Parallel

”Harry, my boy…?”

As the Headmaster sidles up to his bed, Harry feels his eyes well up again and shakes his head firmly. He promptly curls in on himself and turns away before the old man reaches him and burrows into the bed as if hoping it will swallow him up, especially when he can hear everyone begin to whisper again, like so many snakes hissing a chorus all around him, with Dumbledore’s gentle barritone breaking away from the others: ”What did he say to you?”

There’s a slight pause as the whispers die down expectantly and Harry finds himself holding his breath despite himself as he waits for whatever reply might be fortcoming, and then he hears his daddy whisper: ”He seems confused…”

Remus sounds tired and a little bit concerned, but there’s no real softness in his voice. No worry, no love. Harry lets out a sob and grabs the pillow from the top of the bed and slams it over his head, desperate to block it all out or to smother himself, whichever comes first. 

Someone puts their hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it away aggressively. 

”Harry —”

The hand returns more firmly and strong fingers curl around his shoulder and tries to pull him onto his back, but he struggles against the grip. The pillow is suddenly snatched away from him and then someone else tries to grab a hold of his wrist, but Harry flails out and slaps them away. 

”Let go of me!”

”Harry — Calm down —”

More hands descend on him, insistently pawing at him, grabbing him, holding him down.

”LET GO — GERROFF — GET THE FUCK OFF ME—!” 

”We’re trying to help you—!”

”— LEAVE ME ALONE —!”

”Harry, please!”

Letting out a guttural scream, Harry thrashes around wildly on top of the bed, punching and kicking blindly until everyone lets go of him and backs away. 

Scrambling up to the headboard, he sits cowering and panting, every single one of his muscles pulled tight, ready to strike —

”Harry…” Dumbledore says slowly, gently, holding up his hands in surrender. ”Please… Let us help you…”

Help me, Harry thinks hysterically and almost wants to laugh at the horror of it all — because how can anyone help him now? — Harry’s life is over, as far as he is concerned. His stupid body just hasn’t realised it yet. 

No-one can help him. No-one. 

He shakes his head furiously as fresh tears tumble down his face, stinging his already raw cheeks. 

”You c-can’t”, he gasps, his breath hitching miserably.

”Please, let us at least try…”

”You can’t!” Harry hollers, the words clawing themselves out of his throat with a wild and desperate fervour and seem to bounce off the walls around them. 

Madam Pomfrey shows up at the old Headmaster’s elbow clutching a phial of some sort and immediately stops dead at Harry’s scream. She stares at him like you might a wild animal and despite everything that has happened, Harry feels a thrill at that — that’s right, be scared of me, you should be scared and you should stay away!

”Have some Calming Draught, Harry…” Dumbledore says gently. ”And then we’ll talk… We’ll figure all of this out, I promise…”

Harry eyes the phial in Madam Pomfrey’s hands again, but says nothing. 

After a quick glance at Dumbledore for approval, the Matron approaches the bed cautiously and hands the phial over to Harry and he takes it willingly from her but in a moment’s hesitation he simply holds it in front of him with both hands. 

The room seems to be holding its breath, waiting for his reaction… I could throw it against the wall, Harry thinks with a obscene sense of calm.

But in the end, he decides to drink it after all — because he is tired, more tired than he remembers having ever been before in his life. 

The effect is instantenous, just like the last time he drank Calming Draught. His heart slows down to a hypnotically slow and steady rhythm inside his chest and as the tension drains from his muscles, he slumps bonelessly against the headboard of the bed and lets his eyes droop slightly. 

Dumbledore watches him kindly over the rim of his halfmoon spectacles, his beard twitching around his smile. 

”Still don’t want to talk…” Harry murmurs. 

The Headmaster nods in understanding and turns to the others, suggesting they give him some time. 

Harry can tell that the Weasleys are reluctant to leave, but his daddy more or less flees his bedside and despite the lull of the Calming Draught, Harry feels a stab in his chest watching him disappear out the door without a backward glance. 

”Poppy, get him some Dreamless Sleep as well”, Dumbledore says as soon as everyone but the three of them are left and the Matron hurries to comply, leaving just the two of them alone and Harry is uncomfortably aware of the old man’s penetrating gaze on him, but studiously avoids it. 

When Madam Pomfrey returns with a second phial he accepts it eagerly and, because he can tell Dumbledore is bursting to say something to him, drains its contens without hesitation —

The next thing he’s aware of, he’s lying curled up on his side, snuggly tucked in under the covers and sunlight is streaming in through the arched windows, just visible over the top of the privacy curtain pulled around the bed. 

He stretches out languidly, peering around him blearily just as Madam Pomfrey comes bustling in through the gap in the curtain.

”Ah, Mr Potter, you’re awake…” She says in her no-nonsense voice. 

Harry nods warily.

”How are you feeling today? Better?”

”I dunno…” Harry mumbles. 

She gives a non-commital hm and waves her wand over him a couple of times. Apparently satisfied with the results, she pockets her wand again and walks around the bed, pulling the curtain aside as she goes. Harry is surprised to see Umbridge lying in the bed across from him and in the one on his immediate left, Ron Weasley is sitting in a pair of maroon pyjamas and working his way through a massive breakfast. 

He pauses mid-chew and stares back at Harry. 

”… Eyh-mayh”, he says thickly round a mouthfull of eggs. 

”Er… What’s that?” Harry asks, frowning as some yolk dribbles down the other boy’s chin. 

Ron swallows a couple of times and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. 

”I said, hey mate…”

”Oh… Hey…” Harry mumbles. 

Harry glances over at Umbridge warily, dreading the moment when she discovers him awake and threatens to expel him for breaking into her office… But the woman doesn’t seem to be aware of anything going on around her. She’s staring unseeingly into the ceiling and appears to be humming quietly to herself. 

Harry opens his mouth to ask Ron if he knows what’s happened to her, but the sudden smell of eggs and bacon hits him and makes his stomach flip unpleasantly and he snaps his mouth shut again. Madam Pomfrey has conjured up an breakfast tray for him as well, that she now places on top of his lap. 

”I’m not really hungry”, Harry says, fighting the impulse to push the tray onto the floor. ”Can I just have some coffee?”

”Certainly not”, the Matron sniffs. ”You need a proper meal, Potter. Go on, now.”

Sighing, Harry reaches for the fork and stabs at the scrambled eggs sourly, but only ends up rearranging them on the plate. The action reminds him of Draco and he feels a tightness in his chest again. 

They told him Draco was in the dorms and fine — but they were all acting so strangely that Harry isn’t sure he can believe them… He really rather see for himself. 

But this thought makes his chest feel even tighter, because why wasn’t Draco here when he woke up? Why weren’t any of his friends here? Why wasn’t Professor Snape?

Ron had his Head of House visiting him, and his friends and family too, Harry thinks bitterly. Who was here waiting for me to wake up? No-one. Not even — 

Swallowing thickly past the sudden lump in his throat, Harry glances up at Madam Pomfrey again. The Matron is fussing with his blankets now, but it’s clearly just an excuse to linger, because Harry catches her eyeing his fork with narrowed eyes. 

Scooping up some eggs, Harry quickly takes a bite and swallows without barely chewing. A look of approval flickers past the witch’s face and she turns to leave again. 

 ”Wait”, Harry says quickly. ”Is my… Can I see Remus… L-Lupin…?”

”Mr Lupin left last night”, Madam Pomfrey says over her shoulder. ”I’m not sure he’s coming back… Oh—”

The woman stops dead in her tracks and stares at Harry as if really seeing him for the first time, her brusque demeanor flying off her like a cloak snatched in the wind. 

”I…” She hesitates, her face softening even further. ”I can send him an owl, if you want?”

The lump in Harry’s throat grows bigger and bigger, nearly making it hard to breathe and Harry swallows convulsively, even as he shakes his head. 

”Are you sure?” she adds gently, her hands hovering hesitantly in front of her with some restrained impulse to reach out to him. ”I’m sure he’d come back to see you, if you w—”

”No”, Harry rasps out, shaking his head even more furiously. ”Thank-you.”

The Matron nods and then with a decisive pat on his ankle through the covers, she bustles back towards her office. 

He left, Harry thinks numbly. He really left me —

”You all right, mate?”

Harry blinks startled. For a second, he’d forgotten all about Ron in the other bed. He can feel the redhead’s eyes on him now and hurriedly binks the wetness out of his eyes and clears his throat awkwardly. 

”Hey, don’t worry about it…” Ron adds softly. 

Harry shoots his a sidelong glance and the other boy shrugs back, smiling wryly. 

”I know you’ve been through a lot.”

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles. ”Thanks… So why are you here, anyway? Are you okay?”

Ron looks genuinely surprised for a second, but he quickly recovers and starts telling Harry about a tank of brains with tentacles that attacked him. Harry frowns. 

”Brains?”

”Yeah, remember?”

”What? — Was that another one of your brothers’ pranks—?”

”What?”

”—That’s a bit… Extreme… Where did they even get the brains?” Harry asks, then realises he doesn’t want to know and says as much.

”What are you talking about?” Ron says, staring at him as Harry has just recited a love poem for Hagrid. 

Before Harry can say anything else, the doors to the Hospital Wing swing open and he turns his head to see Dumbledore stride inside, his mauve robes glittering with golden stars and crescent moons embroidered into the silky fabric. 

Harry sighs softly. He’s not in the mood to talk to the eccentric Headmaster just yet… For a second he contemplates burying himself under the covers and feigning sleep, but just then the old man tips his head forward and twinkles at him over the rim of his spectacles. 

Blast it. 

Harry looks down at the breakfast tray on his lap — I guess I could fake food poisoning, he thinks bitterly. 

”Come on, dear boy…”

Harry sighs a little forcefully and looks up again, a moody retort ready on the tip of his tongue — but it immediately melts away again when he realises that the Headmaster isn’t even looking at him, but over his shoulder, which means he’s not talking to him but to —

Harry’s breath hitches and his heart leaps in his chest, when he sees Draco hesitating in the doorway behind Dumbledore. He’s glaring glumly between the Headmaster and Harry’s bed, but this barely registers with Harry at all, because he’s just so incredibly relieved and happy to see the blonde he shoves the breakfast tray down to the foot of the bed and scrambles to his feet. He nearly trips over as one of his legs gets tangled up in the covers, but manages to stay upright and with the momentum of nearly falling, he hurls himself across the ward…

Draco staggers back in shock as Harry nearly mauls him over in his excitement to embrace him and Harry lets out a wet chuckle, shooting him an apologetic look and reaches out for him again — less aggressively this time — but the blonde flinches back for a second time and just stares at him, wide-eyed.

”What…” Harry trails off and lets his arms fall to his sides again in confusion. ”What’s wrong?”

”What’s wrong?” The blonde repeats incredulously. 

”Wh— ” Harry just shakes his head, feeling at a complete loss. 

”What’s wrong with you?” Draco demands defensively. 

First his daddy and now Draco. Harry doesn’t think he can handle any more heartbreak… Draco scowls back at him, and then Harry catches his eyes flit over to Ron’s bed suspiciously and his heart sinks into his stomach. 

”Oh, not this again…” He murmurs. ”Draco—”

The blonde’s eyes immediately swivel back to Harry, looking positively scandalised. 

”Harry, my boy…” Dumbledore interjects gently. ”Why don’t you sit back down, so we can talk?”

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles, but he’s only half-listening to the Headmaster, distracted by the suspicious glare on his boyfriend’s face which seems off… 

He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s not the blonde’s usual hot-tempered glare of jealousy — it’s almost the opposite. 

Yeah, Harry thinks anxiously. That’s it. There’s nothing hot about the look in his eyes at all. His eyes are decidedly ice cold. 

”Are you okay?” He asks, taking half a step closer to the other boy.

”Me?” Draco splutters indignantly, stumbling away from him. 

”Harry”, Dumbledore interjects again, a little more persistently this time and Harry finally tears his eyes away from Draco to meets the Headmaster’s eyes. ”Please, have a seat.”

”Fine, all right…” Harry mutters. 

He pads back over to the bed and crawls on top, sitting cross-legged in the middle of it and watching warily as Dumbledore conjures up two chairs at the foot of it before making himself comfortable in one of them.

”Harry, I understand that you made some enquiries pertaining to the whereabouts of Mr Malfoy when you first woke up yesterday…?” Dumbledore says softly. 

”Yeah… I wanted to know he was all right.”

”Mate…” Ron says faintly. 

Harry ignores him, however. He’s too caught up in the incredulous look Draco is giving him. 

”He’s lost it…” The blonde states finally. 

”Mr Malfoy, please have a seat…” Dumbledore says calmly, indicating the chair next his own and waiting patiently for Draco to comply before turning back to Harry with a kind look. ”Harry, I must ask you to bear with us for a moment… A lot of things have happened in the last twenty-four hours, as I’m sure you’ll agree?”

Harry nods, glancing over at Umbridge curiously. 

”In your own words, Harry”, Dumbledore continues. ”Can you please tell us what happened at the Ministry last night?”

Harry takes a deep breath and begins to talk, pausing only for a second when Draco opens his mouth to interrupt, but the Headmaster immediately silences him by holding his hand up, so Harry keeps going with the story, shooting the blonde an apologetic look. 

”Then I blacked out and woke up here”, Harry finishes. 

Dumbledore nods gravely and staples his fingers under his bearded chin thoughtfully for a moment. Then he begins to ask Harry questions — not about anything that happened in the Department of Mysteries, but insignificant stuff like what his favourite food is and what House he’s Sorted into. Harry answers impatiently, wondering what the old crackpot is getting at, and finally Dumbledore thanks him with a curteous nod. 

Well, what was that all about, Harry wants to ask, but before he gets a chance, Dumbledore turns to Draco and requests a moment alone with Harry. The blonde shoots out of the chair again and bolts for the doors without a backward glance. 

Harry feels another sinking sensation in his stomach, watching him go. 

As soon as the doors slam shut, Dumbledore turns back to Harry and gives him another one of his gentle smiles. 

”Just a couple of more questions, Harry, if you don’t mind… What exactly is the nature of yours and Mr Malfoy’s relationship?”

Harry blinks, hesitating. 

”That’s… That’s private”, he says awkwardly. 

”I apologise”, Dumbledore says, inclining his head. ”I wouldn’t normally ask, but I believe it is of utmost importance…”

”Well, we’re… You know… Together”, Harry says, feeling his cheeks burn. 

”I see…” Dumbledore murmurs, twinkling at him. 

”Mate!” Ron splutters next to him and Harry shoots him a confused frown. 

The Gryffindor’s face is beet red and he’s staring at Harry as though he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. 

”And Harry”, Dumbledore adds, stealing back Harry’s attention. ”Can you tell me the names of your parents?”

”Yeah, of course”, Harry says, feeling the lump return to his throat. ”Remus Lupin and Si—” his voice catches and his vision blurs as tears well up in his eyes again. ”Si-rius Bla-ack…”

”I see…” Dumbledore says again, nodding seriously. ”I am so sorry, my boy…”

”Is he… Is he really…?”

”Yes, I’m afraid so…”

Harry lets out a sob and turns away, curling up against the headboard and hugging the pillow to his chest miserably. 

”It’s my fault”, he gasps and then buries his face into the pillow to muffle his sobs. 

”Oh, no!” he hears Dumbledore exclaim. ”My dear boy, you mustn’t think—!”

Harry feels the old man’s hand on his shoulder suddenly and immediately shrugs it off. 

”Harry, listen to me… Sirius’s death is no-one’s fault but Bellatrix Lestrange’s and Voldemort’s—”

Harry lifts his head from the pillow again with a gasp.

”No, it’s mine!” He says and takes a shuddering breath. ”If I hadn’t gone t-t-to the Dep-p-artment of Mysteries, my d-d-dad would st-t-till be a-live — it’s all my fault!”

”No, Harry—”

”It’s all my fault and now my daddy ha-a-ates me!”

”No—”

”Ye-es, he does — YES, HE DOES! HE LEFT! HE LEFT ME AND HE’S NOT COMING BACK, BECAUSE HE HATES ME—!” 

”Harry—”

”SHUT UP! SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!”

He shoves his face back into the pillow and begins to sob in earnest, his whole body shaking convulsively around his grief. 

He’s vaguely aware of Dumbledore sighing heavily above him, before moving away finally. He murmurs something softly, as if talking under his breath and in the next moment Harry hears the privacy curtain slide back around his bed.

He cries himself to sleep and wakes up with a dense, heavy feeling in his head… Groaning, he stretches out onto his back and rubs his eyes and squints out into room. 

A blurry outline of a person is sitting at his bedside. For a second Harry thinks it might be Dumbledore, but no… The colours are all wrong, he realises. This person has got shorter, slightly darker hair and no beard and in fact his whole frame seems to be lither, not to mention less colourful.

Harry feels around for his glasses and finds them under his pillow. When he’s got them on, the serious face of Remus Lupin comes into focus and Harry’s heart stutters. 

”Harry…” the man murmurs. 

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but his voices catches in his throat. 

”I, in no way, blame you for Sirius’s death”, Remus tells him stiffly. 

Harry feels like someone has just doused him in ice water. It’s obvious to him that his daddy is only regurgitating what Dumbledore has told him to say — which means that he really does blame Harry! 

He takes a shuddering breath, which immediately morphs into a sob. 

The tension around Remus’s eyes twitches slightly as Harry’s face crumbles and he breaks down in fresh tears once more. The man hesitates for a couple of seconds, but then stands up and wraps his arms awkwardly around him while he cries. It’s at once comforting for Harry to feel the familiar warm and strong arms around him, and heartbreaking because they’re stiff with a tension that he has never felt before in his life. 

No matter the circumstances, even if his daddy has been furious with him, whenever he’s locked those arms around him and thrust his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, any tension that might have been in the man’s body a moment before would drain out of him immediately. If it would have been physically possible, they probably would have melted together… But not now. 

Now, Harry can’t help but notice, even as he buries into the familiar chest and clutches the back of his daddy’s robes desperately, Remus is leaning over awkwardly to hug him, careful to keep most of his body from touching Harry’s. 

Finally, Harry stops sobbing uncontrollably, even though he’s still struggling to get his breathing back under control and he wipes his face with the sleeves of his pyjamas. Remus slowly but firmly breaks their embrace again, but makes sure to keep his hands on top of Harry’s shoulders as he peers into his face seriously. 

”Harry, I don’t blame you at all…” he murmurs softly. ”But…”

Harry hiccoughs and looks up startled. Something akin to pain flickers past his daddy’s eyes, but he never breaks their eye contact. Instead, he takes a deep breath and squeezes Harry’s shoulders gently. 

”I’m not your father…”

”What?” Harry hitches out. 

”Albus told me everything you told him and… And we don’t know if this is an effect of Voldemort possessing you—”

”What?” Harry says again, feeling more and more nonplussed. 

”— if it’s permanent or…” He trails off and shakes his head. ”We just don’t know, at this point… But Harry, it seems as though your mind—”

”What are you talking about?”

”You mind, Harry. It’s has been tampered with somehow, and some of your memories seem to have been… Altered.”

”Altered?” Harry frowns. 

”Re-written”, Remus clarifies carefully, finally letting go of Harry’s shoulders. 

”Like… Like what?”

”Well… Who your parents are, for one”, the man says delicately, watching his face warily. ”I am not your father… James Pot—”

”No, I know that”, Harry snaps. ”I know James and Lily were my biological parents!”

”…Oh”, Remus says in surprise. ”Then—”

”They were killed by Voldemort when I was a baby”, Harry says impatiently. ”Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. Then you and dad — Sirius Black — adopted me and raised me as your son!”

”Ah…” Remus’s face falls. ”Right. Well. That’s… That’s not…”

”We lived in a house in Islington until my third year at Hogwarts, when we moved to Creirwyn’s Hollow in Hogsmeade, because you got the position of Defence teacher here at Hogwarts”, Harry ploughs on stubbornly. ”That’s the year I found out you’re a werewolf, but you still insist on going away for the full moon now that I know, even though you drink Wolfsbane and I keep telling you it’s perfectly safe, because you don’t like the idea of transforming near me, which is why”, Harry raises his voice a little, when Remus opens his mouth to interrupt. ”I am going to become an animagus like dad—”

”Harry—”

”— and you think I’ll turn into a swift”, Harry continues in an even louder voice, tears now streaming down his cheeks again. ”Because after my run-in with Quirrell and Voldemort in first year, your Patronus has been a swift instead of a wolf — and you think the swift is supposed to symbolise me! AND WHEN YOU TOLD ME ABOUT IT, YOU SAID I’M THE BEST THING TO EVER HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU! ME AND SIRIUS!”

Finally, Harry stops to breathe. 

Remus just stares at him silently, his wide eyes unwavering and intense. Then slowly, he reaches into the inside pocket of his robes and retrieves his wand. 

”Expecto Patronum”, he rasps out. 

A silvery wolf shoots out of the wand and runs a lap around the Hospital Wing before dissolving into empty space again. Harry stares at the spot where it disappeared. He’s vaguely aware of a rushing kind of noise in his ears and his heart beating slowly but hard inside his chest.

”I… I don’t understand…”

”It’s always been a wolf”, Remsu says softly. ”Harry… I hadn’t even met you when you were in your first year… When I came to Hogwarts to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, you were just starting your third year and that was the first time I’d ever seen you in real life… Lily sent me baby pictures, but I never got around to visiting before… Before…”

”That’s… No”, Harry shakes his head. ”No, that makes no sense…”

”And Sirius… Sirius was wrongly accused of James and Lily’s murders, and arrested. He spent twelve years in Azkaban before he broke out, and that was also in your third year. So, you see, neither of us knew you before you were thirteen. We’re not your… Your dads… James was. That’s why your Patronus is a stag, like James’s—”

”No, that’s imposs— Wait, what?” Harry says, blinking and fixing his eyes on the other man once more. ”What did you say?”

”Your Patronus—”

”Is a ferret”, Harry says. 

Remus sighs heavily and fixes Harry with his kindest, most patient look — and Harry bristles. 

”Don’t believe me?” he snaps. ”See for yourself!”

He grabs his wand from the bedside table and slashes it through the air, allowing his mind and heart to fill up with images of the Remus and Sirius he knows, not the strangers in this man’s stories. 

”Expecto Patronum!” he bellows. 

A soft gasp escapes Remus as the silvery ferret tumbles through the air and scurries around the legs of the chair behind him curiously. He wheels back around to stare at Harry in astonishment and after watching the ferret evaporating into thin air, Harry meets his eyes grimly. 

There’s a new gleam in Remus’s eyes now, like he’s really seeing Harry for the first time since he woke up and Harry’s heart swells for a moment, only to sink again as the truth starts to sink in… Something is seriously wrong…

He takes a deep breath and looks at the man in front of him, really looks at him. And that’s when he sees it. All of it. All the tiny little things that are wrong. The grey hairs, the lines around his eyes and mouth, the tension in his shoulders… This is not Harry’s daddy. 

He swallows thickly and puts his wand back on the bedside table, trying to think… But his head feels oddly empty and light, like someone has taken out his brain for maintenance without alerting him. 

”How… How is this possible?” the older man murmurs thickly. 

Harry shrugs tensely, avoiding his gaze now. 

”You better get Dumbledore back in here”, he mutters. ”Also, I’d like to see Professor Snape.”

”No, you wouldn’t”, the voice of Ron Weasley pipes up on the other side of the curtain separating their beds. 

This seems to have a relaxing effect on Remus, because he deflates slightly and chuckles. Harry looks up curiously and watches him move around the bed and pull the curtain aside again, before leaving to retrieve the Headmaster, and Harry and Ron are left sharing an awkward silence while they wait for them to return.

”Hey, want to see something funny?” Ron says suddenly, clearly eager to break the silence as well as the tension. 

”Sure, I guess…” Harry mumbles. 

”Okay, look over there…” Ron says, jerking his chin in Umbridge’s direction with a malicious half-grin.

Harry frowns and looks over at the woman. 

She’s still staring into the ceiling and he doesn’t see what’s so funny about that —

Ron begins to make clucking noises with his tongue and the woman springs to life so suddenly Harry startles. She sits bolt upright in the bed, looking around her wildly. 

”Anything the matter, Professor?” Madam Pomfrey calls out, sticking her head out of the door to her office. 

”No, no… No…” Umbridge mumbles distractedly, then slowly sinking back against her pillows again. ”No, I must have been dreaming…”

Ron snickers, but Harry simply frowns. 

”What’s happened to her?”

”You don’t remember?” Ron says, looking at him in surprise. 

”Remember what?”

”The Forbidden Forest? Oh wait… That was… That was before… Er…”

Ron looks extremely uncomfortable suddenly and the awkward silence stretches out between them again. 

”So… What didn’t I do to Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest?” Harry says finally, when he can’t take it anymore. 

”Well…” Ron mumbles. ”You — Erm — I-I mean — Er —”

”Yeah, whatever”, Harry says impatiently. ”Me, what?”

”Well, you and Hermione lead Umbridge into the Forest — It was Hermione’s idea, go figure — She made Umbridge believe we were helping Dumbledore build a weapon to use against the Ministry and that it was hidden in the Forest — Anyway, you both tricked her to go into the Forest with you and then the centaurs took her away… Dumbledore went and got her back yesterday, after he’d brought you here… Still don’t get why he couldn’t have just left her, to be honest…”

Harry looks over at the woman again. 

For some reason, looking at her now, with her hair all a mess and some twigs still stuck in it, and her eyes gazing anxiously into the ceiling, she looks very small and vulnerable in the midst of all the pillows and blankets — And the rage that Harry usually feels roaring up inside him at the sight of her, simply doesn’t now. Instead he feels a faint sense of pity. 

Very faint, though, he thinks, glancing down at his left hand and the pink scar tissue spelling out ’I must not tell lies’ across his pale skin.

”Harry? You all right, mate?”

Harry takes a deep breath and, looking up again, opens his mouth to tell Ron that he’s fine, but just then the doors to the Hospital Wing swing open with a sigh and he snaps his mouth shut again. Remus and Dumbledore stride through the doorway, both looking very serious — But, Harry can’t help but notice, very twinkly-eyed as well, as if they’re trying very hard to keep their faces that serious, when in fact, they rather be beaming… 

The two professors trailing after them, however, don’t seem to be having this struggle, at all. In fact, both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall look just as effortlessly serious as Harry has ever seen them, and the familiarity of it is such a relief to him that he almost smiles. 

”Harry, m’boy…” Dumbledore says, twinkling at him over the rim of his half-moons. 

”Headmaster”, Harry replies curtly, then looks over at his Head of House and allows himself a tiny flicker of a smile after all. ”Sir…”

Professor Snape blinks, then scowls even deeper than before. But, even though Harry usually hates it when the Potions Master directs his scowl at him, since that usually means he’s in trouble and he’s disappointed his Head of House yet again, this too feels so familiar that Harry’s smile only grows a little wider at the sight of it. 

”Harry…” Remus says softly. 

Harry tears his eyes away from the Potions Master to meet the eyes of the man who looks almost exactly like his daddy, now sitting in the chair by his bedside, perched tensely on the edge of the seat as he watches him anxiously. His eyes are still twinkling with emotion, but it’s difficult to tell which one. 

”I’ve already told them what you told me… But… The Headmaster, and I think all of us, still have some questions…”

Harry nods. 

”What do you want to know?”

Remus seems taken aback for a second, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment, until he seems to think better of whatever he was trying to say in the first place and snaps it shut again. Instead, he turns to the Headmaster with an almost desperate look. 

Dumbledore smiles kindly and conjures up another chair for himself and sits down, taking a moment to make himself comfortable, before stapling his fingers in front of his mouth and gazing at Harry in that unnervingly piercing way of his. 

”Remus tells me that your Patronus is ferret, Harry…”

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”It’s always been a ferret.”

”Always?” 

”Yeah. Since the first time I managed to conjure a corporeal one, it’s been a ferret. I was gutted at first, because… Well, because there was an incident at school once, with a ferret, and it’s not exactly a — a good memory — and I didn’t want my Patronus to based on a bad memory… But then daddy explained to me…” he trails off awkwardly and swallows around the lump in his throat. ”That it doesn’t work that way. The Patronus Charm, I mean…”

He glances at Remus and the man gives him a nod. 

”I see… And, Harry m’boy…” Dumbledore continues, speaking rather carefully as if half-expecting Harry to have another meltdown. ”Do you think… Would it be possible… Can we see it?”

”Oh, yeah, sure…” Harry mumbles, reaching for his wand again. ”Expecto Patronum!”

The silvery ferret tumbles to the floor and scurries forward eagerly. Dumbledore and Remus both twist around in their seats to watch it weave between the legs of the two professors still standing, before returning to Harry’s bed and climbing up onto his lap. It lifts it small head and gazes up at Harry, its nose twitching and its big silvery eyes gleaming at him. Harry wishes he could reach out and pat it, but knows he won’t be able to feel it if he tries and most likely, it will break the spell as well…

”Amazing…” Dumbledore murmurs softly and someone else gives a contemptuous sniff. 

The ferret fades away again and Harry looks up to see his Head of House looking positively thunderous. 

”Severus”, Dumbledore says placidly. ”You demanded proof and now—”

”It’s a trick”, Professor Snape snaps. ”It’s just another one of Potter’s tricks!”

”That was a Patronus Charm”, Remus says firmly and shoots the other man a hard look. 

”Maybe so, but that doesn’t prove anything”, the other man insists silkely. ”All it proves is that as of today, Potter’s patronus is a ferret. That is all—”

”That is all?” Remus repeats incredulously and is halfway out of his seat, when Dumbledore stops him with a gentle touch on his arm. 

”It doesn’t prove that it’s always been a ferret”, Snape continues, completely ignoring Remus’s huff of annoyance. ”It doesn’t prove that—”

”Are you seriously suggesting that Harry’s patronus just happened to change form—?” Remus snaps. 

”I’m suggesting that he changed it himself—!”

”You can’t change your patronus—!”

”I’m sure Potter found a way — Normal rules don’t seem to apply to him!”

”Gentlemen, please…” Dumbledore interrupts finally. 

”Alb— Headmaster”, Snape exclaims. ”You can’t seriously believe—!”

 Dumbledore holds up his hand and Professor Snape abruptly snaps his mouth shut again, but continues to fume silently. 

”Harry… Can you tell me, what is the last thing you remember, before waking up in the Hospital Wing?”

”Ehm, yeah…” Harry mumbles, looking between the enraged faces of Snape and Remus a couple of times before turning to face the Headmaster once more. ”I was in the Department of Mysteries, like I told you… Someone was chasing me, trying to hex me… I ran through a door and—”

”Can you remember what room you were in, Harry?”

”I dunno… It was one of the first rooms, I mean, there was a circular room with a bunch of doors all around the walls and they all led to different rooms, but then there were doors inside those rooms too, leading to other rooms—”

He catches Professor Snape shoot the ceiling a glare, his chest rising with a deep breath. 

”A-Anyway”, Harry stammers, blushing. ”This room was one of the ones you could get to from the circular room and it was full of clocks—”

”I see”, Dumbledore cuts in calmly, giving him a small smile of encouragement. ”And you said you were running through a door… Was that to go back to the circular room?”

”No”, Harry shakes his head. 

That had been the plan, but then that particular door had opened and more Death Eaters had come pouring into the clock room. Harry had thought that was it. There was at least three of them and only one of him and he was struggling to block the hexes and curses when it was just one Death Eater hurling them at him, so he’d been sure they’d kill him… But then he managed to grip the doorhandle behind his back and before he really knew what had happened, the door swung open and then… Then he was falling. 

”It was another door, leading to an adjoining room… I don’t really remember it, except there were planets inside… Stars and planets… I remember seeing Saturn just before… Before everything went dark and then… Then I woke up here…”

”Thank you, m’boy…” Dumbledore says softly. ”You have been most helpful… Now, I will try and return the favour, but first… Let me just have a moment with your professors.”

The old man tilts his head forward and gazes at Harry intently over the rim of his glasses, as if genuinely expecting his permission. Harry blinks in surprise and twitches in a kind of half-shrug, whole-nod hybrid of a movement and Dumbledore smiles at him, then slowly but gracefully gets to his feet and pulls Snape and McGonagall off to one side. 

Harry watches them converse in hushed tones for a moment, before returning his attention to Remus who is still perching on the edge of his seat and fidgeting sligthtly with the frayed cuffs of his robes. 

Harry frowns. His daddy is of the philosophy that it is better to mend rather than immediately replace things, which means that most of what he wears is obviously worn in, but never worn out… Because when something has been mended one too many times and is beyond fixing anymore, he will get rid of it and buy a replacement. 

These robes, though, Harry observes, glancing down the man’s body. They’ve clearly been patched and transfigured countless of times, and they’re still coming apart.

Looking up into the man’s face, Harry again takes notice of all the other tiny but, the more he looks at them, significant inconsistencies in this Remus’s appearance — And it’s more than just a few grey hairs and lines in the face, it’s the stoop of his shoulders and the look in his eyes, the way he holds himself…

This isn’t my daddy, Harry thinks for the second time and still he struggles to really comprehend what that means.

”What…” Remus speaks up suddenly, his voice breaking slightly and he clears his throat gently. ”What is it like… Where you’re from?”

”It’s…” Harry shrugs. ”It’s like here, but… Different.”

Remus nods, as if that made sense.

”And you said… You said Sirius and I — Well, I mean — My counterpart — Sirius and him — They… They raised you like—?”

”Yeah”, Harry says shortly. ”They’re my parents.”

Remus blinks. 

”Right… Of course… And when you say… I mean… You said they raised you together…?”

”Yeah.”

”But… Yes, I see…” Remus trails off and bites his lip anxiously, and Harry can tell he’s bursting to say something else. ”But when you say together—”

”Yes?”

”Do you mean…? Er…”

”What?”

”Do you mean together together…?”

”Yeah, what else?” Harry huffs. 

Remus blinks again, several times. He opens his mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out. Harry frowns.  

”Together”, Remus repeats for the third time. ”As a couple?”

”Yes…” Harry stresses. ”They got together in school and they’re the love of each other’s lives.”

Remus’s eyes become suddenly misty and Harry feels a stab in his chest, because for the first time since he woke up in the Hospital Wing, he recognises his daddy… Except it not him, he tells himself firmly. Harry isn’t sure what’s going on, but this Remus Lupin is Harry Potter’s former professor and, possibly, friend — But that is all. 

”What about… Your Sirius?” he asks him awkwardly. ”Were the two of you—?”

Remus swiftly shakes his head and looks away. 

”Oh…”

”Just friends”, Remus says tonelessly, a faraway look in his eyes. ”As far as I know, he was heterosexual and… My feelings were not returned.”

Harry almost tells him that his dad is bisexual and that this world’s Sirius might have been as well, but stops himself just in time. It’s less heartbreaking, he figures, to not have your feelings returned, than to find out when it’s too late that they might have been. 

”I’m sorry”, he says instead. 

”Doesn’t matter…” the other man mumbles. ”I hope your Si— your dad, that he’s okay, and that they’re happy.”

”Not unless I find a way to return home, they won’t be…”

Remus takes a deep breath, visibly pulling himself back together and then turns back to look at Harry with a small, sad smile. 

”Then let’s find a way!”

Harry lets out a small surprised huff and smiles, feeling a sliver of hope when the other man returns it tenfold, even as the other three professors return to his bedside and he can help but to notice that, although Dumbledore is still smiling and twinkling away as always, the other two are looking particularly grim. 

”Harry”, Dumbledore says. ”Madam Pomfrey says she can’t find anything wrong with you physically, so I don’t see any reason why you can’t return to your dorm…”

Harry nods and accepts the folded school robes when the old man hands them to him.

”You and I will speak again, at length, I assure you”, he continues somberly. ”But first, I want to pay another visit to the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries.”

Harry nods again, and Dumbledore mirrors it with a gentle smile. 

”I’ll go with you, Albus”, Remus offers. ”I… I want to help… Harry, I’ll… I’ll see you again, soon. All right?”

”Yeah — Yeah, I’ll — I’ll see you, R-Remus”, Harry says. 

He swallows thickly and holds his hand out awkwardly for the other man to shake. Remus’s face softens and he grasps Harry’s hand gently in his and simply holds it for a second. 

”We will get you back home”, he intones, then gives Harry’s hand a squeeze before letting go and Harry, not trusting his voice anymore, simply nods again. 

*

Harry follows Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall out of the Hospital Wing and down the Hospital Tower across to the main castle, feeling like a lost duckling trailing after them, especially as he almost has to jog to keep up with their quick pace. 

When they reach the Grand Staircase, McGonagall gives Professor Snape a curt nod before continuing up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower while Harry and his Head of House turn swiftly and begin to descend the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall instead, except Professor Snape has only taken two steps down the stairs when he stops again abruptly and Harry accidentally bumps into his back. 

”Potter!” McGonagall calls out from above him and Harry swivels around and looks up at the stern professor questioningly. 

”Potter…” Professor Snape growls quietly. ”I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I will not be drawn into it…”

Harry looks between both professors in confusion. 

”Sir?”

”Don’t”, Snape snaps sharply. 

”Potter? What’s the problem?” McGonagall calls out again, however there’s a slight hint of concern in her voice now. 

”N-nothing, Professor, I…”

”Well, come on then”, the woman says sternly. ”It’s late. We could all do with some sleep, I think.”

”Yes, Professor—” Harry mumbles and turns to continue down the stairs again. 

”Enough of this nonsense!” Snape barks. ”Potter — Go with Professor McGonagall —!”

”With Prof—?” Harry stutters in confusion. 

”Now!”

”B-but Sir—!”

”I don’t want to hear it! Whatever inane thing you believe you need to do before going to bed, will simply have to wait. It is past curfew. Go to your dormitory—”

”I am!” Harry exclaims. ”I’m tryingto, but you keep stopping me—!”

The Potions Master’s black eyes narrow into dangerous slits and Harry feels his heart leap into his throat and quickly adds a Sir, but this only seems to make the man angrier.

”I… I’m… My dorm is on the dungeons, Sir… I swear, I’m not playing any games…”

”Are you expecting me to believe that you were Sorted into Slytherin?” Snape says, his voice dangerously low. ”The son of James Potter… The Boy Who Lived… Raised, as you claim, by Lupin and Black… You are seriously suggesting that the Sorting Hat would have placed you in my House…?”

Harry frowns. 

”What is going on?” McGonagall demands, returning to the landing and scowling at the both of them. ”Potter?”

”I’m a Slytherin”, Harry says loudly and clearly, without tearing his eyes away from the Potions Master’s furious face. ”My dorm is in the dungeons—”

”Don’t be ridiculous, Potter”, McGonagall says dismissively. ”You’re a Gryffindor—”

”I am not a Gryffindor!” Harry more or less shouts.

”That’s quite enough of that, Mister Potter”, McGonagall snaps. ”Now, I’m not sure what is going on. But what I am sure of is that Professor Dumbledore will find out in due course, and until then, you are to return to your dormitory in Gryffindor Tower — Yes, in Gryffindor Tower — That is where your bed and all of your belongings are, Mister Potter, because that is where you were Sorted.”

”But…”

Harry looks between the two professors, each one sterner than the other. 

I’m in Gryffindor? he thinks in dismay. I have to sleep in Gryffindor Tower with the lions? I mean, Ron is alright, but he’s still in the Hospital Wing… Who else is there? 

Longbottom — Harry stifles a groan. 

Who else? There’s Thomas, who seems alright enough, but Harry’s barely spoken two words to him the whole time they’ve been at Hogwarts, and that’s including that one time when they accidentally ended up as partners in Care of Magical Creatures and had to take turns feeding a Knarl while the other did a sketch of it… Yeah, Harry thinks sullenly. That’s when the two words were spoken. 

If he remembers correctly, they’d exchanged an awkward look and mumbled ’Alright?’ at each other before they got to work. 

Then he thinks of Draco, and all of his friends. Even after the weird moment with Draco earlier, Harry had still somehow held onto the hope that he’d get to see the blonde in the dorm and get a chance to talk to him alone, and maybe then, without Weasley and Dumbledore listening in, the other boy wouldn’t be so skittish… And he’d looked forward to seeing his friends again, as well. He’d pictured Seamus and Blaise bickering in their beds —

”It’s fine, you go to bed, Severus…” McGonagall says suddenly, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. 

”No, wait —” Harry mumbles.

He imagines hearing the Potions Master letting out a soft snort, before promptly turning away and descending the staircase at a brisk pace. 

”Sir — Please!” Harry calls after him. ”Can’t I sleep in the Slytherin dorms, just for tonight—?”

”Mister Potter”, McGonagall says reprovingly. ”Pull yourself together! I assure you, the Gryffindor dorms are just as adequate as those in Slytherin! Now, let’s go — I, too, would like to get to bed at some point tonight!”

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and began to stomp up the stairs swiftly. Harry grudgingly follows her. 

”Cauda Leonis”, Professor McGonagall barks at a portrait of portly lady who looks even more sour than the Professor at having been woken up so rudely. 

Harry frowns as the whole picture frame swings forward and reveals a hole in the wall behind it. The Transfiguration Master gestures impatiently for him to climb through and he gives her a bitter look, but sticks his right leg through and then awkwardly maneouvres himself inside. 

The Common Room is dead quiet with all the students having retreated to the dormitories and it’s also almost completely dark, save for the warm glow coming from the big fireplace, which is barely light enough for Harry to make out the embroidery of the tapestries on the walls — which should depict silvery serpents, but knowing this is the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry suspects they’ll be of golden lions instead — it is, however, light enough for him and the Professor to weave through the landscape of furniture without having to lumos their way.

Professor McGonagall leads him to the left of two staircases and then begins to climb the steps, stopping only when they’ve reached the fifth landing and then holds a door open for him. Harry takes a deep breath to steel himself, half-expecting to walk into some sort of Gryffindor bedtime ritual with the lions sitting in a circle on the floor, holding hands and singing songs… But there’s no-one sitting on the floor, or anywhere else that he can see. 

In fact, the dormitory looks almost exactly like his own, with a massive window in the far wall and big four poster beds lined up on either side of it — except there’s five of them, not seven, and instead of the murky, dense darkness of the depth of the lake outside the window, a spattering of stars can be seen on a patch of actual night sky. 

The Professor points to the four poster closest to the window and Harry’s stomach jolts. That’s my bed, he thinks. That’s actually my bed, in my dorm in dungeons as well. 

”I’m sure things will look better in the morning”, McGonagall murmurs quietly. ”Try and get some sleep, Potter.”

He nods numbly and shuffles across the room. He’s vaguely aware of the dormitory door easing shut with a sigh behind him as he toes his shoes off and crawls onto the bed. Once the bed-hangings are securely in place around the bed, he pulls his uniform off and buries under the duvet and blankets. He closes his eyes and methodically goes through all of his relaxation exercises, feeling more adamant than ever to do them all and do them right…