Harry Potter:Raised by Wolves

"Plenty of people have bad memories, Potter. They're not fainting all over the place. Are you sure there's not something else wrong with you?" Malfoy eyed Harry suspiciously, as if expecting him to announce that he was actually dying.

Harry glared at him. "Those people don't hear their mum begging for mercy as she's murdered, do they?"

He watched as Malfoy's already pale face drained of color. A beat later, Harry abruptly remembered who he was talking to.

"Don't you dare tell anyone I said that."

"I hear my father torturing my mother," Malfoy blurted suddenly.

His eyes widened in horror as soon as the words left his mouth, and he slapped a hand over it, turning red.

Harry gaped.

"Malfoy, I—"

"Don't," Malfoy bit out sharply, his eyes flashing. "Goodnight, Potter. Glad you're not in as many pieces as your broom is."

Before Harry could say anything more, the blond was gone, leaving him alone once more, staring wide-eyed at the door.

"Shit," he breathed into the darkness.

How the hell was he supposed to deal with a revelation like that?

—.—.—.—

He had never been so relieved to go back to classes as he was on Monday after a whole night spent lying awake, thinking about his mother, the Grim, and Malfoy.

He was yawning his way through class, and Hermione gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you're well enough to be up and about, Harry?"

"Yeah, fine," he insisted. "Just didn't sleep well. Too quiet in the hospital wing."

"I suppose you didn't even have Professor Lupin for company. I'm glad he's feeling better, though."

"Yeah," Ron cut in. "No more lessons with Snape."

"Except Potions," Harry pointed out dryly.

Ron gave him a wounded look. "Don't ruin it, Harry."

Across the classroom, Professor Lupin shot them a pointed look, and Harry sheepishly turned back to his work.

After class, he made an excuse to his friends and lingered at his desk, waiting for the rest of the students to file out. Lupin raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Can I help you, Harry?"

"So, uh. The Dementors." Harry hesitated. "You saw what happens to me when they get near."

"It's understandable, Harry; there are horrors in your past that others haven't experienced," Lupin soothed.

Harry shook his head. "I know, I know, but I still don't want to be fainting every time I see one."

"If it helps, Professor Dumbledore was furious with them—I don't think he's going to let them get close again."

"Why did they even come the first time?" Harry asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Lupin explained. "They're used to being in Azkaban, surrounded by so much despair. Out here, unable to go near anyone, and then feeling all the excitement from the match… they couldn't resist."

Harry swallowed. "When they come near, I hear my mum dying."

Lupin froze.

"Lily?" he said eventually, the lines on his face making him look older than his thirty-three years. "Oh, Harry."

He hesitated only a moment before reaching out and squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"I want it to stop," Harry said desperately. "When S—when Professor Snape covered for you, he mentioned a spell that wards off Dementors. Was that what you did on the train?"

Lupin nodded.

"Can you teach me?"

"Harry, the Patronus Charm is an incredibly advanced piece of magic. Many fully-trained wizards struggle with it, let alone a third-year student."

"Try me," Harry retorted. His magic had been buzzing under his skin ever since the goblins had removed the block. Maybe advanced magic was exactly what he needed.

Lupin sighed. "I don't want to make any promises…"

Harry stared him down, determination written all over his face.

"Fine," Lupin relented. "We can work on it over Christmas if you're staying."

"I am," Harry confirmed. "I always do. The Dursleys don't want me there unless I have to be."

"You live with your Muggle relatives in the summer, then?" Lupin asked, an odd tone to his voice.

Harry nodded. "Unfortunately. I usually get to spend some of it at Ron's house, but Dumbledore—Professor Dumbledore, sorry—says I have to be at my aunt's house for most of the summer. I guess it's supposed to be safer." He grimaced, making it clear what he thought of that reasoning.

It certainly wasn't going to be safer when he got home in July and Uncle Vernon decided to teach him a lesson for what he had done to Aunt Marge. If only the Ministry had wiped their memories too.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said, and he sounded like he truly meant it. "I only met Petunia a few times, and her husband just the once, but they were certainly… difficult people to get along with."

Harry snorted. "That's an understatement."

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Professor? If you and my parents were such good friends… why couldn't you raise me when they died?"

Surely that would have been better than growing up with the Dursleys. Anything would have been better than that.

Lupin's expression turned heartbreakingly sad. "I wanted to," he admitted. "But there were… circumstances. The Ministry never would have allowed someone like me to raise a child. And Dumbledore insisted you were in the safest place possible—not that he ever told me where that was. He said you'd be protected as long as no one magical came near you. I couldn't even write."

His voice cracked, just slightly.

Harry's stomach twisted painfully. He tried to imagine it—losing two of your best friends in a single night, betrayed by the third, and then having their child taken away from you forever.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, wishing there was something more he could say.

"For what it's worth… I think it would've been pretty cool, living with you. Better than Aunt Petunia."

A small, genuine smile crept onto Lupin's face, though the hurt still shone in his golden eyes.

"Thank you, Harry," he said softly. "That… that means a lot, coming from you."

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