The nearly sleepless night Harry spent in pointless thoughts about what he'd do with his godfather-dogfather (if only he could reach him!) didn't help his morning mood.
Horribly displeased, he came down to the common room, met worried looks from Hermione and Ron, sighed and trudged with them to breakfast. Brushed off the other Gryffindors building theories about Sirius Black. Didn't even want to hear that nonsense.
Eggs and bacon plus small fresh rolls improved his worldview a bit. But he desperately wanted coffee. He snuck a glance at the far end of the staff table. The potions master wasn't there for some reason.
Snape probably brews himself some every morning, the guy thought with some envy. Daydreamed a bit about having breakfast with his teacher like over summer. Then suddenly got worried about why the professor hadn't come. Though he skipped breakfast fairly often. But this very worry helped Harry finally wake up completely.
So, yawning but quite perked up—which he wasn't happy about since unfortunate thoughts started plaguing his head again—Harry stomped toward the greenhouses. According to Madam Sprout's promise, they had familiar practice waiting.
"These mandrakes again. How much longer?" Ron grumbled, searching the pile of cheerfully pink earmuffs for something "more decent." "Like last year wasn't enough."
"Useful plants," Harry shrugged, grabbing the first ones he found and putting them around his neck. "Without them last year would've been really bad. Hermione spent all summer catching up on our year." He nodded at his friend. "What if it had been you?"
Ron grimaced. Harry thought: Did they really have to wait six months for them to grow? Couldn't buy them? Or is Madam Sprout the only one in England growing them? He wanted to add that thanks to these plants their best friend Hermione was alive and healthy now. But Ron had already jammed on dark gray earmuffs and walked off for seedlings.
Harry remembered summer garden work with Aunt Petunia. Back when he'd accidentally scorched the lawn, they'd planted tons of stuff. And transplanted, yeah. His aunt kept grumbling about the Garden Center manager and his extra discounts, or herself for buying too much with nowhere to put it... But they placed everything, naturally. And Harry learned a lot.
For instance, the thinnest smallest roots were most important. Plants fed mainly through them. And since his brain was working, he immediately wondered—wasn't that why baby mandrakes cried? Because tiny roots still tore anyway. Probably hurt. Harry had been in serious pain when Dudley ripped out a chunk of his hair once in a fight. He even winced at the unpleasant memory and looked sympathetically at the potted plants. How could he traumatize them less?
He took a pot with a familiar green tuft sticking out and carefully tapped all sides. His aunt did this so soil came away from walls, and roots with it. They'd cling to walls less, and... he remembered Petunia Dursley cooing over her beloved roses.
In response to tapping, the leafy tuft wiggled. A pair of small curious eyes appeared above the soil. Harry found it funny. Like he'd landed in some slightly weird cartoon. He winked cheerfully. The little eyes went round with surprise.
"Know what it's like outside? Interesting?" Harry asked. He couldn't coo and wasn't planning to. But why not just try talking?
The mandrake seemed to listen...
"It's been cramped in there for ages, right?"
The tuft froze for a couple seconds. Apparently processing. Then sort of nodded.
"I'm about to transplant you so you have more room to grow comfortably, okay? If you can, pull in your roots, retract them or whatever—I don't know... you'll need them."
The mandrake did something resembling a nod again and seemed to shrink slightly.
"Ready?"
Harry put on gloves and carefully cleared soil around the tuft. No attempt to bite his finger. Already a plus...
"Want to look at the rest of your kind?" he asked on instinct. The green tuft perked up. Curious eyes peered from the pot—the mandrake was stretching upward itself. Just needed help with the movement.
Harry helped...
The baby mandrake tried to twist around. Didn't work—Potter's grip was good. Practiced over summer. But before the root-person could get upset, Harry turned him around himself so he could look in all directions. Then brought him to the new big pot where he'd already made a decent hole. The sprout looked around and climbed into its new spot itself. Just had to cover it with soil.
Harry quickly finished and felt someone pat his shoulder. He turned. Neville was smiling wide and showing him a victory sign—two fingers in a "V." Hermione just looked at him admiringly. That felt damn good. Harry smiled back and started on the next pot.
Hermione, instantly assessing Harry's work, began repeating his techniques. By the end of class she'd almost caught up to him in quantity. They didn't notice Ron wandering off somewhere. His spot was taken by Neville, who outdid everyone by transplanting over a dozen of the largest specimens. Getting five points each for their house from a pleased and slightly surprised Madam Sprout, they cleaned up and headed to Potions last.
"Never thought Herbology practice could be so fun," Hermione shared. "Especially when those little guys start peeking out of pots. So cute!"
"Why'd you take so long? Never expected you to suddenly become such a botanist," Ron said disappointedly, catching up as they left the greenhouse. "Fine, Longbottom—just give him dirt to dig in. Or Granger, who cares most about how many points she earns. But you, Harry?! What's wrong with you, mate?"
Here we go again, Harry thought and sighed. But he stayed silent. Though they understood something was wrong with their friend—that he might be under influence—teenagers' patience gradually wore thin. Honestly, it didn't take much...
"What makes you think you know what's most important to me, huh?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. She'd already let slide his rant about mandrakes' importance at the start. Of course. He wasn't the one who'd lain practically lifeless for so long. He wasn't the one in pain, struggling hard to restore body mobility and much more. She'd stayed quiet then to avoid fighting, especially since class had started. But she hadn't forgotten.
"Everyone knows who the biggest bookworm in Gryffindor is," Weasley waved it off.
Hermione gasped.
"What's your problem?" Harry couldn't take it anymore. This former "best friend's" behavior was seriously pissing him off. For some reason he could only communicate normally with Ron in Runes class and briefly after. Otherwise he had to endure it. But barely now. His hands kept itching to just deck the ginger Muggle-style... True, everything seemed petty. Like now—a fight over literally nothing! But... it had piled up. And he felt bad for Hermione.
Harry would've held back with his last strength. But Weasley added something pretty contemptuous about "all bookworms and Harry joining them." Potter's stomach erupted with terrible cutting pain that spread like fire to his throat. Smelled like smoke... He barely managed to turn. His fist clenched on its own. His body coiled back. He landed a solid hook under the ginger's lower jaw—Ron's teeth just clacked. Then everything filled with pain and his vision went dark...
"Aguamenti! Harry! Harry, calm down!!! Run! Neville, help us, quick..."
Ron Weasley didn't understand how he ended up on the ground. Why his clothes were wet but smelled like something burned and steamed. He shook his head, coming to. Got up, touched his chin and headed for the hospital wing. Maybe he could skip Potions...
***
Severus Snape, absorbed in preparing the student lab for another practical test by the most annoying house, jumped when the classroom door flew open. Apparently from a kick. Something incomprehensible burst in. Under invisibility charms, determining who it was would've been impossible if the emptiness hadn't immediately yelled in Granger's voice:
"Save him, Professor!"
The invisibility charms dropped. The girl slid onto a bench at the table. Next to her materialized—or rather drew themselves—Potter doubled over in pain and Longbottom curled in a ball, looking hunted at his personal nightmare. Granger still managed to jump up again to reach the professor.
Severus Snape was shocked. It had been ages since anyone treated him like this third-year did—grabbing his lapels and jerking him sharply toward her. But when she whispered right in his ear:
"Dragon, incomplete transformation, burn," and literally collapsed on his desk, the professor stopped caring about this essentially small liberty.
He shot to the lab. A few seconds later Harry was grimacing from pain, slowly drinking the lifesaving potion. Looking at the boy's still-twisted face, Severus understood lecturing him now was a waste of time. Plus class started soon.
"Ten points to Gryffindor for timely help and keeping secrets," he said quietly. "Each."
Neville bugged out his eyes, turned red and choked on air. Also made another unsuccessful attempt to slide under the table. Hermione smiled happily. Snape looked at her angrily and jabbed his finger toward Neville:
"And you both didn't hear that."
"Yes, Professor, of course, Professor." Granger beamed like summer sunshine. Longbottom managed to blush even harder. Though it seemed impossible.
"Thank you, Professor," Potter whispered.
"Detention, Potter! Promise you won't like today's lesson. Granger, stop smiling. Nobody will believe you love Potions that much. Longbottom..." Snape sighed heavily. "Know cooling charms? Of course not... Potter, you have a sip left? Pass it to your comrade... Now get out and wait outside till the others arrive."
***
Potions would've been awful for Harry if he didn't understand what was happening. The professor was worried because he hadn't immediately found out what happened. Now fully venting his displeasure. He poured so much venom on Potter's shaggy head that by the end even Weasley—who'd started shooting Harry angry looks—switched to the sympathizing camp.
Potter just sighed and tried not to completely ruin the potion. His right hand hurt. Scraped knuckles ached—he really wasn't much of a fighter. But he'd hit with everything he had. More like with all my stupid, Harry thought self-critically almost in unison with what Snape was saying about him.
Hermione occasionally shot admiring looks at the professor. He caught one and didn't miss trampling her self-esteem. Came out somehow unconvincing though... But all this was nothing compared to how Neville Longbottom shocked everyone. He didn't explode anything, didn't melt his cauldron, didn't burn himself or neighbors. Most importantly, he was one of the first to submit quite acceptable quality potion.
"It took less than three years for your thought process to finally work. Gives some hope," Snape commented. But the student didn't flinch or cringe, standing almost beside him. "I'm almost afraid to guess what affected you, Longbottom. But advise repeating it just in case."
When the most problematic student looked him straight in the eye and nodded lightly in response, Snape was the one surprised. So much so that when assigning homework, he cut the essay almost in half.
Examining Potter's potion, Snape grimaced like it was someone's excrement.
"Detention, Potter."
Harry sighed. Snape trampled his mental abilities again. Finally Harry got it.
"I didn't even say anything!" he protested. "And my potion's no worse than theirs." He nodded at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Another detention for arguing with the teacher, Potter," Snape spat out, seemingly with relief. "Everyone out."
Gryffindors rushed first to the corridor, hurrying to lunch. Slytherins exited much calmer. Harry lingered because of Hermione. She dropped her notebook, crawled under the table, then dropped her "everlasting quill." They left last when the professor already stood at the threshold impatiently tapping his foot. Oddly this time he said nothing. Just turned and went to his office. Harry nearly yelled after him, "What about lunch?" But bit his tongue in time.
"You're something, Potter... Held out almost the whole lesson," Malfoy admired, falling slightly behind his "bodyguards."
"Are you trying to compliment me?" Harry was surprised.
"You know, endurance is exactly what aristocrats can appreciate..."
"You're such a poser, Malfoy," Harry responded amicably. After that contact following hippogriff flights, he didn't want to consider him an enemy anymore. "Main thing, you complimented yourself. Eagle!"
"A bit of that," Draco smirked. "You can do it too. In about five years."
Harry and Hermione snorted and laughed. But Draco had already turned and disappeared around the corner toward the Slytherin dungeons. Mood surprisingly improved. Tonight he could talk to the professor! And let him yell. But... Harry didn't want to admit how much he missed him. No escaping it. Fact.
"Did you forget something?" Neville, fortunately alone, was waiting by the stairs leading toward Gryffindor Tower.
"Right!" Harry slapped his forehead. "Thanks, Neville. You owe me an oath. And yeah, my animagus form is a dragon."
"Let's go to the tower while everyone's in the hall. Won't put it off," Hermione suggested.
"That's amazing," Neville breathed, hurrying after them.
"I'll explain later. Want to train with me?" Hermione offered.
"But that's... you have to be really strong... it's really hard..."
"Actually, no. I'll explain. It's really not as difficult as they write. There are different methods. And I think I found the simplest. Well, Professor... Flitwick thinks so."
***
Remus Lupin couldn't find peace. He couldn't complete the headmaster's assignment and befriend the boy. His best friends' son turned out more like a Muggle than a wizard. Growing up in the magical world, even on its very edge, Remus had no idea what to talk about with Muggles. He'd never been interested.
Plus after the first lessons—when he learned how hard and even terrible the boy's life had been with his aunt's family—he suffered additionally from guilt. Yeah, he'd never wondered about the child. But why would he? Dumbledore clearly explained to everyone that Harry was safe, everything was fine, and visiting him meant attracting attention. Dangerous. And who was he to Harry anyway? Parents' acquaintance...
Acquaintance... He couldn't consider himself a friend. If he were a friend, he probably would've been with them that day. But they didn't invite him. With his affliction nobody could truly befriend him. Harry Potter... Remus had noticed more than once during lessons the interesting looks Harry and his friend threw at him. Beast instinct said: they know. Or at least suspect something. And this needed understanding. It was about his own safety.
No, it's impossible, he repeated to himself like a mantra. But stupid to hope to fool beast instinct. Though he didn't trust his wolf, he couldn't completely ignore it. Harry, I'm a dark creature... He pictured the kid's face after saying this. But the image stubbornly wouldn't form. Or rather, he didn't feel its authenticity. Confess or not confess? He even flipped a coin from desperation, swearing he'd do exactly what came up.
The coin fell in a small crack by the wall. On edge. Remus exhaled and closed his eyes. How had he wronged the universe so badly? But after lunch he promised the headmaster he'd definitely talk to Harry... And he would. Whatever came of it.
***
Went surprisingly easily. Like Harry really was... a friend? The boy listened carefully, asked questions, and was genuinely interested in him. The wolf felt it. At some point Lupin understood: can't continue like this. Told him everything. Well... almost everything. And was shocked by how Harry reacted.
"Hermione lost the bet," the kid grinned wide.
"What?" Lupin couldn't manage another sound. Definitely wasn't ready for this.
"She figured it out after the second full moon and presented irrefutable proof."
"Like what?" Remus squeezed out with difficulty.
"Besides the lunar cycle, your ability to sense things. At first we thought you could see with your back..."
Lupin listened carefully, noting all his slip-ups. Not many. But Granger was still incredibly smart and observant for barely a child. Harry too... The kids had apparently researched him thoroughly! And told nobody. Probably because they trusted Dumbledore completely, just like him. Completely... For some reason that seemed not quite right anymore. He swallowed.
"Harry... may I call you that?"
"If it's easier for you, why not, Professor. You wanted to ask something else?"
"How do you now..." Lupin hesitated. Words wouldn't come. Stuck to his tongue. For some reason the kid's answer seemed very important.
"How do I feel about you knowing you're a werewolf?" he guessed.
Lupin flinched. Harry continued.
"Exactly the same. I'm not... What's the word?.. not a xenophobe, yeah... Meaning I'm fine with it," he clarified, determining from his companion's expression he hadn't understood. "Unless you're planning to bite me, Professor... But you're not planning that, right?"
Lupin paled.
"Harry, how could you think? I'd never—"
"Sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to offend you at all! But you have to ask just in case, right?"
"What if I lied?" Merlin, what am I saying?! flashed through his head.
"No," the kid confidently dismissed that possibility. Which itself was balm on wounds.
"Why?" Idiot, why are you pressing? Just accept it!
"You... no, you definitely wouldn't."
"Why are you so sure?" Lupin finally smiled. Brightly, from the heart. Thank you, Harry. You have no idea what you just did for me.
"I can feel it."
"Do you always feel lies?"
The boy shrugged.
"More like mood, intention... Your attitude toward me."
"That's a very useful trait. But has it truly never let you down?"
"At least this past year—no," Harry smiled. "But I agree, might not be enough and I can't rely on it completely."
The professor fussed with tea. Harry felt how uncomfortable he was. Remembered psychology books Mrs. Fields had given him over summer. It seemed the professor could help himself. But what could he, Harry, do? His brain worked feverishly and finally produced a solution. For a person to feel more confident, they should help someone themselves and be in their element. Something like that. So...
"Professor, could you teach me how best to drive off dementors? Because you might clear one, but what if there are several?"
So he learned about the Patronus Charm. Protector between the world of the living and... not so living. Because turns out dementors aren't living creatures by definition. Harry practiced a bit more, calling silvery mist from his wand. First small, then almost his own size. But that's all for now.
The professor praised him, saying almost nobody succeeded on the first try. And corporeal Patronuses weren't in every adult wizard's arsenal. Harry didn't particularly like being consoled. So he referenced detention and took his leave, hurrying to the dungeons to his professor.
***
Surprisingly, Snape didn't yell at all. Apparently he had enough time to cool down. Even praised Hermione behind her back after Harry's story about how everything happened. Strangely, the professor's tired voice affected him much more—talking about their conspiracy's hopelessness, how Harry was just a teenager and wouldn't handle "all this"...
Made him want to do the opposite. Become enduring, calm, icy... well, like the professor. Prove he could, that he'd handle it...
Snape said nothing more except they needed to check Weasley's memory as fast as possible and correct it if necessary. But when Harry asked if he could trust the wolf, he again inimitably arched his eyebrow.
"When did you figure it out?"
"Recently. Hermione guessed after the second full moon..."
"And?"
"So what," Harry answered question with question. "Should we have done something else? We observed..."
"You told nobody. Not even me."
"You kept canceling detentions so many times? Try catching you... And if I just go, gotta shake off Weasley, coordinate with Hermione for cover, and everything... Once I learn invisibility charms, I'll definitely bug you every day!"
"Who said it'd be easy? Learn faster. You'll need it."
"At least it worked today," Harry smiled. "Thank you, Professor."
"You're welcome, Potter." The corner of his mouth twitched, hinting at a smile. "And don't forget to regularly protest my methods instead of looking guilty."
Then Harry listened to another confession. The professor hadn't really told him about his own school days yet. Now finally shared details about his feud with the Marauders (what a name they picked!). Simply, without embellishment. Not diminishing or downplaying anyone's guilt, including his own. And again was surprised when instead of reacting to his revelations, the kid said:
"Professor Lupin taught me Patronus today..." Sad sigh. "I only got silvery mist so far. Pretty big though."
"Will you demonstrate?"
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silver mist almost enveloped Harry.
"Well, quite good. Especially for the first try."
"That's what Lupin said."
"I confirm. He was the best Gryffindor student those years, by the way."
"Do... Do you have a Patronus?.. Or can't you tell?"
"That's quite personal information. But... Expecto Patronum."
A silver doe circled Harry, soundlessly stepping with sharp hooves. He sighed admiringly. The seemingly fragile animal radiated considerable power.
"Your mother had the same Patronus, Harry."
"Thank you... Thank you so much, Professor!" Harry didn't notice burying his face in Snape's shoulder. The man hesitated slightly, then hugged him, patting his back. But then pushed him away.
"You should go. Don't need them missing you in your tower after curfew."
***
Sirius Black lay in a small dry but cold cave thinking only one thing—how to get into the school.
The desire for revenge that hit him the moment he realized the traitor was alive and free tormented his soul. Gave him no peace day or night. He'd managed to get there once. But how badly that went! All that stupid fat cow's fault in the painting!
The huge black dog growled. But growling turned to whining when dementor "patrols" flew past the cave. Very rarely thoughts about his godson surfaced. That if he, Sirius, got caught and fed Veritaserum, the boy might be in danger.
Again the familiar frozen air. Bitter and sharp. Cutting like glass into the dog's nostrils, causing dry coughing... Dementors couldn't sense animals. Only problem—animals sensed them perfectly. Especially if those animals were animagi.