Recapitulations and Grandmams
Harry Potter
“It’s lovely to see you again, Harry. How was your summer?” Doctor Pluton smiled warmly at Harry as they settled into his plant-laden office.
Cream, the mother of Harry’s own half-kneazle Sunny, immediately leapt up into his lap; she began her boat motor purr of delight when Harry stroked a hand down her spine with gentle scratches of his long nails.
“I don’t even know where to start-“ Harry breathed, wonderstruck. It had only been about two weeks and yet so much had already happened.
“How about the beginning?”
Harry leaned back into his chair, took a long breath, then took off into the summary of his summer thus far:
He started by telling Doctor Pluton that because of the incident at the end of the year- which he outlined in detail in their previous session- his first transformation of the summer had been without his wolfsbane. Right after getting off the train, Remus had taken him right back to Hogwarts. They took extra precautions, and Professor Snape personally oversaw the entrance to the Shrieking Shack to be safe. It had been the worst transformation that Harry had ever experienced and the most prolonged; rather than feeling like his skin was stretching and muscles bulging, each piece of him ripped, snapped, and his world had spiraled into dizzying nausea until he saw nothing but darkness.
When he woke up, he was in the hospital wing, and Remus was in the bed beside him. They’d both gone most of the year on wolfsbane, which Remus later explained made their next non-potioned transformation that much worse. He took the day to recover, then they boarded a muggle train just outside of Hogsmeade to carry on with the summer as they’d planned.
The moment he stepped off the train onto the train platform, Harry was greeted by the Anderson family. Callum had crashed into him with such a crushing hug that Harry could hardly breathe, but he hadn’t minded much. The entire car ride, and all the way up to the farmhouse, Callum hadn’t stopped talking. He showed Harry his toad that he’d gotten on his birthday in the fall (he’d named him Ichabod), he talked about how Nana Bonnie had finally allowed him to ride on her old broom with her supervision and how he dreamt of playing quidditch like Harry. Then he bombarded Harry with questions about Hogwarts, which Harry happily answered splayed out in the grass with the sun kissing their skin following a deliciously filling lunch.
They’d gone frog hunting the next morning, had a water-gun fight in the afternoon, then a second water-gun fight before dinner brought on by a watery prank Callum pulled on Archie; Harry helped Nana in the garden and just watched that time. Then for dinner Nana had made Harry’s favorite roast and a dark chocolate pudding, which meant that Harry had seconds and thirds. Then he and Callum made a fort in Callum’s room with blankets and pillows, where Harry taught his friend how to make shadow puppets and Callum demanded Harry draw the three-headed dog. When he’d finished- Harry discovered he wasn’t half bad at drawing- he spent the next several hours after that drawing various things around Hogwarts castle for Callum until they both fell asleep with marker-stained fingers.
He spent the next two days at the farm until Remus came to pick him up. With promises to visit again, Harry hugged his friend, Nana, and Papa goodbye, then hurried off to see what his father had done with his God-father’s childhood home (now theirs): Grimmauld place.
“How are you feeling about having a proper home of your own?” Pluton asked him, interrupting briefly.
“Excited! I think-“ Harry beamed, “It was still pretty dusty- and the furniture was moth eaten- but-…”
Remus reported that he’d managed to convince the home’s house elf that the cursed items lying around belonged in the Black family vault. The only two things Kreacher, the family house elf in question, refused to part with were a locket and the screaming portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius Black’s mother. These two things were stashed in the boiler room- which Harry dubbed ‘Kreacher’s lair’- then laid a sheet over Walburga portrait so she wouldn’t scream each time someone entered the room.
Harry’s room was the spare beside the bathroom with bare walls and sparse furniture, and Remus took up Sirius’s old room. Neither touched Sirius’s little brother’s room after Remus explained that the young man had disappeared years ago. Apparently Sirius had still been torn up about it, and neither wanted to open that particular wound when they eventually got Sirius free.
“Regulus, right?” Pluton asked, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back in deeper thought, “I believe he was in my year…”
“What was he like?”
“At first? Shy. He quickly began spending time with the wrong sort, though, when it became clear Sirius wanted nothing to do with him. I suspect it had to do with the fact Walburga favored her younger son. It was always that way at pureblooded parties-“
“Do you still count as a pureblood, Doc?” Harry tipped his head.
“Mm…” Pluron pursed his lips, “Technically speaking? No. My father’s name carries enough weight that I was always treated as such, however. Our family is an offshoot of House Greengrass.”
Harry nodded, “Do you have a house elf?”
“Yes.” Pluton offered him a small smile, “His name is Lumpy. He’s the son of the house elf who helped raised me, Mizzy. You mentioned your new home has one?”
“Yeah- Kreacher- he’s… interesting…”
Kreacher, like most house elves, was small, bat-eared, and goggle-eyed; the traits that made him stand out to Harry were wispy ear hair, and a clear pattern of wrinkles that marked the elf’s age. He was bad-tempered, and the food he cooked for them was … inedible… so Remus and Harry ended up visiting the local muggle corner shop, ate takeout, then Harry convinced his dad to read to him and they both fell asleep in Remus’s room.
The next morning, Remus took Harry to Gringotts to get some funds to go furniture shopping. They had ice cream for breakfast at Fortescue’s because they still had no groceries (Remus made the excuse that they’d have a solid lunch), then when they arrived at the Potter vault the question of heirship was brought up again. Once Harry had fetched a few books and money from both of his heir vaults, they moved up to a private meeting room to explain it to Harry in detail.
As Heir Black and Heir Potter, he was entitled to the family rings and their vaults- both of which he had access to already- and to have his magical signature connected to each family. The Potter ring was gold banded, with a ruby and gold center displaying a stag coat of arms; it gave him a warm rush when he fitted it onto his finger. The Black ring was silver banded with an obsidian center and a coat of arms with a skull and raven motif. That ring sent a crawling shiver of cold up his spine, and along the band, carved into the metal, was the saying ‘toujours pur’, which was translated by the goblin helping them as ‘always pure’; neither Remus nor Harry was all that impressed with it, but Harry did feel glad he’d picked up a book on French from the Black vault so he could learn more.
Harry was also told that once he was attuned to the family rings, a bit of the family magic would be available to him. The Black Family Magic was unknown, but Remus informed Harry that his birth father often showed a bit of the Potter magic off at school. From what Remus could tell it was a boost of determination of sorts- a solidification of resolve. He used it most frequently to stay up late the week before exams or during stormy quidditch games where the wind threatened to knock him off his broom. Remus unfortunately didn’t know how to activate it, nor was he aware if that was all the Potter magic could do, but that was fine by Harry. He didn’t mind a little mystery- there was a whole library in Grimmauld place after all and he was sure he’d find answers there.
It was at that point in the story that Doctor Pluton chipped in, “Just be wary that you don’t rely too much on the Potter magic. It’s wonderful to have that boost of confidence but-“
“It’s always better to rely on myself first, aids second.-,” Harry echoed the sentiment he’d been told many times before with a smile.
When he’d first looked down upon the Potter ring in the vault, he’d felt the warmth of its magic gently caress his skin and weave through his chest as if between each of his ribs. It was comforting like an embrace, and the magic itself- when he could catch the scent of it- smelled like something between butterbeer and gingerbread. It wasn’t often he smelled magic directly, not unless it was particularly potent, so he was under no delusion that what he’d been given was as harmless as a parlor trick. He was aware of the responsibility.
“You said the same about the calming drought- don’t worry. I’ll use it responsibly.” Harry reassured his mind healer.
“I know.” Doctor Pluton’s voice was warm. “You’re a very responsible kid, Harry. It’s just something I need to make sure you’re aware of as your mind healer and an adult who cares for your well being.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Continue- sorry for the interruption.”
“After Gringotts, we had lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, went shopping for furniture, then Dad took me to an optometrist….”
He went on to explain that His glasses hadn’t been working as well lately- his vision was worse than it had been obviously when he first got them at seven- so he left with two new sets of frames and a clearer world.
They returned home to find an unexpected guest flitting about cleaning the space and the smell of dinner in the kitchen. Floppy, Harry’s favorite house elf from Hogwarts, was ignoring a disgruntled Kreacher who was flapping his hands in indignation at her intrusion. Once she spotted them, she had simply lit up with joy and groveled at Harry’s feet.
“I was so confused,“ Harry told Doctor Pluton, fidgeting uncomfortably, “She kept saying that she was ‘so very glad’ that I’d finally taken up my heirship and that she had been longing to serve the Potters again. Apparently she was a house elf for my grandparents- my father’s mum and dad and the oldest generation of Potters- but when they died during the war, and my parents were under fidelius, she ended up having to find work at Hogwarts. Now that I’ve claimed the heirship, she's apparently able to serve me.”
“That’s wonderful.” Doctor Pluton said with a smile.
“I guess… It seemed to make her happy. I still feel weird about the whole house elf thing. Did you know that they’ve been bred to serve wizards? I read that recently- and if they’re freed abruptly they have a chance of dying of heartbreak. Dying.”
Pluton nodded somberly, his smile fading, “I did know that, yes. It’s unfortunate… but nothing has been done, nor can without the right support.”
“It’s wrong.” Harry said firmly.
“It is.” Pluton nodded softly in agreement, “-but what can you do in the present, Harry? Until you’re old enough to start changing the world?”
“I can treat her kindly, and offer her freedom, maybe-“ Harry replied. He didn’t need the Potter ring to give him resolution for a topic such as this, “-but if she doesn’t want it then I’ll treat her better than anyone has ever treated a house elf, even better than Hogwarts does. Maybe she’d take payment?
“What about Kreacher?” Pluton asked.
“I’ve been trying to treat him nice too. Dad made me order him to never speak about our lycanthropy from a script- he said that Sirius often complained about him finding loopholes and ways to disobey him- Kreacher likes to call us blood traitors and mutts- but honestly it doesn’t bother me much. Being alone for years in a house where your favorite mistress died would drive anyone to be cranky, I think.”
“I must agree, maybe he’ll warm up with time.”
“I hope so-“
“-and what happened after that? How has life been with Floppy around?”
Harry returned to his story.
Floppy had been a delight. She helped him decorate his new room, which was covered in all sorts of Ravenclaw blue with the prettiest new curtains and a shag rug. The shag rug was his favorite- he liked to set out his drawing notebook and lay on it with Sunny; she was always the perfect sleepy model. Harry had taken the old vintage curtains and asked Floppy to make herself a nice work outfit out, and she’d happily done so for both her and Kreacher. She was rather bossy, Kreacher didn’t seem to know what to do about it but mutter complaints, and by the end of that week, he was helping her cook dinner and only occasionally trying to toss a dead rat from the cellar into the pot.
The cellar in question was slowly being turned into a chamber for Harry and Remus’s transformations. Harry had wanted to set up a potions station down there, because that’s what Snape would’ve done he thought since it was secluded and had a stone floor, but his dad thought it might be too dangerous to have it down there with them during full moons. He’d assented, and ultimately set up his potions kit in what had been an office, but was long since abandoned. He cleared it up, tucking away important looking documents and books into the library, then took it over as his study space. Kreacher later informed him that the head of the family occupied that office, and that he couldn’t use it as a study room; but after Harry argued politely that he was the heir and that his education was important for him to be a good head of the household one day, Kreacher grumbled and let the issue be.
He’d gone over to the Anderson farm again on the next weekend. By then he was starting to wonder why none of his friends were answering his letters.
“Have you gotten any recently?”
“No… I’m a bit sad about it, if I’m honest.” Harry frowned, adjusting Cream in his lap so he could fold his legs under him in his chair. “They promised.”
“The beginning of summer is busy for everyone- give it time, I’m sure they’ll write. If they don’t I’m sure your dad could get into contact with a few of their parents, couldn’t he?”
“Probably- I know he knows Mrs. Weasley at least.” Harry brightened a bit. “Anyway.. to get my mind off of it- Callum-..”
Harry went on to tell his mind healer that Callum had roped him into two new hobbies over the next week. He’d attended a taekwondo lesson as a guest, which Harry thoroughly enjoyed despite feeling sore, and then they visited a skate park with the skateboard Callum had gotten for Christmas.
“A couple of older kids tried to pick on us- but Callum asked them so many questions and complimented them so much that I think they forgot they were supposed to be bullies. They showed us how to do a kickflip- it was really cool. Neither of us could do it but it was fun to learn anyway.” Harry tugged up his pant leg and showed off his bruised knees with pride. He was delighted when Pluton merely smiled and didn’t fret about them, rather he gave a sort of snort that translated to Harry as ‘kids will be kids’. Remus had tried to heal them immediately but Harry had refused- the older kids at the park said getting bruises while learning were like calluses; they make you tougher.
“What Callum did is called ‘killing them with kindness’.” Pluton chuckled. “It’s a decent strategy when faced with people who want to be unkind for the sake of being unkind to strangers.”
“He’ll be a Hufflepuff for sure.” Harry beamed. “He reminds me of Hannah- except her brand of kindness is sorta motherly I think. She’s always adjusting our clothes and reminding us to take care of ourselves, it’s really hard to stay mad at someone like that.”
“My sister is very much the same.” Pluton nodded.
“Mars… right?” Harry glanced at the photo frame over on Doctor Pluton’s desk.
“Yes.” Pluton smiled broadly, “Speaking of family- I did tell you about our niece, yes? Luna?”
“You did, what’s she like?”
“She’s very clever, creative, and whimsical.” Pluton said fondly, “-but I fear she might run into a few bullies of her own this year. What I call whimsy… someone else would call strange. Look out for her, won’t you?”
“Promise.” Harry held out a pinkie, and Pluton linked it with his own and squeezed. “How is she your niece, anyway? Isn’t her surname Lovegood? Yours is Astragea I thought.”
“Luna’s mother was my mum’s sister.”
“Wouldn’t she be your cousin?”
“She’s quite a bit younger than us, and we just got into the habit of calling her our niece- but you are technically right.”
“So Luna’s like me? Just a bit?” Harry asked, trying to hide his excitement. He failed.
“Yes,” Pluton’s smile was indulgent, “She has Veela blood. A small amount- but an amount, nevertheless.”
Harry let the topic drop with that exciting news.
“Well- I think that’s it? That brings us to today.” He leaned back into his chair, “Apparently Professor Snape is coming over before my birthday to start brewing the wolfsbane in Grimmauld place; he’ll be staying with us to babysit it. I’m thinking of asking him to tutor me while he’s around. Also… uhm…” his smile faltered and he felt Cream gently prick his thighs with her claws, “Dad is… he’s taking me to meet his mother, tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Pluton’s brows raised.
“Yeah.. he says that he doesn’t want to deprive me of having another grandparent. I told him it was fine- I have Papa and Nana- but… I dunno. He seemed very uncomfortable. I sort of got the sense he hasn’t talked to her in a while.”
“I see… that’s a shame.”
“Yeah.. do you think it’s because of the werewolf thing?”
“It could be. I imagine it’s difficult for a family when a child is turned.”
“Do you think she was mean to him?” Harry’s brow creased in concern.
“I don’t see your dad bringing you to meet her if that was the case.” Pluton shook his head. “I imagine it’s something a bit deeper than that. You could ask him.”
“… would that be okay, you think? I don’t like talking about the Dursleys- it would be a bit hypocritical to ask him to share something like that-“
“It doesn’t hurt to ask even if he decides not to tell you, does it?”
“I guess not.”
Doctor Pluton checked his watch, then reached to grab another biscuit for Harry.
“I think that’s our session- but is there anything else you want to talk about before you go?” he asked.
Harry took the biscuit and gently placed Cream on the ground. When he stood up, Sunny took her place up on his shoulders.
“No, I don’t think so. Thanks doc.”
“Do you want to get lunch before we go back?” Remus asked him on their walk home. It was a sunny day, and Doctor Pluton’s office was close enough that they decided to take the long, muggle way back to Grimmauld Place.
“Floppy said she was going to make something, didn’t she?” Harry looked up at his dad. Remus nodded, his eyes cast toward an ice cream parlour nearby. Harry snorted, “Or by ‘lunch’ do you mean ‘ice cream’? You’re going to make yourself sick, dad. Or else you’ll turn into a wedge of cheese eating all that dairy.”
Remus flushed slightly, then shrugged with a good natured smile, “It would be worth it, I think.”
“Who’s the adult here?”
“Adults can enjoy ice cream just as much as a child, pup.” Remus scolded him affectionately and ruffled his hair. “Where did you learn all this sass?”
“Probably from Ron or Anthony. They’re bad influences.”
“I’ll say.”
They ended up stopping for a treat, Harry with a dark chocolate swirl cone, and Remus with a butterscotch and chocolate cup. It wasn’t as good as Fortescues- but his shop was magic- so Harry supposed that made sense. Floppy scolded them and their sticky fingers when they returned home for ruining their lunch. Remus and Harry smiled all the way through their meal, not regretting a thing. Harry enjoyed seeing the bright and funny side of his dad.
Before he went to bed that night, Harry sent another letter off to his friends. He didn’t send more than the one to Theo, not wanting to provoke whatever he had going on at home, but the others had already received a couple. He watched Hedwig flutter off with her parcels and sighed; he was trying not to think too hard about it like Doctor pluton advised, but as he sank into his bed covers and Sunny curled on his chest, he couldn’t help it.
They weren’t ignoring him, were they? Hogwarts was real, he knew that for certain, as was all that happened. If he’d gone back to the Dursleys for the summer he might’ve thought himself crazy enough to imagine it all but he hadn’t. He was living with Remus, happier than he’d ever been.
… so why hadn’t he heard from anyone?
When he woke up in the morning, he put in special care to try and tame his wild head of hair. He huffed at it, deciding he’d have to be satisfied with looking like he tried, then threw on some of his newer clothes that Remus had purchased for him during final exams. He couldn’t quite believe his eyes when Remus handed him the two pairs of brand new sneakers; any pair he’d had in the past at least were stained if not losing their sole entirely. He put on the black ones with white trim, a pair of straight-leg dark wash jeans, then tucked in a light blue t-shirt and held it all together with a belt.
Remus was waiting for him when he got down the stairs. He was eerily quiet, even as he helped Floppy pack up a basket to have lunch out in the grass when they got there (apparently his mum liked picnics). His dad hadn’t said a word even as they grabbed their things and went to the curb to call the Knight Bus. It would be Harry’s first time. He idly petted Sunny who was laid like a furry scarf around his shoulders.
“Dad?” Harry asked, stopping shy of the road’s curb. Remus said the bus would be summoned the moment they began waiting for it.
“Hm?” Remus blinked a few times, as if he’d been in a daze.
“Why haven’t you spoken to your mum in a while?”
The question hung in the air heavily, and Harry immediately regretted asking it when Remus’s expression grew complicated.
“Sorry-“ Harry began, but Remus raised a hand to quiet him and it was a moment before he gathered the words to reply.
“…when I was bitten-“ Remus began slowly, “I… was just shy of five years old. My father, Lyall, worked for the ministry. He said something rather negative about werewolves that ended up in the daily prophet- and Fenrir Greyback….” -Remus’s throat bobbed- “Greyback took revenge. He seems to think that biting the children of hateful wizards will make them sympathetic to his people.. but he’s wrong. My father was humiliated, my mother was horrified, and hatred for werewolves grows each time Greyback hunts down a magical child.”
“Is that why he bit me?” Harry asked.
Remus nodded grimly, “Greyback isn't just a mindless beast who preys on children without any rhyme nor reason- he's strategic. It’s likely he thought turning the Boy Who Lived into a werewolf would be clever. Someone the country reveres and loves being one of his own… I’m sure he thought they’d have to be more sympathetic then. You know from all your research just how much the wizarding world hates our curse.. what he has done, and continues doing is despicable… but it was born from desperation.”
“Then he aligned with Voldemort because…” Harry breathed, understanding clicking. He’d been horrified when he read about that recently, that werewolves were one of the biggest supporters of the Dark Lord. He’d been ashamed, and beyond all of that- angry- because Fenrir Greyback biting him was just more of the Dark Lord’s influence ruining his life.
“-because he offered them the bare minimum.” Remus replied with a nod, “After an entire life of being rejected- seen as dangerous and less than- Voldemort gave him a purpose and more consideration than any wizard had given him before; paltry, hardly counting for consideration, but it still meant the world to him. Working as attack dogs and serving the Dark Lord was an improvement to how they were living before.”
“… but how did this lead to you falling out with your mum and dad?” Harry questioned quietly.
Remus sighed, “Any illness I could’ve gotten would have put strain on my family… but this curse, coupled with my father’s shame, led to their divorce when I was seven. My father left entirely. He sent enough money for my mam to upkeep security on the shed they’d been keeping me in during full moons, and made certain no one ever found out about my condition. Once I started going to Hogwarts, I distanced myself from my mother. I spent less and less time home each summer until… well…”
Remus rubbed his chest, and Harry mirrored the motion. His chest physically hurt a little at the thought of it all, and he could imagine that his dad’s hurt tenfold more. Some part of Harry felt a spike of anger that Remus had abandoned a loving mother, another felt he understood, but mostly he just felt sad. For Remus, for Remus’s mum, and for all the other kids who likely went through something similar because the wizarding world thought so little of non-humans. They thought it better to force a group of cursed people behave like desperate stray dogs instead of helping them. Greyback’s actions were still unforgivable in Harry’s eyes, but now the situation didn’t seem so black and white.
“… Doctor Pluton says we can only change the present.” Harry said mildly, trying to wade his way through the thick tension in the air. He reached to hold his dad’s hand, skin rough and scarred under Harry’s fingers. “The future is unknowable, and the past has already happened. You can only affect the here and now.”
Remus looked down at him, then gave his hand a squeeze with an affectionate vocalization deep in his throat.
“You’re a wise kid, Harry.”
“Thanks, it's the therapy.”
Together, they stepped up to the curb.
“Are you ready for your first trip on the Knight Bus?” Remus asked him, shaking himself out metaphorically and literally.
“Born ready.”
“Brilliant.”
Almost as soon as either of them could think it, Harry could smell the bus approaching. It wasn’t gas exhaust- but perhaps magical exhaust? Either way, the triple-decker bus wobbled and screeched to a halt. Harry gave it a dubious look and let go of his dad’s hand to peer into the doors, only for them to snap open and make him jump.
Before them stood a brunette young man in a disheveled conductor’s uniform with large ears, a couple pimples, and the type of sparse facial hair that only young men can grow on his upper lip. If Harry had to guess he didn’t look much older than any of the seventh years at Hogwarts.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, transport for witches and wizards alike. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this afternoon. Eleven sickles for a trip to anywhere that can be reached by land; it’s an extra sickle for hot chocolate, and two extra for that and a toothbrush. What’ll it be?”
Remus reached into his pocket and produced a handful of sickles, “Hot chocolate?” he asked Harry, when Harry shook his head Remus counted up to twenty-two and passed them to the conductor. “There you go.”
“Brilliant. Up you get then-“ Shunpike gestured them up the steps and onto the bus. The first level had rows of seats with a few witches and wizards either snoozing against the window, reading a book, or waiting with a glazed sort of expression for the bus to continue moving.
Remus placed a hand on his back and guided him to the nearest seat. “At night, most of the seats are turned into beds.”
“This bus runs at night?” Harry asked in surprise.
“Every minute of every day, lad.” Shunpike said to him, punching two tickets before handing them to Remus, “During the day we’re your average transport service- at night we’re an emergency service for the stranded. Ever find yourself in need of a ride, you know who to keep in your thoughts.” -Harry watched him spin around- “Take ‘er away Ern! Where we takin’ you?”
“Can’t recall the name of it- but just outside the biggest pub in Cardiff will do. Thank you.” Remus replied.
The bus lurched, then like a drunk race car sped down the road. Harry gaped as they weaved between muggle cars and dodged pedestrians.
“Can’t they see us?” Harry asked incredulously.
“Muggles don’t notice much, do they?” Shunpike called from the front, balancing easily with one arm looped around a bus pole as he counted knuts and sickles.
“No. Something like this wouldn’t be perceived by muggles- it’s charmed that way,” Remus explained more helpfully.
Harry slid into Remus’s side on one heart-stopping turn where the bus leaned precariously. He clung to his dad as the older werewolf chuckled at him. Harry could only huff as he decided that he wasn’t too fond of the Knight Bus; he’d rather have walked. Sunny seemed to agree, having slipped down into his lap and was currently digging her claws into his thighs like they owed her a juicy rat.
A trip that would have taken them four hours only took one, and Harry got the feeling that if they hadn’t needed to make other stops it could’ve gotten them there sooner. The bus screeched to a halt in front of a large pub; Remus helped Harry to his shaky legs and off the bus.
“Thank you Stan- we’ll be calling you for the ride back.” Remus waved to the young man, who jerked his chin in acknowledgment before the bus doors closed. Then, in a flash, the Knight Bus was gone.
“Why can’t we apparate again?” Harry asked, feeling a bit ill. Sunny seemed to agree, her tail twitching irritably from her place on Harry’s shoulders.
“Because side along apparition when emotions are running high is never a good idea- and it was just far enough away that I thought it better to get a ride instead.” Remus replied. “Do you need something to drink before we start walking?”
“No. I’m good.“ Harry sighed and shuddered. I’m just not a fan of the Knight Bus, I think.”
Remus said nothing, but Harry didn’t miss the amusement in his twitching lip.
They walked for about a half an hour out of town until they hit a gravel road. From there, they continued down a side road into a grove of trees until it opened up into a small glade where chickens ran about and in its center was a quaint little home. To the right of the house, as close to the treeline as it could get, was a weathered looking shed. Harry didn’t look at it for long, his skin crawling a little remembering what Remus had told him.
“Reemie?”
Remus stopped them short about ten yards from the front door. Standing in the threshold was a shorter woman with hair the same shade as Remus’s and the same, warm brown eyes and a small beauty mark just underneath her left eye. She wasn’t overweight, but she wasn’t thin either, and her mid length hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Her left arm was encased in a cast suspended by a sling, and Harry could tell Remus noticed at the same time he did because smell the guilt coming off his dad in waves.
“Mam? What happened?” he asked, striding forward, the basket of food forgotten where he’d been standing. Harry hung back for the time being, taking Sunny into his arms rather than on his shoulders so he could pet her properly.
“Never mind that- It’s so good to see you.” Remus’s mother teared up, her voice cracking with emotion. “Annwyl- my Reemie- you’re home.”
She grabbed him into a hug, despite his protests about her arm, and Harry could hear her sobbing. It was several minutes until she calmed enough to wipe her eyes and look behind Remus.
“Who is this?” she asked, then gasped and smacked Remus’s arm, “Reemie! Am I a Grandmam? I’m tamping- he looks like he’s just about a teenager already and you haven’t introduced us! Come here, let your nain get a look at you-“
“Mam-“ Remus tried, but she was already approaching Harry. Harry gave her his best smile, despite being a bit nervous. “-mind your arm.”
“It’s nothing, it isn’t. Just a jip.”
“I’m adopted, actually,“ Harry told her, and stiffened as he was grabbed into a hug. He normally didn’t like this sort of contact with strangers, but he allowed it because of who she was. He melted into the embrace quickly after a few moments anyway, so no harm done. “I’m almost twelve.”
“Well, that’s alright then I suppose- oh- oh my, I can feel every bone, dear, you’re so skinny, you are- What’s your name? Reemie I see you brought a picnic- come here and spread out the blanket over by there.”
“It’s Harry, ma’am.”
“‘Ma’am’, that’s too formal for family, it is. Call me Hope or Grandmam. I insist.”
Harry soon found himself being fussed over on the picnic blanket with Remus setting out sandwiches and pouring juice. A fond smile curled his lips, as if this was normal and welcome behavior from his mother. He looked as relieved as Harry that things hadn’t been tense or dramatic upon his return- rather it seemed like she was just happy he was there at all..
“How long has he been with you, then?” ‘Grandmam Hope’ asked Remus,
“Ah- about a year, I believe.” Remus nodded, watching Hope push another sandwich into Harry’s hands. “He’s… well- you remember James, don't you? He’s James’ son.”
Hope paused in her fussing, her brow creasing as she took in and understood the situation. Harry’s gut swooped with dread at being looked at with pity.
“Oh… oh you poor annwyl.“ She turned her brown gaze on Harry, positively radiating sympathy and warmth. “-I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” Harry hedged, then casted his eyes down at his sandwich.
“Still, I give my condolences, cariad,” Hope said to him, giving his arm a gentle pat. “Remus takes good care of you, does he?”
“He does,” Harry said.
Glad that the topic of his parents had been brushed over, Harry chatted with his new ‘Grandmam’ about school, and about his friends. As the conversation went on, he felt more and more that she was family; he knew she was ‘in the know’ about lycanthropy- so he’d gotten a bit too comfortable and once during a joke with his dad a small, playful growl slipped out.
“Oh!” Grandmam had let out a startled noise of surprise, and Harry immediately cut the noise off in his throat. Heat crawled from his neck up to his cheeks, and he turned his eyes away in shame.
“Sorry–!“
“Nothing to be sorry for–Are you… oh Harry… I’m so sorry. It’s such an awful thing to grow up with- I’m so very grateful you have Remus to lean on, I am.” Harry felt her fingers brushed his hair, hesitatingly, but then it rested against the back of his head. A gesture of warmth and reassurance.
“We’ve been doing well, all things considered,” Remus told his mother mildly. “There’s a potion now that helps us keep our minds during our transformation. It’s less painful that way, and there is little chance of us spreading the curse.”
“That’s wonderful, Reemie. I’m so glad.” She breathed in relief, then after a few moments, her expression grew mischievous. “Is his little wolf form as precious as yours was when you were a boy?”
“Mam-“
“If you didn’t have a contagious bite I’d have scooped you up in a mighty cwtch. No- really! I would’ve! You were so soft looking.. a little dwt with itty paws, he was-“
“Mam...”
After an afternoon in the sun, Harry laid out in the grass with Sunny and the chickens while the adults stepped into the house to chat. Harry figured it was time for them to have a heart to heart, so he wouldn’t interrupt or eavesdrop. After they’d finished, he also pretended not to notice the puffiness around both of their eyes nor how Grandmammy Hope sniffled a little. They packed their things, promised Hope that they’d send Floppy by with meals each day until her arm got better, then said their goodbyes.
Grandmam wrapped him in a one armed, strong squeeze (or a ‘cwtch’ as she called it). He hugged back, breathing in the feathery smell of the chickens clinging to her clothes and a light flowery perfume. He’d miss her; It really surprised him how fast she’d shifted in his mind from ‘stranger’ to ‘one of mine’. Perhaps it was because she was blood related already to his dad? He wasn’t sure how werewolf instincts worked in that way quite yet.
It made his mind drift back to his friends, and an ache that had been forgotten for a bit settled deeper in his sternum.
“Why can’t we use wizard potions on muggles again?” Harry asked.
Professor Snape was sharing his little office to brew the wolfsbane, his hair pulled back and stern expression focused. Harry knew he wouldn’t mind a few questions while he worked, so long as they weren’t tedious, so he felt comfortable interrupting the studious silence. Two weeks had passed since his meeting with his new Grandmam, which also meant it was two weeks to his next werewolf transformation. Harry thought more privately that it had been three weeks now since he’d heard from his friends. He tried not to think about it.
“Muggles don’t have a magical core. Ingredients grown with, and containing magic, do not resonate in their bodies without one.”
“Then why do healing spells work on muggles? Dad used one on his mam before we left her house the other day- he wasn’t able to heal the break entirely but he made it a bit faster.” Harry followed up.
“In wizards, a healing spell resonates with our magical core and allows the body to heal using another wizard’s magic. Once again, muggles do not have a magical core, therefore a healing spell becomes more akin to human transfiguration. Remus likely used his magic to transfigure dead skin on her body, such as hair or nails, into bone- which is only a temporary fix, but works all the same. This is also why it is much more difficult to heal a muggle with magic than a wizard,” Snape replied, pulverizing mandrake leaves and muttering something about needing to restock.
Harry listened in fascination, then jotted down notes in his new notebook he’d gotten at the muggle corner shop with a ballpoint pen. He’d missed writing with them- quills were great but it was a benefit not to wait for his words to dry.
“So if someone were to brew a potion for a muggle, using non-magical ingredients- could you, in theory, make something that would work for them?”
“In theory, yes, but there have never been experiments done on it.” Professor Snape finally peered at him, “Why?”
“-because I have more than one muggle I care a lot about in my life now.” Harry replied simply. Snape studied him carefully, then nodded, and turned back to the wolfsbane potion.
“Don’t experiment without myself, or Remus around,” he said, “You wanted tutoring, did you not?”
“I did.” Harry beamed, then took on a teasing tone, “When did my dad become ‘Remus’? I thought you hated him and his friends back in school.”
“We are adults now.” Snape sniffed in mild contempt, “I have not forgiven him, but I can hardly act as if schoolboy squabbles are reason for being at odds with a colleague.”
“Was my birth dad that bad..?” Harry tilted his head.
“He was insufferable to me- but that does not mean he was intolerable to other people.” Snape chose the words carefully, like he was diffusing a bomb.
“… like my mother?” Harry asked. He watched his potion’s professor stiffen and pause abruptly in his work; he grew worried. “… Professor?”
“… yes. Like your mother,” Snape replied stiffly.
“Is it true? That you were close?”
“We… were once close.”
“Once?”
“.. once.”
“Did you have a fight?” Harry asked. When Snape didn’t respond, he asked more quietly, “Have.. you forgiven her?”
“I can hardly hold grudges against the dead, but it was not your mother who needed forgiveness.”
Harry frowned and waited for him to elaborate. When he did not, Harry went back to his notebook and doodled a few small flowers into the margins. They were lilies.
“… Remus says she was really kind, and she loved people with the ferocity of ten lions-“ he murmured after a long silence. He pretended he didn’t see Professor Snape’s hands tremble as he reached for the vial of dragon’s blood. “… If it helps… I think she’d have forgiven you. Whatever you did.”
Snape did not reply, and Harry felt that the silence said more than any words could. The potions master didn’t believe him. Harry understood that deeply- the not believing people when they tried to reassure you.
“I’m sorry for asking. I won’t do it again.”
Harry didn’t push the topic any further. He also knew how he felt when people poked at his wounds and he felt a bit like a hypocrite for talking without thinking. He got after Hermione sometimes for being too curious- and he didn’t want to be someone who didn’t do as they preached- he just wanted to know about his mum. He wanted to know what someone who loved her thought about her. Not just ‘she was a healer’ or ‘she was really brave’ or ‘her eyes were green’. Remus could only tell him so much- things that he’d heard from James, and their small interactions as casual friends by association- it just wasn’t the same.
The rest of the evening was awkward, Remus exchanged glances with Harry when Floppy insisted on feeding Professor Snape dinner and their meal had been filled with silence. Snape wore a thousand-yard stare, and ate without much enthusiasm before he politely thanked Floppy and left. The next day when he returned in the afternoon, he was (thankfully) back to normal.
The days passed until the day of Harry’s birthday, July thirty-first; it was also the fifth day he’d been taking the wolfsbane potion again prior to his upcoming transformation on the second of August. It was officially almost a month since term had ended, his friends had yet to send him any letters, and so he was feeling reasonably miserable.
Floppy came in every hour or so to check on him, and he grudgingly drank water when told, drank his nausea and wolfsbane potions when told, all the while stewing about the state of his friendships.
“How are you feeling?” Remus asked, knocking on the doorframe as he entered the space. Harry was curled up on his bed hugging the plush of Sunny he’d gotten from Anthony for Christmas, while the real Sunny snoozed at the end of his bed. In lieu of a response, Harry grunted and rolled over to face the wall.
He laid in silence as Remus likely tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the sound, gears turning, then crossed the room to Harry’s bed. Harry felt the mattress sink beneath his weight and his dad’s hand gently rested against his back.
“What’s the matter, pup?” He asked.
Harry thought about telling him like Doctor Pluton had suggested with pursed lips. Chances were he could help- but he was probably feeling pretty sick too and he’d come home that morning looking absolutely knackered after a lengthy meeting with Dumbledore about Sirius. There was still no luck in getting his godfather out of Azkaban any time soon- but they’d managed to get some traction in way of re-electing who sat on Sirius’s seat in the Wizengamot. It didn’t feel right that the Malfoy’s got two votes because Narcissa Malfoy Nee Black married into another pureblood family.
“… what was the name of the cousin you’re hoping to replace Malfoy’s mum with, again?” Harry asked instead of opening up, just to buy himself time to decide what to say.
“Andromeda Tonks,” Remus replied. “She’s Sirius’s favorite cousin- I heard she married a muggleborn.”
“Do you think Sirius’s mum screamed like she does in her portrait when she heard?”
“I imagine so. Is that what’s worrying you? I don’t think I believe that.”
“… No.” Harry sighed, then rolled over to face his dad and buried his nose into the Sunny plush. It still smelled like Anthony’s home a little- the scent he’d carried back with him after Christmas break.
“I’ll leave it be if you don’t want to share.. but it might make you feel better, or I could maybe offer some help if it’s something that can be helped.”
Harry sighed. “…. I’ve gotten no letters from my friends. I’m worried they don’t like me anymore- or something bad happened- or… I dunno. Just bad stuff, really. I keep sending letters but I don’t get any replies.”
Remus furrowed his brow, “That’s odd…”
“Yeah.” Harry shifted to sit up, ignoring how the room spun when he did. He wasn’t actually anemic but by Merlin did his body act like it prior to transformations. He thought vaguely about what he’d read about the inner ear, and how it maintains balance and fluid pressure in a person’s head. How exactly did being a werewolf change his auditory system?
“Do you want me to speak with Ron’s mother? It would be inappropriate for a professor at Hogwarts to contact the parents of students not in his class- but I’m well acquainted with the Weasley.. or- was, during the war.”
“.. would you mind?” Harry looked up hopefully, still feeling a bit bad about making such a big deal of it. Remus smiled, then reached out and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“Don’t look so guilty- It’s okay to be upset over things such as this, Harry. I’ll contact Molly, and arrange for you to visit. Does that sound okay to you?”
“Thanks dad.”
Remus stood up and gently plucked away both the notebook and textbook, earning a noise of complaint from Harry.
“Hey!”
“Time for you to get some rest, you need all your strength.”
Harry grumbled as he was tucked in and tenderly kissed on the crown of his head. His eyes grew even heavier than they had been, and he mumbled something like ‘child abuse’ before Sunny crawled up onto his chest and began purring.
“Sleep well, Pup. I’ll wake you from dinner, and you can open your birthday presents.” Remus gently brushed his hair back from his eyes, turned off the lights in the room, then slipped out as Harry succumbed to sleep.
As promised, he was roused for dinner. Floppy hadn’t baked him a cake, because the the full moon was so close- increasing his need for protein- instead his own whole honey glazed ham was laid out in front of him with a few side dishes. Remus had even managed to stick a candle into the meat.
He devoured his first, second, third and fourth helpings before taking a break to open presents, curious as to what the really heavy gift was when he tried to lift it from the table to move to the sitting room.
“Careful,“ Remus warned with a chuckle, picking up the two smaller gifts and following a waddling Harry to the rug in front of the hearth. “-Severus suggested this to me last week. I couldn’t help myself- and I’m certain Sirius would approve of a bit of spoiling on your birthday.”
“Professor Snape? Really? That’s … really thoughtful of him.” Harry heavily sat down with the present, then he frowned and hesitated to open it, “-but don’t want to be spoiled, dad. I’m okay with nothing but the ham for my birthday- honest-“
Remus just waved a hand and gestured for Harry to open the present. With a huff, Harry tore away the wrapping and stared down with wide eyes that felt fit to pop free from his skull. Carefully settled into a protective case, ready to be put together and used, was a microscope, glass slides, and several other little supplies for studying samples like muggles do. He sucked in a sharp breath and gently ran his finger over the microscope stage.
“This is for me?” heasked. Remus nodded, looking at him from his spot in the nearby armchair with such fondness that Harry couldn’t help but feel a little choked up. “Wow I… Professor Snape suggested it?”
“He said that you’d taken interest in muggle biology.” His dad replied, “He wasn’t sure what it was called, and neither was I- but after asking around to some old muggleborn friends I managed to find one of these: a microscope.”
Harry jumped up, staggering a little at the sudden rush of dizziness, so he more or less fell into his dad rather than jump into his arms for a hug. Remus wrapped him in an embrace, laughter bubbling in his chest.
“If I’d known you’d love it this sort of thing so much I’d have gotten it for you sooner-“ he said.
“It’s a new interest, I think. I’ve always liked science- but I also want to cure lycanthropy when I’m big. Remember?” Harry tucked his head under his dad’s chin and rested his cheek against his chest, soaking in the moment.
“I do, yes.”
“-and I mentioned to Professor Snape that I also wanted to figure out a way for potions to work for muggles. I bought a few muggle textbooks- that’s probably where he got the idea from.”
“Observant.. that man. I could learn a few things. What have you been learning?”
Harry happily replied, chatting about how far he’d gotten into the anatomy textbook thus far and what he’d been learning about blood. Just as he was getting into the different types of white blood cells, his eyes began to grow heavy, and his head sagged against Remus’s chest. His words slowly slurred, and with the fireplace warming the room, and the steady presence of a paternal figure, sleep came to him like an old friend and he did not turn it away.
Ron Weasley
“No mate- that’s a knight. They move like this. Only the queen can-“
“RONALD WEASLEY.”
Ron jumped, knocking the chessboard over entirely and causing the attic ghoul to shriek. He hastily scooped up the pieces and the board then rushed down the ladder, cursing. He would teach the ghoul chess if it was the last thing he did- anyone would be better to play with than his siblings. Well… not necessarily true; his Dad would be best, but he didn’t always have time.
He put his chessboard in his room and thundered down the stairs to face his mother's wrath.
“I didn’t do it!” He protested, unsure of what exactly ‘the thing he didn’t do’ was on a Tuesday afternoon The moment he saw her thunderous expression, his stomach clenched, she had a letter in hand. Her round face was red with anger.
“What is this I hear about you ignoring your friend?” She asked him with a scowl, “I thought I raised you better- honestly- you’ll write him back right this instant!”
“What? Who??” Ron’s jaw briefly dropped in shock.
“Harry Potter! He’s been wondering all summer why he hasn’t had a single letter- shame on you- shame on you and all of your friends-“
“-but I have been sending letters! He’s the one who’s been ignoring us- all of us- no one else has gotten a single letter either. We’ve been trying!” Ron exclaimed.
The Weasley matriarch narrowed her eyes, “Remus wrote this afternoon. He tells me that Harry has been sending letters for a month, and hasn’t heard a peep.”
“Well- maybe Errol hasn’t been delivering ours- but Hedwig is fantastic. If he’s been sending us letters we’d have them.” Ron shook his head, feeling quite offended that his capabilities as a friend were being put into question. “Mum. I’ve been writing- honest- it was his birthday on Saturday, and I tried to send him a present but it ended up outside my window yesterday morning.”
“Well.” She sighed, her anger blowing out with the air in her lungs, “That’s just.. so strange- in any case.. what’s done is done. We’ll be having him over for a week starting tomorrow. If it’s true he hasn’t been getting letters I worry the poor boy has been lonely.”
Ron lit up, indignation gone, “He’s coming? Here? Why not tonight?”
“We will be fetching him tomorrow, Ronald- end of discussion- you can be patient. Remus says he had one of his bouts of sickness and needs time to recover.” His mother replied, tossing the letter onto the coffee table before she left him there for the kitchen.
“Why not tonight, George?”
“Mummy says so, Fred.”
“-But our favorite boy who lived is feeling sick, surely he’d love some company- maybe a bit of an adventure-“
Ron wheeled around to his older twin brothers, who were looking down at him with something of a grin on their faces. Ron didn’t trust that, though, their smiles never meant anything good.
“What are you getting at?” He squinted at them suspiciously.
Fred and George exchanged looks. Their grin widened, making Ron increasingly nervy.
“Stuff some pillows under your blankets-“
“-and tonight and meet us by the garage at midnight.”
“Be real quiet.”
“Don’t get caught.”
“Can you do that ickle ronniekins?~”
Ron had a bad feeling about it all, especially as he watched them whisper to one another as they went up the stairs two at a time. Then he thought of Harry, sick and confused why his friends weren’t contacting him- feeling betrayed and bored-
Well… it was worth a bit of trouble to make your friend feel better. Wasn’t it?