Leo Rising

Harry dreams of Sirius and Lupin that night. Cloudy, muffled memories of big black dogs and a soft voice reading to him, and a big flying motorcycle that, for some reason, he longed to ride on.

“You’re already just like your father, aren’t you?” Dream-Sirius coos. Harry babbles something unintelligible, grabbing at the air with little hands.

“I see Lily in him too,” Dream-Remus remarks. Is this a dream or is this a memory?

Someone yells something from another room, and both Lupin and Sirius look up.

“Your mum’s finished making lunch!” Dream-Sirius tells him, and the memory fades away into fuzzy images of big, warm hands and red hair and then, horribly and suddenly, flashes of green and screaming and the sound of running footsteps and then–

✶ ✶ ✶

Harry jolts awake, smacking his arm on the windowsill. He’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, and he quickly tries to calm down, not wanting to wake up Sirius or Remus.

He’s never had that dream before. He often has memory-dreams, and often wakes up with that strange cloud of grief, but he’d never had this one before.

Something creaks outside his door, and Harry stiffens, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeve just as Lupin knocks on the door, pushing it open slightly.

Harry must’ve not done a very good job wiping away his tears, because Lupin takes one look at him and steps all the way into the room, face softening.

“I heard you crying out in your sleep,” Lupin says, voice scratchy with tiredness. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Harry hesitates and then nods. Lupin smiles sympathetically.

“I get nightmares too,” he offers. “I often like to make myself a cup of chamomile tea before going back to bed. Would you like some?”

Harry considers the offer for a minute. If he had felt he could fall back asleep, he would’ve, but there’s a lump in his throat that doesn’t feel like it will go away on its own.

“Okay,” he says, hating how tearful his voice sounds.

But Lupin doesn’t remark on his tears at all, not as they creep down the stairs or as he boils water or even as he sets Harry’s mug down. He doesn’t even ask what the nightmare was about, instead giving Harry a calm, quiet space.

It's weird, Harry thinks, having an adult who cares about him enough to get up in the middle of the night and make tea.

“What was it like, before Voldemort killed my parents?” Harry asks finally.

Lupin flinches almost imperceptibly at Harry’s bluntness. “Well,” he says carefully. “Our Hogwarts days were, I imagine, much like yours. Especially in our later years, us Marauders were very close with your mother and her friends. And then when you were born…” he smiles. “We all became a lot closer. Your parents were only twenty, as were the rest of us, so it was really a whole lot of teenagers trying to figure out how to raise a kid.”

Harry returns Lupin’s smile. He had never realised before how young his parents had been when they had had him. Only seven years older than he is now.

“I dreamt about, um, you and Sirius. And maybe my mum in the background. I wish…” Harry frowns. “I wish I knew her more. Everyone always says how I look so much like my dad, but they never talk about her.”

Lupin nods as if he’s thought the exact same thing. “I noticed that. Lily… she was my best friend and she was amazing. You’re a lot like her. You’re both so kind, in such a quiet way.”

Something warm blooms in Harry’s chest and fills his throat. He was like her, like his mother that he’d only barely known.

Later, after tea has been finished and Lupin is turning the light out in Harry’s room, Harry feels he needs to say something.

“Thank you for telling me more about her, Professor,” he says.

Lupin pauses in the doorway. “Anytime, Harry. And call me Remus.”

“Goodnight, um, Remus.”

“Goodnight, Harry. Sleep well.”

✶ ✶ ✶

The next morning when Harry comes down for breakfast, Remus gives no indication that he's going to mention their interaction last night. Instead, Remus remarks on the odd burnt smell lingering in the stairwell (a byproduct of Sirius attempting to cook eggs), and offers Harry a piece of toast.

They plan their day as they eat their toast and tomatoes (the eggs are too far gone to save). They make a list of all the things they needed for the flat, which ranges from some sort of tube-shaped pasta that Sirius insists is the best kind to a bouquet of hyacinth flowers that Remus needs for a potion.

They’re just about to figure out where they need to go for all of these things when three sharp knocks sound at the door. Sirius goes tense at the sound, but relaxes as Remus announces it's Professor McGonogall. Harry goes through all five stages of grief at this announcement, and frantically tries to smooth down his hair.

“Hello, Mister Potter,” Professor McGonogall says, sitting down at the table across from him. “Remus, a cup of tea, if it's not a bother?”

Remus pours her a cup of tea while Harry desperately tries to figure out why one of his teachers is watching him eat breakfast. 

“Erm, good morning, Professor,” he finally stammers.

“None of that when we’re not at Hogwarts,” she says cheerfully. “Call me Minerva.”

Harry nods, wide-eyed, though he's pretty sure such a thing is impossible for him to do.

Remus clears his throat. “So, what brings you here, Professor? We got your owl yesterday, it seemed very sudden.”

Professor McGonogall nods. “Yes, well. I received your letter explaining this entire situation, and while I put my full trust in both of your magical skill, I am concerned that Albus is going to meddle.”

“You’re one of the only Hogwarts teachers we’ve told about this, Minnie, I don’t think good ol’ Albus will be finding out anytime soon.” Sirius says, coming into the room and sitting down next to Remus.

“He has ways that even you do not know about, Sirius.” Professor McGonogall says gravely. “I would not be surprised if he has engineered some kind of tracking charm on Harry here.”

Sirius stiffens. “Without Harry’s consent?”

McGonogall purses her lips. “Most likely, yes. Harry, were you ever aware of any charms Professor Dumbledore placed upon you?”

Harry looks up, surprised. “No, I…don’t think so. Maybe some kind of, I don’t know, low-level charm, at some point. But nothing powerful.”

“Thank you, Harry.” McGonogall says, her voice kind. “And Remus—I trust you will be back at Hogwarts next year?”

Remus flinches from his place next to Sirius. “I…did not think I was welcome back, after the events at the end of the year.”

“Nonsense. You were an excellent teacher, and with the rumours flying around about next term, Harry will need the support.”

Harry frowns. “I don’t need extra support,” he says indignantly. “I’m not fragile.”

Sirius nudges him. “Of course you’re not, Haz, we know that. Minnie, what have you heard?”

McGonogall regards them carefully. “What do you two know about the Triwizard Tournament?”

“I think I read about it a couple years ago,” Remus offers. “But not much. Sirius?”

Sirius shakes his head.

“Well–” McGonagall glances at Harry, “It’s a competition between the schools. Every school selects a student to compete for them. There’s been talk of bringing it back in the last few years, and Albus has offered to host it at Hogwarts this coming term. Talks with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are going well–”

Sirius’s eyebrows shoot up. “Durmstrang? Correct me if I’m wrong but is that not the one that’s a bit of a breeding ground for dark wizards and witches?”

McGonogall inclines her head. “The rumours do say that, yes, and normally I would not listen to such baseless accusations. However…their current Headmaster is Igor Karkaroff.”

Remus straightens suddenly, hand going to Sirius'. “The one who killed Gid and Fab?” His voice is hard.

“That is the one, yes.”

“I…see why I may be valuable at Hogwarts next year.” Remus admits.

Professor McGonogall smiles tersely. “I hoped you might. Now, Sirius–”

“I’m not leaving Remus.” Sirius says nervously. “I can’t, Minnie, I’ve waited, and Harry, I can’t leave him too–”

“I am aware, Sirius. Which is why I have determined that you would accompany Remus and pose as, well, his pet.”

Remus snorts a laugh, and then muffles it in his cup of tea at a withering look from Professor McGonagall. 

“You would not have to remain in your Animagus form in your private quarters, of course. And I believe we could find paid work for you, if finances are an issue?”

Sirius tilts his head, considering. “Money isn’t an issue–I was disowned, but I’m my parents’ only living child, so I received their fortunes. And–I would live with Remus?”

“You would indeed.”

Sirius smiles, first at Remus and then at Harry. “I think that would work, Minnie. Harry, I promise not to do anything too embarrassing to you during term."

Harry looks skeptically at him. Sirius's eyes are glittering mischievously.

"Don't trust a word he says, Harry," Remus says tiredly, and Harry lets his head drop heavily onto the table.