[HP]Of Werewolf and Man 4-7
Previous Chapters: [ 1-3]
Of Werewolf and Man
4.
“A mixture of - ?”
Harry stared, frowning slightly. The silence in the room was deafening.
“What do you mean?”
Lupin smiled again, this time ruefully. “Think, Harry, think. You know what I am. It’s funny,” he blinked as he looked around the room, “Sometimes I think I and Severus Snape have unusual similarities.”
Both Harry, Hermione and Ron’s faces twisted involuntarily. Before any of his friends could speak, Harry insisted stubbornly, “You are one of the best DADA teacher I’ve ever had, sir. And I don’t go around giving pleasantries to Snape, for one thing.”
No one laughed, the expressions were darkened as memories about Snape, Dumbledore, Malfoy and the fateful night came flooding back to everyone. Harry felt a tight knot in his stomach and a sudden urge to defend the werewolf, for Lupin was the complete opposite of Snape, he was kind, polite, intelligent, knew what humour was and never gave in to dark magic -
Harry swirled around suddenly on Hermione, whose eyes were widening in shock, and he knew that Hermione had thought of it as well.
“Is it because - you are a - ?”
“Werewolf, yes, Harry.” Lupin toyed with a spoon without looking up, “And if you remember correctly from your third year, they are - we are - dark, magical creatures.”
Harry gaped, and shook his head violently. “You are not - that doesn’t - what has that got to do with anything?”
“Some of us think that,” it was Mr. Weasley who spoke up, rubbing his glasses in the same old weary fashion. “in order for you to defeat Voldemort, you might have to learn more than what is currently on the Defence Against Dark Arts syllabus.”
“Dumbledore was going to allow Snape to tutor you, once you were of age,” Kingsley’s deep voice boomed across the table, and after a few seconds of stunned silence, anger flared from the children’s side.
“Snape?!” “SNAPE!!” ”That bastard - how can - he’s out of his mind!”
Lupin held up his hand and the table fell silent again. The looks directed towards the werewolf were full of anticipation, fear, worry, and - Lupin noticed - determination, on Harry’s part.
“Both I and Severus Snape have some continuous experiences of dark magic,” Lupin explained simply, placing his hand on the table again. Harry’s gaze automatically dropped onto these elegantly pale fingers, intertwined together involuntarily, betraying the owner’s conflicting thoughts. Lupin went on, “It is true that Dumbledore once wished Snape could give you an insight into how Voldemort likes to work, of course, due to current circumstances - I seem to be the only person available.”
Wind howled outside, raindrops battling against the window, the night was sinking deeper. All gazes fell on Harry, as if awaiting his decision. He looked around. Hermione was anxious, Ron frowning slightly just like his father, Kingsley and Tonks exchanged significant glances, even the Twins looked more serious than they had been in the past 17 years.
“So,” Harry managed, his voice hoarse. “I’m supposed to learn dark magic? Use it against Voldemort?”
“Provided that you won’t kill yourself in the process, yes, and if necessary.” Moody, who was silent until then, suddenly turned both of his eyes on Harry in a piercing gaze.
Harry didn’t back down. “I don’t see the problem,” he said coolly, carefully meeting a few raised eyebrows. “Professor Lupin obviously can handle whatever dark magic he experiences, better than Snape, I would imagine.”
“And it’s not like he asked to be werewolf,” Ron came to the rescue, quietly blushing as all eyes turned on him, but finished bravely nonetheless. “There’s a difference.”
Lupin looked tired and worn, withdrawn even, but when he lifted his eyes Harry could see a shimmer of light within the mystical grey, silent words never spoken, emotions never showed. He felt the corner of his lips lifting slightly to form a smile that was met by Lupin’s, as his hand reached under the table to pat gently on the man’s lap, a move so spontaneous and intimate that made Lupin’s smile flickered to surprise briefly, before widening into a beam.
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, wiped his glasses one last time before settling them back and looking up. “Harry, you must think this through carefully.” His voice was steady although he refused to look at Harry in the eye, “Although there appears to be no choice, the choice is yours.”
Harry straightened his backs and glanced around the room, everyone was again staring at him in anticipation. The answer was waiting, pounding near his throat, an answer that had been there since the end of his third year at Hogwarts, when he walked through the DADA teacher’s office and saw his favourite teacher packing, eyes fixed on the Marauder’s Map, tiny smile upon his lips.
“It is my understanding that I will stand a better chance against Voldemort if Professor Lupin tutored me in his spare time,” Harry said finally, each word resonating in the room like a powerful spell, “and I am fully prepared to sleep with two eyes open from now on.”
The room fell quiet for a few minutes, the children smiled, the adults did too but in a more complicated and weary fashion. Lupin’s expression was indecipherable but of content and gratitude. Harry remained stubborn-looking, absent-mindedly poking his pork chops and wondering whether he had just embarrassed himself and Lupin in front of everyone, before he realised that Moody has already barked his approval and gentle chattering began to fill the room again.
As Harry got up to get his dessert, he walked past Lupin’s seat and decided he should clarify himself. In the most mature and decisive voice he could possibly muster, he told the werewolf:
“You are the best Defence Against Art teacher we’ve - I’ve - ever had.”
And when Lupin peered up at him in mild surprise, he smiled and whispered,
“Welcome back.”
5.
Lupin closed the door behind him as they entered Harry’s bedroom again, this time magically enlarged to the size of a duelling chamber. Spells were murmured softly as wards and additional protection were drawn up, and the noise downstairs were filtered immediately.
Harry got out his wand and backed to the side of the room, silently wondering where his bed had gone this time. Before he raised his wand in a defensive position, he suddenly remembered:
“Sir, I’m not of age yet.”
Lupin walked over, waving his wand delicately as blinds were drawn on its own. “If I remember correctly, even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in self-defence. It is also my understanding that right this moment you are trying to defend yourself from Voldemort. Oppugno.”
Harry ducked automatically as a flock of bright-coloured birds zoomed at him, just as Hermione did to Ron last term. He barely had time to think over the comment his tutor just given him before waving his wand frantically, aiming at nothing in particular and shouted, “Finite incantatem!”
The birds vanished, but not before leaving a large dropping on Harry’s glasses. Harry peered up at Lupin’s straight face and asked innocently, “Do you reckon Voldemort would allow me to take a break in a duel just to wipe my glasses clean?”
“You could ask,” Lupin replied, this time the mischievous smirk was evident in his voice.
Harry paused in his moves, raising his wand suddenly (while his glasses hung lopsided in his other hand) -
“Rictusempra!”
Lupin flicked his wand in a lazy fashion that almost resembled Snape’s, on the night of his escape. Harry tensed almost immediately and prepared for the next attack, but it was too late, he was swept off his feet and fell crashing into the cushioned walls. He had forgotten Lupin, being one of the best DADA teacher, was obviously capable of non-verbal spells.
“We are not taking turns, Harry, you must attack whenever you see an opportunity. Lacarnum Inflamarae.”
The tip of Harry’s robe immediately leapt into flames, causing Harry to jump and mumble, “I thought we were gonna start defensive there, Aguamenti. ”
Lupin smiled. “Since we have the wards up, which makes underage magic - all magic, in fact - undetectable, we might as well take advantage of it.”
To Harry’s surprise, Lupin dropped his wand and instead extended his hand as if in invitation. His uncertain gaze darted from those elegant but pale fingers to the man’s equally pale face, on which a rueful smile appeared.
“Watch this, Harry, this is why we asked you to make up your mind last night.”
Lupin stared Harry straight in the eye, and Harry noticed that silvery mist began to gather again in those grey eyes, almost like the storm outside. It resembled power, power from somewhere deeper inside, at that moment Harry saw a side of Lupin he’s never seen before, not a teacher, not a Marauder, not a kind friend - but a powerful wizard, carrying a burden heavier than any other, fully devoted to the Light yet having dark magic embedded in him.
Harry gaped. Flames leapt from Lupin’s hand. The man held them like he would any round object, the long pale fingers lightly circling the heat, and as Harry blinked in surprise, he distinguished them with a mild wave.
“Wandless magic,” Harry was finally able to say, eyes still widening in shock. “But - flames - that’s - really advanced…”
“This particular kind, however,” Lupin picked up his wand and began surveying it, avoiding eye contact subtly again, “is not known to common wizards or witches. It’s takes a certain level of dark magic to be able to perform it with ease, as I understand it.”
Harry frowned, his mind swirling in thought. Lupin produced flames in his bare hands, but something was wrong with it. Being able to produce fire was easy enough, being able to do it effortlessly and without a wand was more advanced - but it was the colour. Most flames produced from wands and verbal spells carried the colour of blue, like Incendio, but the flame Lupin held was bright red - even brighter than natural fire, an eerie glow of red that made the flame itself look like an upward flowing of blood.
He looked up. Lupin, who had been surveying him instead for a minute or two, obviously recognised the mixture of fear and incomprehension in Harry’s eyes. He went on to explain:
“Wandless magic has to come from the inside, Harry. In order for dark magic to come from the inside, you either have to submit to it, or -” he made a gesture at himself, smiling again humourlessly. “I discovered it soon after I was bitten.”
Harry only frowned deeper. Remus Lupin. Werewolf. Dark Magic. He did not want to relate these things together, but it appeared that they correlate somehow. “But sir - that doesn’t mean you are… you know…”
“Evil?” Lupin supplied, smile growing more genuine now. Harry felt stupid.
“No, of course not. Just… just a thought. With everyone taking this very seriously and stuff, you know?”
“And they should, you should,” Lupin pointed out rather sharply, “Harry, you are not a werewolf. You haven’t got anything dark inside you, which means in order for you to perform this particular kind of wandless magic, as circumstances may require you to do so, you need to be extra careful. The last thing we want is for The Boy who Lived to team up with the Dark Lord, I shudder at the thought that you might one day have tea and biscuits and exchange pleasantries with Voldemort.”
Harry wondered how come the man was always able to find humour in the darkest of times, and smiled quietly to himself. Lupin blinked.
“I hope I haven’t proposed a plausible idea there,” He said dryly, eyeing Harry carefully.
Harry laughed.
“No sir, last time you promised with me tea and biscuits we ended up duelling…right here.”
“Good,” Lupin scratched his nose absently, before fixing his eyes on Harry again. “So, do you want the whole package, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “Warts and all.” Raising his wand one more time, he asked, “Just how do I survive you, sir, before I even get the chance to have tea with Voldemort?”
“Will,” was the simple answer.
6.
Another week passed quickly with thunderstorms around the corner just about everywhere they went, so they didn’t go anywhere for most of the days. Since Harry had already left Dursley’s, for the sake of protection the rest of the Order insisted on him staying indoors as long as possible - not that Harry would have wanted to go out in this weather anyway. He spent most of his time with Lupin, training day after day and secretly enjoying the semi-dark and powerful side of the werewolf that was only revealed to him, while quickly mastering the use of non-verbal spells and stealthy Apparation. Lupin had kept his promise and conjured tea and biscuits every time they took a break, when they would sit and talked about the weather, the good old English way.
“Is there a spell that can keep your Patronus permanent, sir?” asked Harry one day, while lifting the blinds and staring at the gloomy sky. Lupin stood behind him and peered at the sky over his shoulder, trying to figure out what brought the question:
“There isn’t, not that I’m aware of. Because your Patronus is supported by your innermost positive emotions… I doubt anyone in the world is happy every single moment of their life. Why do you ask?”
Harry shrugged, his back lightly touching Lupin’s chest. Warm scent of clean wilderness radiated from the man, a curious mixture of soap, grass, fur and wood - he inhaled deeply, and felt revived somehow.
“Well,” Harry said, upon realising Lupin raised an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer. “I was just thinking… if this gloomy weather is caused by Dementors, if we can get a permanent Patronus circling the house or something…”
Lupin laughed. “Harry, Harry, Harry.” A warm hand patted the side of Harry’s neck, “The Patronus drive away Dementors. It doesn’t give you sunshine.” He paused, “And for a silly comment like that, Expelliarmus.”
Harry was sent flying to the wall before he could even protest.
Despite those repeated, almost violent stealth attacks, Harry was able to finish each training session relatively unscathed, thanks to Lupin’s equally skilful healing spells. The man would trace his fingers around the wounds and murmur softly, in a manner not unlike Snape’s (without the wand, of course), while Harry sat, ate biscuits and watched himself heal. This was another thing Harry secretly enjoyed, the way Lupin bent over him surveying the damage he had inflicted, his long fingers lightly touching Harry’s skin, his voice low and hoarse, almost mesmerising; and the twinkle of magic that ran from the tip of those elegant fingers to the deepest of Harry’s body. He felt reassured by everything Lupin, his smile, gaze, quietly mischievous smirks, clear instructions, a whispered ‘well done’, casually sarcastic remarks about everything in life, and the tea and biscuit conjured by the lazy flick of the man’s wand. He felt, against all odds, that under the mentoring of Remus Lupin, he actually did stand a chance against Voldemort, and everything in between.
The weather got worse, the think layer of storm clouds never lifted, just like the mood of rest of the Order. From what Harry heard, the werewolves were prepared to join Voldemort under the leadership of Fernir Greyback, save one - Lupin gave up his spy work after he agreed to tutor Harry, priority-wise, yet he seemed upset by these news. Harry understood why, the recruit of werewolves on Voldemort’s part meant Lupin was again alienated - from his own kind, although Harry stubbornly believed Lupin was more of a man than werewolf. He heard that Lupin was able to persuade a few werewolves to have doubts against Voldemort, but inevitably it failed. ‘A lost cause’, as Moody put it, while his magical eye fixed on Lupin, a poignant glow of blue upon these premature lines of worry on a otherwise very handsome face.
The house on an average day was pretty much empty. Everyone who wasn’t The-Boy-Who-Lived went out and contributed their part to the Order, even Ron and Hermione - while Harry and Lupin (the tutor of The-Boy-Who-Lived, of course), were hidden away like the ultimate secret weapon of the Order, waiting for the final strike.
The Weasley twins occasionally popped around to keep them entertained with boxes of new Weasley’s Wizarding Whizzes, the most recent being Shooting Mouths - a distant relative of the Extendable Ears, apparently, which works just like a Howler, only with an added ability of actually cursing (mildly, of course, as Fred rolled his eyes) the receiver along with regular insults. On several separate occasions a very bored Harry sent his Mouths shooting into Ron’s room early in the morning with rectusempra written all over it, causing bursts of uncontrollable laughter that rang through the house, ended only with Hermione’s shriek of finite!.
When Harry went downstairs he met a smirking Lupin at the breakfast table, flipping through the Daily Prophet without looking up.
“Feeling a bit mischievous, are we?”
Harry drowned his piece of toast with beans before answering, “Just making my presence felt, that’s all. Even he and Hermione are barely around - what is it that they are doing, collecting potion ingredients?”
Lupin peered at him. “It might seem trivial, but essential.” When Harry waved his comment away, he put down the newspaper and began buttering his own toast, asking casually, “are you jealous?”
“Of what?” Harry raised a brow, eyeing Lupin suspiciously. The man smiled in a you-know-you-can-talk-to-me kind of way:
“Of them. Being together. I understand that you three have always been the closest of friends, and…” he trailed off, softening his gaze sympathetically.
Harry shrugged. The idea of Ron and Hermione being together didn’t bother him as long it kept those two from bickering 24-7, as they did all through their sixth year. What made him curious was why Lupin raised the question.
“Well, because I was in a similar position once,” Lupin said thoughtfully.
Harry absent-mindedly took a bite of his toast, pondered at what Lupin had said, and choked on it. “You mean - your friends - the Marauders - who and who?!”
Lupin chuckled. “Well, James and Sirius did hit it off in our sixth year… I think they called it ‘education and practice’, or something along these lines.” Looking at Harry’s incredulous face, he added, “Don’t worry, it was brief. I assure you James loved Lily, as much as he did Sirius.”
Harry said nothing. Lupin eyed the boy, whose face betrayed a mixture of emotions, and wondered whether he had said an inappropriate thing. Harry certainly wasn’t against homosexuality, but his father and godfather -
“But, there were four of you,” said Harry suddenly, his voice unusually high-pitched.
Lupin stared. A deep rumble of laughter began to form at the bottom of his throat, erupting finally as the other boy realised what a horrific thing he had just said.
“Harry, Harry, Harry!” Lupin wiped his eyes and involuntarily dropped the bread knife onto the floor, “Do you think me and Wormtail would make a loving couple?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry muttered, blushing furiously. Evidently Lupin was enjoying himself, as he reached over and patted Harry on the back.
“It’s quite alright. This isn’t where I hoped for the conversation to go, but I must admit it had made my day.”
“So, Sirius and my dad was - ?”
“An item, yes. They were incredibly close - I don’t blame them, seeing that I was too much of a goody-two-shoes and Wormtail, well… let’s just say we weren’t as Marauder-ish as they were.” Lupin poured himself and Harry a cup of tea before continuing, “I think it’s safe to say to you that I was jealous at the beginning, Harry.”
The look on Lupin’s face was oddly reminiscent, it bore a complex significance that Harry didn’t move or speak in case he spoke of the wrong thing. He tried to give the same you-can-talk-to-me smile, but it went lopsided like a half-grin. Lupin sipped his tea, casual as ever:
“I admit I have a fatal flaw within me, Harry. I…I like to be liked.”
It took a minute for Harry to register what Lupin had said, and his throat close. Lupin looked at him, his expression mild, but Harry could see something flickering in his eyes - like the gathering and parting of clouds, uncertain whether storm followed or sunshine. He likes to be liked. These words bought a subtle pain to Harry’s heart, as Harry knew that Lupin never had had many friends - three (four, if you count Harry’s mum) at best, and now one has betrayed him, the rest dead.
- He likes to be liked.
Harry bit his lip to restrain himself from saying anything stupid, like I know how you feel, I wasn’t loved at Dursleys - because he knew he wouldn’t understand how Lupin felt - how the man was able to cope with the horrific transformation each and every month, how the man was able to stay committed to the Light side despite the dark embedded within him, how the man was willing to defend a magical community where he wasn’t even fully accepted. It was sacrifice on Lupin’s part, a sacrifice so natural no one spoke of it, and Harry saw a hint of bitterness and regrettable sorrow in those calm, kind grey eyes.
“I’m sorry, Remus.” Harry said softly.
Lupin smiled. “Don’t be. Look where you’ve got me - didn’t we start with your problems?”
“I haven’t got a problem, sir.” Harry replied quietly, heart still heavy with guilt. Lupin shook his head.
“This is hardly a conversation for the breakfast table. Let’s change the topic.” He raised his cup and Harry silently used Aguamenti to refill it. Lupin inclined his head in appreciation. “Say, Harry, what do you want for your birthday?”
Harry blinked. He still hasn’t got used to the idea of celebrating birthdays and being asked what he had wanted as a present, especially not from his teacher. “Um…” his eyes darted towards the calendar on the wall, noticing the 31st of July was just a week and a bit away - but not before he noticed there was a small picture of the moon scribbled on the 28th. He frowned slightly as he met Lupin’s calm gaze.
“I have to ask you early,” Lupin said, “You will notice that full moon is on the 28th. Since we are out of Wolfsbane potion - I doubt I’ll be in any state to attend your party, Harry.”
Harry frowned deeper. “Out of Wolfsbane potion? But -” he paused as he thought of Snape, “but surely you can get them somewhere.”
Lupin chuckled. “Knockturn alley, perhaps, but even during times of peace I wouldn’t risk anyone going down there for me. Besides it’s expensive… and unnecessary. Since this is my house, I have a fully warded basement that will both stop me from attacking others and drawn any possible noise - so you will get your sleep around full moon, I promise.” He placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm, squeezing the boy lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s just a pity… it’s your 17th birthday as well, you’ll be an adult… and do all sorts of unspeakable things.” Lupin finished with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
On that note Harry looked up, his expression oddly determined, his voice full of smug joy. “May I ask you to conjure me Firewhisky and biscuits from now on then, sir?”
Just as Lupin picked up the newspaper and smacked him on the head, the front door barged open and the Weasley twins charged in. Fred gasped in a way not unlike his mother’s:
“What’s this? Teacher-children abuse?”
Before Lupin or Harry could answer, George replied in a singsong voice,
“Harry will soon enough be an adult, and professor Lupin is just getting some practice on the much-needed student discipline, are you not, professor?”
Harry laughed, whereas Lupin threw his hands in the air in resignation. “I’ll leave you kids alone,” he said, rising from his chair gracefully and disappeared upstairs.
Harry turned towards the twins, an eyebrow raised. “Ron is awake in the room with Hermione,” he said flatly.
The twins sniggered. “No, we are not here for Ronnie, we are here for you, mate.” Fred pulled out a magical quill and a pad, claiming a Rita Skeeter pose as George asked, “Dear the Boy-Who-Lived, what would you like for your significant 17th birthday?”
Harry smirked. He had just the right thing in mind. Pulling the twins closer, he whispered in their ear:
“I want you to get me a Wolfsbane potion.”
7.
“A Wolfsbane Potion,” repeated Fred and George in unison, their voices flat.
Harry nodded. “And, well, some ingredients and an instruction book to go with it, if you can, please.”
The twins exchanged a look indecipherable before locking Harry’s eyes again, this time their face full of concern.
“Erm,” remembering what Lupin had said, Harry added awkwardly, “you can always take money out of my Gringotts account if things get too expensive… I know with the war, business can’t be booming and all…”
“Did he bite you?”
Harry stared. “What?”
“Lupin,” Fred pointed a finger at the direction where the man had gone minutes ago, “did he bite you?”
Harry blinked at the strange question, then realised and laughed. “No, no! The potion’s not for me! It’s for Remus.”
The twins exchanged another look, this time out of curiosity. Harry explained simply, “Snape used to make the potion for him. And it’s very expensive to be purchased.”
George snorted softly. “I can’t believe Dumbledore gave Snape the chance to poison Lupin every month… and yes, it is quite expensive.”
“But, you know us, Harry,” Fred announced brightly, patting Harry’s arm. “There’s nothing we can’t get for The One!”
“Shut up or I’ll tell Ron about the garden rat you cooked in his soup - and you told him - what was it, penguin meat?”
“A rare delicacy indeed - ” Fred began sweetly, but was cut short by a loud shriek as a hole suddenly appeared in the ceiling and Ron came crashing through.
“ARRRRRGGGGGH - ”
Fred eyed his little brother, who was lying on top of a broken teapot, eyes squeezed shut, shouting and waving fanatically as if Aragog stood before him. George, who was much more practical, took a step closer and slapped him in the face.
“Hello to you too, brother,” the twins said pleasantly when Ron finally jolted up and opened his eyes.
“How - what - Harry - I - Fred? George? Did you - ”
Harry bit down a laugh as Fred answered most innocently, “We were just having small talk with the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“But! I was in the bathroom, and the floor just fell open - it looked like a blackhole! I thought that was it!” Ron’s eyes darted around the room as if making sure he wasn’t in the afterworld, much to his brothers’ amusement.
“Ronald, Ronald,” George began, “You are living in the Lair, get used to it, little brother.”
Ron opened his mouth to retort, and closed it when he saw Hermione bouncing off the stairs.
“I heard a scream, and then you weren’t there - oh Ronald! Whatever happened?”
Ron tried to regain his posture despite the large tea stain on the back of his shirt, and stammered, “um, well, the floor vanished, so I fell through.”
“Right on top of Harry’s breakfast,” supplied his brothers.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hermione sighed as she surveyed the damage, “Shall I cook you some more, Harry?”
Harry waved his hand just as Ron blurted ‘what about me?’ and declared that he was full. He gave a final wink to the Weasley twins before retreating upstairs to the quietness in his bedroom, where the owner of the Lair patiently waited.
“It usually takes half a week out of my life,” said Lupin abruptly, upon Harry’s entering. He sat near the window, staring at the sky - it was once again gloomy and sunless, the shape of the moon hung loosely in the clouds, almost round. Harry noticed that the fireplace was once again in the room, a sign for conversation. He waited for Lupin’s explanation, although he thought he knew what the man meant.
“Before there was Wolfsbane Potion, it usually took 4 to 5 days… 2 days before full moon, then 2 days after.” Lupin conjured another chair next to his, indicating Harry to sit. As Harry obeyed silently, Lupin glanced at him:
“How much do you know about werewolves, Harry?”
Harry gulped. “Um, not as much as Hermione,” he admitted in a small voice.
Lupin smiled, not unkindly. “You might have to deal with us in due course, seeing how circumstances have changed.”
“You mean, I will have to deal with them,” asserted Harry stubbornly, his gaze unwavering. A faint shimmer passed Lupin’s eyes, as the man placed a hand on Harry’s lap, gently expressing his gratitude.
They fell silent for a while, after which Lupin spoke up. “Nonetheless, you still need to know how do deal with minions of Lord Voldemort… perhaps more so than you need for your exams.”
Harry shrugged. “I’m not worried about that at all.”
“Which part? Voldemort, or exams?”
Harry smiled. “Neither. Not with you around, sir.”
An oddly proud feeling filled his chest as he spoke these words, a feeling so wonderful and acute that Harry felt compelled to verify himself. When Lupin silently vanished the fireplace, Harry was ready and on his feet, wand raised, Expelliarmus on the tip of his tongue.
“Constant vigilance indeed, sir.”
Lupin looked amused.
As full moon approached, subtle changes began to take place on Lupin. Harry noticed the man was increasingly pale, sick and remorseful. He wondered whether Lupin admitting his fatal flaw was also the effect of the full moon, seeing that the man usually kept his true feelings to himself. The wolfish characteristics were also increasingly evident, on several separate occasions Lupin was able to tell Harry’s presence before he even finished climbing the stairs and recite what Harry had ate as he entered the room.
“Today is the last day that you will be safe with me before full moon,” announced Lupin mildly on the 26th of July. “I won’t transform tomorrow, but the animal instinct will be too acute, especially if we are duelling.”
Harry nodded and blurted out, “what if you have the Wolfsbane potion?”
Lupin smiled. “It’d make it slightly easier, and then I’ll just have to be away for a maximum of 2 days.” Seeing Harry’s light scowl he added, “Don’t worry about me, Harry. It’s just that after the transformation, without the potion I will be weary… from being attacked by myself, of course.”
Harry silently wished the twins would hurry up and bring him what he had asked, before it’s too late. His insides cringed at the idea of Lupin scratching and biting himself, helpless and desperate in the form of a wolf, alone in the basement -
“- Harry?”
He started, realising that his mind had wandered off and now Lupin was eyeing him in concern.
“You look scared,” Lupin said, “What’s wrong? Is it because you have never been this close to a werewolf transformation before?”
Harry shook his head. “No, I’ve seen you transform, remember? It’s nothing.”
Lupin continued to survey him for a few minutes, then walked to the door. “You may go,” the man said softly, his voice laden with desolation.
Harry stopped in the doorway, turned and tried to say something comforting, but could not produce a sound. He met Lupin’s calm yet suppressed gaze and held it for a while, trying his best to produce a smile. Lupin smiled back, mild and polite as ever, but this time with a hint of sadness. Harry felt a sudden urge, a pain that shot through his heart, that could only be eased if he had done something - so he walked over and gave the man a tight hug.
“You’ll be fine,” Harry whispered against Lupin’s chest, his voice muffled, almost pleading. Lupin gently hugged him back, rubbed his neck and hair, then let go without a word.
Hermione looked up in surprise as Harry came trotting down to the living room, panting.
“Harry? Your training session’s over a bit early today, isn’t it?”
Harry didn’t stop to look at her or reply, but instead shouted,
“Fred and George Weasley, Diagonal Alley.”
He tossed the Floo powder and poked his head into the fireplace, trying to ignore the dizzy sensation as Fred Weasley’s face spun into view.
“Good afternoon, Harry,” said the redhead pleasantly, handful of cheese sandwich. “Snack?”
“Er, no, thanks,” Harry lowered his voice hurriedly, “listen, about the thing I asked you to get -”
George Weasley came through the door at that moment and positively lit up at the sight of Harry’s head poking in the fire. “Harry! To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Wolfsbane potion,” said Harry simply.
The twins exchanged a look again and George’s face fell slightly. Harry waited anxiously for the answer as Fred got up and started pacing the room:
“You know Harry, it’s a very complicated potion and not a lot of people has the skill or the patience to make it.”
Harry felt his heart racing. “So?”
George bent down in front of him, scowling lightly. “Nowhere in Diagonal or Knockturn Alley actually sold the potion, but we were able to get you the ingredients - ”
“- and the instructions.” Fred pulled out a piece of crumbled parchment from the shelve, while George went to the cupboard.
Harry paused for thought. “How long will it take to make this potion?”
“Exactly thirty-six hours, literally,” said Fred, handing the parchment to Harry. “I mean, literally. You can’t leave the potion to brew for itself, you have to do something to it almost constantly. That’s why people usually aren’t really bothered… and if something goes wrong, doesn’t matter how little, things can get wrong. Very very wrong.”
Harry quietly figured out that he had at least 48 hours before the transformation would take place, and smiled. “I’ll manage,” he said.
The twins actually looked worried as George hesitantly handed him the ingredients needed. “Harry, you were abysmal at Potions,” reminded Fred.
“Maybe,” the smile turned into a smirk when Harry nodded a quick thanks and goodbye to the twins and retreated.
Hermione looked just as worried when Harry pulled his head out of the fireplace, glasses askew, a piece of old parchment in one hand and a bag of suspicious potion ingredients in another. Harry grinned at her.
“What would you do, in order to help the person who called you the brightest witch of the year?”
TBC