Title: Lusus Naturae
Chapter: Chapter Twelve
Rating: M for Musty
Warnings: Abuse, Death, Time Skips
A/N: Bit of a jump here, but I'm not doing a chapter for every class. On to the action, I say. I'm glad so many of you are favoriting/following/enjoying this self-serving journey of mine. More twists! More turns!
After a rough start to the school year, the Hogwarts student body settled into what could be called the 'usual' routine rather quickly. The weeks following the beginning of the school year were filled with the ordinary: classes, quidditch, and excitement leading up to the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.
It was decided amongst himself, Professor Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore that Harry would not partake in the latter. Quidditch seemed an unreachable goal given his bouts of dizziness and vertigo. He didn't quite understand why he wouldn't be allowed to join the other third years on the trip to Hogsmeade, but Professor Snape said he may be allowed with an escort on the following weekend.
September quickly turned to October and before Harry knew it, Halloween was just around the corner. Little had changed in regards to his 'condition' as Snape called it. The glamours still made him sick after only a few hours. He still had to take a handful of nutrient and supplementary potions throughout the day. Eating non-protein-based foods still disagreed with his stomach. Harry had come to accept this to be his new normal, even if Dumbledore continued to promise him a full recovery.
His classes had remained unremarkable in the interim. He did his best to ensure it. Harry had gone so far as to fail several Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense classes by simply forgoing the practical lessons entirely. What had happened in his first Charms class of the year had frightened him off from performing under the attention of his classmates. His practice in private - sometimes under the supervision or Professor Snape - was going well enough without it.
Even if the normal was in fact 'new', the routine put his mind at ease and allowed him to focus on what was truly bothering him. Professors Lupin and McGonagall were his main concern. Lupin had been absent from class the morning after the full moon, requiring Snape to fill in for him. It only served to confirm Harry's suspicions. McGonagall, for her part, seemed to go to extraordinary lengths to avoid speaking to Harry. Despite his continued obstinence in the classroom, she refused to confront him about it. She merely graded him as passing and let it go.
It should not have come as a surprise that the calm did not last, but Harry found himself taken off guard when it came to an end. After nearly two months of living without the threat of another bombshell dropping on his head, Harry wasn't keen to head into the holidays facing yet another impending doom.
"Here," Neville prompted, emptying his pockets of several packaged sweets labelled with the Honeyduke's branding. "I got you three chocolate frogs and a few sugar quills."
Harry accepted the gift, knowing he couldn't partake. It was a touching gesture nonetheless. "Thanks, Nev."
Over the past month the two boys had grown closer. It was natural of course for the two of them to fade into the background of their classes. Neville was simply too quiet and Harry had no desire to put himself at the center of attention. It would seem the changes in Harry disagreed with Ron Weasley's rather boisterous attitude. The ginger-haired boy had been spending an increasing amount of time with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Hermione spent time with Harry and Neville when she could, but due to her course load for the semester it wasn't all that often she found herself with free time. When Harry could stomach being presentable, he often spent time with Neville in the library or the greenhouse.
Professor McGonagall had escorted the third years on their first trip to Hogsmeade. She brushed past the Gryffindors with a general warning about spoiling their appetite with sweets before dinner and fled down the hallway. Harry got the impression she might have been running away from him in particular, not that he had any proof.
"Let's get to the hall," Neville prompted.
They shared dinner at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Ron spent most of it pressing Hermione for her secrets, which he had loudly proclaimed since start of term were highly suspicious in nature. Harry agreed Hermione had been swamped with class-work, but her schedule was no secret. He instead chose to focus on Neville, making plans to go over their astrology homework together that night after dinner.
Their plans misfired, however, when an alert went up throughout the school. Harry and Neville were examining star charts in the library when the Headmaster's voice rang out through every room and hall in the school.
"All students and faculty to the Great Hall. Hogwarts is under lockdown," the warning said.
Harry and Neville quickly gathered their things and raced for the Great Hall as the message repeated itself, following their retreat.
They were two of the last to make it to the Great Hall. When Harry arrived he scanned the room for Professor Snape, who he found to be doing the same for him. The two locked eyes and exchanged an acknowledging nod. Professor Snape seemed to visibly relax once he was sure Harry was alright.
"There has been an attack," Professor Snape announced. "Until the school can be searched and cleared, all students will remain in the Great Hall. We will bring out bedrolls shortly. Please stay with your house. If you notice any of your house mates missing, inform a Prefect immediately."
"What happened?" Neville asked Ron as he and Harry joined the other Gryffindors.
Most of the students were sitting on the floor. The tables had been cleared away to allow more room for the tired children to stretch out. Harry dropped cross-legged onto the stones beside Ron.
"Someone cut up the Fat Lady," Ron explained. "They can't find her anywhere."
"What for?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged, shoving a handful of Bertie's beans into his mouth. "Bet you it was Sirius Black," he said mid-chew.
"There is no way Professor Dumbledore would let that happen," Hermione sniffed.
Ron glared at her. "Where were you after dinner?"
"It's none of your business, Ronald!"
It would seem none of the students were returning to their dorms that evening. Bedrolls were brought in and distributed. By ten o'clock all of the students were laid out in a patchwork layer of sleeping bags and bodies across the floor of the Great Hall.
The time it had taken to get the sleeping arrangements made had sapped Harry of his resolve. His skin was crawling uncomfortably below the glamour and he'd had to lay down and close his eyes to stop himself from falling over. Professor Snape was nowhere to be found, having left to assist in the efforts of clearing the school. The thought of sleeping in his glamours made him sick.
"Mr. Potter," sniffed Professor McGonagall from the entry way to the hall. "You're to come with me."
Part of Harry was relieved and the other half resented that McGonagall was the one sent to fetch him. He moved to stand up.
"Why does he get to leave?" shouted one of the Slytherins.
"Yeah, that's not fair!"
"I don't want to sleep in the same room as a Hufflepuff. I think that one's crying!"
"Quiet," Professor McGonagall ordered. "Mr. Potter, with me."
"See ya," Harry whispered to Neville who then clapped him on the back.
It took the last of his energy to carefully navigate the maze of bodies blocking his exit. When Harry came to Professor McGonagall's side she set off at an unreasonable pace. Harry had to practically jog to keep up with her.
"I'm to escort you to your room and lock you in for the night," she explained shortly.
The walk to the staff quarters was spent in silence. When they arrived, Professor McGonagall observed him step inside Snape's rooms with a strange expression on her face.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said softly.
"Good night, Mr. Potter."
Harry didn't remember climbing in to bed that night. When he awoke the next morning it would be with the enchanted pendant still around his neck and the glasses smushed into his face.
It was a massive black dog that stalked the empty halls of Hogwarts. The creature darted from shadow to shadow, hoping to evade the watchful eyes of the portraits. It somehow knew every hidden corridor and secret chamber in the school, but that knowledge was more instinctual in this form. Purposeful intent carried it away from the scene of its latest crime towards the target of his next.
The witch that reeked like a cat stalked away down the hall, unaware of the danger lurking in the darkness behind her. In her absence, the dog turned on the locked door where she had abandoned her post. Some distant, human part of the beast marvelled at his good fortune. He circled the door twice before deeming it safe to approach.
It took more effort than it should have to shift. Black fur and sinew rippled. The beast whimpered and then moaned as its spine lengthened to the height of a full-grown man. An all too human wave of consciousness overcame him bringing the sensation of pain along with it as the transformation took hold.
Sirius Black stood upright with the help of the stone wall of the corridor and withdrew the stolen wand from the folds in his tattered robes. He whispered an unlocking spell in a painful rasp of a voice. The door clicked open and fell away.
The scent that pervaded the room was familiar, but those memories were far away. His mind tried to grasp for them but failed. He staggered forward, darting between pieces of furniture to keep himself upright in the darkness. From a distance he saw a light coming from beneath a close door. Wand drawn in a not-quite-human grip, Sirius lunged towards it.
The man smelled awful. Beneath the fetid stench of his soiled robes and the filth that clung to his skin was something deeper. Wet dog, perhaps. He watched as the door knob turned and listened to the tentative movements that pushed the door open into his room.
He knew the face the man wore, distantly perhaps. A friend of the Potters. Regulus Black's disinherited brother, yes. Sirius Black. The name sent his mind whirling, threatening to drag him back down into the dark where such contemplation was easier. It took his full concentration to remain in the light.
"Har-" the wizard tried. "Harry..."
He glared at the less than imposing figure and stood from the bed. It was difficult to configure his thirteen year old body into something one might construe as intimidating, but he did his best imitation.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Friend," Black said. "A friend of your p-parents."
His voice was like nails on a chalkboard. An ache lodged itself behind double-lidded eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"I need... help."
"Clearly."
"Not right," Black muttered, swinging out a hand to cut an angry line through the air. "None of this is right. It's all his fault."
"Whose fault?"
Sirius barked a laugh that spoke of sincere madness. "Peeeter. Little Peter Pissed His Pants."
Ah, yes.
"Pettigrew?"
Sirius' face turned quite serious indeed. "He's there. In the tower. That boy..."
"Take your time. We've got all day," he said sarcastically. "What do you want, Black?"
"Pettigrew," Sirius shouted. "Dead."
"What makes you think he's here?"
"Weasley. In the paper. I saw it. Mocking me."
"Focus, you fool. They'll be coming."
"Rat. He is a rat. I'm a dog. James is... James is dead."
Peter Pettigrew, the rat animagus. Yes, that sounded right. He shook his head to clear the shadows from his mind.
"What do you have to offer me?"
Sirius pushed himself upright from the doorway, glowering. "You smell wrong."
"You smell awful."
"Help me..."
"You'll owe me, Black."
"Yesss. Please."
A door slammed from far off in the castle. Black jerked away, falling across the threshhold behind him. His hands caught on either side of the doorframe.
"The whomping willow. Where we used to play," Black crooned.
"I'll consider."
When Black found the good sense to flee, the boy shuffled back towards the bed. Taking his wand from the pocket of his trousers - an awful habit, honestly - he aimed it under his chin and cast a non-verbal Sleeping Charm. His body crumpled face down on the bed for its host to deal with in the morning.