lomonaaeren

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Chapter Twenty-Three—Finality

“Maybe…we should have…done something else with Sirius.”

Lily bowed her head and held onto James’s hand. The poison that he’d been fed had traveled throughout his body, wrecking system after system. The Healers had finally contained it, since apparently it hadn’t been the most powerful version of the poison someone could have used, but.

James was blind, and going to remain that way. And he had trouble speaking, what with the scars on his vocal cords.

It made Lily want to cry every time she thought about it. But she straightened her spine and kept a smile on her face, because James would hear it in her voice even if he could no longer see it, and would never see it again.

“I don’t know what else we could do. He wants to be of use so badly, and—if we sent him away from Hogwarts, he might have another attack where he really would transform and hurt someone.”

“He—almost hurt Harry.”

Lily swallowed back her hope. That was a clearer and quicker sentence than any James had spoken in weeks. But she didn’t want to think that he was getting better without more proof. She would have to accustom herself to new realities.

“Yes, he did.”

“Do you think Harry will want to be around him after that?”

Another quick sentence. Lily took a deep breath. Maybe it was because they were discussing their son, a subject of utmost importance to both of them.

“Harry doesn’t know that ‘Remus’ was really Sirius,” she murmured. “We spread the story that we sent Remus away because of the attack. Sirius is going to come in for the first time as a substitute Defense professor. Harry has no reason to believe otherwise.”

“Sirius—coughing?”

“He’s going to be on a strict potions regimen that Madam Pomfrey set up for him. He’ll never have another attack like that in front of the students.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure, James,” Lily said, and squeezed his hand. Maybe he was paying for the quick sentences by speaking more slowly now. But it didn’t matter. She loved him enough to remain by his side for the rest of their lives, certainly enough to interpret sentences that weren’t all that hard to interpret.

“Just—want everyone—to be safe.”

“I know,” Lily said, and bent over to kiss him. He actually turned his head towards her before their lips touched, proving he was getting better at sensing someone’s proximity.

It still made her want to cry, but not as much, and they kissed again before James turned his head to the side and murmured about being tired. Lily stood up, eyes locked on him for a long moment, before she turned and went to the Floo that would take her home.

Her younger children were waiting for her there, anxious about their father. They hadn’t been allowed more than short visits until the Healers were sure the poison wasn’t the rare infectious kind that could travel beyond the body of its victim.

It wasn’t, so Arianna and Patrick would be able to spend more time with their dad now. But they still had no idea who had poisoned James, or why.

If only James was well. If only we were a family, all together, the way we should be.

Lily straightened her shoulders. She would have to keep her chin up, and help her children. They didn’t need her collapsing in a flood of tears over what couldn’t be helped.

Whether the thing that can’t be helped is Harry or James, they don’t need that.

*

Theo sat back in the Defense class, watching the way that Professor Black droned on about the spells that should allow them to pierce illusions. He was the opposite of Professor Lupin as far as teaching went. Lupin had been animated and prone to jump around the classroom and award points at a moment’s notice. Black acted as though someone had cast a Permanent Depression Hex on him.

And he never gave points to any House except Gryffindor.

That wasn’t really what had caught Theo’s attention, though. The thing that had done that was the way Black stared at Harry.

He caught up with Harry when Black dismissed the Defense class with his customary loud sigh. “Why does the professor keep staring at you?”

“Oh, he offered to sponsor me as a Potions brewer in first year,” Harry said, with what Theo considered a depressing lack of curiosity. “And he’s a friend of the Potters. They all think they need to rescue the poor little Muggleborn from the clutches of Slytherin.” He shrugged. “As if that wasn’t making a big deal about my blood in another way.”

Theo nodded, but his dissatisfaction must have shown on his face, because Harry glanced at him and cocked his head. “What?”

“It just seems—strange to me that one of our Defense professors was the Potters’ friend, and so is the next one.”

“Black was probably the only one they could get on short notice.”

“You aren’t interested in trying to trick him with reports of Slytherin politics the way you did Lupin?”

Harry didn’t glance around for any sign of anyone near them, which made Theo feel obscurely proud. Harry trusted Theo enough to think that he wouldn’t have started this conversation if someone were nearby. “No. I have other things to do, and getting a close look at a werewolf reminded me how valuable my life is.”

“I still want to punish Lupin for that.”

Harry snorted. “Good luck finding him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just meant that he seems to have vanished off the face of the earth, and the Potters and Dumbledore are probably going to try and protect him to keep him from getting arrested.”

“It sounded like more than that,” Theo said, a little stubbornly, he knew it was a little stubbornly, but he was trusting his instincts. “It sounded like you might have had some special knowledge of Lupin’s fate.”

Harry turned and shot him an icy glare, but it was undone by the smile of delight on his face. “Maybe you shouldn’t be asking questions that you’re not ready to know the answers to, Theo.”

Theo narrowed his eyes and stepped forwards until he was only a few centimeters from Harry. A sharp thrill darted down his spine as he felt Harry’s breath on his face and saw the way that those hazel-blue eyes dilated. “Maybe I do want to know them.”

“It’s not my secret alone. I would have to ask his permission to tell you.”

Theo raised his eyebrows. He was trying to think of whom Harry could share that kind of dangerous secret with.

He hoped it wasn’t Draco, since it would mean Harry and Draco were a step further in the courtship process than Theo and Harry were. And Theo wasn’t willing to try and drive Draco away—not yet, at least—but he didn’t want Draco to gain anything he didn’t have.

“Who?”

“Telling you who would be tantamount to telling you the secret.”

Theo’s curiosity grew, but he knew Harry would only delight in teasing him more with it if he asked. So he nodded and said, “Please ask. I find myself curious to know where Professor Lupin went when he left here.”

“You weren’t the only one.”

All the way back to the common room, Theo wrestled with the way Harry had spoken those words. Harry had been curious, but he wasn’t now? The person Harry shared the secret with had been curious, but wasn’t now?

Or they didn’t have to be curious, because they knew.

Theo scowled at the far wall of the common room, and all the harder when Draco rose from a chair near the fireplace and bowed. In his hands was a small black wooden box that might have been carved of purest ebony.

“I thought it was time for your next courtship gift, Harry. Please wear it with pride.”

Theo bit his tongue to avoid saying that Harry wouldn’t want or like jewelry. For all he knew, Harry might.

There were still so many things he didn’t know about Harry, even though Theo had thought he knew him better than Draco.

Harry opened the box with no little eagerness, and his face softened when he saw what was inside. He drew out a pendant that glittered with a sharp edge, as if it were made of roughly carved crystal. But Theo knew very well what it was. It was a condensed ward, made to defend Harry from things like curses.

“I will wear it,” Harry said, and looped the silver chain over his head while smiling at Draco.

Draco was smiling widely, too, in a way that made his face look different from when he smirked and strutted. Theo clenched his hands in front of him. He wanted—he wanted—

He wanted Harry to look at him the way he looked at Draco right now.

And he wanted to keep that smile on Draco’s face.

Theo turned and stalked off to start the process of choosing his own next courtship gift, because it was less confusing than trying to deal with what was in front of him.

*

Harry gave Theo a half-smile as he opened the box Theo had handed him, which was made of a pale, shining wood that Harry admired, and carved with bubbling cauldrons. Theo had chosen to give him this courtship gift in the middle of the Great Hall, so that more people than even just the Slytherins would see it.

That was fine with Harry, honestly. Theo and Draco might have a sort of rivalry, but Harry considered them both potential choices and was fine with receiving gifts from either of them in any place.

“What is that?”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting with her arms folded and a scowl on her face. Honestly, he would have expected her to pay more attention and be more upset about the gift from Draco. She was always fluttering and cooing at him, and giggling with her friends over what she would do when she became the next Mrs. Malfoy.

It was annoying.

Highly annoying, actually.

Harry paused. He’d never thought that before. He’d just always noticed Parkinson as a sort of accessory to Draco and kept out of her way because of that. But the thought of someone else giggling about being Draco’s wife when Draco was courting him was—

Annoying.

“I think we all want to know,” Theo said, and nudged an elbow into Harry’s side. Harry felt a blush creep up his face, and turned back to lift the lid off the box.

His mouth dropped open, and he just stared.

“Do you like it?” Theo asked softly.

“I love it,” Harry said, fervently, and lifted his eyes to Theo’s face. Theo stared back at him, mouth dropping slightly open. He looked as if he had taken a Blasting Curse to the chest.

Harry had done that. Just from looking at Theo.

Harry felt a slow shift of power in the center of his chest, linking with his realization that he was annoyed about someone else desiring Draco, and an idea came to him that danced lightly up and down his nerves, even as he lifted the book on necromancy out of the box Theo had given him and cooed at it. It wasn’t that Harry was planning to become a necromancer any time soon; it was that he and Theo had had a conversation about it once in first year, and Harry had said it was interesting and mourned the lack of any real books in the library about it.

Theo had remembered.

Theo had got him a book about something that wasn’t Potions. Or Quidditch, for that matter. He had trusted Harry with a book on Dark Arts, something Muggleborns stereotypically avoided, and got him an expensive one that would show how much he valued Harry.

Harry wanted to keep Theo. He wanted to keep Draco.

He wanted them both.

As he stroked the dark blue binding of the book and thanked Theo with all his heart, he wondered what they would say if he told them that.

*

Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow at the letter in his hand and shook his head slowly. Then he turned back to face the man who sat in a chair that itself floated in the center of a glowing bubble that didn’t touch the walls or floor of the cell.

“You have proved reluctant to tell me what you know,” he said conversationally.

Remus Lupin stared at him with flat amber eyes. Lord Voldemort had to admit he was impressed by the man’s resilience. Reading his mind was a difficult to impossible endeavor for even Lord Voldemort to achieve, given that Lupin was a werewolf and the conflict of wolf and man guarded his thoughts like the best Occlumency. And Lupin seemed to think he was betraying the Potters and his other friends if even answered questions like “Why did you transform and go after my apprentice?”

“Do you know who this letter is from?”

Lupin didn’t answer.

“My apprentice. Harry Grayson.”

Lupin, interestingly, shivered in his bonds at that, enough to make the bubble tremble. Lord Voldemort cocked his head and clucked his tongue. “You have some grudge against the boy? Against the pureblood parent who used glamours to hide his shame, perhaps?”

“You know nothing about Harry!”

Lord Voldemort raised his eyebrows further. Lupin was really struggling now, enough that the bubble bent and nearly collapsed around him. Lord Voldemort added more magic to strengthen it further, regretting a little that his target was a werewolf, possessed of unnatural resistance to magic. Most people he had imprisoned in this bauble of his would have given in by now. “What do I not know?”

Lupin clamped his jaws shut.

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Well, it does not matter. He has written to me asking permission to reveal his apprenticeship to someone else. I must say, I am tempted to grant that permission. The person is the boy courting him—one of the boys—and his father is a faithful follower of mine.”

Lupin bellowed and tried to lunge out of the chair.

Magical restraints that Lord Voldemort hadn’t had to use in decades appeared and coiled around Lupin’s arms, binding him in place. Lord Voldemort clucked his tongue again, while his mind raced faster than he usually would have deigned to let it go.

There was some secret here. Some unusual feature of Harry Grayson, who might not be as Muggleborn as he seemed.

But Lupin refused to confess.

“Are you proud that you attacked him?” Lord Voldemort asked softly, keeping his voice more than half indifferent while he watched Lupin with spells. He kept his eyes on the parchment. “Nearly killed him or infected him? Reports had said that you were one of the few werewolves who did not fully embrace his condition, but if—”

“I didn’t do it!”

Lord Voldemort paused. Then he asked, “Excuse me?”

For a long moment, Lupin seemed to struggle against invisible restraints that had nothing to do with the ones that Lord Voldemort had placed on him. Then he flashed his teeth and said in a low voice that was more than half growl, “I. Didn’t. Do. It.”

“Who did?”

Lupin stared at him with hostile golden eyes and said nothing.

Lord Voldemort sighed, a little bored. “You should know that I will figure it out somehow. I will keep you here until your defenses against Legilimency break down and read the truth out of your mind. Or I will simply wait until the Veritaserum that one of my servants is brewing is ready. Do you believe you can resist it?”

“Go to hell.”

“Alongside the people who betrayed you and used your face and name to nearly attack my apprentice?”

Lupin flinched. Lord Voldemort nodded. “It was Polyjuice, wasn’t it?” He could feel his lips drawing up in a sneer. He did not specialize in Potions like Severus or dear Harry, but he knew enough of the theory behind them to know the truth. “When werewolf hairs are used in Polyjuice so rarely that there is no telling how they will make someone react?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it would happen like that.”

Perhaps the way to crush Lupin was through his guilt complex. Lord Voldemort took a casual step closer to him. “But you were the one who gave the hairs to the imposter. The one whose face and name they would have used. If you are trying to protect the Potters or whoever wore your skin, why should you? Did they protect you?”

Lupin shook, his head half-lowered. Lord Voldemort watched in fascination. Truly, there was nothing like this.

“I—I don’t want to confess because then you’ll hurt them,” Lupin whispered.

“The Potters have already been thoroughly punished, in my opinion,” Lord Voldemort said, thinking with pleasure of James Potter being made a cripple. “But the imposter has not. For all I know, he is still walking around a free man—or she, a free woman—and plotting some other attack on my apprentice.”

“When I transform…” Lupin trailed off. “Unless I have Wolfsbane,” he began again, with the kind of pedantic conformity that Lord Voldemort could appreciate, “I just attack the nearest target. I don’t—I don’t believe he would have deliberately hunted Harry. He would have had no reason to.”

“Who?”

“Sirius Black.”

It was the tidal wave rising in Lord Voldemort that was black, made of loathing and the desire to kill. He mastered it with the expertise of long experience. “Because Sirius Black is one of the Potters’ best friends.”

“Yes.”

“And once, yours.”

“Yes.”

“And is he now? When he tarnished your name and nearly infected an innocent child, as if he were Fenrir Greyback himself?”

Lupin struggled, his eyelids fluttering. Probably he would have said something differently if he had been allowed rest or food in the last two days, but he had not.

“No,” he whispered at last.

Lord Voldemort smiled. “I do believe we may have a common cause, then, Mr. Lupin.”