And the day before yesterday? More than that, what of tomorrow's meal? And the day after? And the one after that? You keep up with that attitude, that you'll keep losing meals. And eventually, your body won't be able to take it. And it'll kill you."
Harry scoffed. "So, what? I play the good submissive puppet, eat my vegetables and change? All so I can join your merry band of idiots, cowards, and child abusers. Hard pass."
"So you can survive." Moody spat. "It's that attitude that got you locked here. That attitude that snapped your wand and rendered you with a thousand different enemies."
"My… attitude." He snarled. "It was Black and Lupin and your friends who did that to me. You know… you've all been taking turns to come down here, to lecture me, to tell me how this is my fault when everything that happened here was against my will."
"It is your fault, Potter. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be getting out of here."
"Then I guess I'm staying here for a while." Harry grinned sardonically before turning his back to Moody as he lay on the bed.
"Yes, you are because-"
"Because of my pride?" He retorted in a mocking voice.
"Aye, because of your pride." Moody thundered. "Because of your foolish need to antagonize everyone who comes down to talk to you. Your general belief that you are high and mighty and above everyone else. But most of all, boy, because of your conceited thinking that the world is a fair place."
"You think I don't know that?" He twisted towards Moody, nearly jumping out of the bed. "The world is cruel and unforgiving, and being anything other than that will subject you to its mercy. I'm very aware of it."
"There's a difference between knowing and understanding. And the way you act, it doesn't seem like you understand. Because if you did… you'd stop complaining about how unfair the world is, about how other people have it better than you, about how Black and Lupin are a bunch of child abusers or whatever you want to call them."
"That they are!"
"It doesn't matter what they are," Moody growled. "That's the point! Stop acting like a sullen victim. Unless you do something to change your situation, you'll stay here because the rest of the world will not care. You can blame Black, you can blame me, you can blame everyone in this hellhole of a world, but doing that won't change anything. So, before you go back to brooding and wishing all of us dead, you best get rid of the idea that you're here because of some coordinated series of events of which you had no say in. We all make choices, we all shape our fates, and if you're here, it's because you made the wrong choices along the way."
"You know," Harry spat. "I met the other you… the Death Eater you… I think I like him more. He didn't have his head that far up his arse."
Mad-Eye stared at him, a look of half anger and half pity, before he abruptly turned and walked up the stairs. The door crashed against the frame as it closed, and Harry kicked the plate and mess of food that had been left in the floor.
"Bastards, all of them."
"They think the same of you, kid," A voice spoke from the darkness of the room.
"Who's there?" Harry snarled, immediately startled into alert.
"No one," the voice was smooth, it held a natural, almost careless elegance to it. "No one that matters, at least, I'm dead already. Or at least, that's what he told me."
"He who?"
"Sirius," the voice said, but no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't find the owner of it. The room was too dark, and there was no other person there with him. "I got to hand it to you, kid, I never thought no one could make him as angry as I could. But that… they way he beat on you and locked you up… that was something else. Tell me, what did you do to earn so much rage from him?"
"None of your business. So, how about you shut up and leave me alone."
"But it's so boring here, I couldn't possibly do that. Not now that I have a friend here to talk to."
"I am not your friend, and I don't want to talk."
"Ah, but we could be. Dead or not, the house-elf's still fond of me. Kreacher." With a crack, a sick-looking house-elf apparated in front of him.
"Master has called," the wretched creature croaked.
"Yes, Kreacher. Our mate here has seemed to have dropped his food. Fetch him a new plate, if you please. And something more… edible, if possible."
"Right away, Master." With what was meant to be a vow, the house-elf apparated away.
"Master?" Harry said, his eyes widening slightly. "Can you- can you get me out of here?"
"Ehhh… not quite. See, I'm dead, so I don't hold any real power over him anymore. I can order him around if my orders don't conflict with something any other living member of House Black has ordered. And Sirius was quite specific that the cell doors are not to be opened until, and I quote, your corpse is rotting in the depths of hell. I'm afraid Kreacher will take that quite literally, too." The house-elf apparated again, this time inside his cell. Gently laying the plate atop his bed, the creature gave him an odd look before it popper away. "Ah, there you go!"
"I'm not hungry."
"Sure you are. Nothing builds appetite quite like throwing your only food to the floor and spitting on Moody's face for three days in a row. An arduous, hunger-giving task, I'm sure."
"Look, mate, you can't help me. No one can anymore. Unless you can manage to make your elf fix my wand or- or… bloody get me my bottle of Firewhisky from my Hogwarts dormitory, then I don't particularly care for your attempts."
"Alas, even house-elves can't fix wands. Sacred things they are, as I'm sure you know." Harry almost snarled at the airy tone the voice had. "Then again… I do think I can help you after all, young Potter. Kreacher!" The house-elf popped into the room once more. "Would you care to bring our guest here a glass of our finest red currant rum."? He paused for a moment. "You know what, make it the whole bottle."
"Yes, Master." The house-elf said before apparating once more.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, the words still feeling bitter in his mouth.
"Ah, don't mention it. Grimmauld has hundreds of these bottles, gives us time to try them all, really. Well, and by us, I mean you." The house-elf appeared for a brief second and deposited the bottle beside his plate. "Still think I can't be of any assistance?"
"Maybe you're not entirely useless," Harry said reluctantly.
"That's about the nicest thing anyone has said to me since I woke up. I'm going to make a friend out of you yet, Harry Potter, you'll see." Suddenly, the torch outside the cell flickered as it began to slowly light up, allowing Harry to finally find his quarry. A young man, slightly older than an older student, with pristine black robes, long, silky black hair, and an easy smile on his aristocratic face. The handsome man smiled inside his portrait. "I'm Regulus, by the way, but you can call me Reg - all my friends do. Now tell me… what have you done to make my idiotic brother unleash his wrath upon you?"
Parkinson Palace
December 26th, 1995
3:35 p.m.
The two of them were here. They had arrived only moments ago, greeting him and his grandfather curtly before moving towards the study. He hadn't met either until this moment. He knew of them, vaguely. The woman who had been installed as a teacher at Hogwarts and the expert that had been in charge of researching the Horcruxes, the Death Eaters, and any other potential threat that could arise. Two significant figures in their conspiracy, and more than not having met them, he knew for a fact his grandfather hadn't met with the both at the same time before.
The notable exception being during the Wizengamot trial, though that was no ordinary meeting. The Potter boy had been usurped from them by the Longbottoms. All of their plans, everything they had meticulously prepared for the two months that would take up that period of time. An emergency session had been necessary, more than that, his grandfather had turned it into an opportunity to plant a spy within the Order of the Phoenix.
Which was what worried him of the appearance of the two of them at once. What could have gone so wrong at the meeting with the Dark Lord that had forced them to meet like this.
He took a seat in one of the armchairs, slightly apart from the three of them. While he was encouraged to input by his grandfather, this was not a normal meeting. He wanted to gain a sense of whom these people are first. For that, it would be best to remain a ghost. Someone who blends into the background.
As his grandfather took his seat, he gave a weary sigh. "What are your thoughts on the new developments?"
"They were to be expected," Carrow shrugged. "The Dark Lord would not have allowed the members of the inner circle to remain in Azkaban for long. While no one inside the inner circle would be daft enough to question him, it would bring an unrest the Dark Lord would not want to fester."
"Indeed," Yaxley nodded slowly. "However, there is the matter of secrecy. The Dark Lord has made it imperative for his rise to remain a secret from the Ministry for as long as possible. The cold, smart move, it'll give the fools in charge of this country less time to prepare and us more time to gain strength."
"Sirius Black will help us there. His escape two years ago is turning out to be most convenient. I'll introduce him as a scapegoat for the Dark Lord, though I'm sure Dolos has done so already."
"I'll make sure Tartarus knows of the idea once the Dark Lord has agreed to it." Yaxley smiled.
"There are various issues this will bring, more than simply giving the Dark Lord access to more assets."
"Like what?" Carrow asked.
From within his cloak, he pulled out four separate folders and dropped them on the table in the centre. "Adikia mentioned that the Death Eaters he revealed were all traitors. Their identities were confidential, though quite easy to find for someone like me. Bartemius Crouch Jr, Augustus Rookwood, Sloan Travers, and Severus Snape."
"Only Snape ended up proving to the Dark Lord that he was a triple agent for him the whole time, and Junior supported his claim by stating his inclusion in the list was a way to deal a blow to his father even after the Dark Lord's downfall." Carrow said.
"You mean to say that Ares allowed himself to be sent to Azkaban?" Yaxley asked, eyebrows raised. "That's insane, even for him."
"The hatred he has towards his father has no bounds. Besides, from what I heard, he colluded with his mother to guarantee his escape after a few nights. After that, it had been easy to overpower his father and escape immediately."
"Which only leaves Mister Rookwood and Mister Travers." Yaxley said.
"Mister Travers was not fit enough to survive Azkaban." His grandfather said. "He passed away merely two years after his imprisonment. Mister Rookwood however… he's a concern."
"Why?" Carrow asked. "I mean, besides being a potential ally - if he's mind has not been totally impaired - why should we bother about some poor sod the Dark Lord will punish for deserting?"
"Because, Miss Carrow, that poor sod was a member of the Department of Mysteries. According to the profile I found on him, he infiltrated the Death Eaters on a mission from the Department itself."
"And this didn't come up during the trial or…"
"More than that," Yaxley added. "You found this out from his profile? You've been the Head of the Department of Mysteries for decades now, how could you have not known of the true identity of Hermes?"
"The Department of Mysteries is much more complex than you realise, Mister Yaxley," Bedivere said calmly. "Even I don't know of everything that happens there. It's what keeps everything safe. No one can tell all the secrets because not everyone has them. As for Mister Rookwood, he knew the dangers when he signed on to the mission. Due to the collective Death Eater belief that the Dark Lord would one day return, it was best to not blow his cover."
"Except that's precisely what Adikus did." Kieran said.
"Adikia," his grandfather corrected. "But yes. And now, if the Dark Lord wishes to pay a visit to his mind, it'll be completely open for him - the protections put in place by the Unspeakables tarnished by years spent in a cell. Which means the Dark Lord won't just find out about the operation that paints him as a mole in his order, but he'll also gain access to everything about the Department of Mysteries."
"I thought that was his job," Yaxley said. "To pass on information about the Department of Mysteries to the Dark Lord. I know for a fact that information has been fruitful, even now. The Hall of Prophecies, for starters."
Bedivere paused for a moment, his eyes miles away, before he released a disgruntled sigh. "The information he passed was a farce. Not just his information, but everything that is known about the Department of Mysteries. There is no Hall of Prophecies, no room filled with magical flying brains, no veil of instant dead. At least, not in the true Department of Mysteries. That's all a ruse, a charade to hide our true operations and our true headquarters within the Ministry. Something of which not even the Minister knows of. If the Dark Lord gains access to this information, to the location of the true Department of Mysteries, our research, everything we're keeping inside… it would end us the war before it even begins."
"Which means we have to get him out of there as the siege goes on." Yaxley said.
"Not quite… it means you have to get him out of there as the siege goes on."
"Me?" Yaxley laugh. "You're taking the piss."
"I assure you, I'm not. Old and frail as I am, I'm exempt from the mission. I'm more useful to the Dark Lord alive, distracting all the Ministry officials that will come to the New Year's Ball here at Parkinson Palace to ensure they don't get interrupted."
"And what of Carrow?"
"I'm going to the Longbottom Ball with Kieran, remember?" She smiled. "Potter needs to be inked as soon as possible if he's going to prove a worthy source of information on the Order, and the Dark Lord has already granted me an absence from the mission as to not arouse suspicion of being involved in the breakout."
"Still evading your brother, I take it?" Yaxley said silkily, to which Carrow glared.
"Nevertheless, the responsibility's in your hands, Corban. It is imperative the Dark Lord does not gain access to his mind. Break him out, if you can, but if it comes to it…"
"Murder will do nicely," he grinned.
"But it will also paint a bigger target on your back. The Dark Lord would think it more probable there was foul play if he finds a corpse than if Rookwood escapes in the madness that will ensue."
"The Dark Lord will suspect regardless, he's a smart man… however, it's best to keep Rookwood alive. He might yet have valuable intelligence we could use, more than that, a new member for this conspiracy will spice things up. It's getting dull seeing the same faces over and over again."
"You've never seen me before."
"Can't really say you've got an interesting face, kid." Yaxley shrugged with a snide smile. "Say what you want about Potter, the boy's a brat, but he's far from boring."
Kieran glared at the back of the man's head for a moment before forcing himself to calm down. Suddenly, he could see a glint in Yaxley's eyes for a moment before his smile broadened."
"Still… with so few of us, we're going to be spread thin during New Year's. With you here at the Palace, the boy and Carrow at Longbottom's, and me with the Dark Lord. It would be nice to bring more people into the fold."
"You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions, would you?" Carrow asked sarcastically.
"Perhaps Bedivere's young niece, who has taken to snoop into our conversation for the past minute or so." With a quick, and somehow seemingly lazy wave of his wand, the door to the study opened before a gust of wind left the room and blew away Pansy's cloak of invisibility.
Her sister's eyes widened for a moment, before she forced it to relax, though the blood quickly began to leave her face as she turned slightly pale.
"I believe we've discussed everything of importance," his grandfather said. His voice being harder than before, even if he didn't seem outright disturbed by Pansy's appearance. And so, as he began instructing the two other adults out through the floo with specific order for each, Kieran rushed towards Pansy.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He hissed at her, turning back towards his grandfather every few seconds. "You can't be here, grandfather forbade it."
"I know," she snapped. "But I'm still part of this. I didn't get involved with spying into Potter for four months just to be tossed aside. I deserve to know what's going on-"
"Shhhh-"
"What?"
"Shut up," he managed to whisper before he felt his grandfather's presence behind him. Kieran didn't turn towards him, keeping his eyes fixed on Pansy's, pushing down the need to step into her defence to lessen the blow this might bring.
"I was under the presumption that Kieran made it apparent you are not to attend these meetings," his grandfather said calmly.
"I… yes… but- I want to be a part of this. You made me a part of this."
"I included you, yes, to bring me information on Potter, Longbottom, and the comings and goings at Hogwarts. Nowhere in that order does it state that you are permitted to attend these meetings, much less entitled to it."
"I want to help-"
"And you will… when Potter is out from the Longbottom's, I'm sure he'll bring you back into the fold. But as he's not here, and he will not be involved in the coming operations, you are not currently welcome here."
Pansy looked as if she wanted to say something, but closed her mouth and looked downwards. "Yes, grandfather."
"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," he said, grabbing her shoulder with a tenderness that conflicted with the hidden tone in his words. "For I'd very much be displeased if we haven't, and I find you snooping on my business again."
"I understand, grandfather," she nodded with clear reluctance. "It won't happen again."
Grimmauld Place
December 28th, 1995
6:20 p.m.
Neville panted as he scrubbed on the floor. The stains were hard and dry, they'd been there for years, maybe even decades. It had taken them all summer to clean up the whole main floor, with the kitchen and study and other spare rooms with weird trinkets the Blacks used to own. Unfortunately for them, the adults didn't think it's best to continue their work while they were at Hogwarts, though he suspected it was just so they could be made to do chores during their breaks.
It hadn't taken long for his grandmother to kick him out of the house. "Stop slouching about like some common oaf and get to work," she told him as she shooed him into the fireplace. "I'll rather rot before I see my grandson be nothing but a fat sod." Once upon a time the words may have hurt him. Not anymore. After a whole life of dealing with the papers, the whole school, and even his own family treating him like he was a piece of unwanted dirt in their favourite shoes, he'd grown used to it.
It had become more annoying than anything, especially after last summer. It's funny how a single night could change your entire life entirely. Things that used to be important, the ones that kept him up at night, that held his sole focus for months on end, seemed so simple and petty now. Studying all night for tests and finishing essays, evading the likes of Malfoy and the other Slytherins who took pleasure of making his life a living hell. Liking a girl who couldn't see it for the life of her.
All of that turns insignificant when you face the Devil himself, and he kills two of your closest friends. As insignificant as a tiny stain… and just as resilient.
Hermione huffed as she returned, a worn out rag in her hand and her brow covered in sweat. "Guest room's done," she said, Ginny trailing behind her. "How are you boys doing here?"
"Lousy," he bit out.
"I don't get it," Ron panted. "Any one of the Order could fix this place in no time. It would take them an hour. Tops. Why are we forced to do this again?"
"Because adults like to torture children when they see them doing nothing," Ginny shrugged. "It's the one thing they can't do. Must be infuriating to see a smaller version of themselves sit around all day and not be able to join them."
"It's about discipline," Hermione said primly. "The house's filthy, it hasn't been cleaned in years. If it had just been maintained properly during that time, it would have taken us a day, not weeks."
"Well, how about they do the heavy lifting, and we get to do the easy chores?" Ron said with clear annoyance.
"This is pointless." Neville gritted out. "With everything happening out there, we're wasting away fixing up a house that no one lives in. We should be out there, helping the Order, doing whatever it takes to stop Voldemort."
"Neville," Hermione said. "I know you want to help, but there's nothing we can really do. It's not like you can go out and hunt Death Eaters by yourself. Even if you knew who was actually a Death Eater… I don't think you'd be a match for them."
Anger fluttered inside Neville as his head sharply turned towards hers. "Who here went against basilisks and dementors. Dragons and grindylows and Voldemort himself. I'm not weak!"
"I'm not saying you are," she tried appeasing him, though it didn't work. "It's just… these Death Eaters are a far bigger threat than anything we've ever faced. We couldn't handle the men who tried to kill us at the Three Broomsticks-"
"I know," he gritted out.
"Then you also know that those weren't even actually Death Eaters. Much less any of the important ones. There's nothing we can do to help."
Neville glared at her for a moment before scoffing and turning the other way. "Potter could."
"Yes, but you aren't Potter just as much as he isn't you." She grabbed his hand. "And it's not something I'd like changing any time soon."
"Have you visited the bastard yet?" A voice came from the door as Fred and George arrived behind Ginny.
"Moody tells us the idiot has been throwing all his food away."
"As if living in a dingy cell wasn't bad enough."
"He hasn't eaten at all?" Hermione stood up, letting go of his hand in the process. "It's been five days."
"Well, it's not like Moody cares if Potter just keeps dumping his food on the floor again and again." Fred shrugged. "What can he do? Shove it down his throat?"
"Still, I'm sure he's itching for some company." George followed.
"We were hoping to help him with that."
"Care to come along?" The two finished, waggling their eyebrows.
"You can't be serious." Hermione said. "He- Sirius just snapped his wand and locked him away for God knows how long. And all you can think about is going down there to gloat?"
"It's not like we're going to torture him," George said indignantly. "Or do anything, really. Just talk."
"Bastard deserves it, after all." Fred said unrepentant. "Besides, you can't possibly tell me that if the situation was switched, he wouldn't go and do the same."
"That's not the point!"
"How are you even planning on getting in?" Ron asked. "The whole place was warded, you can't even apparate inside, I'm sure the Order must've considered that Potter can do that as well."
"Ah, yes." George smiled. "Completely locked via magical means. That means that no magic can be used to get past it. We can't blow up the door, we can't apparate inside. Can't even try to use any counter curses to open it with magic."
"But just like it is with our parents, wizards tend to forget about the simple pleasures of life."
"Like lock-picking."
"That could work… count me in."
"Ron!"
"Me too," Neville said, standing up.
"Neville-"
"It's better than just staying here and slaving around the house, Hermione." He said irritably. "Besides… he owes me a little chat."
Hermione sighed, looking between the four of them before rolling her eyes. "Well… fine. We'll try that."
"We?" Fred asked impishly.
"Yes, we." She said primly. "I'm not going to let you run around, doing very frowned upon things, without supervision."
"Hey, don't leave me," Ginny hissed as she joined the group on the stairs.
Reaching the ground floor, the twins got to work immediately with the door, while Ron was sent on watch duty to warn if Moody or anyone else was coming. It took them nearly three minutes, but they eventually made it work, with an audible click, the handle moved, and the door opened slightly.
"Told you," Fred grinned, opening the door for them as George called out to Ron. "Ladies first."
Hermione and Ginny went first, with him and Ron following behind them, and the twins closing the door as they were the last to come inside. The basement was filthy and unkempt, small, and the bars separating Potter from them had long rusted over. Potter himself was sitting with his back hunched over, leaning against the wall and a bottle in his hand. His hair long, greasy, and dishevelled, his eyes red with an almost mad glint.
"Are you okay?" He whispered at Hermione, her face slightly pale as she looked like she wasn't even in the room with them.
"I'm fine," she shook her head. "Fine."
"If it isn't the Golden Trio!" Potter shouted, barking a resentful laugh as he stood up and immediately went towards the bars, leaning his hands on them. "What a nice surprise! A tad later than what I had predicted, but still."
"You… nifty bastard," Fred snatched the bottle from his hands.
"Oi!"
"How the hell did you get your hands on this beauty?"
"Why'd you care?"
"We searched all over the house for any alcohol and could never found anything," George said.
"Then you're idiots."
"Did Professor Moody bring this to you?" Hermione asked, horrified.
"Mad-Eye?" Potter snorted. "Please."
"So what?" Ron asked. "You left your cell and went around the place searching for booze, only to return here?"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Believe what you want just," he reached forward, but Fred stepped back. "Give me back my bottle."
"I think you've drunk enough."
"Besides," Fred added coldly. "I doubt Sirius would like you stealing from his stores. You're a prisoner here, after all."
"Ah, yes," Potter spat. "My purgatory to atone for all my crimes. So, I assume I'm not even allowed a brief reprieve."
"No," Neville said, standing to place himself directly in front of Potter. "You're not. You're a murderer, a monster."
"Are you gonna go on about your spiel that you're better than me? Because I'm getting a bit tired of reminding you that YOU HAVE MURDERED PEOPLE TOO! So. you bitching about me killing those men at the Three Broomsticks, when I saved half of you lot here… it rings hollow."
"What about Montague? You killed him because of what… the two of you had a brief spat, and you wanted revenge? Or maybe you wanted to claim your dominance over the other Slytherins. And what about Tracey? What about the girl you framed and is now being endlessly tortured by dementors all day and night because you threw a hissy fit-"
"A hissy fit!?"
"And murdered Montague. You're not a monster because you killed those men at the Three Broomsticks. You're a monster because you butchered them! You tore them apart, limb from limb, acted in a way only the most gruesome Death Eaters do. And you have yet to show any remorse. Towards them or the kids that were killed because someone wanted payback for what you did on Halloween! You killed them all and didn't even have the decency to go to their funerals."
"Don't you dare lecture me about all the people that died that day!" Potter roared, gripping the bars so hard his knuckles turned white. "You didn't lose anyone you cared for that day! I did! You want to go to their funerals? Pretend you were best friends with those kids, acted as if you cared about them, even knew about them, be my guest. But you get that luxury because I was the one that made sure none of the people here died that day!" Potter stopped, letting go of the bar before giving him a cruel smile. "Can you really say the same about Cedric and Krum?"
"You bastard," Neville snarled, pulling out his wand before Hermione shoved his hand downwards.
"Enough!" She shrieked.
"Monster," Potter spat, his eyes getting redder as he began to pace around the room, "Oh, yes, and what a monster I've been. To save all your lives. To kill a piece of shit like Montague, like the men that attacked us at the Three Broomsticks."
"Montague wasn't a Death Eater," Hermione said, her voice braver than her face.
"Oh, yes, and what a wonderful cunt of a man that he was. You didn't even know him and yet, you stand there judging me. If I'm truly a monster, it's because Montague made me one when he-" Potter stopped abruptly, his mouth open but the words seemingly resisting him.
"When he what?" Hermione asked. Potter stared straight into her eyes for a moment before scoffing, all the built-up energy in him suddenly evaporating as he crumpled to the ground. Looking like a shade of the man he was merely a second ago. And somewhere, deep down, Neville felt pity for him. "What did Montague do?" Hermione pressed on.
"You aren't seriously believing him, are you?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Potter croaked out, his voice nearly trembling. "Nothing. Nothing. Nothing." He kept repeating, and though his body was here, his mind clearly wasn't. He was losing it, shaking his head as he repeated the same word over and over again.
"Nothing."
Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom
November 30th, 1993
9:50 a.m.
Everything ached. His entire body, every muscle burning as an unbearable nausea consumed him. He couldn't hold it, releasing last night's dinner onto the floor, soaking his clothes in a brown, almost orange, and slightly sticky fluid. He groaned, setting back into the cold, hard ground as he settled on not moving for a while.
Nearly thirty years since he was first bitten, countless transformations. And yet, his body never got used to it. An eternal agony enforced on him by a psychopathic monster. It was nearly forty minutes later that he finally dared to move, standing up and scrubbing off the dry vomit left on his lips. He stumbled out of the corner he'd been curled up in all night and threw himself on the bed.
His body was burning and yet, he began shaking as if he were naked in the middle of a snow storm. Covering himself in blankets, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it, he waited for it to pass. These days were eternal, endless and yet, a blur. Dumbledore came to see him at one point. He stayed there, and they talked… about something. Then he left. A house-elf came soon after, bringing him breakfast and ridding the room from the putrid smell.
He pushed the food aside, nearly toppling it from his bed, and closed his eyes. His shaking wasn't slowing down, the headache was only getting worse, and his muscles were even more sore than when he woke up.
These were going to be a very long couple of days.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling on the other side of the door. "Albus?" He croaked out, forcing his neck to turn towards the sound of a light crash.
"My, Professor, you look quite weathered." A familiar voice said, it's tone snide and bitter. "No wonder you skipped class today."
"Harry?" he asked, forcing himself up even as the pain tripled and forced a grunt out of him. It had been nearly a full month since he had last spoken to him. He'd tried, of course, various times. But he'd been persistent in ignoring him. Making sure he was never alone with him and acting downright hostile whenever he tried speaking to him during class. His body might hate him for it, but he couldn't pass this chance to finally speak with him. "Harry, I'm sorry."
"You must have a shit immune system," he carried on as if he hadn't even spoken. "I mean, you were sick last month. And the one before that. And the day when you first arrived."
"Yes, I do," he gave a tired laugh before the pain made him sober up. "Harry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. I should… I should have been there. Should've taken you in, made sure you grew up as your parents would have-"
"It makes me wonder…" Harry interrupted, his voice cold. "We wizards have very strong immune systems - I would know. So, either you're a pathetically weak wizard, though even Longbottom doesn't get sick that often, or… whatever you have… it's not natural."
"It's…" he sighed. "It's just a small cold, Harry. Nothing to worry about."
"What a magnificent full moon last night gave us, didn't it?" Harry said, and for once, he smiled. One that gave him chills when he realised there was no warmth to it.
"Harry-"
"You're a werewolf. A vicious, murderous beast. A monster… you disgust me."
"No," he shook his head, feeling his heart being torn apart by the words. "I… I'm not a monster. I'm different."
"No, you're not," Harry spat. "And for once… you were right. You were never fit to be my guardian. The best thing you did was stay out of my life."
"I… no- you were right… I'm…" a tear fell down his eye. "I'm sorry. For everything."
"Don't worry because I'm giving you a chance to repent." He walked towards his bed and sat on its side, glaring at him with nothing but hatred. "All those times you were reminiscing about your long-lost friends… all the adventures you had… the camaraderie you built. You messed up."
"Messed up?"
"The magical room. The one that you kept a secret, that makes everything you could imagine. You're going to tell me where it is… you will tell me how to use it."
"I… Yeah, anything. I'll help-"
"And while you're at it… you will give me that map you spoke of."
"The map?"
"My father helped create it," Harry answered. "And as the rest of you ended up either dead, in jail, or being pitiful excuses of adults… I'd say it belongs to me now."
"I… Harry… the map was taken from us at the end of our seventh-year. I've tried looking for it everywhere since I got back, but I just can't find it. Filch must've lost it ages ago. And even if I were to find it… that map's dangerous, especially now with Sirius on the loose. He knows the castle and knows about the map. The best way of finding it is to give Albus the map."
"Oh, you're going to find the map. You just haven't had enough incentive to look in the right places. And when you do… you're not going to hand it away to Dumbledore. That map was my father's, and it's mine by right."
"Harry, it's for your own-"
"You're going to hand me the map in a week's time, or I'll make sure everyone at the Ministry knows Remus Lupin is a werewolf. And from what Snape taught us, I hear they'll have your head hung over the walls of the DMLE."
"You can't possibly mean that."
"Who knows," Harry scooted over and grinned. "I might just ask for it myself. Put it on the door of the house you left me at."
"Harry… I know you're angry," Remus said slowly, his heart pounding in his chest as dread slowly began crawling over him like a swarm of spiders. Because that look Harry was giving him, there was no doubt in his mind he would do it. No hesitation, no remorse. "But you can't mean that. That law is barbaric. I've never hurt anyone, I've done everything I possibly could to make sure my condition doesn't even affect anyone else. You… you'd be sentencing me to death. You're angry, but deep down, you're still a good kid. Don't do something you're going to regret in the future."
"Regret?" Harry snorted. "Don't worry. This… right here… I will never regret any of it. If anything, I'm being nice. Be thankful I'm not just handing you over to the Aurors and letting them chop off your head. You deserve nothing less."
That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!
Next chapter starts the Year's End arc! In which we'll see both the Longbottom and Parkinson balls, as well as witness the Azkaban breakout! Be excited! :)
By the time I'm posting this, I'm FOUR chapters ahead, and I'm nearly finished with the Year's End arc! If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT
As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)