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Chapter Twenty-Two—Hairs

"And you really don't have anything else to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Some of the Slytherins have become really quiet since they noticed me listening to their conversations."

It wasn't even a lie, although the conversations Harry had listened in on were the sort that would give him information about good Potions suppliers and second bookshops off Diagon Alley rather than any political secrets. But it made Professor Lupin snarl a little and pace back and forth in a strange way. Harry watched him carefully.

One thing he had started noticing when he visited the professor was a strong smell hanging in the air, something like a mixture of wet dog hairs and snakeskin. Harry didn't know what it was, but he did wonder if the professor was taking a potion of some sort.

It irritated him that he couldn't tell exactly which sort. He knew there was snakeskin involved, but that was a lot of Potions, and he wasn't good enough to distinguish different snakes by smell yet.

"Mr.—Grayson?"

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, promptly snapping back to attention. He had to be careful, patient, wary, wise, around all professors. Around all adults, really. Even the Dark Lord would take advantage of Harry if he could.

It was sort of thrilling, though, moving in the company of people who took him so seriously.

"I asked if you really think that you won't be able to get me more political information this year?"

"Are you going somewhere over the summer, sir?"

"You know the curse on the Defense position takes all professors who try to finish out a term." Lupin smiled. It looked ghastly. He really was ill, Harry thought, and maybe the potion he was taking was a medicinal one. "I hoped that I could create a bond with you this term sufficient to have you write to me over the summer, though."

"If I can find an owl, sir."

"You don't have one?"

"Oh, well, I could have access to one."

"You should have your own!"

Harry eyed the way that Lupin slammed his hand on his desk. The desk tilted back and forth, although the hit hadn't been that hard. Harry shifted his weight in the chair, ready to run if he had to, and Lupin's eyes focused intently on him.

They were amber at the moment.

Harry calmed down, made sure that his heart was beating evenly and that his breathing was slow and steady. He'd had do that in several confrontations in the common room where people might notice if he acted afraid. Granted, it had been several months since he'd had to practice it on a regular basis, but he remembered how to be truly calm by imitating it.

And if Lupin was a werewolf, the way Harry was beginning to suspect, Harry would need to smell and sound calm as well as act that way.

"Maybe I should, sir," Harry agreed, when he thought the moment was past and Lupin had turned around so that he faced the wall of the classroom. "But money's always been tight, and an owl wasn't a priority."

"I can get you one!"

Harry let his eyebrows rise before he could stop himself. One could argue that he'd become a favorite of Lupin's just as he had with Slughorn, but with Slughorn, Harry understood the mechanism behind their exchange of favors. With Lupin, he still wasn't sure that he'd given the man much that was valuable.

And that made accepting favors too risky to do.

"I appreciate the offer, sir," he murmured, and made his voice as calm and quiet as he could. "But I don't think I would use an owl much at the moment."

"And during the summer?"

"I see my friends on a regular basis, sir. I don't think I need to worry about it."

"There are other people who would want to write to you!"

Lupin's fingers were digging into the side of his desk now and bending the wood. Harry kept an eye on them as he said politely, "Well, I'll think about it, sir. But right now, I don't think I need an owl to write to one person."

Lupin followed his gaze and snatched his hand back as if the desk were on fire. Unsurprisingly, given what Harry had noticed about him now, his voice emerged in a ragged snarl. "You can leave."

"Yes, sir," Harry said politely, and stood and walked out the office door. He didn't make it a point to linger where Lupin could probably smell him, but continued walking towards the dungeons at a measured pace. He broke into a jog only when he was sure he was beyond the range of even a werewolf's ears.

He had information to share, and although he could think of many people who would like to hear it, he only knew one who deserved it.

Sirius bent over, shuddering, the moment that Harry disappeared out the door. The potion churned in his guts, and he wanted to double over further.

He wanted to drop to all fours and transform. But he was no longer sure if a dog or a wolf would come out.

Panting, Sirius stripped off his robes and reached down to trace his fingers up his ribs. The ends of his fingers seemed to be sprouting claws that hadn't been there before, and he had to quell the temptation to pant and whine. He was not going to make sounds like an animal that anyone walking by the door might overhear.

Even if I seem to be transforming into one.

He swallowed when he felt fur under his touch. He would have to cancel his classes for the day and stay in bed. Since he had been claiming to be sick each the time full moons arrived, this wouldn't be that unusual for people.

And it would break the pattern that someone who didn't know Remus's condition might have noticed, might have been wondering about—

A shudder rippled through him, one so profound that Sirius cried out in misery. The cry transformed halfway through into a howl.

Pain gripped him and crushed him, the kind of pain that had never been a part of Sirius's Animagus transformation.

No! No!

But the pain and the magic didn't listen to him. The waves of agony coursed through him, like the warm waves when he took the Polyjuice Potion, and when Sirius opened his eyes again, things were dimmer. On the other hand, the world was bursting with scent, and he flinched from the impact of distant sounds on his ears.

Slowly, behind the wonder, came the rage.

There was someone who knew. Who might suspect. Someone who had seen Sirius-Remus's eyes change to amber, and his strength when he injured the side of the desk.

Someone who could tell someone else, and could bring the hunters after him if he convinced enough of them.

Sirius was not going to allow that.

He howled and charged the door, ramming it. It broke off its hinges, and Remus hurtled ahead, his nose lowered to the floor, tracking the trailing scent of the traitor.

It reminded him of old days, running with his companions, figuring out who had been the traitor and what to do with them—

But this time, he had no requirement to keep quiet. His prey couldn't transform into an Animagus. He raised his voice and let his hunting song ring down the corridors.

I am coming. Wait, Harry. I am coming.

Harry heard the howl behind him and shut his eyes for a moment. He had feared something like this would happen, but he hadn't known it would be so soon.

He allowed himself that one moment of weakness. Then he turned and pressed his back against the wall behind him. He could run for the Slytherin common room, but there was no guarantee that he would make it when the creature hunting him had a werewolf's speed, and if he lived, he might be blamed for putting other people in danger.

Harry knew how that game went.

Instead, he bent and twisted water vapor in front of him, with the same swiftness and skill that had allowed him to get revenge on the Weasley twins. If someone noticed his method of defeating the werewolf and its resemblance to what had happened to the twins, he would deal with that later.

Survival first.

The werewolf shot around the corner, an odd, misshapen creature who seemed to have one leg shorter than the other. But Harry didn't hesitate. He didn't know if it was all the way transformed, or whether its teeth and claws were going to be effective in this form, but he wouldn't take any chances.

The werewolf saw him and snarled. Its eyes were odd, large, the left one grey and the right one amber.

That much, Harry had time to notice before the creature hurtled at him.

Harry met it with a towering wave that slammed the werewolf out of the air. It howled as it went down, and Harry heard the crack of bone breaking as it hit the floor. He didn't relax, though. Werewolves were resistant to spells and could regenerate from injuries, everyone knew that. He doubted he was safe yet.

Sure enough, the werewolf rolled back to its feet, snarling again, but limping now. Its left hind leg seemed to be broken. Harry cupped his hands in front of him and called fire, this time, the way he'd called it when he was a scared and lonely child in a cupboard and it was the only light he had.

The creature lunged at him again.

This time, Harry filled the air between them with fire. He doubted that it would really hurt the werewolf, but it cringed away with a yelp, and seemed like it would take a moment to force itself through the flames.

Harry, meanwhile, ran down the corridor and into the first secret passage he could find.

The stone wall barely slid shut behind him before it shook under the impact of a charge. Maybe the werewolf could break through the stone; maybe it couldn't. Harry kept running, down stairs and up more, out into another corridor briefly, into another passage, and all the way back to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.

Only when he was safely inside the common room did he allow himself to breathe.

Lily stared at the transformed Sirius prancing around inside the warded circle and felt as if her heart would break.

None of them, it seemed, had considered in enough detail what it would mean to drink Polyjuice containing the hairs of a werewolf.

"Lily, my dear."

Lily didn't turn to acknowledge that Albus had walked into the infirmary. She reached out a hand, though, and felt the Headmaster's, strong for all his age, grip and hold hers.

"What happened?" she whispered. "I don't—if we hadn't come on him before he made it into the Great Hall, he could have killed someone."

"I have to think it a side effect of using Polyjuice with a werewolf's hairs in it that no one has ever documented," Albus said in a flat voice, and for a moment, Lily leaned on him. Albus held her up, but Lily knew most of his attention was on Sirius, as was hers. "I—do not think it is common that someone did that."

"You know our reasons."

"Of course, Lily. And I approved them. But that does not mean that it would be common. And it does not mean that we can allow Sirius to continue using the Polyjuice."

Lily closed her eyes to keep the hot tears from leaking down her face. She was an adult, and she had shed her share of tears in the privacy of her own home. She would not do it here, when they were practically in public—

Albus put his hand on her back.

Lily turned towards him after all, and rested her face on his shoulder, and wept, for the failure of their plan to secure Harry, and what their plan had done to Sirius, and all the failures that had piled on top of them since the day they had accidentally disowned Harry.

"You were nearly a victim of a werewolf."

Harry blinked a little. He had come to Hogsmeade to meet the Dark Lord a full fortnight after Professor Lupin had turned into a werewolf and attacked him, and as a result, had been banished from the school when he returned to human form. Harry had of course written to the Dark Lord about that, but, well, it had been a busy fortnight as he worked on his ordinary homework and preparing for exams at the end of the term and the apprenticeship studies the Dark Lord had set him.

He'd as nearly forgotten the attack as it was possible to forget.

From the way the Dark Lord leaned forwards on the other side of the table, he hadn't.

"Yes," Harry said cautiously. He took a long bite of his ice cream, which the Dark Lord had brought him from Diagon Alley. "But I'm absolutely sure that I didn't get bitten or scratched, sir, if that's what you were worried about."

"That is not what I am worried about."

"Okay," Harry said quietly, and waited. The stormcloud of temper hovering around the Dark Lord demanded no less.

The Dark Lord stared at the far wall of the pub, and Harry was glad for the Privacy Charm around them, because he did think that the man's eyes were going to turn red. But they were still normal when the Dark Lord turned back towards him. "You were nearly infected by a werewolf."

"Yes, sir."

"It is unacceptable that that happened."

"I did my best to defend myself, sir. And I don't think that I could have anticipated its happening, given that it was the middle of the day and not a full moon."

The Dark Lord paused, although Harry didn't see what in his words was so remarkable. Then he murmured, "You think I am criticizing you."

"Yes, sir."

"I am not." The Dark Lord leaned forwards. "You are to understand that I find this unacceptable because a werewolf might have bitten my apprentice. And I will see Lupin and Dumbledore ruined for this."

Harry swallowed, an unexpected pulse of warmth traveling through him. The Dark Lord wasn't the first person to promise to do something for him, given that Theo and Draco had. But he was the first one who could probably really punish Harry's enemies the way they deserved. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"You are precious to me. Do not doubt it."

"Yes, sir. I won't."

"I would not waste my time on you if I found you sloppy or unorganized or weak or unintelligent. And you survived a werewolf attack without being bitten. That in and of itself is incredible."

Harry lifted his head. Maybe he could fully show his pride in front of the Dark Lord. "I know I'm intelligent, sir. And I'm good with Potions. And—I'm good enough to have two pureblood boys who want to court me even though I'm a Muggleborn."

The Dark Lord gave a raspy chuckle. "Never forget that. Now, how is your progress in Dark Arts coming?"

Lord Voldemort burned with hatred as he left the pub in Hogsmeade where he had met with his apprentice and made his way back to the Apparition point. He would look normal to anyone else, other than perhaps a cold expression on his face, but he could not hide the agitation in his magic, and people made way for him without perhaps knowing why.

He had nearly lost his apprentice. Unacceptable.

Unacceptable, as well, that he had not been there to defend Harry.

Lord Voldemort scowled and Apparated, his thoughts raging around him. Apparently, the werewolf had been banished from the school, and they were bringing in another of the Potters' friends, Sirius Black, to teach the rest of the year, after a week in which classes would be canceled so he could get caught up on the material. But Lord Voldemort would not let them hide the werewolf.

He would not let them escape the consequences.

They will suffer for attacking Harry Grayson.


"You could have been eaten."

"Or infected."

From the looks Draco and Theo exchanged, they didn't seem to know which fate would be worse. Harry, maybe because he hadn't grown up with the extreme fear of werewolves they had, wasn't in doubt about that. It would be better to survive as someone who had to take Wolfsbane every full moon than die.

But he only nodded and leaned back on the couch in front of the fireplace. "Yeah."

"Why are you only telling us now?" Draco demanded in a low voice, for all that the charms around them meant he could have shouted if he'd wanted to.

"I didn't know how you would react."

It was only the truth, and sometimes it was still useful, using the blunt truth like that to throw them off-balance. Both Draco and Theo blinked, but Theo was the one who asked, "What do you mean?"

"I thought maybe you would say I was careless, to have determined that he was a werewolf but not get away from him in time. Or be scornful of the methods I used to do it. Not spells. I'm still such a Muggleborn that way."

Theo narrowed his eyes and said softly, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You're deliberately putting yourself down to test us. You don't despise yourself. You never did, even in first year when you were pretending to. You've always thought yourself at least our equal, haven't you?"

Harry paused. Then he adapted to the situation in front of him, the way he knew the Dark Lord would have wanted him to do. "I honestly didn't expect you to figure that out."

Draco looked insulted. Theo only kept giving Harry a steady gaze. He didn't look particularly surprised, although Harry would have thought he would after last year. He only repeated, "You've always thought yourself our equal."

"Thought. I knew I had to behave differently to get ahead."

"Then do you sincerely accept our courtships? Or are you still thinking of it as some method to get ahead?"

Draco gasped and looked stricken. Harry wondered how he had expected to get through seven years in Slytherin without everyone knowing his every emotion.

Then again, maybe he was only acting this way because he was with—friends—and under a privacy bubble.

Harry thought carefully, both because he wanted to find the right words and because he wanted to interrogate himself. Was he only in the courtships for the gifts? Could he see himself spending his life with either one of them?

(Well, he also thought it unlikely Theo would accept a quick answer).

Harry finally met Theo's eyes and said quietly, "I might have started out that way, and the gifts are a nice bonus. But they were also the first things that convinced me you could be brought to see me as an equal. Yes, I fully accept the courtships. Yes, I would be willing to marry either one of you."

Theo gave him a deep, dark smile, and Harry leaned a little forwards, drawn despite himself. Then Draco noisily cleared his throat and said, "I'm going to win."

"You don't know that," Theo said. He didn't take his eyes off Harry.

"Harry wants me to win."

"I said what I meant and meant what I said," Harry murmured, smiled at them, and hopped off the couch.

He basked the whole way upstairs in the private knowledge that they wanted him, and if he could be desired by two people who had at least wealth and power and some modicum of intelligence…

If he could be apprenticed to the Dark Lord, who cared that he'd almost got killed by a werewolf…

He was worth even more than he'd thought.