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Chapter Text

"Petunia, please reconsider."

"No, I," she paused. "I can't allow him to come back." She rubbed her hands on her legs repeatedly. Don't think of Lily; don't think of Lily; don't think of Lily.

"But he's—" The man across from her started to say, leaning forward a little. She couldn't let him try and convince her to bring him back. She couldn't

"I HAVE TO THINK OF MY FAMILY!" Petunia yelled, turning away from the old man in her kitchen. Why did she let herself be convinced this was a good idea? To think she could reason with someone of her kind.

The man's tea stilled in boney hands. "Isn't he family? Don't you want your sister's son to be safe?" The old man asked softly, looking at her with such sad eyes behind his half moon spectacles.

"He's my sister's son, yes, but I have to think of my own. He attacked my sister-in-law, just blew her up like it was nothing, and stormed out." She clutched the tea cup a little tighter, remembering the way Marge slowly inflated and just floated away into the sky.

"But no harm came of it; she is safe and doesn't remember a thing. Harry is young and does not have full control of his magic; he didn't mean any harm."

"And if he does? What am I supposed to do? He could hurt my son, or any of us." She paused, fixing her hair, trying to control her breathing. She needed to compose herself; she was the hostess, and she wouldn't break down. Not now. "I know he didn't mean to, and that's what makes it worse. What if—what if they're playing around roughhousing and suddenly my son is in pieces or missing or turned into furniture?" Petunia cried. Talking faster the longer she spoke, clutching her hair in her hand, very near hysteria. She stood and started pacing; she'd wear the floor out, she knew. "What if he does something that can't be undone?"

She knew it was pointless, but she needed him to understand she was being serious. That no matter the promise she made, this crossed a line. She couldn't risk her son or husband just for her nephew. Even if he was the last of Lily she had.

"Where would he go? He is safer here. The blood protections-" Petunia gave up; maybe if he saw. If he saw what they did, not even he would let a child stay here. She marched to the stairs and yanked open the cupboard, the doors slammed against the wall. Closing her eyes and preparing to be hexed or cursed or something equally awful to happen.

"How was he safe here? We hurt him so, so much. And it didn't work; he's still—he's still…" She grabbed her face and sobbed. She couldn't do this. It still hurts to think of his eyes in pain, her eyes.

Magic was what got Lily killed. And they couldn't get rid of it, no matter how hard they tried. No matter how much they hurt him. He would always be magic, and that made him dangerous.

"You—I cannot believe you kept him in a cupboard? Why? Why would you do something like that?"

"You know why." Why wasn't he leaving? Hadn't this been enough? Should she show him the other stuff, offer her memories. Anything to get the boy out of the house, away from here. "We thought we could make him normal, less freakish. Get rid of his magic if he wasn't healthy."

"That's not how magic works; you can't get rid of it!" His voice rose only a little but was still so horribly calm. "He is your nephew. I would have thought—I had thought you would treat him better, if I had known that—yes, you're right, he will not be coming back."

"Good," she said, standing on shaky legs, "then you should leave before my husband returns from work." The chair scraping on tiles and the front door clicking shut were the only sounds he made as he left. It was only then that she allowed small tears to fall freely down her cheeks. Only then that she grieved for a life she couldn't give her nephew, a life she couldn't as long as he carried that curse through his veins.

She was betraying her sister, or maybe she had already done that with how she treated the child before. Either way, she couldn't bear to think about it any longer.

She wiped her face and stumbled to her liquor cabinet. She needed a hard brandy; she grabbed a glass and a full bottle; she would drink until she forgot her name, her life, and her sister.

Harry ran or tried to anyway. Apparently it was hard to run away from your professor turned werewolf. Hermione had run in the other direction to help get Buckbeak to a safe area, so here he is trying and failing to get out of the way.

And then he stumbled over a tree root. "Great." Harry cursed under his breath, brushing dirt off his knees as he stood up and tried to climb up the tree. He wouldn't get far on foot with how close Lupin was getting, and he needed to get away.

Lupin was hunting him. He was the prey, and he knew Lupin wouldn't just let him go. He grabbed at Harry, claws dug into the skin on his leg, scratching and tearing at him. Lupin managed to pull him from the lower branch; he barely made it to, and then he felt it.

A searing hot pain in his shoulder. What was it with creatures and this damn shoulder?

Teeth clamped down, biting into him and not letting go. The more Harry fought, the deeper his teeth dug, ripping at his flesh. Fuck it hurt.

He kicked and squirmed, muttered random spells hoping to hit the wolf, and almost blasted the tree he was still clinging to. But Lupin wouldn't let go. And it hurts. It Hurts.

And then Lupin was yowling; a yelp mixed howl and had him losing his grip, making him drop Harry and run. Harry felt faint, vision blurring, but he still could see a faint outline of his friend, and her wand pointed where the werewolf had been.

"Oh my, Harry, are you alright? That's a stupid question; of course you aren't. Merlin, here, hold your hand like this." Hermione had come over and started fussing. Harry would have laughed if he didn't want to fall face first in the dirt.

"I'm fine, swear." Harry mumbled, hoping to get her to loosen up. They still needed to rescue Sirius and get Buckbeak off school grounds. "Come on, we need to find Sirius."

"Harry, you are in no shape to do anything. You just got bit by a werewolf. On the full moon. Maybe we should bring you back. Or find some other way to get to Sirius. You nearly died!" Hermione shouted the last bit when Harry tried to shake off her concern again.

"I've got time to heal; Sirius doesn't have any time at all. We need to help him before they cart him off to Azkaban. Or worse, give him the kiss right here in the castle." Harry straightened and made an attempt to stand, only to find himself being held down.

Hermione sighed, "Alright, but you are getting those wounds checked when we get back. And we stop if you show any sign you aren't okay. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and made to get up. Only to fall back onto the tree and grimace. Merlin, his leg was worse than he thought.

"See. You aren't fine. Come on, please; you can't help if you're dead." She added more pressure to his shoulder.

"And I can't have a godfather if his soul gets sucked out. I'll be fine, I swear. I just need to get balanced, is all. Come on, help me up. I might need your help to walk though." Harry mumbled the last part. His leg was shredded; it would heal fine, he was sure. Merlin, so many new scars for his collection.

"Professor Snape, please come in." Dumbledore said as he popped a Sherbet lemon in his mouth and gestured a bony hand over to the dish. "Sherbet lemon?"

Snape sneered at the offending candies and stayed where he was. "If this is some frivolous social gathering, I have other places to be. It might have escaped your notice, but a certain mongrel is out and about."

Dumbledore sighed, sucking on the sour sweet. "Be that as it may, there is something we need to talk about, involving young Harry, of course." He looked up at Snape and laced his fingers together. "You remember your oath to protect the boy?"

"Of course I remember. What does that have to do with anything?" He drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Harry's relatives no longer wish to house him."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Dumbledore blinked and then blinked again. "I would have assumed you understood where I was going with this. To put it bluntly, you'll be housing the boy."

"What! Dumbledore, you cannot be serious? I am not allowing that brat in my house."

"No need for that; there would be no place for Harry to transform safely. I will set up a place for you to stay."

"I have not agreed to this Headmaster." Snape snarled, then paused, "What do you mean transform?"

"Surely you saw his wounds; it was quite brutal. Though I suppose your yelling made you partially blind to that. You will need to make more Wolfsbane for him. Remus attacked him last night; you see, it's very unfortunate."

"That wolf attacked a student! Dumbledore, I told you hiring him was a bad idea. Wait, when did he get attacked? He was fine when I brought him there." Dumbledore was surprised to see the slight panic in his eyes, the rest of him still as emotionless as ever. Snape was Dumbledore's first pick, but if he was getting upset and defensive, maybe he wouldn't have to do those weekly check-ups he was planning.

"Before Sirius escaped, according to Miss Granger. Now back to the topic at hand, I should have everything ready for the two of you before the last week of the semester."

"You're saying he was attacked, and I failed to notice the injuries." Snape started pacing, completely ignoring Dumbledore's attempts to get the man back on track and mumbling something about potion times and how long it would take to brew more healing salve and add more ingredients to the wolfsbane. Dumbledore found this highly amusing.

"I think it would do you good to see the extent of his injuries."

"Yes, sir." Snape nodded and spun on his heel to leave.

"Oh, and Severus, keep an eye on him this summer, would you?"

Dumbledore watched as Snape straightened, muttered something under his breath, swirled his robes around him, and walked out the door.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He needed to think, so he grabbed his best thinking sweet, another Sherbet lemon. He couldn't fail Harry again. Even if the blood protection had kept him alive, even if Dumbledore ignored what he learned and Petunia let him go back, Harry wouldn't be mentally sound if he stayed with the Dursleys. And that concerned him.

He knew he was being selfish; he was too close to the boy. But Harry reminded him so much of Tom, and he couldn't make the same mistakes; he couldn't ignore any more cries of help. He lost his sister; he lost Tom; he lost Grindelwald; he wouldn't lose Harry too. Not if he could help it.

He thought for a moment of anyone from the order who had homes with enough security and room for a newly bitten werewolf. The Weasleys wouldn't do; they had several kids, and Severus wouldn't do well with them due to his strained relationship with the family. Others lived too close to muggles or in the city. Probably best it be somewhere hidden. Yes! The Blacks were good with their secrecy; perhaps he could get Sirius to help; Merlin knew he would do anything for his godson, and Harry would have someone else to watch over him and protect him. Yes, that would work. He just needed to get in contact with the man.

Severus wasn't sure what he was looking at. Potter was laughing and playing a game of exploding snap with the youngest Weasley boy as though he were perfectly fine. Severus stayed near the entrance of the door to watch. Why did Dumbledore say he was horribly injured? Potter looked fine. Aside from the bandages, that covered his left arm and leg. He would have thought Potter would be unconscious or refusing to do anything until school ended, trying to gain pity points out of doing school work.

"Ha, I win." Weasley yelled, jumping up before falling back on the bed, groaning. "Bloody hell that hurt."

"Then you shouldn't have stood on a broken foot." Potter said, snickering, shuffling the cards.

"You're one to talk; you walked the grounds on a broken leg and a dislocated shoulder." Weasley grabbed the cards and started dealing them. "Is the bite bothering you? You know what? Don't answer that; I'll tell Madame Pomfrey to look at you anyway, when she comes back."

"Ron I'm fine, what is with you guys?"

"You got bit by a basilisk last year. You didn't tell any of us until you came to the Leaky Cauldron and Fred grabbed your arm. Sorry, I don't believe you when you say you're fine."

Of course, Potter was going to make getting attacked an annual event. How is this boy not dead?

Severus walked up to their beds, glaring down at them. The bandages hid most of the damage. He would need to get Madame Pomfrey to tell him then.

"Mr. Potter, I see you were foolish enough to get yourself bitten by a werewolf." He sneered.

"S'not like I wanted to get mauled, sir." Severus hoped that was an exaggeration.

"Perhaps not. I will be making your required potions; for now take this: a mild wolfsbane substitute, should you find yourself craving the flesh of your peers." He handed Potter a vial of a smoky blue liquid. "Try not to do anything idiotic that makes your stay here longer than necessary."

"Wasn't planning on it." Potter mumbled and stuffed the vial in his robes.

"Good."

Remus had most of his things packed in his suitcase when Harry arrived. Red faced and panting, he must have run all the way from Hagrid's.

“I saw you coming,” Remus said, smiling sadly. He pointed to the map.

“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry, limping over. “And he said you’d resigned. It’s not

true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is.” He started opening his desk drawers and taking things out.

“Why?” Harry asked. “The Ministry of Magic doesn't still think you were helping Sirius, do they?”

Remus crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. It wouldn't be good for people to hear this conversation.

“No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives.” He sighed. "I'm resigning because I attacked you the other night. Harry, I don't expect you to forgive me for that. Ever. How bad is it?"

"Snapes has to start brewing Wolfsbane for me. But I don't blame you; it's not your fault; you just forgot and thought we were in danger."

Why was this kid not yelling at him?

"And that is the problem; I forgot; as a werewolf in a school full of children, I cannot risk forgetting. But it seems that risk has already played out."

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” Harry pleaded. “Don’t go! Please.”

Remus shook his head and didn’t speak. How did this child not resent him? Why did he want anything to do with someone who ruined his life? He kept on emptying his drawers. Then he said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. Even with a wound from a werewolf. If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it’s how much you’ve learned... Tell me about your Patronus.”

“How d’you know about that?” Harry said, shuffling his feet.

“What else could have driven the dementors back?”

Remus listened as Harry told him what had happened. When Harry finished, he was smiling again. And so Remus told him about Prongs. Remus clenched one of his books tight; he missed Prongs.

He threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry.

“Here—I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night,” he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. “And...” He hesitated—not wanting to get rid of the last piece of his childhood but knowing he couldn't keep it—then held out the Marauder’s Map too. “I am no longer your teacher, so I don’t feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It’s no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it.”

Harry took the map and grinned.

“You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would’ve wanted to lure me out of school... you said they’d have thought it was funny.”

“And so we would have,” said Remus, reaching down to close his case. “I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle.”

Then there was a knock on the door. Harry shoved the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket, causing Remus to wince. He hoped he took better care of the map in the future.

The headmaster was waiting by the door, staring at the two. Remus cringed; no doubt Dumbledore thought he was dangerous now.

It was time to go. He wasn't sure where he would stay yet. Maybe he could go stay with Sirius and keep him company; he did miss his friend. He hoped Sirius still loved him. Maybe he could talk to Harry if he ever had any wolf problems. Maybe. If he didn't hate him when he realized how much worse his life would be.

Sirius stared at the doorway in his old family home. He hadn't been here since he was sixteen, when he had left to go live with the Potters.

He laughed a little. Now a Potter was coming to live in the Black family house. Oh, how things have changed.

Sirius sighed, shuffling into the dark house. He still wasn't sure if it was normal to constantly want to kill the muggles his godson called relatives or if it was the prolonged exposure of Dementors.

Either way he did; he couldn't do much about that though; he didn't need a real reason to go back to Azkaban; he just needed to fix this place up for Harry. He would love it. Just needed to get rid of all the bad stuff. Should be able to do that in a week, right? Just remove the portraits and pile the cursed object over there in the corner. Get Kreacher to clean out a room for him.

Right, he'll need a few. Snivellus was staying with them as well. Apparently he wasn't evil. He'll believe when he sees it, though. No way someone messed with the dark arts and turned out fine.

He couldn't use spells just yet; he had to wait until Remus came by. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to use magic without him nearby, but he did. And oh, he just can't wait to see his old friend. His boyfriend… Wait. Did Remus still count him as his boyfriend, or did he find a new partner? Fuck, is his relationship with him ruined? Was this going to be super awkward? Should he hide in his room and never come out? Sirius shook his head, no bad thoughts.

He'll set up the basement for full moons; he'll need that one sooner, only eleven more days until the next one. Oh wow, two wolves, and a dog. What fun. A real pack.

He was practically vibrating as he started to race through the house; he could teach Harry all kinds of things, like the best way to prank his friends and how to cause the most chaos.

Even if he has to put up with Snape, he doubted Snape would try to parent. And it was Sirius's job anyway as his godfather. He could share so many stories about James and Lily and all their adventures.

This was going to be the best summer ever. Though maybe it would be even better if he had killed that stupid rat. Oh well, he would live, maybe. Yeah.

It was going to be a long week. But he would do anything for Harry—even live in this awful house, apparently.

Chapter Text

Harry headed to the headmaster's office after breakfast, rereading the little note Dumbledore had sent. It was simple, telling Harry to meet him. He came up to the stairs, and he whispered the password to the gargoyle: Acid Pops.

He tried and failed to climb the stairs two at a time like he used to; it was a bit difficult with his new limp. Harry knocked on the wooden door at the top and waited for a reply.

"Come in. Have a seat, Harry. Would you care for a Sherbet lemon? You look a little pale." Dumbledore said, handing over the bowl for Harry to take one.

Harry took a few; he could never have too many sweets.

"I hope you're doing well. Now there is a reason I wanted to talk today," Dumbledore said, and then handed him a piece of parchment. "If you could memorize it."

Harry looked down at the piece of paper. It said:

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"Sir. What is this?" Harry asked.

"You'll be going there for the summer; your luggage will be there shortly after you arrive, of course. No need to go to the train you see; I don't think it would be the best idea for people to see you leave with your new guardian." Dumbledore looked away at the last bit.

"Who? I thought I had to stay with the Dursleys." Harry tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding.

"You'll see when you get there. Now you'll take this here; just give it a moment for it to activate. It'll take you to the front stairs; you'll stay there," Dumbledore said.

"Erm, what is this?" Harry took the old shoelace from Dumbledore and twisted it in his fingers; it was softer than he expected.

"It's a Portkey; it will take you where you need to go, with some nausea, of course." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Um, so how does it work? Do I have to say something or think about it?" He rubbed his knuckles against his legs.

"Not to worry, the Portkey will send you off at exactly eleven o'clock. So Harry, is there anything you want to talk about before you leave?" Dumbledore asked, eating another sweet.

"No, I don't think so." Harry said. "It's very warm here."

"Yes, it would seem so. Ah, here we are, just a few seconds, and you'll be off. Well then goodbye, Harry; I hope you have a good summer." Dumbledore said, staring at the pocket watch he pulled out.

"Erm, goodbye, Professor."

And then it happened. Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked forward. His feet left the ground, his body crashing into the wind and colors swirled around him; the small shoelace was stuck to his hand though it was pulling him magnetically onward, and then—his feet slammed into the ground and staggered; he almost fell over.

He groaned and rubbed his head. Merlin, that hurt. The light was too bright—too much. He was outside.

Harry went over everything that happened in the last hour that landed him in front of some random building that definitely wasn't anywhere near Little Whinging. The house was dreary and dark; hopefully it was dark inside too.

"Well, hello there." Harry whipped his head around. And there standing in front of the house that appeared out of nowhere was Sirius. Harry couldn't believe it; he was going to be living with his godfather, away from the Dursleys.

Oh, this was amazing.

And then Snape appeared from behind him. Ah, that made sense too. Well, there goes that moment of happiness.

"Come on in; don't need anyone to see you out here." Sirius said, gesturing inside. He grinned widely at Harry. "How have you been?"

"Good," Harry said, rushing inside, only to stop at the door.

The house felt wrong; something buzzed in his chest and demanded he find the problem. But Harry knew there wasn't one. There never was a problem, not when he went to Hogwarts or when he stayed with the Weasleys, but he always needed to find out what it was. Why did he feel that it was there?

Wrong, wrong, wrong, the buzz hummed. Harry was good at ignoring the buzz; it just got worse after the bite, harder to ignore.

Harry shook himself and walked a little farther in the house. The place was dark; dust covered everything in the hall, stains on the walls, and broken glass on the floor. His fingers itched to clean it. He quietly blamed the Dursleys for the urge.

He let Sirius drag him around—Harry tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was with the hand on his shoulder—and showed off the house and all the stuff he apparently cleaned.

The house wasn't so bad, Harry thought. The urge didn't go away, though. It never did.

Sirius tilted his head towards Harry and paused. "Er, Harry, are you alright? You're all tense and fidgety."

"Oh, sorry. I'll stop. Sorry." Harry cringed. He moved his hands from the hem of his sweater to his chest and tapped a finger on his knuckle. Merlin did Sirius think he was freakish too; he needed to get better control of himself.

He twitched at the hand that was on him again.

"Harry, it's ok; I just want to make sure you're alright. And it's perfectly fine to not be. Do you want to see your room? You can stay up there if you want to and get adjusted or wander around the house." Sirius smiled at Harry softly. "I'll show you the basement where you'll do your transformations, and Snape will give you your potions later. So the choice is completely up to you, ok?"

"Of course you're going to coddle him and give him free range to do whatever he wants." Harry jumped at Snape's voice from behind him. Merlin, he forgot the man was here. "There will be rules that he will have to follow."

"Yeah, yeah. You can tell him the rules later; right now he needs to get comfortable and feel safe." Sirius said and steered Harry toward the stairs. "Go find Remus and make something for Supper. The full moon is in four days, and there are two werewolves in the house, so something meaty is alright. And I'm sure Harry is hungry, right, Harry?"

"I- what?"

"Have you ever tried paying attention to any conversion, Potter?" Snape sneered. "I'll make stew." Snape rolled his eyes and left, his robes whirled around him.

Harry thought he sounded a bit like Uncle Vernon. But nicer somehow. And Harry thought he did a good job at following the Dursleys rules, unless they made up new ones that were impossible, of course. So he figured whatever Snape decided couldn't be too bad.

They would stew. He wondered how well Snape cooked. If his potions were anything to go by, it must be good. Although Harry was a good cook,  he was terrible at potions.

"Honestly surprised he listened." Sirius laughed and trotted up the stairs. "Come on, I got Remus to buy a new bed and everything for you."

The house still smelled wrong, but it could be normal, like Hogwarts or the Burrow, just a new place. Oh, maybe he will get to eat this summer. Oh, that sounded nice. Very nice.

Harry followed Sirius up the stairs and walked over the steps that creaked under the older man's weight. He didn't like the creaking sound they made and nearly fell over when he tried to skip three at a time to avoid it.

Harry looked around his room, tested the floorboards, and went through the closet. The room was big and red and reminded him of the Gryffindor boys dorm. Sirius had tried to apologize for it being so small and that if he wanted he could get Kreacher to clean a bigger one for him, but Harry liked it, even if it was big to him. But he needed a place to hide, mostly, so he kept looking.

He already put everything away: his oversized clothes in the drawers, the books on a shelf, his cloak folded on the desk, and the photo album on his bedside table. He wasn't sure what to do with all of this space; he didn't have nearly enough things to fill it with.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the space around him. What had he done to deserve all of this? There was no way this would last; the Dursley never wanted him, so why would Sirius? Sure, he was his godfather, but that didn't mean he would be able to handle all of Harry's weird, freakish quirks. His old teachers couldn't handle it, and they only had to deal with him for a few hours every day.

Harry groaned and fell back on the bed. This wasn't doing any good. Complaining and thinking like this, he should be grateful not to be in that place anymore. That Dumbledore finally decided he wouldn't have to live with them. Harry sighed and rubbed his face. Why was he like this?

Harry rolled over and fell off the bed. Maybe he should go exploring, find out how this house worked, find the food, and maybe some books. Yeah, that sounded nice.

He walked to the door and stepped out. The hall was lined with portraits of the Black family; some were moving and were just talking to each other; many were asleep, but most had stared at him.

"What are you doing here? You are not a member of the Black family," said one, with a raised brow.

"I could have sworn we had all died out, didn't we?" another said.

"Oh yes, that's right, Orion Black's eldest son is last left. Isn't he in Azkaban?"

"Erm, he's out actually; he lives here now; how have you not seen him?" Harry asked, looking up at the two talking to him.

"He is? How indeed, he must not wish to see us. How tragic. Well, carry on then; much for you to see, I'm sure."

"Oh, er right, goodbye then," Harry said and turned to walk down the stairs. When he looked over his shoulder to see the odd portraits again, they were gone. Simply vanished. Harry blinked. He supposed that was one reason why they hadn't seen Sirius; maybe they appeared in random places around the house? He would ask the man later.

Harry skipped over the creaking steps and nearly tumbled down again. Maybe he should just step on them, especially now that he has this limp. As much as he hates the creaking noise, it would be better than more broken bones. Even though it would be the lesser of the two evils, Harry couldn't stand the sound they made. Harry wondered if his leg would be permanently injured.

Harry sighed. Would he still be able to play Quidditch if it was? Surely he could; he was the fastest and knew just about all the moves in all the books he had. And was a fast learner, even if it was just when he was flying. They wouldn't kick him off the team just for a bad leg. Right? Hopefully not.

Harry paused and shook his head; it didn't matter; they would probably kick him off for being a werewolf. When they all find out, would they even want him on the team? He could still read everything and watch all the games. But he wouldn't be able to play them, and that—that hurt. Maybe they will let him fly his Firebolt on the pitch when the teams aren't practicing. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Harry made it to the second floor and looked down the hall. It was dark and had an eerie feel to it, which made Harry want to explore it even more. Harry loved the creepy, the crawly, and the dangerous, which might be why he also found himself getting into trouble. But he had permission to explore, and he would take it. Besides, it's not like anything here can kill him; except for silver. Wait can silver kill werewolves, or was that just a myth? He'd ask Remus later; there was so much to do in this dark house, and he couldn't wait.

He ran or at least tried to run down the hall, stopping by each door that was labeled and peeking inside. Some had names on them, probably from Sirius ancestors; they did all end with 'Black'; others didn't have any fancy name plate floating in front, so Harry fully walked into those. Running around and going through things, organizing books and trinkets to make them look cleaner.

At the end of the hall, though, that's where he has the most fun. It was a giant library not as big as Hogwarts, of course—but it held so many different types of books. Books on cooking, potions, and charms. Unsurprisingly, there were some on the dark arts and curses, ways to kill, and how to torture. Anything and everything. Harry was only interested in the books on Quidditch and defense. And maybe the several werewolves, but he had the right to look into his new condition, so, ha.

He grabbed the not-so-small stack of books and made his way to the couch in the middle of the room and laid them down in a line. Not sure which to go through first, he opened each to the front page. He ended up reading through the short pile of Quidditch books he'd never seen and half way through the pile on werewolves when Sirius came through the door.

"Oh, there you are." Sirius panted; it looked like he had been running. Harry tilted his head at him.

"You said I could go exploring."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect you to be here. Find anything interesting? " he said and leaned against the door frame.

"Yep, reading up on werewolves right now. We should get some more on Quidditch." Harry said, "They all repeated a bunch of stuff I already knew, but there was this cool maneuver I want to try out when I go back to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, we can, anyway. Supper is ready; Remus added extra steak for the two of you. And he said he has something for you; apparently new werewolves have some sort of craving for something or another. Don't know what it is yet." Sirius said, hand on the door, "Come on, don't want to be late."

When they made it down to the kitchen, practically was practically vibrating with the very simple need to clean everything near him. So much dust, so many stains, he could already feel the bleach he'll be sitting in if he doesn't do something about it now.

"You're late." Snape snarled. "Here, eat this."

Harry took the bowl of stew Snape thrust into his hands. Wow, this smelt amazing.

"Oh, yeah, um, here." Remus grabbed something from the counter and walked over. "Not sure if all werewolves had the craving or if it was just me, but figured it wouldn't hurt."

Harry stared at the small box Remus was holding. He put the bowl of stew on the table and reached for it. The wrapping was beautiful, with little snitches that zipped around. He opened it and saw several bars of chocolate.

"Aren't dogs allergic to chocolate?"

"Well, yeah, but werewolves aren't. At this point, I think it's just the caffeine in the chocolate; it makes the pain and tiredness a little easier to deal with." Remus said. "Anyway, um, try out the bathroom; the showers are the best for right now; you'll want to be in there for a good while before the moon comes out; it helps with the muscles you see. Oh and here, I made an extra steak for you, the meat’s raw, of course. Not sure how much you'll like with you being a newer wolf, but the cravings there, I'm sure."

Harry to say the least was a bit overwhelmed with all the information Remus just spouted. "Erm, yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

Harry placed the box of chocolates on the table near his stew and sat down. Merlin, he was hungry. He took a spoonful, and—oh my Merlin, this was the best thing he had ever eaten. Harry could barely hold back his restraint to shove the food into his face.

"Will you slow down, you idiotic animal." Snape sneered.

Harry wiped his face with a napkin. "Sorry, sir, it's really good. Can I have some more?"

Snape waved his wand, and Harry's bowl refilled itself. Oh, the joys of magic.

Harry finished his meal, and he started to nibble on the chocolates Remus had given him. They were good and made him feel a lot better. Warmth spread around his body with every bit. This was the best.

Snape, true to his word, did give Harry the foul potions he was supposed to be taking. 3 more days until the full moon, and all so Harry had to take every precaution a new wolf had to take. Which he would admit wasn't so bad. But couldn't the potion taste just a little bit better. And he couldn't even eat any of his chocolate after.

Harry sighed and downed the wolfsbane in several long gulps. He knew it was important for him to take; he needed to have his mind intact if he was going back to Hogwarts, so he needed to get used to the taste. Besides, he had worse; the disgusting Polyjuice potion still clung to his tongue when he thought too much about it. Harry shivered at the memory.

He licked some of the potion from his lips and handed the goblet back to him. "Er, thank you, sir," Harry said. The wolfsbane made him tired; he hated the side effects it had before the full moon.

If the days before were this bad, Oh, the full moon was going to be horrid. He could feel it.

Chapter Text

Severus woke with a start. Nothing around him looked familiar, and for a brief moment of panic, he thought his lord had finally come and taken him. But no, that was ridiculous; he was simply in the Black Library, book in his lap, and horrid back pains.

He hummed; he must have fallen asleep while reading. That usually never happened. At least he hadn't been attacked; he shook himself. He should never let himself have his guard down, not with those three in the house. With a groan, he stretched out and stood. It would be best to get the day over with. He had two werewolves to keep track of and wasn't sure how much help Black would be. Breakfast was first, he thought as he headed towards the kitchen. Not much on his mind, or really, he couldn't hold down a thought long enough to focus on it; he really needed his coffee.

CRASH!

Severus sprinted. Merlin, he did not need the boy dying—not now, hopefully not until after his own death if he could help it.

He did not find the kitchen invaded by Death Eaters. No, he found a Harry Potter cooking and messing with the pots and pans.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" He snapped. Of course it's Potter; when is it not Potter. And why is he cooking? He should ask, but he's too busy trying to calm down to pay attention.

"Oh, good morning, sir. Did I wake you?" That was not an answer.

"Do not make me repeat myself. You may have gotten away with gallivanting and disrespecting your relatives, but you will do no such thing here."

"Ah," he said and turned to the counter. "Here, I wasn't sure how early you'd get up, so I went ahead and made coffee." Potter handed him a mug. He sniffed it just to be sure he wouldn't find anything other than coffee. He wasn't sure what he should be checking for, but there was no way this brat wouldn't want to poison him.

He sipped it. It was, to his immense displeasure, exactly how he liked it.

"I'm making breakfast," he said. "Didn't know what you liked at first, so I waited a bit. Thankfully, I know how to cook most of it." Potter started mumbling something incoherent under his breath as he cracked a couple of eggs into a frying pan. "Anyway, it should be done in a bit if you want to wait."

Severus did not trust him in the kitchen and hovered. Even if it would be funny to see Black's kitchen be destroyed, he liked to use it. "Lupin claims the day before is tiring; how are you wondering about?"

"Used to it." He mumbled; he seemed distressed. "Did you need something, professor?"

Potter twitched. Severus knew he inspired fear into the hearts of many, but he also knew Potter had never been scared of him. He walked closer to where the boy was; the burners were all being used to fix something: bacon, sausage, baked beans, and hash browns. What confused him was the fact that they were all being cooked correctly. He would think the boy horrid in anything similar to that of brewing.

"No." Severus said and leaned over to watch him. The boy flinched back when he got too close, however. That made him step back. Why was he flinching? Surely, he didn't think he would hit him. He had barely interacted with the boy in the four days they'd been here.

When Potter finished cooking, having refused any sort of help, Black stumbled into the kitchen.

"Morning, Harry." He said. He patted the boy's head and wandered to the table. "You doing okay? Need anything? Oh, did you make this? It looks fantastic. Thank you."

Black smiled and took the plate of food Potter offered.

"I recall you saying something about werewolves being unable to do much, or is Lupin simply putting on?" Severus drawled. He was curious; perhaps Potter had a better time fighting off the effects?

"What's it to you?" He looked over at Potter and furrowed his brows. "Maybe we got lucky and you aren't really a werewolf. No, you were bitten pretty badly, and even if you weren't, those claws should have done more than give you a limp."

Severus watched him; Potter did have bags under his eyes, and he looked drained. Something about his comment from earlier raised suspicion. How could this boy be so used to the tiring effects of lycanthropy?

Potter shrugged and limped over to the door. "No worse than before."

He realized that Potter hadn't eaten, made all of this, and hadn't taken any of it. What was wrong with this boy? And more importantly, what had he missed?

Sirius hunted Snape down. Harry was asleep near the stairs, and he wasn't sure if something had happened or not.

He rounded the corner to the library in a panic. Snape spent most of his time there; hopefully he wasn't out of the house.

"Ack. Black, what do you think you're doing? Watch yourself." Snape sneered. Oh, thank Merlin, he's here.

"Harry's passed out by the stairs, and I couldn't wake him up. There's got to be potions for something like that, right?" Sirius jumped up and ran around him to go back to Harry.

"What was he doing before now?"

"I don't know. I came down from my room, and BAM, there he was. Does it have something to do with the full moon? It'll be up in a few hours."

"It's a possibility," Snape muttered. "We'll need to keep an eye on him till then. There is a chance he simply overexerted himself too much."

They made it over to him; Harry was pale and breathing was heavy. It didn't look too good.

"We shouldn't give him anything to make him wake up. It looks as though he hasn't been sleeping very well. He'll be in worse shape later if he doesn't have a decent amount of rest."

"Alright. Yeah, sounds good." Sirius wrung his hands together. This was not good; why was he tired? Did something happen? Why wasn't he in his room if he was so tired? "Should we move him then, if it's not too bad?"

Sirius didn't like having to ask Snape of all people what he should be doing. But he had more medical training than Siruis.

"We might as well take him to the basement." Snape muttered a spell to make Harry float along next to them.

"Why not his room? He'll be comfortable there." Sirius trotted up to him. How was he such a fast walker?

Snape raised an eyebrow and stared at him unblinking.

"Oh right, full moon, gotcha." Sirius continued down. Snape wasn't allowed down here unless he was there. For Remus and Harry's sake, mostly. Padfoot could take care of himself when it came to werewolves, but none of them wanted to turn Snape on accident or kill him.

"Alright, here we go. Just an hour or so, and I'll grab Moons and bring him down. Er, thanks."

"Watch yourself, Black; people might think you've gone insane."

"Oh, shut up. I'm trying to be nice, you know; you're only here because Harry needs an adult around here with his life somewhat put together."

"Hmm, yes, you have gone mad, Black."

"You know what? Why do I even bother? You're hopeless; why don't you go bother the paintings?"

"You make it sound as if you want to enjoy my company."

"I'm trying to figure out how I like Harry when he acts so much like you."

"… What in Merlin's name are you going on about? The boy acts more like his father than anything."

"No, no, see, he has these little habits and acts so much like you, it's bizarre. At first I thought it was just the little movements and the way he talks at times. But his personality is a bit similar, and I swear it scares the hell out of me. Like a little Snape in the making. Keep trying to see James, but all I'm seeing is you."

"I highly doubt the boy is anything like that. But since you're so concerned, I'll bring it up when I take him to the healers later this week. Now go do whatever it is that you need to do to fix this place up for the wolves."

"Oh right, yeah, you don't happen to have any meat on you, do you?" He paused and tilted his head. "Why would the healers need to know about it?"

"You seem to believe he behaves similarly to me in ways that reflect a... problem that I have."

"Oh."

"Insightful."

Hungry.

So very hungry.

He couldn't see and didn't know where he was. God, where was he? He felt something prodding in his head and growled. The floor was cold, and voices were above him.

The thing was sad and scared in the back of his head. Lonely. He was lonely. Who was it? Why was there something in his head? He tries to sniff at and paw at the thing. He couldn't get close. It didn't feel like he was closer, but he heard it. The name the voices were saying. Harry. Was he Harry? He didn't feel like Harry. No, he wasn't Harry.

Harry was the thing that was so far away.

Why was Harry in here? And who was he?

He growled at the two men above him; who were they? He knew that he knew these people. Something, something. They were important; he knew that somehow. One of the men—it was hard to tell them apart—turned into a large black dog. Ah, that explained the smell.

"Hey there. You alright? Look a little shaky." The dog-man barked.

"Wh-who are you? Where am I? Who am I?" He shook his head, talking hurt.

"You don't remember anything? I'm Padfoot. And your Harry."

"I'm not Harry. My name is something; I can't remember. It's like the—it's something with the moon; I know it is."

"Oh, Moon, Luna—wait, no, um, I don't know. Sorry, kid, we can try. It took a bit to find Moony's name, so I'm sure we can figure out yours too.

"Who's Moony?"

"He's that dashing werewolf over in the corner. He'll be up in a bit. Do you remember him?"

He whined and shook his head; he didn't remember anything. His head hurt, and nothing made sense. God, he felt awful.

"He's important, like you and the man who smells like plants." But I don't know who you are. Who are you?

"Well, the plant man is Snape; he's looking after you with me, and Moony after Moons bit you. Do you remember that? Why you are a wolf?"

"I was bitten? But I don't feel like I was bitten; when did that happen?"

"Oh, pup, it was a month ago. When a werewolf bites someone, they turn into one too, so when you go to Hogwarts, you can't bite anyone, ok, and definitely don't bite Snape; he makes the potions that keep you sane, though I'm not sure why you think you aren't Harry."

"I won't bite anyone, Harry's in here, but I'm not him; he is not me. He is very sad and scared. And lonely; why is he lonely if we have you?"

Padfoot whined, "I'm sorry. When you turn back, I'll be by your side the entire day, and you'll never feel lonely again. I swear, I'm so sorry." Padfoot nuzzled his face into his. "What does your name sound like? Harry will want to hear it, I'm sure."

"I—" He paused and made a small howling noise. "That I'm not sure but that."

"Howl, Howling, oh wait, Howler, yeah, that's wonderful; now you can tell Moony it took less time for you to find your name than it did him. That's amazing. Let's eat while we wait."

Moony woke to the sound of barking and growls. What an odd way to start the night, he thought, turning to look at the two smaller canines.

“MOONY!” Padfoot—his darling mate—jumped from the small wolf pup and over to him. “Look at this Howler; you’ll be slightly bigger than he is, no doubt.”

Moony looked over at the dark pup who was chewing on a bone; he looked familiar, almost like that—

Oh no.

This was the boy, the boy he had attacked when he lost control of his instincts.

"You're Harry? Aren't you?"

"No, I'm Howler; Harry is sleeping." The young wolf whined, "Why do I need to keep saying that?"

Moony cringed; yes, he was a new wolf. Unable to realize the wolf and human were one and the same. Though Monny supposed, Remus didn't like to admit they were the same either.

He found he could understand after looking at the boy turned wolf in front of him. He attacked, and now Remus felt it was his fault. Of course it was, but that's neither here nor there.

"Do you want to play Howler? We have ropes, and oh look, rabbits, the Snape made us rabbits." Padfoot bounced around the pup barking a mile a minute.

Moony relaxed. The pup would be okay. He and Padfoot would raise him to be less scared of his wolf—with the proper precautions, of course—and Snape will help when they're human. It would be okay. His new pack needed him to help, and so he would do his best, however that was.

Harry groaned; the floor was hard under him, and it felt like he got hit with a bludger to the head. What did he do to feel this bad? His bones felt broken, and his skin was too tight. The only thing that wasn't wrong was this odd full feeling he had.

Wait, no, why would he be full? He hadn't eaten anything since—well, since that night he came here. Surely he couldn't have slept ate—was that a thing—and oh god, what if he did? What would Snape say, or Sirius? Are they mad? Is that why he's sleeping on the floor in some strange room? Had they realized how much trouble he is and decided it's not worth it?

No- no don't think like that, it probally has nothing to do with any of that. He had cleaned up and cooked for them surley they wouldn't get rid of him if was helpful.

The Dursleys did. A not-so-helpful voice reminded him.
He scrambled up and ran up the stairs. He needed to find out what was going on before his mind spiraled further into panic. As he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear voices coming from the other side, and he hesitated before pushing the door open.

He could tell he was in the basement, or was exiting it really.

Snape and Sirius were on the other side, talking in hushed voices; he strained his ear to hear.

"You are rather quiet; I would have assumed you would be yelling your concerns."

"Werewolves have really strong hearing; just be quieter for a few days until their senses get back on track, alright?" You're here for a reason. Just make sure to take him after," Snape said something he couldn't catch, "yes, I know…"

"Mr. Potter, if you are going to be listening in, you might as well show yourself."

"You're talking about me." Harry grumbled, "Where are you taking me?"

"Hmm, to a clinic in a small wolf town. They would be easier to deal with given your new development and are more familiar with the concerns Black has."

"What concerns? I don't need to go anywhere. I'm fine, I swear."

Blasted, did he mess up that bad? Was he going to be dropped off in some were-town where they wouldn't have to worry about him?

"I doubt that. You were unconscious for who knows how long at the bottom of the stairs on the second floor. If it weren't for the full moon, I doubt you would be at all right now."

Full moon? That was last night? "Was that why I was in the basement this morning?"

"Yeah, pup, I would have been down there with you when you woke up, but I was helping Moons get up to his room, and Snape needed something. Sorry, do you need help getting up there? I'll bring food and chocolate and some warm water, yeah."

So he wasn't in trouble. That was good. Unless it was a pretense, but then again, the Dursleys never tried pretending to tolerate him before when he was trouble.

This was hard. Luckily he was hungry because he doubted he would be able to eat whatever Sirius brought up. He made his way to the stairs after giving them a nod in agreement. Hot water was good; that made the pain feel tolerable at any rate.

Thoughts spun around in his head as he climbed, his limp still ever present, which meant he would be keeping it, no doubt.

His room was warmer than yesterday, and he barely made it to the bed before he passed out from exhaustion.

Merlin, he hoped it would be alright.