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The Beast Within | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Draco Malfoy, Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Oliver Wood, Other, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black Genres: Drama, Romance Warnings: Death, Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 272 Summary: Two pivotal things happen the night of October 31, 1981. They will change the course of Harry's life. Forever. Posting issue resolved. For the moment at least and hopefully permanently. Hitcount: Story Total: 152516; Chapter Total: 7551 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Most of you guessed who Harry would be staying with. Some may be disappointed, some of you may not be. I hope you continue to like the story. And before anyone comments, wolf babies are called pups. There was some confusion on that back when I first started writing this story. Oh, and here's where the liberties I took with werewolves start to appear. Only one little detail in this chapter. |
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Harry hated being there. He watched as all the others gathered into their little groups, excitedly chattering about their summer holiday or the upcoming year. A few people had looked his way but he'd given off an air of aloofness so no one had bothered him. He'd also caught the disdainful glances a few of the more well off students had thrown his way. At least he didn't have to suffer the humiliation of going through the Sorting with all the first years. He'd had a private sorting in which the hat had taken its time deciding on where to put him. It had finally called out “Gryffindor!”, much to Harry's relief. He'd made it into the same House as Uncle Remus and his parents. So now, here he sat in the Great Hall after having endured a carriage ride with three seventh year girls. He would have walked but didn't think anyone would have been too happy with that decision. He sat at the Gryffindor table, away from all the other students, actually preferring it that way. He didn't have to make nice if he wasn't being bothered. It still annoyed him to think on how it was he came to be at Hogwarts. He'd just turned thirteen. A tawny school owl appeared with his Hogwarts letter. Just like the previous years, Harry marked through his name on the front and returned the letter. He was adamant about not going and eventually they'd get the hint. After all the times magical families turned on Uncle Remus and Harry upon learning their secret, why would they think he'd want to be a part of that world? All those times of making friends and then having to leave because the family figured out why he and Remus were not around the day before or after the full moon every month. Time after time Harry had had friends look upon him with horror and fear. It had gotten to be too much so Harry quit trying to make friends. It hurt being alone, without friends, but it hurt worse to have supposed friends act as if they could become infected with lycanthropy just by breathing the same air. The day after he'd returned his Hogwarts letter, the Headmaster, one Albus Dumbledore, visited with Uncle Remus. After some heated discussion, Remus accepted a job as professor at the school. That news had not gone over well. “Harry, come sit down. We need to talk.” “What's wrong?” “Harry, Dumbledore offered me a teaching position at Hogwarts.” “You turned him down, right? Right?” “No, Harry, I didn't. I took the job.” “You WHAT?!” Harry jumped up out of his seat so fast the chair fell backward. “How could you? You KNOW how I feel about that!” “Harry, I need the work. We need the money.” “I've got money--use it. You said I wouldn't be safe there! You said you'd never make me go if I didn't want to!” “Harry, Voldemort tried to return again last year. Thankfully, he was stopped before he got very far, but that only shows how much danger you–we--could be in. And studying under professors who are experts in their fields will benefit you far greater than you could know. And,” Remus sighed, “I think it's time you were around kids your own age.” “I told you--I don't need friends. What have they ever done for me?” Remus looked sympathetic, but his eyes held that peculiar shine that showed his conviction of the rightness of his suggestion. Seeing there was no changing the man's mind, Harry shouted. “You're just like them! You don't care about what I want or need. You say one thing and do the opposite! I hate you!” Harry stormed out of the kitchen, into his room and slammed the door. Even though he'd, in previous years, threatened to run away, Harry just couldn't force himself to actually do it and Remus must have known it. He stalked around his room, angrily muttering about how unfair his life was. Fear and pain attempted to push their way to the forefront but Harry pushed those feelings down like he had all the other times. The feelings of betrayal ran deep, but after just two days of near silence between them, Harry apologized. “Uncle Remus, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't really mean it. I hope you know that. It's just that--” “I know, Harry. But this job could last longer than any of the other ones I've had. I really do think you'll benefit from being taught by experts. I know you don't think you need friends, and I can't blame you for feeling that way, but you may just change your mind once you get there.” “I doubt it. I can't say that I'm going to try to be friendly, either. But I'll go without any more protests.” “Thanks, Pup. Something tells me this will be a good year for the both of us.” Harry looked up at his guardian hesitantly. “Are we...are we okay?” Remus had then taken Harry into his arms for a tight hug. “Harry, we're going to have disagreements. That's the way things are, especially now that you're starting to grow up. No matter how much shouting or arguing we do, never forget that I love you and always will.” “I love you, too.” All may have been forgiven. That didn't mean Harry had to like it, however. Harry glanced up at the Staff Table and saw his uncle sitting there, watching him. The man stood at his introduction but quickly returned to his seat. A few more words from the Headmaster and then food popped into existence on the tables. Filling his plate, he concentrated on eating. He didn't talk to anyone, didn't look at anyone and everyone treated him the same. Oh, he was aware of some stares and fierce whispers and he really wished they'd just shut up and leave him alone. He was just finishing up when a second year called over to him. “Oi! You really Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? You know, with the scar and everything?” Harry slowly turned to look at the kid but the only answer he gave was a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, either you are or you aren't,” continued the scratchy voice. Harry wiped his hands and face and took a drink of pumpkin juice, doing his level best to ignore the voice. “You're being rude,” another voice piped up with a condescending air. “He just asked a question.” Harry pushed his plate and goblet away from him and faced the pair of kids. By now, the attention of those around the second years had been caught and they were watching and listening avidly. Frustrated, Harry jumped up. “Well, I think it's rude to stick his nose in where it's obviously not wanted. And that's all the answer he's going to get!” Harry practically stomped his way out the Great Hall and up the ever-maddeningly moving staircases. He had to backtrack twice because of them and, thanks to Remus for having told him where Gryffindor tower was, by the time he reached the portrait hole, he was in a towering temper. Ever so grateful he'd been given the password already, he threw the word at the painting and got even more frustrated when she refused to open. “I don't have to take that kind of abuse,” the Fat Lady said, her hands propped on her ample hips. “Unless you can give the password respectfully, you'll be stuck there in the hallway.” Harry couldn't believe it. He was being admonished by a stupid painting! Stupid painting! Stupid school! Stupid people! His life had been fine. Why did it have to go and change? His vision began to swim and he quickly swiped away the moisture before the Feast was over and the others saw him. Being caught crying would have added fuel to the gossips. They'd be chattering about it for days! Finally, he breathed in deeply and slowly let it out. “Caput Draconis,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. “Much better,” the Fat Lady replied, mollified. The painting swung open allowing Harry access to the common room. He glanced cursorily around the common room, taking in the reds and golds, the comfortable seating around the fireplace along with some tables and chairs for homework but he didn't let that interfere with his determined march. He didn't stop until he reached the third year dorm room. That, at least, was another humiliation he'd dodged. When he'd been tested to see what year he'd fit into, he'd gotten high marks in Defense but most of his others were between third and fourth year. So, erring on the side of caution, third year it was for him. Pulling off his robe and uniform, he donned his night clothes, tossed his dirty clothes in the basket for the house elves, slipped off his glasses, climbed into bed and pulled the curtains shut. He lay there awhile hoping sleep would claim him before any of his dorm mates came in. But before he could fall asleep, the door opened and he heard several pairs of feet shuffle in along with some good-natured ribbing. One of the boys shushed the others and Harry could almost feel their eyes on his bed. “Is it true he's the Harry Potter?” asked one of them, quietly. “Don't know. Maybe,” replied another. “Not a very friendly bloke, is he?” a heavily Irish accented voice commented. “Well, he was kind of dropped in here,” countered the first boy. “He's probably shy, not knowing anyone and all.” Someone scoffed at that notion. “Shy? Yeah, right. More like just a pompous git. Probably thinks he's too good for us. From what I've heard, he kept to himself on the train and I'm inclined to believe it after supper tonight.” “We should at least try to befriend him, shouldn't we?” the first boy tried again. “You go ahead if you want to. Me, I'm not wasting my time.” More shuffling as the boys dispersed to their own beds. Drawers opened and shut. Then the swish of clothes sailing through the air and landing with a muffled plop into the hamper reached Harry's ears. The zip of curtains opening and shutting told Harry he was finally going to have a quiet room. But soon, loud snores came from the bed to his left, disabusing him of that hope. Underneath that horrific racket, he could hear the quieter sounds of the other boys. Harry rolled to his side. Hearing the boys talk had hurt. But he pushed that hurt down deep and locked it away. Those boys reinforced Harry's idea that he didn't need any of them, that he didn't want to be part of this world. He found it ironic that, at some point, when he was ready, they were going to need him even though they were horrified by him. He was going to have to destroy the evil wizard responsible for so many broken families. It took awhile but, eventually, Harry relaxed enough to fall asleep. The next morning, Harry woke early. Peeking through his curtains, he could see no one else was up yet. Quickly, he grabbed his clothes and toiletries before heading to the showers. He'd finished and was heading down to the Great Hall before anyone else from his dorm was even awake. Only a smattering of students were up at such an early hour so it was quite easy to find a spot well away from the others in his House. He took a seat several feet away from a small gathering of redheads. Taking a quick peek at the Staff Table told him his uncle, no professor as he had to call the man now, was present and, by the look on his face, wanted very much to have a nice little discussion. Well, Harry didn't feel much like discussing anything so he turned back to his cereal and toast. Just as he was finishing up, a nearby motion caught his eye. Glancing up, an older student with red hair and horn-rimmed glasses strode purposefully in Harry's direction. Irritated, Harry took a final swallow of pumpkin juice before standing to leave. “Mr. Potter, I'd like a word, please!” the redhead called. Upon reaching the third year, the redhead spoke again in a most annoyingly pompous voice that immediately set Harry on edge. “I'm Head Boy. My name is Percy Weasley, and if you need any help just let me know. I know it can't be easy being new so, if you'd like, I can introduce you to some people.” “No, thanks. I'm fine. Bye.” Percy watched, slightly offended as Harry turned and walked straight through the Great Hall's double doors. “Well, not much on manners, is he?” “He probably doesn't like you,” said one twin. “Come to think of it...” “We don't like you much, either,” finished the other twin. “And we're your brothers,” the pair said in unison. “Just leave him be, Percy,” piped up a feminine voice, the owner of which also sported red hair. “He's likely having a hard time adjusting. Let him come around on his own.” “Aww. Does ickle Gin-Gin have a crush on the new kid?” “Oh, my dear brother, did you not hear? That's not just any new kid. That's the Harry Potter.” “You know, dear brother, I do believe you're right. So, Gin-Gin, tell us. Is he cute?” Blushing furiously, but with a frustrated growl, the girl threw a piece of toast at her grinning twin brothers. Stalking up to the Staff Table, she retrieved her class schedule from Professor McGonagall before heading back to Gryffindor Tower. She groaned when she noticed her first class was Potions. What a way to start the week. Harry stalked out the Great Hall and right out the main doors of the castle. He wanted so badly to just keep going right out through the main gates but he'd promised Remus he wouldn't cause any trouble. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? How could he make it more obvious that he didn't want to be bothered? He'd just keep ignoring them and maybe they'll get the hint. As he walked around the inner grounds, he immersed himself in Mother Nature. Wind ruffled his messy hair a bit and rustled the leaves on the trees. The early sun promised a stifling heat but, for now, it comfortably warmed his face. A mishmash of flowery scents drifted to him from the greenhouses. Because of his enhanced hearing due to the wolf part of his existence, he could hear the flutter of insect wings a fair distance away. He knew there was a forest though he couldn't see it. Part of him thrilled at exploring it after all Remus had told him about it. The human part of him dreaded it. After a while, he realized classes were due to start. Muttering an oath, he rushed back into the castle and headed for the stairs. Another oath left his mouth when he realized he didn't have his schedule. Running back to the Great Hall, narrowly avoiding colliding with the throngs of students scurrying along, he found his Head of House. “There you are, Mr. Potter. You left before getting this.” She held out a piece of parchment. “You're lucky. I don't think Hagrid will be too upset with you being a bit tardy, but you'd better hurry.” Harry noted he had Care of Magical Creatures first period. Nodding his thanks, he hustled back to his dorm and grabbed his bag. Seeing that he had Potions also that morning, he quickly pulled out what he didn't need, stuffed in what he did need and threw himself down the stairs, out the portrait hole, disregarding the painting's complaint, and down the moving staircases. Fortunately, luck was on his side as they stayed aligned long enough for him to get all the way down. He had a vague idea where his class was supposed to meet and took off in that direction. Catching up to the students milling around, he collapsed on a log and leaned over, utterly winded. After about a minute, he glanced around. His house shared the class with Slytherin. Wonderful. More snotty, obnoxious, holier-than-thou people you'd never find. A few disgusted looks were thrown his way but he ignored them. A blonde with a pointed chin, dressed in Slytherin green, seemed to be a leader to them. He was flanked with two very large cronies who rarely spoke but laughed stupidly at everything the blonde said. Harry felt immediate dislike for those three. By contrast, his housemates stood around chatting amiably as they waited for the professor. A disheveled pudgy boy walked by with the book for the class barely in his grip. Obviously, he and the book had gone a round or two and, by the looks of it, the book had won. Harry sympathized some. He'd gone a few rounds with the book, too, until Remus had explained the special technique to use in handling it. A bushy-haired girl prattled on incessantly about what they were likely going to study. A redhead next to her rolled his eyes whenever she wasn't looking. A shout drew Harry's attention and he felt his jaw drop. He couldn't help it. Not far from where they all were waiting stood the tallest, widest man Harry had ever seen. The man had long bushy black hair and a beard to match. His dark eyes were almost lost in all that hair. The giant of a man motioned them over to a clearing. Walking over, Harry's first thought was No way. A beast, half eagle and half horse, strutted around the small area. “This here is a hippogriff,” the giant man said in a booming voice. “Very proud creatures, hippogriffs.” As if to prove it, said creature stood still with its head up high, wings folded against its sides, and eyed them all with what Harry was sure was haughtiness. Great. Now I'm being looked down upon by a stupid animal. As Professor Hagrid continued the lecture on how to approach hippogriffs, Harry noticed the blonde Slytherin slowly edging to the back of the group close to where he, Harry, was standing. The giant asked if there were any questions and the blonde spoke up. “Are we studying werewolves in this class? They're creatures, aren't they?” Harry's eyes shot to the blonde's face and found the boy staring right at him, smirking. Harry just barely managed to keep his face a mask of neutrality while his insides churned. Did he know? How could he? “No,” Hagrid answered, “no werewolves. Those are dark creatures best left to your Defense Against the Dark Arts class. This is a hands-on class. Can't have any werewolves running around now can we?” “Dark creatures, eh?” the boy continued in that same smug voice, still staring at Harry. “No, I don't think having any werewolves running around the school would be a good idea.” In his chest, Harry's heart seemed to beat faster than the Firebolt could fly. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The boy wasn't finished yet, however. “You'd know about werewolves, wouldn't you, Potter?” Harry gulped. Every pair of eyes were on him. “Why would I?” he managed in a somewhat steady voice. “Everyone knows there was a werewolf attack at Godric's Hollow the night your parents were killed.” Rivulets of sweat now trickled down Harry's back. “So?” he forced out. “Just saying,” the kid said offhandedly, “that you'd be a bit more familiar with those hideously dark, filthy beasts than the rest of us.” The blonde's smirk became a sneer as if he knew how his words were affecting Harry. Thankfully, Hagrid called the group's attention back to the lesson. The Slytherin leader laughed openly at Harry before turning to listen to the lecture. Harry never even heard the rest of the lesson for his mind was on that blonde git and what he'd said. He needed to tell his uncle. Consulting his class schedule, he was dismayed to realize that would have to wait until after his next class. L ost in thought on his way to Potions class, he'd just cleared the stairs and turned a corner when he collided with a petite redhead. Their collision was such that it knocked her Potions supplies everywhere and knocked her onto her bum. She sat several seconds staring daggers at him before locating her stuff. Embarrassed, Harry helped her pick up her things. He'd have helped her up but when he offered, she'd slapped his hand away. “Sorry.” Harry dumped her things into her arms and rushed down the hall to the Potions room. Remus had told him about Snape and how bitter the man was. Harry had also been warned not to let anything the man said bother him. Harry knew there had been a feud between the Potions Master and Harry's Dad so was expecting some harsh treatment. Sure enough, as soon as he entered, the man started in. “Well, look who has finally deigned to grace us with his presence. I warn you now, Potter, your fame will not get you far in my class. My class is all about skill. Something I seriously doubt you have.” Clenching his teeth, Harry held his tongue. He'd show the bitter man. Harry determined, then and there, to not let anything distract him from making his potion perfectly. Harry nearly smiled when he saw what potion they were to start with. He could make a Shrinking Solution in his sleep. Not once glancing back at the chalkboard, Harry carefully executed each step in the process. Snape noticed and called him on it. “Potter! Are you not paying attention to the directions? I haven't seen you check them at all. I don't want to be poisoned by any noxious gases escaping your cauldron because you failed to follow the directions!” Harry calmed himself and spoke in the most polite voice he could muster. “I've made this potion many times before. Sir. I've memorized it.” “Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter. You'd better hope it turns out perfectly.” The man turned on his heel and walked back amongst the other students, praising each and every Slytherin. Harry continued stirring the bubbling potion until it was the acid green color it was meant to be. Bottling a sample, he took it up to Snape's desk for grading. Harry couldn't help the smug feeling he got when Snape spotted his sample. Snape's eyes widened in surprise, eyebrows raised. Then a smarmy smile broke out. The Professor's hand shot out in a wide arc as if reaching for someone. His hand collided with Harry's, knocking the sample from the teen's hand, sending it crashing to the floor. Solution sprayed everywhere but only caught Harry's trouser leg, causing it to shrink until it gripped his leg about mid-calf. Laughter rang out at Harry's now ruined trousers. “Oops. Looks like no grade today, Potter.” Green eyes met black ones defiantly. “I beg to differ, sir. Obviously, it did what it was designed to do.” Harry pointed to his uniform. “Potter, I get to say whether a potion is correct or not. Without a sample, I can't test it so...no grade today.” Harry would have argued further but the end of class bell rang. Stalking back to his desk, he quickly bottled another sample of his potion, banished the rest and stuffed everything into his bag. Thankfully, he didn't have another class that morning. He rushed up the dungeon stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, hoping to catch his uncle between classes. He got there just as the last person was leaving. “Harry! How's the first day going? I won't be seeing you until tomorrow afternoon, I'm afraid.” “Uncle Remus, something happened during Care of Magical Creatures this morning. This kid, blonde with a pointed chin, a Slytherin, asked if we were going to be studying werewolves in the class and was staring right at me when he said it. Do you think he knows?” The twinkling light in Remus' gray eyes dimmed at the news. He thought a moment. “Sounds like Draco Malfoy. His father was known to follow Voldemort during the last war but the man claimed to have been forced into it and was allowed to go free. I suppose it's possible he may suspect if the werewolf who attacked Godric's Hollow that night was a Voldemort supporter. Look, let's not talk about this now, okay? I'll talk to the Headmaster.” Remus happened to glance down and noticed Harry's uniform. “What happened?” “Shrinking Solution. Snape knocked the sample I made out of my hand and it broke. Some of it hit me. Then he refused to give me a grade for it.” “I'll talk to Albus about that, too. Unfortunately, I don't have the antidote. Madame Pomfrey may.” Some students began entering and giving the pair odd looks. “I've got a class so I'll see you later, Harry. And don't worry about Professor Snape.” Remus gave him 'that look' and Harry knew he was being chastised for not showing the Potions master any respect. The two parted ways and Harry headed back to his dorm to drop off his bag. After preparing it for Herbology, his first class after lunch, he changed his uniform. Grabbing his shrunken trousers, he headed for the hospital wing. “Madame Pomfrey?” “Harry? How can I help you? It's not time already, is it?” “No, it's not that. Yet.” Harry held up his shortened trouser leg. “Can you help me with this? Shrinking Solution sprayed my uniform and I don't have an antidote.” “I would have thought Professor Snape could have fixed it easily.” “Yes, well, we aren't exactly fans of each other. Please tell me you can fix it.” “Well, I normally don't keep that on hand so I'll have to brew it but it shouldn't take too terribly long. I should have it fixed by day's end.” “Thanks.” “Are you liking it here, Harry? I know you didn't really want to come.” Harry's gaze flitted away from the kindly nurse. He didn't trust many people in the wizarding world but Madame Pomfrey had taken care of him whenever he'd gotten sick. She'd always treated him with affection. To her, he was just another child who'd needing healing. He couldn't tell her how grateful he would always be to her for that. In answer to her question, he shrugged. “I know it's difficult. Just give it awhile longer, okay?” “Sure.” Deciding now would be a good time to go to lunch, he made his way to the Great Hall. Sure enough, most kids were still in class. A smattering of Gryffindors sat at his table, including the redheaded girl he'd knocked over on his way to Potions. Sitting on the far side of the table, he fixed himself a sandwich and grabbed a handful of crisps, washing it down with pumpkin juice. He managed to time it just right. He was done about the time most of the students were done with class and coming in for lunch. H arry hurriedly left Herbology behind. Two hours was more than enough for him. He'd been scratched, poked and nearly bitten by the plant he had been pruning. As it was, he'd gotten a splinter from it and it hurt worse than he'd thought it would. Professor Sprout had explained that the splinters were full of an acidic pus. It wasn't dangerous, just bothersome. Yeah, he had to agree with that. Sucking on the side of his finger near his knuckle, he, again, wasn't paying too close attention when he turned back toward the castle and bumped into someone coming down the path to the greenhouses. This time he managed to catch her before she fell. “You know,” she said, annoyed, “you really need to watch where you're going. I mean, I may be a tad small but I'm not invisible.” “Sorry,” he cringed. “Again.” Harry quickly let her go and walked away, shaking the hand with the burning finger. At least he had an hour before History of Magic. By then the burning sensation should have worn off. After trading his Herbology book for History of Magic and gathering parchment, quills, and ink, he walked the inner grounds until the bell. The Forbidden Forest called to the wolf side of him but he needed to stay close to the school so he ignored it. He was always more aware of the wolf the closer it got to the full moon. Just next week, he and Remus would be prowling the Forest together. The thought made him shudder. Those thoughts brought him to his first class. He pondered what that git, Draco Malfoy, had said and couldn't shake the fear that he'd reveal Harry's secret. Finally, the bell rang and he hurried off to his History class. Uncle Remus had told him a ghost taught the class and that it would likely be his most boring class. As soon as Professor Binns began, Harry knew his uncle was going to be right. He didn't care, though. He knew a lot of the stuff already and it allowed his mind to wander. He stayed awake which was more than he could say for some of the others, one of which was a redheaded boy who snored quite loudly. When it was time to go, the redhead had to be prodded awake. The bushy-haired girl he'd seen standing next to this boy that morning sat next to him now and poked him until he woke. Then she berated him for falling asleep. Harry was relieved he didn't have to put up with that. Harry spent the hour before dinner getting a head start on the next day's classes. He sat in one of the comfy chairs in a corner with his Charms text in his lap and his Defense Against the Dark Arts text tucked down between the cushion and the chair arm. Though he was proficient in both subjects, he felt it wouldn't hurt to know what they'd probably be studying the next day. After checking his watch for the fourth time, he gave up and headed down to dinner. Finally, it was Friday. Harry had only one class this morning-- Charms. They discussed the theory of some of the slightly more difficult jinxes. This was something Harry knew already and found himself a tad bored. After class, he stayed behind to discuss the problem with Professor Flitwick. The tiny man seemed rather excited and eager to teach Harry some more advanced spells. “Certainly you may work ahead, Mr. Potter,” the little professor squeaked. “I saw your score for this subject and was quite impressed. Any spell you want to learn, whether in your text or one you find during research, you may attempt. Within reason, of course. Notify me of it before you begin. Keep a log of what spell you're trying, the date you've started attempting it and any successes or failures you have. I will still require you to complete any essays I set, however.” “Of course, Professor. Thanks.” Their chat ran longer than he'd anticipated. But at least he was finished for the morning. The students for the next class began trickling in so he packed his school things back into his bag and hurried to the door. He was about to step through it when someone else did. The two came within inches of colliding but caught themselves before they could. “Well, at least we're making progress,” quipped the same girl Harry had been running into all week. Harry gave a noncommittal sound before stepping around her and continuing on his way. Why was it that every time he turned around, there was that redhead again? Okay, so it wasn't every time but it sure felt like it. Dropping off his bag in his dorm, he checked the time. Yes! Plenty of time! Uncle Remus had told him he could borrow Remus' broom today. Harry loved to fly and had missed it greatly. His own broom had gotten damaged and they hadn't been able to replace it. Stopping off at Remus' office before the next class showed up, he retrieved the old Cleansweep. It had seen better days but at this point, flying was flying. As soon as he got outside, he mounted the broom and soared into the air. Laughing out loud at the wind whipping his hair around, he put the broom through its paces. He flew up sharply and down exceedingly low. He pulled stunts, he corkscrewed, he performed turns one wasn't supposed to be able to do with that model. Little did he know he wasn't alone. “Oi!” a heavily-accented Irish voice called. Harry looked up to find a seventh year flying up to him. “You fly amazingly well on that old thing,” the older boy commented. Harry shrugged and waited to see what the other boy wanted. Having his flying time interrupted was a bit irritating. “My name's Wood, Oliver Wood. I'm the Captain of the quidditch team. Ever thought about playing?” Again, Harry shrugged and gave a noncommittal sound. It didn't seem to faze the older boy. “I bet you'd be good, flying like that. I'll be holding tryouts soon. Why don't you come?” “Maybe,” Harry answered, still somewhat peeved at having his flying time interrupted. The young man smiled gleefully as if he'd been told he was being scouted for a professional team. “Brilliant! See you!” Harry watched as the other boy flew back toward the castle. Did he really want to play quidditch? It would certainly put him in the spotlight. His dad had played Chaser, though, so playing would be like sharing something with the father he never knew. It was also unlikely to interfere with his furry little problem as, he'd gathered from stories about his dad playing, all the games were during the day. Deciding he'd think about it later, Harry continued flying. He got so lost in the feeling of freedom, he almost forgot about lunch. Rushing off to his dorm, he stowed the broom, grabbed his bag and quickly stuffed his Defense and History texts into it and hurried down to grab something to eat. Harry found one advantage to being so late. A lot of the other kids had eaten and left already so, luckily for him, the end of the table by the door was empty. Sliding onto the bench, he zoomed through a sandwich, some crisps and pumpkin juice. Still a bit hungry, he swiped an apple before heading off to his double Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Defense was his favorite class. Mainly because of who taught it but it didn't hurt that he knew pretty much everything they'd be studying that year so it would be fairly easy. His steps faltered once he caught a glimpse of the Slytherins. He'd forgotten all about having to share the class with them. Instantly, he and the blonde, Malfoy, locked eyes and the blonde smirked. Harry wanted so badly to wipe that smarmy expression off the kid's face but knew he couldn't right then. As if sensing Harry's dilemma, Remus appeared at the door to his classroom. He glanced at Draco, noting with some discomfort the expression on the young Malfoy's face. He then turned to Harry, who met his gaze. So far, Harry had managed to keep his temper in check. Remus hoped the boy could continue to do so. “Come on in and welcome to your double Defense class,” Remus announced loudly. He watched as the students took their seats, once again leaving a noticeable gap between themselves and Harry. Frowning, he decided to do something about it. “Okay, today we're going to have a practical class. Wands out. We're pairing up to practice the spells we discussed on Tuesday.” Everyone chattered and started choosing partners. Remus met Harry's eyes and smiled. “I'll be picking the pairs today,” he said. “Let's see...Mr. Potter, why don't you come up front?” Harry sat immobile for a full five seconds before reluctantly getting up. He could see his uncle's barely controlled glee at his own actions and Harry's reactions. He narrowed his gaze at the man before facing the class. His opinion of the exercise soared a few notches with Remus' next words. “Mr. Malfoy, how about you come join Mr. Potter?” The blonde's mouth thinned in distaste but he dutifully got up. When he reached the front, he suddenly grinned and, with a loud voice, brought up a subject best left alone. “Oh, I meant to ask last time. When are we going to be studying werewolves? Everyone should know how to identify one, don't you think? Such evil, dark creatures shouldn't be allowed to roam free.” Harry's face burned from the heat of his anger but Remus merely waved away the subject. “That's for another time, Mr. Malfoy. You need to concentrate on what we're studying today. Not something in the future.” Clearly, Draco didn't like that answer and Harry found it difficult to keep from laughing. Once all the students were paired, they began practicing. Draco was such a poor spell caster, Harry had no trouble whatsoever dodging the spells. More often than not, he was able to stay in place and just watch the Slytherin's spells as they passed him by. When the roles were reversed, Draco wasn't so lucky. Aiming was one thing Remus had taught Harry from the very beginning. Every spell Harry cast hit its mark. Well, all but one and that was because he had to dodge someone else's wayward spell. By the end of the double class, Harry was feeling rather happy. He'd shown up the arrogant blonde git. But he should have known that happiness wouldn't last. The bushy-haired brunette he'd seen hang around with the redheaded boy sidled up to him. “Hey, you're good,” she said. “How did you get to be so good?” Frowning, he sighed. “Practice.” “But that's not possible. We can't do magic outside of school.” Her voice held a note of jealousy, although she was hiding it rather well. Harry shrugged. He wished she'd just leave him alone. This girl was quite annoying with her know-it-all attitude. The redheaded boy who always seemed to be close by saved him from having to reply. “Come on, Hermione. The sooner we get to class the sooner Binns can start and the sooner it can be over.” “Ron, don't be rude,” the girl chastised. Harry couldn't help but agree with this Ron's opinion of History class. Before he could say or do anything though, Ron was already hauling the girl out of the classroom. “You should try to be a little more friendly.” Harry turned to his uncle. “Why?” “Harry, you should have friends. I'm not always going to be around for you to talk to.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I don't need anything from them. I need to go.” One thing Harry found he did like about the school was the anonymity of being in the throng of students between classes. Everyone was too busy rushing here or there to pay him much mind. Eventually, he reached the classroom and, to his dismay, found all the seats towards the back of the room already occupied. Apparently he wasn't the only one who found the ghost's droning coma-inducing. Sighing, he found a seat in the middle, took out his book and slumped down in his seat. Belatedly, he realized he had sat next to that know-it-all girl. Wonderful. From the corner of his eye, he could tell she was scrutinizing him. Crossing his arms over his desk, he rested his head on them. This action changed her expression from speculation to disapproval and she huffed. The sound made Harry grin. Served her right. Professor Binns entered through his chalkboard and began his lecture. Harry jerked awake at the sound of the dismissal bell. Gathering his things, he saw the brunette next to him jab the redhead awake. Quiet grumbling met his ears. The girl was saying something about being surrounded by those not taking their educations seriously. Harry knew he should just keep his mouth shut but he was so tired of this girl's attitude. “It's just History. No big deal.” She turned in his direction, scandalized he'd said that. “History is important. If we don't learn from history, we're doomed to repeat it,” she said in a somewhat self-righteous tone. “Oh, come on,” Harry responded. “He's talking about Goblin Wars from ages ago. We get along fine with goblins now. We let them take care of our money for Merlin's sake. If you don't call that learning then I don't know what else you could call it.” “History is about more than the goblins--,” “When we get into that maybe some of us will pay more attention.” “You can't just pay attention to bits and pieces!” she exclaimed. “You have to take it as a whole. Look at what happened last year. Because something of You-Know-Who's got into the wrong hands, some not so pleasant things happened. But we were prepared for it because we knew what You-Know-Who was like.” “Hermione!” the boy cried. “You promised you wouldn't say anything!” “And I haven't, have I?” she countered irritably. “All I'm saying is that because we knew what He was like, 'we' were on the lookout for something that he might have left behind. We learned from our past.” “Whatever,” Harry responded. “You of all people should want to learn from past mistakes.” “What's that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, confused. “Your parents were killed because of mistakes.” Harry's insides froze and his voice reflected it. “What do you know about it?” “I know that they went into hiding. Someone had to have made a mistake somewhere for them to have been found.” Harry blanched then turned red as his anger mounted. “You don't know anything! Don't ever speak of them again! You think you know everything but you know nothing! You have no idea!” Turning on his heel, he stalked to the door. The redheaded girl he'd been crossing paths with came through the door before he even got close to it. Taking one look at his face, she quickly moved out of his path. If he hadn't been so angry, he'd have thought it kind of funny. Progress, indeed. As it was, he barely glanced in her direction before storming through the doorway. Before he'd gone completely, what he presumed to be the girl's voice, reached his ears. “Bloody hell, Ron, what did you say to him?” Harry fumed all the way to his dorm and threw his books onto his bed. What did she know? What did any of them know? And his uncle wanted him to make nice with them? Grabbing the broom he still had, Harry rushed off down all the stairs and practically jumped onto the broom the instant he was outside. He had a LOT of steam to blow off and he figured it was going to take a while. Thank goodness he'd just finished his last class for the day. The weekends Harry found kind of boring and it was only the third one. He couldn't go anywhere and couldn't do much of anything. He'd already walked the grounds an innumerable amount of times and Remus had left for some reason, taking his broom with him. So he finally ended up just sitting by the Black Lake, watching everyone else. Gaggles of girls giggled and talked, hands waving excitedly. Groups of boys stood around trying to impress the girls with spells and their physical prowess. Still others just walked and talked, enjoying the break from school. No one approached him. No one spoke to him. As he watched, he felt a bit of envy rear its ugly head. Harry tried to push it down but it wouldn't stay down. Envy's friend loneliness showed up and began its little song and dance. Neither would it shut up. His existence was a lonely one. He should have accepted that by now. No one wants a werewolf as a friend. Well, okay, so his parents and godfather hadn't minded but they were gone. Those kinds of people were rare. He could remember all too well when that lesson began beating its way into his brain. Five year old Harry went in search of his friend Emerson while the grown-ups talked. He didn't care that the man hadn't greeted them warmly like they usually did. All he cared about was finding his friend. At the door to the boy's bedroom, the boy, Emerson, shouted from inside the room. “Don't come near me! Daddy says you're evil! I don't want you near me!” “I'm not evil. I don't understand. We're friends.” “I'm not friends with a filthy animal. No one wants to be friends with animals.” “I'm not an animal.” “Yes, you are. You change and hurt people. I don't want to get hurt and have to change too.” “Only when it's a full moon. I don't hurt people. We take a potion to keep us from doing that. I can't stop the changing.” “Just stay away from me. Daddy's going to make it so you won't ever hurt me. He's making you and your uncle go away. He says you should be locked up at the full moon so you can't hurt anyone.” Upset at Emerson's words, young Harry began to cry. “Harry, it's time to go,” came a familiar voice behind him. Harry launched himself into his uncle's arms, his own arms wrapping themselves around the man's neck, burying his face into his uncle's shoulder. He felt himself being lifted and automatically wrapped his short little legs around Uncle Remus' waist. After they'd gotten back home, Harry learned they truly wouldn't be going back. It had been like that so many times, Harry learned to not let anyone else in. Swallowing down the rock in his throat, Harry gained control of himself. He was just feeling this way because the full moon was coming in a week. He'd had to wake up extra early that morning to make it to the hospital wing and back before anyone noticed. He shuddered remembering the awful taste of the potion. That potion could out-bitter Snape and, apparently, that was saying something. It was a necessity of life, though, so he drank it without complaint and quietly left. It didn't help that he'd awakened with the all too familiar bone deep aches he always got before the full moon. Sitting there didn't seem to be doing him any good so he got up and began wandering. A little while later he heard voices, one of which sounded familiar. “How could you? I thought you were my friends!” the familiar voice cried. “Friends?” one snorted. “After what happened last year? That's right. We know it was you who set that thing loose on the school.” “It wasn't like that. I didn't want to do it but he made me.” “Oh, here we go again,” said another. “And we're supposed to just believe you, right? You-Know-Who controlling you? You-Know-Who's gone.” Mention of Voldemort froze Harry. He really didn't want to overhear any of this but his curiosity got the better of him. Then there was that familiar voice that he just couldn't place. “I'm telling you it was Him. So all this time you've just been pretending to be my friends but have been talking about me behind my back?” “Well, we really didn't have to say much. The whole school knows, Ginny.” “And I bet you enjoyed all the gossip, too, didn't you?” Harry crept closer, stopping behind a tree as the scene came into view. It was three on one, the one being the redheaded girl he'd run into so often. She stood defiantly against the others, arms crossed over her chest. From where he stood, he could see the heat in her face, could feel the anger, the hurt radiating off her. “Everyone was quite willing to talk. You should have heard their opinions, Ginny, going on about how you were so stupid to let that happen and how poor your family is.” The three stared at each other and laughed cruelly. Harry watched the redhead, Ginny, as her shoulders slumped. Her head dipped in what was obviously an effort to hide her face, either because she wanted to cry or she was ashamed of her past, Harry couldn't tell. Then he heard her quiet sniffles. Hearing the vicious comments from those other girls brought back memories of his own--of times when he'd been ridiculed for his less-than-stellar apparel or after the secret had been revealed of his werewolf nature. He felt the shame and anger and hurt bubble back up to the surface. No one should feel that way. No one should make anyone feel that way. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry strode over, stopping between them and the redhead. “Hey, leave her alone. There's no call for that. You don't want to be her friend, fine. Just tell her. There's no reason to be mean. I'm sure there's something each of you have done that you've regretted doing. Everyone makes mistakes. Nobody's perfect. She's better off without you anyway. True friends stick by each other. Those are the only ones she needs.” One of the girls, a blonde, snorted. “Who would want to be friends with someone so poor? Haven't you seen her clothes? Her mum has to make her clothes because they can't afford any new ones. There's seven of them, you know. The Head Boy is one of her brothers. The twins in our House are her brothers and there's one in your year, too.” “You're just jealous,” he retorted. Harry had no idea of what he was saying but something kept him going. “You're jealous because she has such an obviously loving family. Her mum takes the time to make things from the heart. Something I'd wager your mums wouldn't dream of.” “Hardly,” another snickered. Harry couldn't take them anymore. “Just go away and leave her alone.” The three snobby girls turned on their haughty heels and headed off in the general direction of the castle. Harry glanced at the lone girl and found her staring at him with an inscrutable expression on her face. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him. Harry found himself wanting to squirm under that stare. “Why did you do that?” she asked. Irritation flaring, he made to walk away but she called to him. “I'm not mad. I just--. You don't know me. You didn't have to do that. Why did you?” Harry stood, still not facing her. He softly tossed his answer over his shoulder without really looking at her. “I know what it's like to be betrayed by friends. No one should feel like that.” Then he walked off, leaving the girl gaping after him. Why did he do that? What business was it of his if she was having friend trouble? It must be the coming full moon. It always made him feel this way. His feelings, positive or negative, always seemed to be more intense during the week leading up to the full moon. Chastising himself for his stupidity, he skirted the Forbidden Forest on his walk around the Black Lake, stopping every so often to study the wooded area. Sometimes he felt as if he were being watched and he decided he probably was. He knew centaurs lived there. There was no telling what else resided in that darkness. Unfortunately, he was going to be finding out soon. Feeling more alone than before, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued on. |
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