Difficult Conversations
Harry stirred in his bed, the morning light spilling through the window and warming his face. He rolled over, hoping to drift back into the comforting embrace of sleep, but it eluded him. With a resigned sigh, he shifted onto his back and stared at the ceiling, the familiar plaster becoming a canvas for his swirling thoughts.
The events of last night tumbled through his mind like a chaotic montage, overwhelming in its intensity. Sirius Black. His dad. The transformation. Dementors. The time-turner. Hemrione. Saving Sirius.
The gentle rapping at the window broke through his reverie, and Harry startled upright, startled by the sudden intrusion into his chaotic thoughts. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded across the floor, opening the window to let in a gust of fresh morning air and a small, brown owl.
The bird perched on the windowsill, holding a scroll of parchment in its beak. Harry reached out, taking the note and gently stroking the owl’s feathers. “Thanks, mate,” he whispered, watching as it hooted softly before flying off into the clear blue sky.
Unrolling the note, Harry’s eyes scanned the neat handwriting that belonged to his father:
Harry,
I would like to meet you in my office when you’re ready. There’s much to discuss about last night, and I want to make sure you’re alright.
—Remus
What did he want to talk about? Harry's mind raced with possibilities. The thought of his father’s gentle voice and reassuring presence calmed him, but the unease remained. It wasn’t that he was scared of Remus—far from it. Rather, he was worried about what his father might want to discuss.
He paced the room, his mind replaying the events of the previous night: the chaos of the Forbidden Forest, the adrenaline of using the Time-Turner with Hermione, and the rush of emotions as he had fought against the Dementors. The victory felt exhilarating, but it also carried a heavy burden. What if his dad somehow knew about the time travel?
Would he confront Harry about it? Harry bit his lip, the taste of uncertainty flooding his senses. Should he lie if asked? The thought churned in his stomach. He hated the idea of deception, yet the need to protect their secret loomed large. No one was supposed to know.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy hair, his thoughts racing. What if he found out they had gone back in time? Would Remus think they had acted recklessly? Harry paused at the mirror, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to focus. He needed to gather himself before the meeting. Remus would want to know how he felt, and Harry couldn’t afford to let the fear of potential consequences overshadow his true emotions.
He had to be honest.
He washed his face, the cool water refreshing against his skin. Harry pulled on a clean shirt and trousers, trying to shake off the anxiety. In his reflection, he saw the remnants of last night’s turmoil—the wide eyes, the tension etched in his brow—but he also saw determination. He could face his father. He could be brave, even if he didn’t quite know what lay ahead.
With a final glance in the mirror, he stepped out of his room, each footfall echoing with a mixture of trepidation and resolve. The hallway felt strangely quiet, the air thick with anticipation. He took a deep breath and made his way toward Remus’s office, feeling the familiar pull of worry in his chest.
Harry hesitated, fingers hovering over the doorknob. He could turn back, escape into the comfort of uncertainty. But then, he thought about the bond he shared with Remus—about the understanding and love that had always been there, even through the darkest times. He couldn’t run from that.
With a steadying breath, he knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” Remus’s voice called softly from within.
With a steadying breath, Harry knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in,” Remus’s voice called softly from within.
Harry pushed the door open and stepped inside, his heart still racing from their previous conversation. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was struck by an unexpected sight: Remus’s office was packed with suitcases, piled high and spilling over with books and papers. Confusion washed over Harry as he glanced around, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos that seemed to engulf the once-cozy room.
“Dad?” he asked, taking a tentative step forward. The shelves that had once held the comforting weight of knowledge now appeared bare, with only a few scattered tomes remaining. Harry’s brow furrowed as he looked back at Remus, who was carefully packing away his books, his movements deliberate and slow.
“Hi, Harry,” Remus said, offering a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was warm, but Harry could hear the underlying strain. As he approached, Harry noticed his father was favoring his shoulder—the one that Sirius had bitten. Remus’s movements were careful, almost cautious, as if he was trying to protect it from further harm.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etching itself across his features. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as he watched Remus. His father looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual, and there was a new set of cuts on his hands, stark against the paleness of his skin.
Remus paused, glancing up from his task. “Just a little tired, that’s all,” he replied, but Harry could see the tension in his father’s jaw, the way he bit his lip as he resumed packing.
Harry's gaze lingered on Remus, taking in the worry lines etched into his father's forehead and the faint tremors in his hands as he folded clothes. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Remus stopped packing, the question hanging in the air like a thick fog. He looked at Harry, his expression shifting from fatigue to something more serious. “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested gently.
Harry nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and apprehension as he took a seat in the chair opposite his father’s desk. Remus then moved to sit beside him, the old wooden chair creaking softly under his weight.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words heavy between them. Remus’s presence was comforting, but the tension lingered, wrapping around them like a shroud. Harry could feel his heart racing, the echoes of last night’s chaos still fresh in his mind, and the anticipation of what Remus might say next filled him with both hope and dread.
“Harry,” Remus began, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Last night was… complicated.”
Remus sighed, his gaze drifting to the scattered papers on the desk. “I want to make sure you’re alright. After everything you witnessed… especially with seeing me transform…” His voice trailed off, and Harry could see the worry etched in his father’s features.
“I—” Remus paused. “I just wanted to bring up the offer I made you, about staying with me over the summer.” His words hung in the air, and Harry felt a lump forming in his throat.
“Do you… not want me to stay with you anymore?” The question slipped out, barely louder than a whisper, and he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of being sent back to the Dursleys.
Remus’s eyes widened in alarm, and he hastily shook his head. “No, that’s not it at all!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency. “I still want you to stay with me! I just… I’m not sure if you would feel comfortable after what happened last night. I know it was… difficult for you to see me like that.”
Harry’s heart raced, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “But I don’t care about that,” he insisted, his voice shaking. “You’re still you, Dad. I want to be with you.”
Remus’s expression softened, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared Harry might change his mind.
“Really,” Harry affirmed, feeling a swell of emotion in his chest. “I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys. I’d rather be with you, no matter what.”
Remus looked at him for a long moment, his eyes searching Harry’s face as if looking for any hint of doubt. “You mean that?”
“I do,” Harry replied, nodding fervently. “I want to be with you.”
Remus's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes giving way to a more serious demeanor. He studied Harry for a moment, then took a deep breath. “If you still want to stay with me,” he began, his tone more measured, “there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Harry's heart sank slightly at the change in his father's demeanor. “What is it?” he asked, anxiety creeping back in.
Remus’s brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, a gesture Harry recognized as a sign of his father’s frustration. “What happened last night—what you did—was extremely dangerous, Harry,” he said, his voice steady but edged with intensity. “Leaving the safety of a teacher to chase after a werewolf is unacceptable.”
Harry blinked, taken aback. He had expected concern, perhaps a warning, but the disappointment in Remus’s voice caught him off guard. “I was just trying to help!” he protested, confusion flooding his mind.
“That doesn’t matter,” Remus replied sharply, his voice rising slightly. “You need to understand that those kinds of actions can have serious consequences. I didn’t have control and could have easily hurt you..”
Harry’s surprise morphed into hurt, his stomach churning at the thought that his father might actually be angry with him. “But I thought… I thought you’d understand. You were in trouble!” he exclaimed, the frustration leaking into his voice.
“I do understand that you were concerned about me, but it is not your responsibility to put yourself in danger,” Remus countered, his gaze unwavering. “What if something had happened to you?”
“But I—” Harry started, but Remus held up a hand to silence him, his expression softening slightly.
“I’m disappointed, Harry,” he said, his voice losing some of its edge. “I don’t want you to get hurt, especially not when there are safer alternatives. You’re not just a student anymore; you’re my son, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”
The weight of Remus’s words hung in the air, and Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t intended to upset his father, but the realization that he had disappointed him stung deeply.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Harry murmured, looking down at his hands. “I just… I was scared for you.”
Remus’s expression softened again, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped closer. “I know, Harry, and I appreciate that you care. But you need to promise me that you’ll think before you act. I am going to transform during the full moons at the cottage we will be staying at. It will contains me, but I need you to promise that no matter what you will not try to help me or get near me.”
“I promise,” Harry replied, his voice steady now, though the lingering ache of disappointment remained in his chest. “I’ll be more careful.”
Remus nodded, relief flickering across his face. “Good. That’s all I ask. Now, is there anything else you want to talk about?”
Harry shifted in his seat, glancing around the cluttered office once more, the chaos seeming to reflect the turmoil of emotions swirling within him. “Dad, why are you packing?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
Remus paused, a shadow flickering across his features. “I, um…” He took a deep breath, as if preparing to deliver news he had dreaded. “I resigned as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”
The words hit Harry like a cold wave. “What? But… why?” His heart sank at the thought of not having Remus at Hogwarts next year. “You were the best DADA professor we’ve ever had!”
Remus managed a small, sad smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me. But after everything that happened last night, I can’t stay. It wouldn’t be safe for me, and it wouldn’t be fair to the students.”
Harry felt disappointment wash over him, mingling with frustration. “But you’re supposed to come back! I thought you were going to teach us more next year.”
“I wish I could, truly. But I need to prioritize your safety, and right now, that means stepping away from the role,” Remus replied, his voice steady but tinged with regret.
Harry hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of determination. “Can I help you pack?” he offered, hoping to ease the tension in the room and perhaps spend a little more time with his father.
Remus's expression softened at the offer. “I would appreciate that, Harry. Thank you,” he said, a hint of relief evident in his voice.
“Do you have a plan for where you’re going?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice light as he carefully folded a stack of papers and placed them inside the suitcase.
Remus paused, taking a moment before responding. “Not entirely. I have some old friends who might be able to help, but I need to take things one step at a time.”
The room fell into a companionable silence after Remus’s reply. Harry continued folding papers and placing them carefully into his father’s suitcase, his mind buzzing with everything that had happened over the last day. His gaze occasionally flicked toward Remus, who was busy tucking away books and personal belongings, his movements slow and deliberate.
As the minutes passed, the quiet felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. They didn’t need to speak; the shared task was enough. Harry found himself focusing on the small, mundane details — the way the fabric of the suitcase rustled with each added item, the creak of the wooden floor beneath their feet. He pushed away the bigger thoughts for now, the ones about transformations, and time-turners, and farewells, burying them beneath the rhythm of packing.
Finally, the last book slid into place, and Harry straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers. He glanced at Remus, who was carefully closing the final suitcase, the soft click of the clasps echoing in the room.
"All done," Harry said quietly, feeling a strange lump form in his throat.
Remus gave a small nod, but didn’t speak right away. Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. He turned toward the door, ready to leave and let his father finish what must have been an emotionally exhausting day for him.
Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Remus’s voice called out softly. “Harry, wait.”
Harry paused, glancing over his shoulder. Remus was standing behind his desk, one hand resting lightly on the suitcase, the other tucked into his robe pocket. A faint smile tugged at his lips, the hint of mischief in his expression catching Harry off guard.
"Since I’m not your professor anymore," Remus began, his voice warm with an almost playful edge, "I suppose I don’t feel too guilty about giving this back to you."
With that, Remus pulled something from his robes and held it out to Harry — a worn, familiar piece of parchment. The Marauder’s Map.
Harry’s eyes widened in surprise as he stepped back toward his father, reaching out to take the map with reverence. The edges were frayed, and the ink had faded slightly over time, but it was still the same map he had once held with awe and excitement.
"Are you serious?" Harry breathed, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
Remus smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "No, I’m Remus. I expect you to make safe decisions with it, though," he added, his tone more fatherly now, but still lighthearted.
Harry nodded, clutching the map to his chest. "I will," he promised.
Remus raised an eyebrow, his expression soft but firm. "I trust you, Harry," he said, pausing for a moment to let the words sink in. "But I want you to understand something—if I ever find out that you’re misusing the map, or getting into dangerous situations because of it, I won’t hesitate to take it away for a while. I may not be your Professor, but I’m still your dad.”
Harry’s smile faltered slightly, but then he nodded again, more seriously this time. "I understand," he said quietly, though there was a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes. "I’ll be careful, I promise."
Remus seemed to sense the glimmer of rebellion, and for a moment, his lips twitched as if suppressing a laugh. "Good," he said, his tone half-serious, half-amused. "I know what it was like at your age—sometimes curiosity can get the better of you. But just remember, there are consequences to certain actions, especially now."
Harry glanced down at the map tucked inside his robes. There was no denying the thrill that came with holding it again, but his father’s words struck a chord, and he felt the weight of responsibility settle over him. This wasn’t just a tool for sneaking around Hogwarts anymore—it had deeper meaning, and Remus’s trust wasn’t something he took lightly.
"I won’t let you down," Harry said after a moment, meeting Remus’s gaze. The sincerity in his voice rang clear.
Remus smiled warmly at Harry, a hint of pride shining through his exhaustion. "I know you won’t," he said softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It was a smile full of trust and affection, a silent reassurance that despite everything they had been through, they were still in this together.
Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest as he slipped the Marauder’s Map into his pocket. He turned toward the door, ready to leave, but Remus's voice stopped him.
"Harry," Remus called after him. "I’ll pick you up from the train station after term ends. We’ll head home together."
Home. The word hung in the air, making Harry’s heart leap. It wasn’t just a promise—it was a beginning. He nodded, feeling a grin tug at his lips as excitement bubbled up inside him.
"Alright," Harry replied, his voice lighter, filled with the thrill of the unknown. "I’ll see you then."
As Harry left Remus’s office, the anticipation of what his life would be like living with his dad made his steps quicken. For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry wasn’t just looking forward to the end of the school year—he was looking forward to what came after. No Dursleys. No cupboard under the stairs. This time, he had something—someone—waiting for him.
As he walked through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, a smile spread across his face, and for once, the future didn’t seem quite so daunting.