Sweet and Sour

Chapter Six: Identities Revealed

"Who are you?" His voice sounded weak and hoarse to his own ears as he repeated his question in the silence.

"Remus Lupin."

Lupin. That name he knew. Gods, from where? If only the pain would go away, maybe he could think a little clearer. Remus Lupin. His past. This man knew his past, this man knew-

"Sirius..."

It was little more than a whisper, but the other man's head turned quickly. He heard the sound of fabric rustling and struggled to open his eyes, seeing the outline of the man sitting on the bed, framed by the soft light from the fireplace. He reached out a hand to touch the man. A gentle hand covered his own.

"You should get some rest; we can talk more in the morning."

Harry nodded as his eyes fluttered closed and he yawned. Sleep seemed nice and whatever the man had given him to drink certainly made it come easier...

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Remus swallowed as he sat in front of the fireplace thinking about the man (boy?) currently lying in his bed. So frail, so weak, and yet he had spoken his lover's name. He fought back the tears as his hand went to his pocket which held the pocketknife found on the man engraved "To Harry, Happy 16^th Birthday, Love Sirius." That was obviously where the injured man knew the name from. Probably found the knife somewhere. Harry could have lost it; it was feasible, if unlikely. A soft hoot interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see an owl fly in with a letter. He untied the letter and scratched the owl under its beak. Seeing the Hogwarts seal on the parchment, he quickly opened it and scanned the flowing script.

Dear Remus,

I certainly hope you are doing well, as I have not heard from you in awhile. I cannot tell you how much we still miss your presence around here. Snape is wondering how the transformations are going and whether or not the new potion is helping more. The term has just started and we have had a bit of news. Make sure you are sitting down.

Draco was in Diagon Alley on the 27^th of August and says he saw Harry begging for money. Harry's forehead was incredibly scarred, as if someone had tried to do away with his scar. Draco had lunch with Harry, but they were interrupted when Harry had some sort of fit, perhaps a seizure or a flashback of some sort. Harry then ran out. Draco spent the next five days searching for him, but didn't manage to find him. However, he did find that someone of that description had been in the worse parts of Muggle London recently. From what we can tell, he is somewhere in the south of England.

Remus, I know this is a hard and painful subject matter for you, but we would appreciate any assistance you might be able to lend. Also, it would help immensely if you could come up and join us this coming weekend at Hogwarts. I haven't announced anything to the press yet, and I don't plan too, however we will be having a meeting with some of the members of the Order of the Phoenix and I would enjoy your presence there as well. Do take care of yourself, Remus, and I hope to see you this weekend.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

Remus stared at the letter as he pulled the pocketknife from his pocket and turned it over. He remembered picking it out with Sirius and Sirius being worried that Harry wouldn't like it. And now Harry was alive... Dobby had said the person looked familiar. Standing up, he walked back quietly into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, looking at the black hair sticking out from the bandages. Ruffling it gently with his hand he sighed as the eyes fluttered open. It was unmistakable.

"Harry..." he whispered, not sure if he was ready for whatever response would be given. Swallowing, he ran a hand through the boy's hair. "Gods, Harry..."

"No..." came the weak response. "Not Harry, can't be Harry. Harry died."

"Sssshh..." he said gently as he felt the tears sliding from his eyes. Why did fate have to be so cruel? "Harry, it's me, Harry... it's Remus..."

"I can't... I can't... it's too hard. You're dead, you're all dead... dead... I'm dead..."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not. You're alive, injured and weak, but alive. I'm alive too..." he said sighing. Please, respond. Let me know that my friend's son is still in there somewhere, he thought to himself. Don't let it have come to this. "Please Harry, talk to me. I lost James and Lily, Albus, so many others, but I lost Sirius, I lost the love of my life. But I had you, and then, not a year later, I lost you. Harry..."

"Remus?"

Remus managed a weak smile. Harry's voice sounded slightly stronger now and he sensed a bit of recognition too.

"Just rest, Harry. You need it."

"Remus... I'm sorry..."

"What? You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. Just rest," he said, running a comforting hand through Harry's hair. "We can talk about this in the morning."

"No... I... I'm not Harry... Harry died..."

Remus swallowed. "Then who are you?"

"Just no one."

Remus watched as Harry turned his head to the side and whispered.

"Do you know how many times they killed Harry? They killed him once when the killed his parents, so that he would never know their love. They killed him when they killed Cedric, leaving Harry responsible. They killed him when they killed Sirius, his godfather, severing one more link to his past. They killed him when they killed Dumbledore, when they killed the others. They killed him when they took his body from the battle. They killed him when they tortured him, starved him, tried to take his spirit away. They killed him when they raped him, time and time and time again. They killed him when it ended, when he was thrust out into the world, a shell of what he once was. Remus, Harry is dead."

Remus swallowed. What could he possibly say to that? Raped and tortured? It was what he had feared. Part of him had hoped Harry had died instead of suffering and being tortured for Merlin knows how long. What could he possibly do to comfort the boy? His thoughts wandered back to Sirius and that fateful meeting in the Shack during Harry's third year. There had been no words to comfort Sirius then or in the years that followed before the appeal went through. And there could be none now. He eased Harry into his arms and hugged him, fighting the tears back. Here he was, the last of the Marauders, holding Harry in his arms, a Harry that didn't want to be found. He would take Harry to Hogwarts for the weekend; it would need to be done eventually. After all, he couldn't hide forever.