An Interesting Little Legal Problem

Chapter Five: In Which Harry Contemplates Thorny Moral Problems

"Legilimens!"

Second year ... Gilderoy Lockhart was making him act the part of a ghoul in front of the classroom ... he was pulling Millicent Bulstrode off Hermione at the Dueling Club meeting ... he was swallowing Polyjuice Potion and feeling a surge of nausea ... his skin seemed to be burning all over ... No, it was boiling ... thick hairs bubbled to the surface and burst from his body ... the sickness and agony intensified, and worst of all, he felt a burning desire to bite, destroy, kill ... He felt stifled, unable to draw breath ... he had a fierce compulsion to tear the flesh from his own hands, which he tried to resist - He fought -

THUD!

"Oh, well done, Harry!" said Lupin, picking himself up from the floor; the force of Harry's counterspell had flung him against the dining room wall. "Took you a while, but you fought it! You're getting there. By the way - I take it you've crossed 'werewolf' off your list of possible careers?"

He limped a little as he straightened the chairs, but his eyes were twinkling.

"How - how can you stand to joke about - "

Lupin sat down again and regarded Harry in silence for a moment. "If you've got any better ideas," he said quietly, "I'd love to know what they are."

"I guess not," said Harry, feeling embarrassed. He remembered what Tonks had said one afternoon at Grimmauld Place, about Aurors having to develop a robust sense of humor. He hadn't been sure how to respond then either.

"One of the things I regret most about the year I was your teacher is that I didn't give you much opportunity to practice dealing with a boggart the proper way. It's a useful life lesson."

Harry stared at him. He had a feeling Lupin was trying to tell him something important, but he didn't understand what it meant.

"Right. I think this is getting a little too intense for both of us, so let's call it a night. More questions?"

What Harry was really wondering was why his guardian always seemed so cheerful, but somehow it didn't seem like the right thing to ask. "I'm pretty hopeless at Occlumency, aren't I?"

"No. Not at all. I think we just need to experiment with a different strategy. I'd like you to try approaching Occlumency from an offensive, rather than a defensive perspective. Instead of making your mind completely blank, you can force certain thoughts and memories to the surface and prevent a Legilimens from reaching the ones that matter. People who have a natural gift for Legilimency have a certain advantage with this method, so I think you'll be able to - " There was a sudden, loud pop as Lupin spoke the last few words, and Professor Snape Apparated in the living room with a goblet of potion. "Oh, hello, Severus. Can I get you a drink? Tea? Scotch?"

Snape shook his head. "Private Occlumency lesssons?" he said with a sneer. "Well, I hope I don't have to spend the first month of term undoing all the damage you've done - as I had to do when I took over your Defence Against the Dark Arts class."

"While we're on the subject of teaching," said Lupin casually, "did you happen to notice Harry was a natural Legilimens when you were doing lessons with him? Didn't that suggest certain possibilities?"

"I suspected as much, but I saw no reason to encourage him. Yes, I'm sure you were proud to discover that he shared your peculiar gift - even if you've always pretended you had too many scruples to develop it. However, I think Legilimency in Potter's hands is only slightly less hazardous than a cauldron in Mr. Longbottom's. I hope you don't have any thoughts you want to keep private - you'll find that he has a distinct lack of respect for personal boundaries." Harry flushed; he was not proud of having accessed Snape's memories against his will. "Well, better you than me. I'm surprised Black didn't name me as Potter's guardian. He certainly did everything in his power to make my existence miserable while he was alive."

"He didn't!" said Harry. "You were the one with the grudge! He left you alone, except when you provoked - "

A quick look from his guardian silenced him. "Sirius was my friend, but I won't deny that he had a blind spot where you were concerned. But he wasn't the sort of man to make anyone else's life miserable just to get back at you."

"I am honored to be the only blind spot of the sainted Mr. Black," Snape said, placing an ironic emphasis on the last few words that infuriated Harry. "I see your ward is as insolent as ever, Lupin. You'll have your work cut out for you. Pity it's illegal to use Soloresponsus on children nowadays. I must say that it never did me any harm when I was a boy."

Harry didn't know what this meant, but he could tell that his guardian did, and that it shocked him: his hand froze as he was about to set down the potion. "I think," he said slowly, without taking his eyes off of Snape, "that you and I have very different ideas about what counts as harm."

It sounded like a mild-mannered retort, but it seemed to hit home. Snape flushed deeply. "I don't want your pity," he said frostily, "and I didn't come here to reminisce about my childhood. Some of us are still trying to make the house secure before the Malfoys move in - and having bricks falling all around us, I might add. I haven't got all night. Are you planning to finish that?"

Lupin drained the goblet, grimaced, and handed it back. "'Til tomorrow, then."

Harry thought he caught an unpleasant gloating look in Snape's eyes as the Potions Master Disapparated with another loud pop.

"What was that Solorespons-thingy he was talking about?" Harry asked.

The look of distaste on Lupin's face deepened. "In the old days, parents with strict views used to bind children with the Soloresponsus curse until they came of age. It rendered them unable to speak unless they were spoken to. Appalling thing to do to a child - especially an intelligent, curious one ... or one who doesn't make friends easily. It's illegal now, thank goodness, and it wasn't common even when I was young. It never occurred to me that Severus was bound by it, but that does explain a lot. I wondered why he seemed to go for days without saying a word when we were at school."

"Does that mean people used to go for days without speaking to him?"

"Yes. You might consider that before you accuse him of bearing grudges. Oh, he does, of course, but it's hard to see how he could do anything else after the way he's been treated."

"Then why does he want to treat other people the same way?" Harry demanded. "You don't run around biting people at the full moon, do you? What about Jack Evans? He doesn't go murdering other people's families just because Voldemort murdered his! Didn't you both go through much worse than Snape did when you were growing up?"

"What do you want me to say? That a certain measure of suffering molds the character in one direction, but one drop more pushes it over the edge? It doesn't work that way. There's no formula. And I don't understand it myself, but it's often the small, petty injuries that warp people. With big things ... you learn how to cope. You have to."

"Was anybody decent to him?" Harry asked.

"Yes. A boy named Simon Wilkes. We played a rather nasty practical joke on him during Quidditch tryouts our third year, one that got him thrown from a broomstick and could have injured him seriously. I remember thinking I should apologize and turning back, only Simon got there first, and he was already helping Severus walk to the hospital wing."

"Was he related to Wilkes the Death Eater?"

"He was Wilkes the Death Eater. Or anyway, he became him."

Harry stared, and Lupin smiled. "You remember how Sirius used to say the world wasn't divided into good people and Death Eaters? Well, it isn't divided into nice people and Death Eaters either. Sometimes I find that harder to accept than the other bit." A distant, distracted look came over his face, and Harry suspected he was thinking of someone besides Wilkes. Then he yawned and seemed to snap back to the present day. "Bedtime for me, I think. Unless you've got any more thorny moral problems you'd like to bring up."

"No," said Harry, thinking he'd had enough of thorny moral problems for one evening. The trouble with his new guardian was that the world seemed to go about a hundred different shades of grey whenever you talked to him.

* * *

It was Harry's last Occlumency lesson before the full moon, when he would be returning to Little Whinging for three days. "This is a difficult and unconventional tactic," Lupin said, "and I don't expect you to pick it up in one night, but we should be able to make a start. It will only work against a Legilimens you have had contact with in the past - but that means you could use it on Voldemort, or me, or anybody else known to you. What you need to do is focus on a memory you have in common with the Legilimens, and try to flip it around so you're seeing it from their side, letting them access nothing they don't already know. Got that? Concentrate on a memory we have in common. Legilimens!"

But the only thing that came to Harry's mind was Sirius ... Sirius dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange at the Department of Mysteries ... No, he didn't want to see that again. He couldn't stop seeing it... Sirius fell through the archway ... Harry tried to follow him, to bring him back, but someone was holding him around the chest and would not let him go ... He seemed to be both people ... he was holding himself, fighting against himself with all the strength he possessed ... he felt the body gripped in his arms slacken and give up the struggle...

The world lurched on its foundations and swung into place again. He was staring at his guardian. "You saved my life!" he said. Even in his own ears it sounded like an accusation.

"Yes," said Lupin. He gazed steadily at Harry as though meeting something he had been dreading for a long time but was determined to face. "Does it matter?"

"W-well, yes, of course it matters!" Harry spluttered. It took him a moment to work out why it mattered, and even then he wasn't sure why he felt so angry with his guardian. "I mean - does it - it means I - I owe you a life-debt. Like Pettigrew owes me. Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I wasn't going to notice sooner or later?"

"It's a debt that I hope I'll have no occasion to call in," said Lupin, with a slightly forced smile. "Look. Why don't we leave it here and have a butterbeer."

"I don't want anything." Harry glared at him. "Are there any problems you don't think you can solve with butterbeer? Or tea?"

"Yes. Decapitation, for one."

"Will you stop making bloody jokes all the time?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, it's a bit of a reflex with me. I'm not trying to dismiss what you're saying. And you're absolutely right, not everything can be fixed with tea. Right now I think I need something a good deal stronger." Lupin went into the kitchen and poured himself a shot of Scotch, sat down at the table again, and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. He looked vulnerable. Harry's anger began to subside, but he still felt frustrated and deeply confused.

"Listen, Harry," Lupin said at last. "I'd been hoping - for purely selfish reasons - that we wouldn't be having this conversation just yet; I wanted to get to know you a little before this came up. The thing is - what you're feeling now is normal. Life-debts breed resentment, more often than not. It's hard to be kindly disposed toward your creditors, especially when you owe them so much."

A sudden thought struck Harry. "Is that why Professor Snape hates my father so much?"

"Partly. There are a lot of reasons why, but I expect that's always been one of the things lying underneath it."

"But I don't WANT to feel about you like Snape feels about my father!"

"Good." Lupin's pale cheeks flushed slightly, and he seemed to relax a little. "I'm glad. All I'm saying is that I will completely understand if you do feel that way. At least for a while."

"I don't - but ... it's just strange, that's all." Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. "I need some time to think about this."

"Well, you're going back to your aunt and uncle tomorrow, so you'll have a few days to yourself. I'll try to meet you at the Evanses in four days time - or if I'm not feeling well enough, another member of the Order will be there - but ... you don't have to come back if you'd rather spend the summer somewhere else. Would you like me to write to the Weasleys and tell them to make room for you at the Burrow? I don't mind, really."

"No," said Harry quickly. He was sure that Lupin would mind, quite a lot, if he said anything else. "I'd rather stay here." He tried to suppress the vague sense of resentment he still felt for his guardian.

* * *

The next morning, Lupin staggered out of his bedroom, still in his dressing gown, and lay down on the living room sofa almost immediately.

"I'll get breakfast," Harry offered.

"Just tea for me, please."

"Are you very ill?"

"Just the usual. I always feel a bit grotty the last day or so before the full moon. Foolish of me not to take you back to your aunt and uncle's yesterday. Well, and I haven't slept well, which always makes it much worse."

Harry felt a sudden, violent surge of guilt. He made the tea, as it seemed to be the only useful thing he could do to make up. "Do you think you're in any shape to travel to Surrey?" he asked.

"Honestly? No. Do you think you could send Hedwig off to ... to ..." He frowned slightly.

"Tonks?" Harry guessed.

"Yes. Exactly. I'm never sure whether it ought to be Tonks or Miss Tonks. They both sound a bit wrong, but she just about bit my head off the last time I called her Nymphadora, so I'm not about to risk it again."

"I think you should call her what she wants to be called," said Harry, tying the note to Hedwig's leg and shooing her out the window.

"You're right, of course. It seems rather impolite, but I suppose that's my problem and not hers."

"You could just not call her anything at all," Harry suggested. "It's not that hard to avoid calling people by name."

"Yes," said Lupin with a pointed glance at Harry, "that has not escaped my notice. Oh, and before I forget - " He handed Harry a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. "Early birthday present. Promise me you'll use it if your scar's hurting, or your relatives give you any trouble, or if you just want to talk."

Harry unwrapped a small mirror that was the twin of the one Sirius had given him months earlier, which now lay shattered at the bottom of his school trunk.

"And before you ask - no, I haven't given you Peter's. That one was mine."

Harry, who hadn't been about to ask anything of the sort, didn't know what to say except "Thanks," which sounded inadequate.

Lupin hadn't taken his eyes off of him. "You do promise, don't you?"

"Yeah. Um, listen, I'm sorry about the way I talked to you last night."

"You don't have to be sorry. We've been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. It's more than time we started acting somewhat human." He sipped the tea and smiled. "To tell you the truth, I was a bit relieved to see you show a flash of temper - you've been so passive I've been worried about you. Besides, it'll make things less awkward if I ever completely lose it with you."

Harry found it difficult to wrap his head around this last statement. "Have you actually got a temper?"

"Yes. For some reason it usually comes out in defense of people I don't even like. And most people who have been on the receiving end of it agree that it is not a pleasant experience. At all."

Harry was saved from having to think of a reply to this by the sudden arrival of Tonks, who Apparated into the flat with a broomstick in one hand. "Wotcher, Harry. I'm not a big fan of the Knight Bus, so I hope you're up for some flying."

"Sure," said Harry, who was always up for some flying. He went into his room to pack.

When he returned, Tonks was perched on one arm of the sofa. She placed a hand on Lupin's nose. He looked startled. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Checking on you," she said, as if this ought to be self-evident. "Cold nose, healthy dog. Or wolf, as the case may be."

"I don't think that works on werewolves in their human form," he said, blinking a little.

"Don't see why it shouldn't."

"All right, then, what does my nose feel like?"

"Warm. You're not feeling too well, are you?"

"I could have told you that," he said, sounding rather put out. "I am going to be able to talk for the next eight hours or so."

"Sorry," said Tonks, but she didn't look particularly repentant. "Can I get you anything? I do a pretty decent line in pain-relief potions."

The expression on Lupin's face suggested that he was afraid any pain-relief potion she brewed would have unfortunate side effects, such as turning the taker into a warthog. "Thanks, but I'll be all right."

"I can do potions, you know," she said, looking amused. "I'm an Auror."

He reddened slightly. "Really, I don't need anything. I'm used to looking after myself."

He got to his feet and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder in an awkward gesture that seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to be a shake or a hug. Harry didn't know what to make of this. "Er, goodbye," he said. "See you in a few days."

"Goodbye. And take care, all right?"

Harry and Tonks grabbed their brooms and climbed up on the roof. It was an unseasonably cold day, and a sharp wind began to blow as he kicked off. Flying had always been one of the best things in his life, and he felt clean and powerful and free as the buildings beneath them grew smaller and the first wisps of cloud drifted across his face.