[From Litha to Lammas]: Creatures of Strength, Creatures series, gen, 5/5

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the end of the current arc, although I will continue the story in the future. For this chapter, please keep the story’s tags in mind. While I have tried to make this Harry an interesting person, he is neither a good nor a kind one.

Part Five

You’re not to do anything stupid.

Harry smiled and tucked the letter from Madam Marchbanks into his robe pocket. Then he stood up from the Ravenclaw table, heaving his satchel.

“You’re staying here for Easter? I thought you spent all the hols at home.”

“Oh, I’ll spend most of the time with Madam Marchbanks,” Harry reassured Michael as they walked out of the Great Hall. “But my godfather wanted me to visit him, so I’m going to be Flooing to his house with Professor Lupin.”

Michael blinked at him. “And you’re—all right with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you said something about Black wanting to take custody of you. I thought you wanted to stay with Madam Marchbanks, though.”

“This is just a visit to see how well we get along.” And it was. No matter how much Michael peered at him, he wouldn’t find a lie, because Harry was telling the truth.

Michael sighed a lot, and stopped at the corner where Harry would have to walk towards Lupin’s office. “Be careful, all right?”

“I don’t think Black would hurt me.”

“There are other methods of hurt than the physical ones,” Michael said, and he astonished Harry utterly by leaning forwards and hugging him. Harry went stiff, but luckily, Michael didn’t linger. He pulled back and punched Harry in the shoulder. “You can always owl me, and I’ll come and get you.”

“I—thank you,” Harry said, through lips as stiff as his shoulders, and watched Michael wave and jog towards the entrance hall, where most of the students would be meeting the carriages.

Harry stood staring after him for a minute, and then shook himself and kept walking when he noticed other people turning around to stare at him. He couldn’t afford to show this kind of weakness.

But it did make him wonder if maybe his friends were serious when they said that his death would upset them for other reasons than losing the benefits he could give them.

It was a new thought that Harry had to push away as he stepped into Lupin’s office and found the professor waiting for him with an awkward smile.

“Are you ready, Harry?”

Harry thought about asking Lupin to call him by his last name again, but they were going to be in a situation where that level of formality would be inappropriate, so he nodded. Lupin called out “Grimmauld Place!” as he tossed in the Floo powder.

Harry raised his eyebrows as he followed. It didn’t sound like the kind of place a happy-go-lucky godfather who didn’t want Harry to use his political influence would live.

Maybe this will be more interesting than I thought.

*

“Harry!”

Black hurried towards him as Harry came out of the fireplace, and he had time to register that he was going to be asked to endure another hug. He braced himself, with a smile that still felt unnatural on his face.

Black didn’t appear to notice. Harry snorted inside his head. How was this kind of manipulation really different from the sort he had used on the Minister?

“You’re okay?” Black pulled back, staring at Harry intently. “They didn’t try to get you to testify at my trial? They said something about it, but then they seemed to decide that they had all the evidence they needed.”

“I had already given them the evidence I had,” Harry said, and shifted his bag on his shoulder.

“Oh, good. Is that all you brought? Is your trunk shrunken in there?” Black peered at Harry’s bag. “Not that we can’t get you all the robes or other things you might need, it’s no trouble! I hope you brought the Firebolt! Unless it broke? Do you want another one?”

More money than sense, right. Harry gave Black his gentlest and most embarrassed smile. “I’m only staying one night. I wanted to get to know you a little better. And Professor Lupin. Then I’ll go home.”

Black stared at him with the kind of large, heartbroken eyes that made Harry see why his Animagus form was a dog. Then he leaned forwards and grabbed Harry’s shoulders. Harry wrenched himself away without thinking about it.

Black retreated with his hands in the air. “What did she do to you? Madam Marchbanks? Did she—I don’t know, did she blackmail you? Say that you couldn’t stay with us or she would spill your secrets or something?”

Harry felt rage sweep through him like a sheet of flame. He didn’t show it. It wouldn’t be productive to yell at Black at this point, or dismantle the creepy old kitchen they had Flooed into around him. “Griselda did nothing to me,” he snapped. “The Muggles were the ones who made me so distrustful and unwilling to—”

“I never knew Griselda was anti-Muggle!”

“I hate them all on my own,” Harry said, and thought he might have said too much from the worried look that Black gave him. But he wouldn’t stop. “They abused me. They kept me in a cupboard. They told all my teachers and everyone in the neighborhood that I was a freak, and I didn’t even know about magic until my eleventh birthday. That was the only time I could finally get away from them. Ten years of abuse.” He paused, but Black was shaking his head, arguments obviously rising to his lips. So Harry drove in the first knife. “I’m surprised that you’re not more sympathetic. I’m told that you endured something similar.”

Lupin was the one who made a noise, but Black was the one who lost color in his face. He swallowed. “Where did you hear that?”

“Here and there.” Harry folded his arms. “Are you going to accept that I know my own mind, or not?”

“I think that you might have infected with anti-Muggle bias even though you don’t think you are,” Black said. “You told me a little about your friends in that letter you wrote me. All purebloods, aren’t they? And that Nott boy is as Dark as they come.”

Harry felt a spark leap off his finger. He fought back his magic at once. He should not be reacting this way to someone criticizing one of his friends. He should be able to react rationally and manipulate Black. He’d done it with adults he hated far more.

And yet.

To distract himself, Harry said simply, “Michael Corner’s a half-blood. And I have a Muggleborn friend, Hermione Granger, who’s a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“Yes. She got killed by a troll in our first year, a troll that Dumbledore wasn’t watching the wards well enough to keep out.”

Black blinked several times. Then he said, “I—I didn’t know about that.”

“Yes. He was also guarding the Philosopher’s Stone in the school, behind a giant three-headed dog, but he stopped doing that after Griselda yelled at him.”

Harry could see at once that he’d been wrong to bring up Madam Marchbanks again, when they were so worried about her influencing him. Black’s face became harsh. “You shouldn’t use her like a weapon, Harry.”

“Maybe Dumbledore should have shored up the wards and not had a three-headed dog in the school.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Lupin said uncomfortably. “Dumbledore is known for great kindness to those who are less fortunate.”

Harry laughed in spite of himself. “Where did you hear that?”

“I—know it for a fact.”

Harry turned around and studied Lupin again. “He couldn’t have been that kind if you’re poor and still wearing those shabby robes, even though you’re a professor. I think you should consider whether you’re the one who’s biased and unduly influenced by someone else.”

“I didn’t mean it because of poverty.” Lupin visibly braced himself. “I’m a werewolf.”

Harry stared at him. He’d sometimes seen Lupin’s eyes shine in a way that did resemble a predator’s, and he’d wondered whether Lupin had an Animagus form since neither he nor Black had mentioned it. And there were his absences due to illness, which Harry supposed had fallen around the full moons. But he hadn’t thought to monitor the timing, since, frankly, he had better things to do.

“No yelling?” Lupin asked, with a strained smile. “No getting upset?’

“I didn’t grow up with the fear and hatred of werewolves like most magical children did,” Harry murmured. “I don’t hate you for that.” Not when I have much better reasons to hate you.

As usual, Lupin missed out on all subtlety. He relaxed and brightened. “Well, it appears your upbringing was good for one thing, then.”

Harry felt the wildfire spark to life inside him again. But he had the control to avoid showing it, now. He just nodded and turned to face Black. “And what’s your plan? You want to take me away from my friends and Griselda?”

“Of course not!” Black shouted the words, and didn’t seem to miss how Harry had flinched. He visibly calmed himself down with a swallow and a shake of his head. “I just want to introduce you to some other people. Some Muggleborn children and people with more varied perspectives.”

“Like whom?”

“Uh, well, one of the Order members knows a Muggleborn family. We can start there.”

“I’m not opposed to visiting them,” Harry said carefully, because he did think that Black would make more trouble for him if he said he was. “But I won’t listen to you bad-mouth my real friends or Griselda, either.”

Black opened his mouth. But Harry could practically feel the glare Lupin flung over Harry’s head, like a thrown knife, and Black just gulped and nodded. “All right. Uh, did you want to see the library? And your room?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He let himself smile, move a little more smoothly, act as though he were curious and happy and everything would be forgiven.

In truth, his hand was never more than a few centimeters from the Portkey that Madam Marchbanks had made out of one of his robe buttons. But he wanted to remain for now, to see what control he could exert over them.

And what weapons he could find to wield, if needed.

*

“Kreacher does not like serving filthy half-blood master, no, he does not.”

Harry peered over the top of the book he was reading on the history of Wizengamot politics to see the ugliest house-elf in the world in front of the table. He snorted and replied, “That’s a bit rich, with as filthy as you are yourself.”

The elf stared at him, apparently startled. Then he scowled and muttered some more insults about Mudbloods and filthy blood and the like.

“I don’t need anything from you. Get out of here.”

Kreacher trudged closer. “Master has ordered Kreacher to report what the filthy half-blood is reading.”

“Is something wrong with his eyesight, that he can’t come and see for himself?”

Kreacher stared at Harry again, and then at the cover of his book. He vanished with a pop and a curse.

Harry shook his head and went back to reading. He’d enjoyed the library so far, but features of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place like the house-elf heads on the wall and now the living elf made him glad that he was going home tomorrow.

*

“Kreacher said you were reading about politics and Dark Arts.”

“Yes. Is that not allowed?”

Black paused and exchanged a glance with Lupin across the dinner table. Harry ate some roast beef while watching them. Neither of them appeared sure what to say. It made him miss Madam Marchbanks. She wasn’t always right, but she didn’t sit there in awkward silence.

“It’s not—I would have taken the books out of the library if I didn’t want you to read them,” Black said, waving a hand, which was the first sensible thing he’d said so far. “But don’t you want to read about something like Quidditch instead?”

“Why? I don’t play Quidditch.”

“You don’t? Your dad was a Chaser, and your mum was a fan!”

And Black was off into tales of Harry’s parents. Harry listened as he ate, and smiled now and then. It was good to know a little more about the Potters, but honestly, it sounded like they hadn’t had much of anything to worry about until they actually finished their seventh year and became part of the Order of the Phoenix. There was no way that Harry could imitate them, and no reason for him to want to.

Black finally broke off, and Lupin coughed and spoke up. “I would say that Harry doesn’t need to be reading the Dark Arts books, at least.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“No one needs to know that magic!” Black said, with a bark that reminded Harry of his Animagus form. “No one.”

“But someone who tutored me in Defense said that it would be best to know curses and the like, because otherwise you can’t counter them and you won’t be prepared on the battlefield. Is that not true?”

“Of course it is! But there’s a difference between curses and Dark Arts.”

Harry perked up. “There is? Dark Arts seems a rather nebulous term anyway, but I’ve never heard of a strict separation between it and curses. What is it?”

Black paused. Lupin took up the explanation. “You see, Dark Arts are those spells that exist solely to hurt people.”

“I thought curses mostly do that.”

“Well, most of them, yes.” Lupin was getting flustered, which Harry thought was strange. Why bring up the definition if he wasn’t prepared to defend it? Wasn’t it something he’d studied while he was learning Defense? “It’s only the Dark Arts are the ones that cause the most pain.”

“So the Entrail-Expelling Curse?”

“Well—no, that’s not often considered Dark Arts.”

“Why not? It seems that it would be a pretty painful way to die.”

Black abruptly shoved his chair back and stood up, storming from the room. Lupin cast an unhappy glance after him.

“Did he know someone who died by the Entrail-Expelling Curse or something?” Harry asked. It would make sense, because Black had been through a war, and Harry couldn’t imagine the Death Eaters would resist using a spell that was commonly taught to third-years at Durmstrang.

Lupin closed his eyes and sat there for a moment. Harry finished his roast beef and began on the potatoes. Whoever had made them was a pretty good cook, which made Harry wonder if it hadn’t been the weird house-elf.

When Lupin looked at Harry again, he seemed to have a clenched jaw, but he spoke mildly. “Sirius finds it odd how coldly you treat certain subjects, Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can speak casually of death and curses. Your curiosity about Dark Arts seems to be entirely intellectual, but that also means that you don’t see much difference between them and ordinary magic. You don’t care as much about your parents as we expected you to. It’s—hard for Sirius to deal with. What made you this way?”

Harry blinked. Yes, Black had been locked up for twelve years, but Lupin had presumably been free and able to read the papers. “I thought you knew. My Muggle relatives.”

“Muggles do not make wizards or witches act a certain way, Harry. That is only mindless bias.”

“And parents never make a child act a certain way, of course. I’m sure that Black had a fine childhood and left to live with my dad because of entirely normal and cheerful things his parents did, right?”

“That is—that is not—”

“There were newspaper stories about what happened to me,” Harry said softly. “I can find copies of the Prophet for you if you don’t believe me.”

“It’s not—I believe it happened,” Lupin said in a rush. “But you should have received lots of healing after that, and someone should have made sure that you don’t hate Muggles.”

“I don’t like the ones who raised me much,” Harry said. There were other Muggles he disliked, too, like the neighbors and primary school teachers who had believed the Dursleys and done nothing to help him, and Michael’s father, who had abandoned the Corner family. But he didn’t need to say that in front of Lupin. “I don’t hate every single one of them.”

“And taking casually about death? Wanting to learn Dark Arts?”

“I was unaware that was something I needed to apologize for.”

“It’s—it’s not something a normal child would do, Harry.”

Harry sat and stared at Lupin for a long moment, but he didn’t seem to see anything wrong with what he’d just said. Harry nodded, put down his fork, and stood up, with only a slight pang at losing access to the library and the rest of this magnificent dinner. “Right. I’ll be leaving now.”

“What? Why? I thought you were staying until tomorrow morning!”

“You want me to be someone else,” Harry said. He thought his voice was calm, but Lupin flinched at the sound of it, so maybe not. “I’m going to be messed up because of what happened to me as a child. I’m not going to be normal. Not to mention that it’s a bit rich to expect that of me when I was just eating dinner with one man who spent twelve years with Dementors and one werewolf who never tried to contact me before I was eleven.”

“But now that you know I’m a werewolf, Harry, don’t you see why I couldn’t?”

“No.”

“I would be dangerous to you! I could have bitten you at any full moon!”

“If you believe that, why are you working at Hogwarts?”

Lupin closed his mouth. Then he straightened his shoulders and said, “Severus brews me a potion each month that means I can retain my mind even when I transform. But I could not afford it when I was on my own and barely able to retain a job. That’s another reason that I wouldn’t have been able to take care of you. I didn’t have the money.”

“I have a lot of money, although I thought I was poor until I was eleven because of how my relatives treated me. You could have used that.”

“They wouldn’t have let me, once they knew I was a werewolf.”

“How many people know you’re a werewolf?”

“Well, Sirius and the other Marauders, of course. The other professors at Hogwarts. You, now.” Lupin tried to smile at him, but it crumbled in the face of Harry’s stare.

“So the Ministry didn’t know. You couldn’t have told them that you were a friend of my parents and you were taking care of me for my own good?”

“That would have been—wonderful.”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“It was too dangerous.”

Harry shook his head and touched his Portkey. The last view he had of Lupin was of the professor lunging for him with one hand outstretched, his mouth also gaping in something that could have been a shout or a howl.

Harry landed in the dining room of Madam Marchbanks’s house, just as she was finishing up what looked like a hearty dinner. She took one look at him and cackled. “They couldn’t last even one night, could they?”

Harry shook his head and sat down at the table. Madam Marchbanks waved her wand, and a bowl and spoon floated over to the cauldron of bubbling stew, scooped up a portion, and delivered it to Harry. Harry nodded his thanks and started eating.

“What color do I need to turn their bollocks?”

Harry shook his head again, and Madam Marchbanks sensed he didn’t want to talk about it. She sat back and started talking about the missives that Fudge was sending her instead, trying to get her to agree to teach dueling classes for Auror recruits. It was a funny story, and she laughed so that Harry didn’t have to.

The inside of his chest was cold and sore and aching.

Everything that happened to him was always somebody else’s fault.

*

Madam Marchbanks at least did offer some entertaining scenarios of what she would do to Lupin and Black if Harry just gave her permission. Harry listened with a smile, but shook his head when she asked him if he wanted her to destroy them.

“No. I think it would be too obvious. And Lupin is still a better Defense professor than the others we’ve had. Let’s wait until the end of the term.”

“When the supposed curse will seize him anyway.” Madam Marchbanks settled back with a grunt that Harry thought was a sound of disappointment. “All right. But you can’t expect me not to act if they hurt you physically or magically.”

“No. Thank you, Griselda.”

She beamed at him, and then poked him in the shoulder with her cane. “Don’t let this make you soft.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t see how that would ever happen.”

“Good. Now, Jessica Greengrass contacted me to say that your History essay shows a level of vocabulary that would benefit from some extra reading material, so we’ll go to Flourish and Blotts and yell at them if they don’t have it…”

*

“Something happened over Easter.”

“Days passing.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

Harry shook his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. He and Theo were practicing dueling, a habit they had fallen out of when they were working on the Arithmancy book. “I’m not trying to, but I have no intention of telling you the details.”

“Why not? Couldn’t I help?”

Harry thought for a moment. But his mind was full of the way that Lupin kept turning away from him in class and not making direct eye contact with him, how the only letter he had received from Black had included a book on ethics. There was no way that Theo could make them accept Harry the way he was, and they would probably be suspicious of a Death Eater’s son trying.

“No.”

Theo looked at him, uncertain, and then his face hardened. “If you think of a way for me to help you punish Lupin and Black, then tell me.”

“Who said they would need to be punished?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I said.”

Harry hesitated, and then he reached out and gingerly patted Theo’s shoulder. Theo promptly beamed at him, in a way that reminded Harry of Madam Marchbanks. He wondered why people responded like that to simple gestures, and if it would really be so hard for him to make more of them if it turned out that they would encourage and bind his allies to him.

“All right. I won’t. But what happened is something that I can’t change. There’s nothing they need to be punished for right now.”

*

A week later, that changed.

*

Harry stared in silence at the letter from Black. At least his rage was cold this time, so there was no chance of an accidental spark from his fingers setting the letter aflame or something. He shook his head, tucked it away, and went back to eating breakfast.

“Uh, Harry? I think the owl is waiting for a reply.”

Harry glanced up. The owl that had carried the letter, a large grey one, was indeed squatting next to Harry’s porridge bowl, mouth open in a silent demand. Harry pulled out one of the treats he often carried around for Hedwig, but although the owl swallowed it, it continued to sit there.

“No response,” Harry said.

The owl fluttered at him in agitation, scattering soot-colored feathers everywhere. Harry drew his wand, and the bird leaped up, but flew in a circle around his head, hooting urgently.

Harry lowered his voice so that Patil and Boot and some of the others sitting near him, who didn’t know what he was really like, wouldn’t be able to hear him as he spoke. “Get out of my sight, or I will destroy you.”

There was a long moment when the owl stared down at him, and Harry was sure that it wouldn’t obey. But apparently even birds could tell when not to mess with Harry, because it turned and hurtled out of the Great Hall with a few other late birds who had brought breakfast post.

“Uh, mate? Are you all right?”

Michael had noticed, of course. Harry nodded. “Yes. I have some things to think about, but some I already planned for.”

“Okay. But let me know if I can help.”

Harry inclined his head to Michael and kept eating. A few of the people around him were looking at him askance, maybe because they knew he’d shooed the owl off, but their normal conversations resumed after a moment.

Harry’s brain pulsed with the words from Black’s letter. He felt angrier than he had even over the Easter holidays, but he was calmer, too. He knew what he was going to do, and if Black and Lupin didn’t want it to happen, they shouldn’t have challenged him.

Dear Harry,

I know that you don’t want to hear this, but it’s become more and more obvious that poor old Griselda simply isn’t a fit guardian for you. I believe that you were affected by the Muggles abusing you, but Griselda should have taken you to a Mind-Healer so that you could recover from it. They’re great with helping people live through memories and confront them from other angles, or just removing and suppressing them if they have to. You shouldn’t have been left to suffer.

It’s also obvious that she’s been letting you read things that she shouldn’t, and not keeping up with training you, supervising you, disciplining you. I realize that you don’t want to hear this, Harry, but children need rules. I know you know about my past, but the worst thing about what my parents did to me and my brother is that they didn’t give us enough rules. Or they changed them arbitrarily. One day they would tell us to do something and we would, and they would yell at us for doing it. Then the next day they would yell when we didn’t do it.

I grew up wild, I know I did, and that cost you your childhood. I wouldn’t have been in prison if I hadn’t chased after Peter the way I did. You wouldn’t have grown up the way I did if I’d had more rules as a child, and consistency.

I promise that I’ll let you read most of what you want, and visit with most of your friends over the summer. And I won’t just be making decisions on my own! I’ll follow the Mind-Healer’s directions. I just need to make sure that you’ll be all right.

I had a conversation with Albus, and he didn’t seem enthusiastic about the thought of you coming with me; he thought that you needed to remain with Griselda. He said something about how she was the only one who could “control” you, and that you said the Muggles crushed all the nobility out of you.

I’m so sorry, Harry. It’s becoming more and more obvious that you were damaged, and no one noticed. They just expected you to walk around with a broken soul, as if that’s any healthier than walking around with broken legs!

Things will be better. You’ll get Mind-Healing and read innocent things and learn gentler magic during the summer. I promise. I’m going to be the godfather I always should have been.

Remus will be with us during the summer, too. He can’t teach at Hogwarts for more than a year anyway, because of the curse on the Defense post. He’ll give you the kind of loving support and guidance that he’s better at than I am, and he’ll also tell me when I’m going wrong.

Love,
Sirius.

Harry went to Potions with the letter brewing in his head, and Snape took one look at his face and left him alone for the whole of the class, not even looking at Harry when he handed in his vial.

Too bad that Snape is smarter than my godfather.

The next class was Defense. Lupin was staring at Harry hopefully this time, and Harry made his lips move in a smile. Lupin obviously didn’t notice anything off.

Stupid. They’re so stupid. They handed me weapons, and now I’ll use them.

Lupin called Harry aside before he could leave the classroom, and leaned towards him with a bright smile. “I saw that you got Sirius’s letter this morning. Did you need a while to think about a reply? Is that why you sent the owl away?”

“Yes,” Harry said. Cold swirled inside him as he stared at Lupin. You don’t get to hurt me again. No one gets to hurt me again. “I think I’ll have a reply in a few days, though. I wanted to ask about something?”

“Yes?” Lupin’s smile widened.

“Sirius said that he needed some help making good decisions? Because he talked about consulting with you and a Mind-Healer. Why is that?”

“Well, the damage from Azkaban, of course.” Lupin chuckled. “I think he should have some Mind-Healing himself, although he rejected the suggestion! He thinks that you need to have help first.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry’s voice said. “I see.”

“I promise, Harry.” Lupin’s voice was soft and cajoling. “We’re going to put you first from now on, the way we always should have.”

Harry gave him a meaningless smile in which Lupin seemed to find a great deal of meaning, and left. He had a letter to write. If someone saw him walking through the corridors to the owlery, he could just tell them he was replying to the one he’d got that morning, and no one would think to track Hedwig.

His roommates also took one look at him and left him alone, even Michael. Harry picked up the parchment he needed and began to write.

Dear Minister…

*

“Thank you for coming to Hogwarts, Minister.”

“It was nothing, my dear boy!” Fudge adjusted the lapels of the suit he was wearing. “And you’re sure that you want this to happen in public?” He lowered his voice solicitously. “It’s likely to be upsetting.”

“I’m sure, sir. I want everyone to know that they can’t just take custody of me from Griselda. It would be wrong to overturn a decision that the Ministry itself made.”

Fudge brightened. “Right you are, Harry! We can’t allow people to go around questioning the Minister’s decisions! Why, we’d never get any work done!”

Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as Fudge preened and simpered to himself. How can manipulating someone like this, someone who’s practically asking for it, be wrong? Black and Lupin don’t know what they’re talking about.

He glanced at the gates to Hogwarts. It was almost eleven in the morning, the time that Harry had asked Black to show up. Well, more like challenged him to show up.

I don’t believe that you have my best interests at heart, Harry had written to his godfather. You’re hinting at it and sneaking around. If you actually come to Hogwarts on the 25th of May and claim me in public, then I might believe it.

Fudge had arranged to be here as well once Harry told him what he wanted, and some other people, too. Fudge had actually been so concerned when Harry had told him the situation that he’d offered to come earlier, but Harry had wanted to wait. By now, the Defense exams should have been designed, although not given, and that meant that a new Defense professor would only have to proctor them, not jump into teaching.

And it might be that this confrontation would cost Lupin nothing. If he sat back and didn’t make a choice, which seemed to be his specialty, then he would remain as their Defense professor until the end of term.

“Harry!”

There was Lupin, striding across the grounds. Curious students orbited around him, most of Harry’s Defense class as well as what seemed to be a number of others who would have been wandering about in their free periods. Harry’s owl that he’d sent to Lupin in the middle of class telling him he was outside and didn’t plan on attending had been enough to fetch him.

And of course he’d brought Harry’s classmates. He would want them to see how he handled such a direct challenge.

“Professor Lupin,” Harry said politely.

“Harry, what is the meaning of this? If you wanted me to be there when—when certain things happen, you could have chosen another time.” Lupin cast Fudge an uneasy glance. “And why is the Minister here? Hello, sir.”

“I wanted him here to make sure that the legal transfer of custody was witnessed and binding,” Harry said blandly. He heard the murmur from the other students, and let a wobbly smile stretch across his face. “After all, there are a lot of people I told about wanting to stay with Griselda, and the Minister was one of them.”

Lupin blinked, but got interrupted by a voice yelling from the gates, “Moony! Harry!”

Thank you for the announcement, Black. It’ll add kindling to the fire if I need it later.

Harry turned around and watched his godfather run through the gates. He might have noticed the other people standing behind Fudge, but if so, he obviously paid them no attention. His gaze was fixed on Harry.

“I’m so glad that you’ve come to your senses, Harry,” Black said breathlessly, halting in front of him. “I’m so glad that you understand you have to be in my custody and I’m going to make you all better!” His eyes shone, and he reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair.

Harry ducked away from him.

Black’s smile dropped. “Harry? Come on.” He took another step forwards, this time reaching out for Harry’s arm.

Perfect. Harry made his voice gentle and soothing as he dodged again and said, “Actually, Sirius, it’s going to be the other way around.”

“What?”

“Harry told me all about the problems that he had when he visited you at Easter, Mr. Black,” Fudge said, shaking his head, his voice stuffy and also perfect for the moment. “How unstable you were, leaving in the middle of dinner and having your house-elf spy on him. Terrible.”

“And how he wrote to me and told me that I was going to have Mind-Healing whether I liked it or not, and that some Mind-Healers were really good at removing or suppressing memories,” Harry said, his voice low but loud enough to carry to the audience, which immediately began to buzz. “And he told me that I was biased against Muggles just because I said how they hurt me, and it was a bad thing most of my friends are purebloods, and—” He shuddered and hid his face in his hands.

“Should have mandated Mind-Healing in the first place,” Fudge said briskly, and nodded at the people behind him, who stepped forwards. “Luckily, we have a few experienced Healers here from the Janus Thickey Ward, Mr. Black. You’ll spend some time there until you’re more stable and not as frightening to your godson. It probably won’t take more than a few months. Or years, if you’re recalcitrant, but I trust you won’t be!” He laughed a little.

Black was staring at Harry. Harry looked back at him and let his expression slip just a little, let the coldness show through.

Do not fuck with me.

“I’m not insane,” Black said through gritted teeth. “This is—this is the result of an unnatural little kid who just doesn’t know what’s good for him! He’s been influenced by that woman I used to trust, and she’s made him into a monster!”

With every word, you drive the knife deeper. Harry glanced around and saw even Lupin staring at Black in horror. Do keep it up.

“Come here, Harry!”

As Harry had thought, it didn’t take much to tip Black’s stability once he had some pressure applied. He lunged for Harry, transforming into a dog on the way.

Four Stunners hit him from the Healers. He fell to the ground, transforming back into a human as he did so. Harry shook and wrapped his hands around his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, and smiled shyly at the Healers. “I just want him to be better.”

“We’ll make it so,” the lead Healer, a tall woman with auburn hair, said. She gave Harry a reassuring smile. “It’s not his fault.”

“I know. It was Azkaban,” Harry said solemnly. “I look forward to visiting with him and not—I won’t hold what he had to say against him, you know? I know that he didn’t mean to call me unnatural and all the rest of it. It’s just that his delusions got in the way.”

He could see the wave of admiration that spread through most of the people present. Harry smiled shyly at them, too.

I want him to be better. Oh, so much better.

“Harry!”

Most of the people present, of course, didn’t include Lupin. Harry turned to him with a little frown. “Professor?”

“You know that he—you provoked him! You didn’t—he didn’t—Sirius isn’t unstable!” Lupin took a step forwards, his eyes shining with tears. “You told me you understood and you wanted to come live with us!”

“I felt I had to say that,” Harry whispered. “I was so afraid. I didn’t know what I would do if I said no. Maybe he would kidnap me.”

Lupin shook his head firmly and turned to the Healers. “I promise you, Sirius is not insane. Just because he might have acted a little—off, it doesn’t mean that he needs to be locked up in the Janus Thickey Ward. He’s not violent!”

“But you have a strange threshold for violence!” Harry blurted out.

Lupin looked at him over his shoulder. “Harry—”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Fudge was looking anxiously at Lupin, probably wishing he’d brought an Auror or two with him. “Why would he have a strange threshold for violence?”

“He’s a werewolf!”

This time, the wave that poured through Harry’s audience was of gasps and cries. Harry held Lupin’s gaze, as everyone else stared at their professor. Lupin was the only one who saw the creature much more dangerous than a werewolf looking at him out of Harry’s eyes, Harry was certain.

Do not fuck with me.

“I don’t—the boy isn’t—the boy is a little confused,” Lupin said helplessly.

“He’s always sick every month!” Zacharias said abruptly. Harry didn’t smile, but he wanted to. His friends had wanted to be involved in the next adventure, and now they were getting to be. “I never noticed before, but—it was full moon, right? It had to be!”

“I’ve seen his eyes glow amber sometimes,” Michael added, his voice shaking. “And his robes are always torn and shabby—because werewolves can’t hold jobs, and he probably got hired here under false pretenses—”

“Black called him Moony,” yelled someone else, setting the fire.

“Are you, Mr. Lupin?” Fudge demanded. He was deathly pale and leaning away from Lupin now. Harry hadn’t told him this. “I must—oh, Merlin, was this Albus’s decision, I knew the Ministry should have had more oversight of the Defense position—”

Lupin backed away. Then he backed away again when one of the Healers aimed her wand at him. Then he turned and ran.

Harry watched him go with a faint smile that remained completely internal. He knew that Parvati would whip the gossip around the school into a storm in the wake of this, since she hadn’t been able to attend the actual event because of the Gryffindors’ class schedule.

As Fudge issued hoarse orders for Lupin’s removal from the castle and people crowded around Harry to ask if he was all right, Harry’s eyes went to the gates. He knew that no one but him would notice a faint shimmer there, the light of an Invisibility Cloak.

There had always been the chance that Black wouldn’t have acted as insane as they meant him to, or yelled those things about unnatural children. So Theo, hiding near the gates, had helped him along with a Suggestion Charm as Black had passed.

Harry smiled at his hidden friend, certain Theo would be doing the same, before ducking his head and letting the nice, sympathetic people lead him away. He had suffered so much trauma, after all. He needed looking after.

*

“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?”

For once, Madam Marchbanks was yelling at Harry, but he found he couldn’t mind. She had come up to Dumbledore’s office through the Floo, after the Headmaster had contacted her, and she was waving her arms so fast that they blurred the air around her head more than the shimmer of the charms letting her hear.

“They were threatening you legally,” Harry said, and let his shoulders hunch for the benefit of their audience, which was Dumbledore and the Heads of House. Snape looked like he was trying to melt into the wall to avoid drawing either Harry’s or Madam Marchbanks’s attention. “I didn’t—I would have been so worried if you were there.”

He could tell from the look on his guardian’s face that she admired his acting, but she reached out and poked him with her cane in the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “I see. Well, next time, involve me.”

She sounded so much like his friends that Harry had to duck his head before someone saw an inappropriate smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What did you say?”

“Yes, Griselda.”

“I must say, Griselda,” Dumbledore said in a stuffy way, drawing her attention, “that Mr. Potter’s intentions might have been pure, but the result was terrible. For him to reveal Mr. Lupin, an honest man who has never bitten a soul—”

Snape made a choking sound, but shut up as Harry glanced at him.

“—meaning he can never hold a job—”

“YOU LET A WEREWOLF AROUND MY WARD? THAT PHOENIX IS THE SMARTER OF THE TWO OF YOU!”

Harry settled back and enjoyed the show. Of course, it ended with Madam Marchbanks ignoring Dumbledore’s weak objections, along with the other professors’, and telling them exactly what she thought of them.

After she Flooed out, and Harry made it clear that Dumbledore’s disappointment wouldn’t move him, he dismissed Harry. Harry passed through the door, but spared a moment to meet Snape’s eyes as he did so.

Snape ducked his head.

No one should fuck with me, Harry thought happily, and went back to class.

*

“Did I not tell you that lethal magic was not always the right spell for the situation?”

“Yes,” Harry said, and smiled up at Erik. “So I’d like to learn some more subtle spells this summer, I think. You’re right that ones like the Killing Curse and the Entrail-Expelling one aren’t the most powerful at all times.”

“I think,” said Erik, “that we should have you begin on Legilimency and Occlumency.”

Harry felt as if his smile might crack his face. It would certainly crack the futures of his enemies.

I can defend myself. I have friends and a great guardian. I’m safe.

All was well, and everything was wonderful.

The End.