Harry Potter:Raised by Wolves

"Oh, that's alright, Harry dear. Finish packing and get to bed—you've got a long day tomorrow!" Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "Fred, George, you too. The Ministry is sending cars, so we can't be late!"

"Be out in a minute, Mum," George promised.

As soon as she left, he smirked. "Nice one, Harry."

"Seriously, mate, if you ever need anything, just ask," Fred added, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "We're good at keeping quiet. When we need to," he amended, no doubt thinking of the many explosions they regularly caused.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, guys. You too. Always happy to be an alibi."

The twins beamed at him.

"Knew we could count on you, little brother!"

With that, they bid their goodnights and slipped out of the room, leaving Harry alone with a warmth settling in his chest. It was nice to know he had at least two people on his side.

Harry was surprised the next morning when Mr. Weasley pulled him aside amidst the chaos at the platform to warn him about Sirius Black. He pretended it was new information, eyes appropriately wide with fear at the confirmation that—oh, by the way—the mass murderer who broke out of the most secure prison in the wizarding world? Wants you dead.

He promised not to do anything rash—only half-meaning it—and then they were on their way.

Harry wondered what he would have done if he hadn't bumped into Malfoy the week before. Why did Dumbledore think it was okay to keep something like that from him for so long? From what Mr. Weasley had said, the headmaster hadn't even wanted Harry to know at all.

As soon as they found a compartment, Ginny and the twins quickly ditched them to find their own friends, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone with their sleeping new professor. It was only fair, Harry thought, to tell his best friends about Sirius Black—if they were going to be around him, they were in just as much danger.

He was a little insulted by Hermione's assumption that he'd go looking for Black, but then he remembered the compulsion charm the goblins had removed. Before, he probably would have done exactly that.

The conversation soon turned to Hogsmeade, making Harry suddenly remember something he hadn't thought about since arriving in Diagon Alley—his permission slip.

Or rather, the fact that it hadn't been signed.

Even if he had gotten it signed, they probably wouldn't have let him go anyway.

As Ron and Hermione tried to cheer him up—well, Hermione tried, while Ron mostly raved about how great Hogsmeade was supposed to be—Harry let his thoughts wander. His gaze drifted to the man asleep opposite him.

Professor R. J. Lupin.

There was something familiar about him. Had Harry seen him around Diagon Alley? He couldn't quite place it, but it was more than just recognition—it was a feeling. A strange certainty that he knew this man.

Even as Ron and Hermione pulled him back into conversation, Harry couldn't help but glance at the professor every so often, hoping he'd wake up and give him some kind of clue.

Then the dementor attacked.

And Harry stopped caring about Professor Lupin at all.

He was still trembling by the time Madam Pomfrey finally let him return to the feast, barely thinking about the Sorting he'd missed or even Hagrid's new teaching position.

All he could hear was that awful, awful scream.

"Is it true, Potter? You actually fainted?" Malfoy's voice rang out as they made their way toward the dorms.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron snapped, scowling.

Harry looked up and met Malfoy's gaze.

For the briefest moment, it almost looked like he was actually concerned.

"I'm fine, Malfoy," Harry retorted acidly, turning toward the staircase. No, he told himself. He was seeing things.

Just because they'd had one half-decent conversation didn't mean Malfoy suddenly cared about him.

When the feast was finally over, Remus rose from his seat at the head table, already thinking longingly of his bed in his new quarters.

First, however, he had one stop to make.

His feet led him there seemingly without his consent, his eyes sweeping over the all-too-familiar corridors. He had never expected to return to Hogwarts. Certainly never thought he'd be allowed to teach.

It was a dream come true.

And yet, even the good memories clawed at his chest, leaving behind an ache so sharp it nearly stole his breath.

He stopped in front of a nondescript black door, taking a steadying breath before knocking.

"Enter."

The voice was smooth, clipped—sending another stab of pain through Remus' heart.

He pushed the door open, meeting stony black eyes.

"Lupin."

His name was spat like a curse, but Remus refused to flinch. If anything, it made him smile. Some things never changed.

"What do you want?"

Stepping inside, Remus shut the door behind him. Severus sat behind his desk, a potions journal open in front of him, his expression unreadable—but he didn't look particularly pleased about being interrupted.

All throughout the feast, Remus had forced himself not to look toward the other end of the staff table.

Now, he couldn't look away.

It had been over a decade since he'd last seen Severus.

The other man had aged well—better than Remus had, at least. His hair was longer, his face a little harder, but aside from that, he looked much the same.

Still Severus.

"Did you come here just to stare at me, or did you actually need something?"

The words were biting, but Remus didn't avert his gaze.

Severus was scowling at him—a familiar expression, though the lines on his face were deeper now.

Remus tried not to think about the last time they had seen each other. He definitely wasn't ready for that yet.

"I just wanted to thank you," Remus said finally, his voice still a little hoarse.

The last full moon had been particularly rough. Hopefully it would be the last like that for a while.

"For agreeing to make the Wolfsbane Potion while I'm here," he continued. "It means a lot to me."

"Dumbledore insisted," Severus said curtly. "Don't think I did it out of the kindness of my heart."

Remus actually chuckled.

"Of course not, Severus," he replied easily. "I know you don't have one of those."

The words could have been harsh, but there was warmth in them.

Severus scowled deeper.

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