Part 10
A/N
I got nothing.
Oh, wait, chapter 8 was re-loaded due to some wording that could lead to confusion about the timeline. In fact, the whole timeline is kind of garbage. As a teacher in the US, our terms are very different than those in the UK public schools. And JKR doesn't really seem to follow them either. It's something I might have tried to fix if I wrote the whole thing before pushing it out. But as I'm still adding to this, well, the fact that some people say they are waiting is what's making my fickle mind still work on it!
Chapter 9 was reloaded because I gave footballers positions that didn't exist. Serves me right for not researching. I've made them midfielders now. My old stories still have the term reagent instead of regent because it makes me laugh and I was right, editing this crap is a pain!
~~ back to therapy we go ~~
It was the first weekend of "Easter" break. Of course, Easter wasn't for a few weeks, but Ostera, the magical holiday celebrating the equinox had started the prior evening, so most had gone home to celebrate with their families. Harry still didn't have a home, so it was business as usual for him. It was Sunday morning, and that meant having his guts torn out by a head shrinker.
He knew he was being mean, even in his head, but he really had a bad feeling about his session today. He didn't know why. He didn't have prescience, or not enough to register in his Gringotts test as worth training. But he had a bad feeling.
Dr. Fiona Crenshaw was pouring her tea when she started to speak. "I saw Amanda – Ms. Hook – yesterday. She passed on her regards."
Harry smiled. He had good memories of Ms. Hook. He'd sent her (and everyone else who'd saved his life) thank you cards and Yule greetings. Most had written back. Ms. Hook sent cards made by her foster kids. They seemed cool.
But other kids weren't always as cool. As usual, his healer could see that Harry had something brewing in his mind and gave him space to flesh it out. Harry decided to ask a question that had been bothering him for a while.
"Do you know what happened to my cousin, Dudley?"
Fiona took a deep breath through her nose as she stirred her tea. "He's currently in the foster system. He lived with his Aunt… Margaret, I believe?" At Harry's nod, she continued, "but he got in trouble for attacking another child at school." She saw the blanking on his face – he'd come a long way with meditation and was suppressing his initial emotional response. That wasn't such a good thing, she didn't believe. She probed. "How does that make you feel?"
Harry paused. "Dudley was a great wanker, but it wasn't really his fault, was it?" Pausing, he looked at the picture of the seascape, trying to organize his thoughts. "His parents rewarded him for all the wrong things. I could see they were big, fat liars. I knew not to trust a thing they said. But he didn't know that. He's not savvy, see? And they were his parents and they protected him, or so he thought. They didn't really, though. He'll be in prison before long because of how they raised him." Harry shook his head. Dudley had gotten as raw of an end of the stick as he had, in some ways.
"On another subject completely, do you have any plans for Easter break?" Fiona asked, stirring her tea. Harry sat back in his seat, his cup full but his stomach too jittery from the first topic of conversation to keep anything down.
"Sirius has come to stay at the castle again. Since literally everyone else in my year in Gryffindor already went home on the express yesterday, I'm going to stay in the guest quarters with him."
Fiona nodded. "That seems like a good compromise. Also, you'll get to see better how you get along, before you live with him this summer."
Harry smiled, and it was a warm, if small, offering. "I already know we'll get along fine. I've spent enough time with him to know that. But I worry…"
Fiona just tilted her head, giving Harry time to express his fears.
"Sirius was in that awful place for so long. He's getting his health back – mental, physical, and magical. But he's had to clean up that terrible house, and it's caused some setbacks, he said. Setbacks." The repetition of the word held a bitterness that was palpable.
Sirius never should have been treated so badly to begin with, and now because of… Harry breathed, thought of flying and the peace of the sky, and found calm.
"Do you know what he means by that?" Fiona's voice was gentle, but she watched Harry's reactions carefully without seeming to.
"Well, he has to take magic cleansers again. Those make you sick to your stomach if you've a lot of dark magic to cleanse. He says it's getting a lot better. But he's lost some weight he can't afford to lose. And the nightmares are worse again."
"Ahh," Fiona said, then stood, going to her shelf of books. She looked around for a moment, then pulled down a thin tome. "I think it's in here…" Leafing through, she came to a page and nodded, smiling. Turning the book to Harry, she watched as he scanned the image and the title.
"The Patronus. This ghostly magical guardian is a manifestation of the warmest of the caster's emotions. It takes the form of an anthropomorphic animal, often with some personal meaning to the caster. The patronus is the only known defense against the lethifold and the dementor, both creatures of demonic or extra-dimensional origin. The patronus can also be used to treat emotional ailments and depressive states."
The book went on to explain incantation as well as the intricacies of the spell. Harry read it with interest – he always liked learning new magic – but didn't quite understand… until he saw the part about emotional ailments and depressive states.
"It's safe to cast near people?"
"It's not only safe, it's beneficial. It helps anyone under its aegis, not just someone who is afflicted. Your assignment for this month is to work on this spell. Try to see if your defense professor can help."
Harry wrinkled his nose.
"Your defense teacher is that bad? I know Hogwarts has had a run of bad defense teachers, but I understood this year's candidate had a mastery in Defense?"
"Professor Lupin. Yeah. He…" Harry knew if anyone would understand, Dr. Crenshaw would. "He was one of my dad's mates. Sirius was dad's best mate, but he had two others. Pettigrew – the rat who betrayed him, and Lupin."
"All right," Fiona gently encouraged Harry to keep talking.
"So, he was one of my dad's best mates." Harry was silent for a beat, his jaw clenched. "Where was he? I mean? If Nev or Ron or Hermione had kids then died, I'd watch for those kids. I hope? But not Lupin." There was betrayal in his tone – more than a thirteen-year-old should be able to encompass. "And if he was Sirius's best mate, why did he leave Sirius to rot in prison?"
Fiona knew she had to tread carefully. "Have you spoken with him about any of this?"
Harry shrugged. "No."
"Have you asked Lord Black his opinion?"
"When Sirius is around, well, we spent most of the Yule holiday running around Britain just getting comfortable. We're getting more like mates I guess," Harry shrugged. "Maybe Sirius will want to spend time with Lupin this week. Of course…"
Fiona waited again, patiently.
"Lupin should have known that Sirius was innocent. Or at the least, he should have asked why there was no trial. I think…" Harry knew Lupin was a werewolf, so he knew that the marauder wouldn't have the much of a standing in magical England. "I think that he and Sirius have to work out their own thing before I can address mine."
But the myalurgist had heard more in the statement than Harry surmised. "I imagine that Lord Black is just as angry at his friend for ignoring your plight as you are about Professor Lupin ignoring Lord Black's. Many of us take greater offense at a loved one being hurt than being hurt ourselves. It's natural. Take the book. Perhaps the charms teacher can help you, if you don't want to go to Professor Lupin."
Harry pocketed the book with thanks then went to do his potions session. That hadn't been so bad. It wasn't even in the top 3 of tramautic sessions.
He guessed Gringotts got it right when they said he didn't have the gift.
Harry spent the afternoon prepping and brewing and chatting with Fezziwig. The man was only half-paying attention, though.
"Master Fezziwig, didn't you say I shouldn't brew if I can't concentrate my mind?"
Crispin sighed, looking at the mess of books and scrolls on his desk. The kid was right, he shouldn't brew.
"Sometimes, the teacher should listen to the student." His mutter made Harry grin.
"What I want to know is," Harry began as he gave one last stir and canceled his flame charm, "what's with the piles of parchment?"
"I, like every other potion master worth his salt, am researching into a treatment for the Burning."
Harry sat on a stool – something he wouldn't do if he hadn't already taken his potion off the heat to let it settle. "None of the regular pain treatments help?"
Running a hand through his (already) crazy hair, the potions master shook his head. "It's as though the dark mark – it's a tattoo that Riddle gave his followers – it's as if it has a direct connection to their magic. I've read that he could punish his followers with the mark, as well as summon them. I think, to get the anesthetic to work, we need to somehow work around that tattoo. But nothing I've found allows me to get around a sigil of ownership, which is what that corrupted protean charm seems to be."
Harry looked over at the mountain of magical texts again. "You know, I've been reading outside stuff because I think I might want to be like Dr. Dan."
"High asperations, kiddo."
Shrugging, Harry blushed. "I don't mean I could be like him. I just want to train for medicine on both sides. I think."
"Okay," Crispin nodded in agreement. "I see that. It's a long row to hoe, but if anyone has the sheer determination, you should."
"Thanks?" Harry wasn't sure it was a compliment. "Anyhow, I was reading how muggle drugs work, where they come from and the like. Do you know that all the great big fancy-pants chemists who make the drugs, they've been looking into primitive villages in the last decade or so? Something about finding medicines in natural plants that they've never seen in the lab."
"You think there are some plants out there that we haven't found that might help?" Crispin asked, curiously.
As he tilted his head, Harry shrugged. "Not so much? Cause, the muggle scientists, they look at how the plants affect the human cells and stuff. I don't really understand it. But maybe if you looked at how muggle medicines work, maybe you'll find something? I mean, no other potion master would be looking there."
"Got that in one," the man agreed. "Even if I don't solve the Burning, I might make an advance in something else… that I can actually publish this time. Since I can't publish any of the basilisk or parsel findings until you're of age."
"Sorry. Not sorry. I get enough crap for being the boy who didn't cark."
"Not funny."
Harry turned back to his own potion, checking its strength and composition. He popped out his wand and performed said parsel strengthening spell, watching the glow and grinning.
He loved magic.
As he bottled up the tonic, he looked to his mentor, who was making notes in a book. "So, you're researching this purely for the science of it? The fact that all of the gits who are Burning are rich bastards has nothing to do with your interest?"
"I really am interested in the problem. But if I can bleed those wankers dry to fund research projects, so much the better."
Harry chuckled at the wording then looked at his watch. "Time for me to go meet Sirius. I'm at a bit of a loose end this week. If you want me to come by to brew."
"It's your term break. You should relax and fly and spend time with your godfather. Besides, I'm going to be doing pharmaceutical research, not brewing."
Harry met up with Sirius who was waiting outside the HC for him. "Ready to go back to Hogwarts?" the man asked.
Harry had been going to ask if they could go somewhere, but Sirius looked tired. Harry supposed he had gone to Grimmauld while Harry was brewing. He wished Sirius didn't have to do so much work on that stupid house.
"Yeah. We'll get tea there. Nothing beats the tea the elves make."
"That's the truth."
Sirius got them back to the grounds, and they walked up to the castle slowly. "Good session today?" Sirius asked. Harry shrugged. "I know what you mean. I go to my own, you know."
"Dr. Crenshaw is a sneaky one. She never really asks me what she wants to ask, but somehow I tell her all these things I don't want to say. And it feels terrible and then it feels… better."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Like bursting a boil. Yeah. But it still hurts, even though you know it's going to help in the long run. And I have the added bonus of knowing that all the people who caused me to need therapy would be both absolutely revolted and completely furious that I'm getting help. Now, tell me what you got up to with Crispin this afternoon."
Harry was telling Sirius about the research problem Master Fezziwig was investigating as they climbed the stairs to the visitors' wing. In a strange sort of coincidence, when they turned the corner to their suite, it was to find Remus Lupin waiting at their guest rooms' door.
"Moony!" Sirius smiled as he greeted the man.
"I thought I'd see if you lads were free for tea and frivolity."
"Sod it, Moony, you can't go talking like a professor just because you're playing at one." Sirius opened the door and waved the other two in before him.
Harry was hanging up his coat when he heard the professor answer. "I'll have you know, I am a fully-accredited Mastery level defense expert, and I've done some teaching courses."
"That's more than most of the faculty here can claim," Sirius nodded. "Tea?"
"Master Black orders teas?" their assigned elf popped in.
"Actually, Toggin, I was asking Harry and Remus if they wanted tea, but yes, we do. Can you give us a full service for three?"
By the time the sandwiches and cakes were served round, Harry had pulled out his Uno deck and was teaching the two Marauders how to play. The three played several hands of cards and some other muggle games, the older of the two reminiscing between hands.
"Do you remember the time we made Thackery's chair shrink on him?" Remus asked with a laugh.
"Thackery was our defense professor, fifth year," Sirius informed Harry, who was shuffling a deck of cards the muggle way. "He had been giving Flitwick the business for being so small. Of course, Flitwick could defend himself, but we weren't going to stand for it. Thackery knew his way around curses and potions, so we couldn't get him directly. But we used a timed shrinking charm on every chair he sat in. We runed all the faculty chairs and his classroom and office chairs and then stuck a matching rune on the bottom of his shoes. He only had one pair. Took him a week to figure it out."
"Serves him right for bullying our Flitwick," Remus nodded.
Harry smiled.
"So what about you, Pronglet? You have any good stories?" Sirius asked, almost afraid to hear what his godson had got up to. When he had asked McGonagall how Harry's behavior was, her lips had tightened more than a miser's purse strings.
Harry furrowed his brow. "Well, you know about Quirrell, right?"
"That he was a defense professor and he disappeared?" Remus asked. Harry looked sharply at him. Then he began to tell the story.
When he told how the only reason he hadn't fallen off his broom was that Hermione set Snape on fire, Sirius was torn between anger and laughter. Other parts of the story made both men drop their jaws in shock.
"Wait a moment: Hagrid was raising a dragon? In a wooden hut? One badly-aimed belch and place would have gone up in flames!" Remus was agog.
Harry shrugged and continued. The Cerberus and other parts of the challenges caused the two adults to share concerned glances. But when Harry talked about how Quirrell attacked him at the end of that obstacle course, Sirius had his head in his hands.
"That was your mother's ward," Remus whispered. "She protected you with her life and her magic. You know who…"
"Riddle," Harry corrected.
"Riddle?" Remus asked.
"It was his real name. Tom Riddle. That's another story. What about Mum?"
"Her love was what killed Riddle," Sirius answered. "The ward she made through her sacrifice. That's what Albus thinks. That ward repelled Riddle's curse."
"How do you know his name is Tom Riddle? Details about him were thin on the ground back then."
"Well, that's my adventure of second year." Harry had told Sirius about Dobby before, so this time told them of the paralyzed students, the polyjuice adventure, following the spiders, and finally, trying to save Ginny and facing up against a basilisk on his own.
"Why didn't Poppy revive the petrified students straight off? Mungo's always has mandrake draught on hand." Sirius was agog at the mishandling of situations by Dumbledore's staff. Never mind that they allowed the student body to ostracize Harry, calling him the second coming of You Know Who. The staff should have known better!
Remus shook his head, "I understand she didn't even give them the proper treatment when they were revived. Panakos had students in all autumn term, trying to fix problems she didn't address. She had some sort of dementia. Terribly sad."
"I'm also horrified that your professor tried to curse you. He would have left you down there to rot, or be eaten by that great serpent." Sirius was thinking that Lockhart was sitting in Mungo's now, but was it enough? Maybe he'd have Robbie get some researchers on just who else Lockhart had victimized.
"Well, like Quirrel, he got what was coming to him," Harry was certain of that.
"You've gotten rid of your first two defense professors. Justifiably, and you certainly weren't at fault for anything… but I certainly hope you aren't going for the hat trick!" Remus looked at Harry, a bit of a smile on his face.
Harry just studied his new professor silently. "They brought it on themselves, really." The unsaid question was, would Remus do the same?
With that, Remus felt he should probably take his leave. "Well, gents, we've made it through the telling of Harry's adventures. I think I'm going to make my way back to my rooms. I have papers to grade and lessons to plan. Thanks for the tea and entertainment, Sirius, Harry. See you at supper?"
"Of course! I think I'm going to get a nap in," Sirius then barked a laugh at Remus's raised eyebrows, "Shut it. Nothing about me getting old!"
"You said it, Pads, not me. I'll see you in a few hours."
When the door was shut, Sirius turned to Harry. "Do you not like Remus?"
"He's a great teacher. I know you and Dad were pals with him, I just don't understand how he could…" Harry paused then looked at Sirius. "He left you there. In Azkaban."
"He has his reasons, and explained them to me. I get it and I forgive him." Sirius understood why Harry was so upset. Had Sirius not been just as angry that Moony had abandoned their Pronglet?
"Because he's a were?" Harry asked out of nowhere.
Sirius stuttered for a moment, flabbergasted, then replied:
"You were aware that he's a were?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed. "This is not the time for jokes."
As he ran his hand through his hair, Sirius dropped into a lounger. "No, no… If he had come forward directly, Remus would have been even more ostracized. He tried paying the bribe to see me, and they took the money and still refused the contact. It took him a year to get that much money together. And he did it thinking I was guilty and just wanting to know why, why I had betrayed James. I figure if he'd gotten to Azkaban, they would have conveniently left him there. Or exposed him to a kiss. The only good wolf…"
"Is a dead wolf. Yeah. Dad said that was often the battle cry. It's why almost all the wolf population sided with Riddle."
A light of understanding came into Sirius's eye. "James's journal. Yeah, he had the normal fear, you know? Especially once he was an adult and had you to raise. People are scared of wolves, for a reason, but people don't see it's our own laws that make normal people desperate criminals." Sirius sighed. "We just don't learn."
Harry dropped on the chair next to the one Sirius was in. "If weres are so hated, why has Dumbledore brought him here? Why would he let Lupin with kids and he won't let me live with you?"
Tilting his head up to Harry, Sirius, narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I'm a pureblood. My family tree is so pure it's practically a vine, if you know what I mean." Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah. A bit off-putting. Anyway, Dumbledore tends not to trust purebloods. His closest colleagues on staff are McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid, Sprout, and Flitwick – all half-bloods. It's why Slughorn left to begin with. He and Dumbledore don't see eye to eye on a lot of the political aspects."
"But the Headmaster always seems to pander to the purebloods. They never get called out when they do anything wrong. And what about the Weasleys? He certainly favors them!"
"The Weasleys are the exception that prove the rule. They're well-known 'blood traitors'. As to the pandering… well, he certainly knows who approves the budget. He pays lip service to the purebloods, allows them a bit of what he considers their innate, brutal behavior. But his actions show he sticks with his own."
"He's a muggleborn?"
"His mother was. And his pureblood father was a dick who tortured muggles."
"Really?"
"Really. Got sent down to Azkaban for it. Anyway, Dumbeldore loves muggleborn and mixed blood. It's why he let Lupin in to teach and he's done his best to keep me from influencing you."
Harry had no desire to think about the headbastard anymore.
"So, the whole werewolf plight explains why Lupin didn't help you. I guess." Harry pouted a bit. He was still only thirteen, Sirius reminded himself, no matter how mature Harry sometimes acted.
"What about you? Is that what you're wondering? Why didn't Remus try to help you?"
"It doesn't matter." Kicking at a pattern on the rug, Harry shrugged.
"It does. I didn't care why he didn't help me. I was furious he didn't help you. He explained himself to me. Will you give him the chance to explain himself to you?"
Harry thought to the journal entries – both his mum and his dad loved Remus Lupin. For them, and for Sirius, he would listen.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Okay. Well then, enough of the hard stuff. Will you show me that picture of Prongs again? It looked so life-like through the mirror."
Harry was stubborn. He convinced Sirius to take him out of the castle the first few days of break. He avoided his defense professor to the best of his Seeker abilities. He just wanted time – time to process what Sirius had said; time to prepare himself for disappointment, again.
If Lupin had no real excuse, well, he wouldn't even be close to the first person to let Harry down.
The first student to return to the castle, surprisingly, was Neville. He was at dinner on Wednesday night, when Harry came in from flying, and Harry was confused.
"What are you doing back so early?" Harry asked as he sat with Neville, alone, at the Gryffindor table.
"Oh, well, Professor Sprout asked me and a few others," Neville nodded to a group of mixed upperclassmen sitting at the Hufflepuff table, "to come transplant some of greenhouse three. It's a time-sensitive thing, moon phase and solstice and..."
"Please, no," Harry begged, not really understanding those parts of herbology at all well. He'd grow a garden; he'd process plants for potions. But the whole magical arithmancy of herbology was just too complicated to think about at that moment.
It was term break, after all! He'd done his homework. He was on track with the muggle subjects. He wanted to do fun stuff!
"Well, at least you got some break. Was everything okay at home?" Though Harry had never told Neville he understood some of what Neville was subjected to at Longbottom Manor, Neville knew that he knew.
They were both British enough to leave the understanding unstated.
"Aside from the fact that it was cold enough to freeze bollocks, yeah. It was better than ever. I really have to thank you."
Harry looked up from his fish pie. "Me? What did I do?"
"Three things. First, you got Gran to get me a wand. Using my dad's wand, well, it didn't really work for me." Neville flashed his cherry wand in his holster before forking up some of his own pie.
"Well, I didn't plan that. But you're welcome. Ollivander seemed to think it actually hurt you, using your dad's wand?" Harry couldn't understand why adults couldn't just adult sometimes, and they had to be forced to own up.
"Yeah, because Dad's still alive, and the last time he used the wand was in battle. Wands are sentient in a way. Dad's fought me every step. Using this one is a breeze. My grades have all gone up and McGonagall reported the progress to Gran. Which brings me to the second reason I owe you thanks. The meditation has helped so much. I told you I still had issues from when the LeStranges and Barty Crouch attacked my parents. Well, the meditation and occlumency is helping me fix the problem with my memories, which McGonagall also reported."
"You've done really well both terms. Hermione was super impressed, and she doesn't impress easily."
"I kicked arse." Neville said with a newfound confidence. "But the best… the best is that no one was at the estate over break. Usually Gran's brother-in-law – Dad's Uncle Algie, you know – comes over."
"He was the one who tried to kill you, right?" Snippets of conversation – being tossed out a window, being thrown off a pier – came back to Harry.
Neville blushed. "Well, he tried to show I have magic." At Harry's quirked eyebrow, Neville reddened a little more. "Well, yeah. Anyway, he's in the DoM – department of Mysteries. They're trying to track down the source of the Burning and if they can fix it. No luck so far, but because the wankers that are suffering – Parkinson and Nott and Malfoy and the like: a bunch of them are rich and important, according to the minister, anyway – Algie has to be at work every day for long hours. No time to come sponge off the family estate. And even better, the Crouches – Gran's cousins – are done."
"Done?" Harry asked, confused.
"That lawsuit for false imprisonment Sirius's lawyer brought against the tribunal? Well, Barty Crouch, Senior was one of the three on the tribunal, and it bankrupted him. I know I told you that Gran would invite our last Crouch relatives over for all the magical holidays. She didn't even seem to care that it was Barty Crouch's son – another Barty Crouch – that let those bastards through our wards to attack Mum and Dad! Anyway, since Sirius's lawsuits bankrupted Crouch, he had to sell everything, including the family estate. He had to move to a cottage in a part-muggle town."
"Oh, the poor, unfortunate man," Harry falsely commiserated.
"Right." Neville grinned. "It ended up that – well, it's being kept quiet – but he broke his son out of Azkaban and kept him alive at Crouch manor! First, he lost the elf that took care of Junior in the lawsuit. So the father used – get this – the imperious to control his fugitive son. Until the Burning, junior was pretty easy to manage. The son went nuts with the burning, threw off the imperius, and just started screaming bloody murder. A neighbor heard him screaming – which they wouldn't have if they'd been under the manor wards with an elf dancing attendance - and reported that someone was being tortured in the cottage. MLE took the case from the muggle authorities and found Barty Crouch, Junior, who supposedly died in Azkaban. He's really dead, now. He grabbed a wand from one of the DMLE officers and used a bludgeon curse on his own head. Crouch, senior, is awaiting trial."
Harry was glad that the justice system was working this time. He supposed.
The next afternoon, at a loose end since Sirius was working with some contractors at Grimmauld on a time-sensitive project, Harry decided to follow the instructions Dr. Crenshaw had given him. He knocked on Professor Lupin's office door, seeing the man working on what he thought might be lesson plans.
"Harry," Remus smiled a bit nervously. "What are you doing in the classwork wing on break?"
Harry stepped into the room and looked around at the shelves. "I came to ask for some help."
Remus stood and moved around his desk. "Sit, sit," he indicated the two chairs across from his desk as he leaned against the large piece, crossing his arms. "You're here for tutoring? You are the top student in your year! What do you need help with?"
Harry pulled out the book that Healer Crenshaw had lent him. "This spell." Handing the book to his professor, he took the man up on the offer of the seat.
"Ahh, the patronus. It's not an easy spell. It takes a good deal of magic and control of your emotional state. May I ask why you need it?"
"Sirius still has nightmares. The stupid dementor things."
Remus lowered his head. "I hadn't thought. I should have offered…. Well. Anyway. You have to have the ability to channel the best of memories. Do you think you…"
It was no secret that Harry's life had been miserable. Harry was kind of surprised that Lupin would allude to it though.
"I've been going to sessions with a Master Healer who specializes in myalurgy – mind healing – since Yule hols."
"Ahh," Remus said. "You know… I haven't known how to say this."
Harry wasn't going to make it easy, so he sat quietly, just studying the greying were.
"Lily's eyes. She used to pin James with that look when he did something foolish." Remus sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I tried, you know. Just as I tried to get to Sirius, I tried to get to you." Obviously, Sirius had told Remus Harry had started asking questions. "Dumbledore refused to tell me where you were. He placed an inhibitory shield around your magical signature and deadly wards around your dwelling. You were completely hidden from any sort of magical scrying. It made sense, of course. You were hidden so that death eaters couldn't find you. They tried; I know. Those shields are what protected your possessed Professor Quirrel, so they were incredibly powerful. I found tracking spells on my own things countless times; evidence they were using me to try to find you. But still, even with that known risk, I needed to see you were okay. You were all I had left."
He sighed, standing and walking to a tea set in the corner. "Tea?" he asked. Harry shook his head. Remus took his time fixing a cup, then sat in the chair next to Harry's.
"After a few years of scouring the magical world, I came to the conclusion that you'd been hidden with muggles. I worked in the muggle world, trying to find where he put you through the public records. But having no education in the muggle world meant menial working jobs with low income. And I didn't know how to navigate the muggle world as I ought. I tried, but by the time you'd started Hogwarts, I felt it was too late. Dumbledore had blocked me at every turn, and now you'd not trust someone who should have been fundamental in your life but was conspicuous in his absence."
Harry felt the iron in his resolve start to melt. And his ire for the headmaster grew – impossibly – stronger.
"Dumbledore threw me a bone to try to bridge the gap – let me teach here this year to see how well you were doing." Remus shook his head. "How well… What a fucking joke. Excuse me."
Harry could see just how angry Lupin was. That it was on Harry's behalf… it was confusing. Instead, he stayed silent.
"By the time I had the chance to speak with you, it was pretty obvious you were – rightly – angry with me for not helping you or Sirius."
"Sirius told me you tried to help him," Harry offered.
"Yes, I tried." The bitterness rang in Lupin's voice.
"Well, sod them all." Harry said. "Sod Dumbledore, Crouch, all of them. They're all bastards."
"I should correct your language, but I agree too much. And all we can do is move on. Now. The patronus." Remus took a fortifying sip of his tea. "It's a wonderful spell, powerful and nothing but beneficial. And what a good way to help Sirius! I'll need some time to locate another boggart. With Sirius around, I imagine the boggart will turn into a dementor, and that will give you something safe to practice on. In the meantime…"
Lupin went over the incantation and wand movements. After several practice runs, with corrections from the professor in wand position and pronunciation, Harry tried pulling his magic for the spell and only felt a bit of a mist come out of his wand. He was exhausted almost immediately.
"That's not bad for a first time. May I ask what memory you used?"
"Flying. Being in the sky. It's what I use for meditation."
"Ahh, a misconception. You don't want peace with this spell. You want happiness. Love. I have a particular memory, from when I was about your age, with your father and Sirius. It was the first time I felt accepted."
As Harry knew Lupin's secret, he understood.
"I'll think about it. Thanks for the pointers." He took the book back and turned to go to the door. "Sirius and I are going out of the castle for lunch tomorrow – last day of official break, since the weekend's a weekend like any other. Anyway, you should come."
"I'd like that. I'll let you know when I locate another boggart. We'll get Sirius in here to practice."
Harry shuddered, thinking about what he'd read of dementors. "Yeah, that's something to look forward to."
Remus chuckled as Harry left. The two felt much better with the air cleared.