Our Fathers

Part Three: No Other Road

'I heard my dad,' Harry mumbled. 'That's the first time I've ever heard him - he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it...'

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn't see.

'You heard James?" said Lupin in a strange voice.

'Yeah...' Face dry, Harry looked up. 'Why - you didn't know my dad, did you?'

'I - I did, as a matter of fact,' said Lupin. 'We were friends at Hogwarts.'"

-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 240-241 (1^st ed., paperback)

Chapter Fourteen - The Heart May Freeze

"Alright," Remus called, "I expect you to turn in that worksheet on atomic makeup the day after you get back from the Easter hols!" The noise of chairs being pushed back from desks and students hurrying for the door caught Harry by surprise, snatching his attention away from his Divination text (cleverly disguised by a false bookcover) to the class going on around him. Although he'd attended Muggle school up until his Hogwarts letter arrived, Harry had expected the upper forms at Muggle schools to somehow be quite different from Hogwarts. If one ignored the differences in curriculum, however, the school Remus taught at was very similar to the magical school where he'd spent a year teaching. Luckily, it wasn't Smeltings, the dread school which Uncle Vernon and Dudley had both attended.

Harry glanced up to find two tall, rather pretty girls, both wearing the navy plaid skirts and blue blazers of their school uniform, standing in front of the desk he'd borrowed for the period. "So, where are you from?" one asked. Harry glanced around for Remus in a panic, only to find him talking to a small group of students near the front of the room.

"Erm... go to school in Scotland," he muttered, trying not to meet the gaze of either girl.

One of them, the one who hadn't spoken before, gave a snort and sat on the edge of the desk. "You're Professor Lupin's nephew? You don't look much like him, you know. And what school in Scotland has red and yellow as its colours? That tie is simply horrid!"

Harry blushed and tried to cover up his Gryffindor colours. It was the only tie he owned. The other girl picked up on the thread of the conversation. "I agree, simply horrid! I much prefer our blue and white. Green wouldn't be so bad, I suppose, but red and yellow? Ugh! And what's that thing on your head? Did you fall down the stairs?"

Sinking down in his seat, he tried desperately to cover both the scar and the tie. It didn't really work. "Car crash," he hissed, reflexively spitting out the excuse he'd been told for the ten years he'd lived with the Dursleys before Hogwarts. "My parents died. I don't want to talk about it."

"You know, there are surgeons who could get rid of it." Harry didn't bother to figure out which one said that. He focused his attention on the door, desperately planning his escape route - if he ducked beneath the table and rolled into the aisle, taking a left after the third desk forward, he'd have a clean shot -

"Harry, are you ready to go? I promised Marguerite we'd stop by the office before going back to the flat." Harry ducked around the girl sitting on the desk. Remus was adjusting his glasses (worn purely for appearance's sake) and giving an amused glance in Harry's direction. Certainly, the sight of two girls practically draped across his desk wasn't the picture he wanted to present to the man. Blushing brightly, he tripped out of his seat, nearly ending up on his back end in the process ("Aww, how pathetic," said one of the girls), and made a mad dash for the werewolf.

Burying his hands in the pockets of his khakis, he ducked his head. "Please, Uncle Re, get me out of here before they come after me!" he hissed.

Remus laughed loudly, prompting a wince from Harry, before setting a hand on the boy's shoulder and leading him from the classroom and down the hall. "Gina McKay and Margaret Batik. They'd be Slytherins, trust me... I'm sorry I had to set you loose in the back, there, but I didn't think you'd understand much Chemistry."

"Not a bit," Harry admitted. "Where did you learn all of that? It certainly wasn't like Potions."

The older man gave a quick glance around the hallway to check for eavesdroppers before answering. "Sometimes, the parents of Muggle-born students want to have their children learn regular Muggle subjects on top of the Magical subjects. Well, your mum's parents were the only ones in my year who opted for the special tutoring, and your mum was bored with going alone... so she bullied me into joining her. She studied enough to be a Ravenclaw, I think... she was quite a bit like Hermione, only a bit more open when it came to making friends. She and Narcissa Thein and Severus Snape got on quite well for a while - until she started dating your dad, that is."

"Ew!" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Mum was friends with Snape?"

Remus gave another laugh. "As little as you'd like to believe it, he wasn't the same person then... he got in with a bad crowd. If it hadn't been for Lucius Malfoy, I have doubts whether he'd have ended up on the wrong side - no matter what his father had to say about it. Oh, here we are!" Remus pushed open a door marked 'Headmistress' and nudged Harry in before him.

The room was entirely unlike Headmaster Dumbledore's office back at Hogwarts. While Dumbledore's was round, stone, and full of portraits and oddities, this woman's was wallpaper and plaster, square, and neatly filed in steel drawers. A severe, older woman who reminded Harry of both McGonagall's strictness and poise, sat at the immaculately neat desk. She set aside a stack of papers as her guests entered. "Marguerite, this is my nephew, Harry! I told you I'd bring him in... Harry, this is Headmistress Marguerite Newton. She was kind enough to allow me the time off to care for you when you need me."

A bit more cheerfully than he actually felt, Harry offered a hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Headmistress."

The woman smiled kindly and took his hand. "And I as well, Harry... and please, call me Marguerite. You're hardly one of my students! Well, how's your holiday? Remus has told me that you'll not be staying with that horrid sister of your mum's anymore... I must admit, I was very close to calling the social services when I heard a few of his tales..."

Remus blushed brightly. "Marguerite, I did ask you not to mention -"

"Well, he's got to work through the trauma!" she exclaimed. "He's too thin by half, though tall enough to make a good Keeper... do you play on the football team at your school, Harry?"

"Er... forward," he answered hesitantly.

"Yes, of course! I'm a little busy, I'm afraid, Remus... Take him off and feed him up, Lupin! And have a very happy holiday, the both of you!" And with that, Harry found himself bustled out of the office in a flurry of handshakes.

After the door had shut, he sent a bemused glance at Remus. "Wow... she's..." He trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable adjective to describe the woman.

"Unique," Remus finished. "But, kind enough, and friends with Dumbledore. And, if Albus trusts her... that's enough for me. Hmm... fish and chips or Indian? I could do for a good curry, I think."

Harry grinned. "Chicken curry? With rice, and those fibery things?"

"Bamboo shoots? Yes. I'll drop you back home and make a stop at the take-away?" Remus ducked into the staff lounge and emerged carrying their jackets. Harry thought that Remus looked like one of the gangsters in the American movies that Dean liked to watch when he buttoned his trenchcoat over his suit and turned the collar up against the rain. He turned up the collar of his own jacket, well aware that the mop of messy black hair flopping all over the place ruined the look - but he didn't really care. For once, he just wanted to mirror his role model.

"Right, chicken curry with fibery things. I wish the house-elves would make curry for me." Harry tucked his Divination book into his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. "Well, Dobby might, if I asked."

Remus shook his head quickly. "No, no... house-elves can NOT make good Indian food. It's a well documented fact. James was craving a chickpea mandaloo one weekend and went to ask the elves... it was sort of orangey and mushy, and tasted absolutely horrid... I think we ended up planting it on the Slytherin table the next morning."

Harry followed Remus down to the Tube station and grinned. A vision of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle being forced to eat nothing but neon orange goo planted itself firmly in his mind's eye as they hopped the Tube over to Remus' flat. But then the image shifted. Crabbe was no longer at Hogwarts - no one knew what had happened to him - and Malfoy was no longer the sneering, smirking junior Death Eater they'd scorned.

And then another image flashed.

Voldemort towered over a woman, wearing a sinister sneer. She looked oddly familiar - dark hair, medium toned skin, dark eyes, probably of Indian descent. She cowered away from the wand he held directed at her.

Harry shivered and tried to shake the image. The potion he'd taken before leaving Hogwarts that morning was wearing off, and he certainly hadn't enough to last the weekend at this rate. It wasn't lasting as long as it used to.

Across the train, a brunette woman was rocking her child to sleep and a balding man, about Peter's size, was reading the Evening Register. Over the top of the everyday images lay the Vision.

"Your blood is pure, generations pure... keep it that way, join me," Voldemort hissed. "Resisting brings only death for you, and for your children."

He willed the vision away, but his will was never enough. Remus was singing quietly to himself, the Hogwarts School song to the tune of Danny Boy. The woman's scream echoed dischordantly as Voldemort leveled a kick in her side.

She curled to protect her stomach and ribs from attack. "Never," she wheezed, coughing blood. "They're at Hogwarts. Dumbledore will protect them."

Harry coughed as pain seared through his middle. He dug an old handkerchief from his pocket, where it waited at the ready, as the fits could strike at any moment. Coughing again, greatly aware of the spots of blood appearing on the white cloth, Harry noticed the woman across the way staring in horror. Remus had stopped singing and pulled Harry close. "Just hold on," he whispered, "we're almost home. You can lie down, there."

"That Mudblood loving fool can't protect them all. They walk to Hogsmeade... they fly on the Quidditch Pitch... they sneak into the Forbidden Forest for a midnight shag... No, they are hardly as safe as the old man would have you believe. He can keep Potter and Malfoy locked away, but not every student."Another savage kick was landed, this time at her back.

He winced, curling up against Remus on the bench and coughing desperately to breathe. The brunette woman was still staring, now clutching her baby to her chest, and the man reading the paper had set it aside to watch something much more interesting. Harry closed his eyes to block it out, focusing on the way Remus stroked his hair and rocked him and told him everything would be fine, even though he knew it wouldn't.

"I won't be the last to fight you! I'll not turn, my husband will not turn, and my daughters will not turn!" The woman's coughing grew more desperate. "Do you hear me? We will fight you!"

A wet drop landed on Harry's forehead. He glanced up between ragged breaths. Remus was crying, his eyes squeezed shut. "You're going to get better, Harry... I'm not going to let you go, too..."

Voldemort sneered, standing taller and pointing his wand down at the woman's heart. "You can fight... but you can't win... Avada Kedavra..." The shooting green light filled the room, and the woman stopped moving and breathing and froze in death...

And Harry let out a sob, as breath came back to him. The train had stopped, though Harry wasn't aware of when, and several passengers were filing off. Remus stood as well, slipping his arms around Harry to lever him to his feet and keep him standing. "Maida Vale... our stop, Harry..."

The man who had been reading the paper got up as well. "Do you need some help getting your son to hospital, sir? I'm a doctor. I can help." The man took Harry's other arm and helped him make it out of the station and onto the street.

"We've been," Remus said shortly. "Thank you, but he's being treated by the finest. They're doing everything they can."

The doctor nodded solemnly. "I understand. I'm... I'm very sorry. It's leukemia?"

Harry frowned. He wasn't that sick yet, was he? Remus seemed to take offense at it and pulled Harry close to him. "No, it's not, and he's going to get better! Look, thank you for your help, but we've got to go. Come on, Harry." And he found himself being pulled across the street to Remus' building.

"Uncle Re, he was only trying to help. And I am sick." He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. His hands were shaking horribly, though he tried desperately to calm them.

Remus supported Harry up the flights of stairs. "You're sick, but you don't have leukemia. You're going to get better. You are NOT going to die."

Harry winced, but stayed silent. It was a mystery why Remus hadn't accepted defeat yet, when it seemed as though everyone else had. Even Professor Trelawney had stopped predicting his death - it was too obvious even for her to point out. Poor Seamus had died twice by Bludger since the start of term and Dean should've been swallowed by the lake squid by now. Everyone but Harry had "fallen" to her predictions.

Remus opened the door and bustled Harry inside, getting him to lie on the sofa and tucking him in with a ratty blue afghan. Harry made a disgruntled noise, pushing himself up to a sitting postion. "I'm alright, Uncle Re, really. It's over for right now. He killed the woman. I'm fine."

The werewolf scowled and peered at Harry firmly. "Bruises?"

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his grey school jumper over his head. Remus made sure to see to every bruise before he'd pronounce Harry good enough to go. The tie that the girls at Remus' school had hated was tossed aside, along with the starched white shirt of his Hogwarts uniform.

The bruise on his stomach really was spectacular. It looked as though Voldemort had hit something rather important with the first kick - maybe a broken rib, which caused the blood? Remus was examining his back too. The second kick had probably left an equally horrid bruise around his lower spine. "Hmm... he's done a right job, this time. Hold still and let me fix you up a bit." He snatched his wand from the table and went about repairing skin and bone. "Not quite as nicely as Madame Pomfrey would manage, but you'll heal up alright..."

At least he'd stopped coughing blood. "I'm a little hungry, Uncle Re. I'd love that chicken curry." Harry pulled his shirt back on before Remus could pull a Mrs. Weasley and tuck him into bed for the rest of his holiday. "It's just down the street, right?"

Remus nodded. "Over by the Tube station and around the corner, the same place we went before Christmas. I'll be back in just a few minutes... you'll be alright? The number for my cell phone is on the board by the counter -"

Harry gave a snort. "YES, Uncle Re, I know! I'm fifteen. I'm quite old enough to sit alone in a flat while you run for take-away. I'm not an invalid yet."

Perhaps the last bit had been too much, as Remus winced and gave a low sigh. "I'll be right back... hang in there, kid." Remus ruffled his hair and slipped out the front door.

Harry waited only until Remus' footsteps disappeared before jumping unsteadily to his feet and making for the kitchen. He had only a few minutes to make another dose of the potion, but he certainly needed it. The spare cauldron was below the sink with the Muggle pots and pans. His hands shook as he drew the ingredients from his trunk and prepared them. Perhaps that was a bit too much of that root - but there wasn't time to start over, Remus would be back in only a few moments. Just a little more lacewing -

"Harry, where are you?" The door opened. Harry looked up, face burning in guilt and ladle shaking uncontrollably in his hand.

Remus stared back. He set the food aside and crossed the room, taking the ladle from Harry's hand in order to examine the potion. The little scrap of paper with the directions was enough to give the truth. "Harry," he whispered, surprisingly calm, "did Severus tell you that you were allowed to make this today?"

It was too late to cover it up now. "No," Harry admitted. He couldn't bear to meet Remus' eye. He knew he shouldn't... "but Uncle Re, I really need it. Without the potion -"

"Harry, how long have you been making this potion for yourself?" Remus cut in. His voice was still very soft, but with an overlying tension that even orphan Harry could understand - he was in very serious trouble.

"Since Christmas," Harry sighed. He didn't bother to add any protest. It wouldn't help.

Rather than bursting into yells, as Uncle Vernon would've, Remus merely pulled out a chair and sank into it, burying his face in his hands. "I am very disappointed in you... I want you to go and watch the telly for a bit. We have to talk, but I need to calm down first."

Harry gulped and shrank back a bit. Remus certainly looked calm. "But, Uncle Re, I -"

"NOW," Remus suddenly snapped, eyes flashing a very lupine yellow before fading to amber once more. Harry nodded slowly and backed toward the door. Perhaps waiting for the werewolf to calm down was the best idea, after all.

The programme flickered off as Remus slid the remote from Harry's hand and turned off the power to the telly. Harry shrunk back into the pillows a bit, very aware that an angry werewolf could be dangerous, even in human form. He'd known the potion was dangerous, but he'd take the danger over the visions any day.

Remus sat next to Harry on the sofa and set the remote aside. "Severus did warn you about the effects of the potion, correct?"

Harry had expected yelling, not questions. "Yes..." he admitted. He looked down at his hands, trying not to feel as guilty as he did.

"He told you that you could easily become addicted?"

Red was rising in his cheeks. How was it that Remus could make him feel terrible, when Uncle Vernon only made him angry? "Yes... but the visions, Uncle Re, I can't deal with them -"

"You were told that you'd be allowed to use the potion when it was safe. Taking it every day is not safe," Remus snapped. He then took a deep breath, reaching over to take Harry's trembling hands. "When did your hands start shaking like this? They weren't doing this in September."

"Halloween was the first time I spilt a cup at dinner because of it."

Remus nodded slowly. "Did you have the potion that night?"

Harry frowned and thought back to it. He and Ron and Hermione had all wanted to go to the big Halloween Feast, and Harry was afraid he'd have a vision in the midst of it. He'd just had a dose of the potion a few days before, but Snape had consented just for the night... but Harry had stolen a little extra to make it to the end of the week... "It got worse as the week went on. I had the potion more than once that week."

"And you didn't tell anyone about the side effects?" Remus frowned, taking Harry's chin in hand and turning his face to force him to meet his gaze. "Harry, that was very dangerous... just how many nights did you have the potion that week... and how many did Severus actually give you the potion for?"

"He gave me enough for two, Halloween and a few days before it." Harry gulped, trying to pull his chin away. "And... I took enough for the rest of the week... three days on top of what he gave me..."

Remus winced, letting go of Harry and sinking back against the cushions of the sofa. "Harry..." he gave a low sigh, rubbing at his face distractedly. "It sounds just like what your dad or Sirius would've done, but it was so dangerous... and the trembling just got worse from there? Until you can barely write..."

"But Madame Pomfrey said it was just a part of the visions, that they were affecting my motor skills -" Harry jumped in, but Remus shook his head.

"She didn't know you'd started taking more doses than you were allowed. It's a side effect of withdrawal from the Hyupnos Potion. You haven't overdosed, have you? Taken too much in a day?" Remus demanded. He sat up again, turning to peer closely at Harry.

Harry shifted away slightly. Ron had warned him, that day... "Christmas Eve. Professor Snape gave me a dose, but I'd already taken one. I didn't know -!"

Remus grabbed his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. "You should've thought about it. Isn't it dangerous to overdose on regular Muggle things? Potions are even more dangerous! Harry, I know people... I knew people who died from doing stupid things like that!" He sighed again, standing from the sofa. "We're going back to Hogwarts. You can't stay here for the weekend, Harry."

He shot to his feet, jaw dropping. "But - Uncle Re, I promise I won't do it again, we had to get permission and everything - please don't make me go back yet -"

"Harry, this is dangerous! You've got to tell Professor Dumbledore what's happened. You're addicted to it; there's no way you can't be... you'll not be trusted with such a dangerous potion again for a long time, you know. Doing this was stupid and dangerous. That overdose on Christmas could've killed you." Remus turned and stormed toward the bedroom. "Come get your clothes. We'll take the Tube to Diagon Alley and floo to Hogwarts."

Harry let out half a sob, inching for the door. His hands kept shaking. He could've died, just from a stupid potion? Oh, what a mistake he'd made... and what a punishment he'd receive.

More visions... and nothing to stop them...