Who to trust

Lily bit her lip and pondered the question as Professor McGonagall asked about an incantation. Before she had properly formulated a response, Hermione's hand shot into the air. To Lily's surprise, she had the exact textbook answer.

"Nice job," Lily said to Hermione after the class, catching up to the girl as they left the room. "I'm impressed...Transfiguration was never one of my better subjects, I'm afraid. I can't tell if you're just loads smarter than I ever was or if you've just memorised the textbooks."

Hermione actually smiled, the first time Lily could remember her smiling at her. "A little of both, I'd imagine. I've always had an above average IQ."

"What do you have next?" Lily asked, interested.

Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable, but said, "Er...Harry and Ron have Divination and I have Arithmancy."

"Do you mind if I tag along with you?" Lily asked. "I could never stand Divination...Professor Miller was such an old coot."

"I couldn't stand it either," Hermione confided. "I started it my third year, but I dropped it. Professor Trelawney is so...so...she's such an old fraud! And she wouldn't stop predicting Harry's death. Honestly, it got old after a while..."

Lily laughed. "Miller used to do that too. Remus--I mean Professor Lupin--was her favourite victim...he was smaller than most of the rest of us. He nearly did die, though--he had a nervous breakdown. I remember James and Sirius and Peter quit Divination that same class, after Sirius delivered a few choice words. I remember wishing I had half their guts."

"Yeah, there have been times I've wanted to disembowel Harry and Ron too," Hermione said deadpan. Lily laughed.

Lily wasn't sure what her husband was up to; probably off with Sirius. Lily had kept mostly to herself, figuring her husband needed time to bond with their son, but she had finally ventured out and asked a couple of teachers if she could sit in on their classes. Most had rather grudgingly agreed. It had been years since she'd been a student, but she was amazed at how it all came back to her.

As the Arithmancy bell ended, Lily again caught up with Hermione. "You're not going to lunch?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't bother with lunch anymore."

Lily chuckled. "I never did either when I was at Hogwarts. If I didn't spend my lunches in the library, I spent them out by the lake."

Hermione looked interested in spite of herself. "Doing what?"

"Usually practising my harmonica," Lily answered with a smile. "Sometimes my best friend and I would do something like play chess or checkers."

Hermione's eyebrows went up. "You play the harmonica?"

"Mmm-hmm. 'S what I played in the band."

"What band?"

Lily chuckled. "Sirius and Rem--Lupin didn't tell you? Originally they called it just the Marauders--it was Sirius and James and Peter and Remus. At first it was kind of a joke...James was goofing around on the guitar one day and Sirius started drumming out a rhythm. They got really good after a while...one day they started playing some American song...oh, what was it? Something about a Texas fiddle...anyway, my best friend Morrigan went upstairs and grabbed her violin, then started playing along. They were so impressed they let her join. Peter jokingly called the band 'Four Flatfoots and a Floozy'...he was lucky Morrie didn't knock his teeth out. A couple weeks later I pulled out my harmonica and joined in with a song James was playing--'Red River Valley', I think--and I joined the band too. After that they called it the Roving Marauders. It was pretty interesting."

"I can imagine." Hermione hesitated, then glanced up at Lily. "Mrs. Potter..."

"I wish you'd call me Lily."

"Lily," Hermione tried again. "Do you...I mean, I hope you don't mind me asking, but...do you know how you came back?"

Lily sighed and leaned against the column. They had walked outside and stood on the steps, looking out across the grounds. "I don't know, Hermione, but I have my suspicions. And I suspect that it was dark magic. I was taught, all my life, that no spell could reawaken the dead. I remember when my fourth year Defence teacher told us that...I asked about necromancy."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That never occurred to me. Do you think...?"

"Well, no. See, necromancy brings people back, but completely at the mercy of their reanimators. James and I still have our own memories, our own personalities. But my teacher did mention that dark wizards were rumoured to have created a spell that would bring people back for a singular purpose." Lily looked down at her shoes. "I'm just afraid that purpose was--"

"To kill Harry," Hermione completed softly. "I found that one while I was researching...I was just hoping that wasn't it."

Lily gave her a half-smile. "I'm glad he's got you, you and Ron. He needs friends like you."

Hermione smiled back. "Thanks." She hesitated. "You know, I...I wasn't sure this morning that I trusted you. I'm still not sure I trust Mr. Pot--James. But...you know, I think I like you after all."

Lily laughed a bit. "Good. I was hoping you would...eventually. I hated my mother-in-law when I first met her."

"We're not married," Hermione said swiftly, turning slightly crimson.

"Neither was I, when I met Hope," Lily answered a bit wickedly. "Hey, do you play any instruments?"

Hermione nodded, still a little pink. "The guitar. That's it, though. And I'm not really any good."

"I doubt that." Lily sat down on the stone step and fished her harmonica out of her pocket. At first she wondered how it had got there, but then she remembered sticking it in her pocket just before she ran out of the room with her baby--she'd been playing a lullaby. "Huh. How about that?" Eyes twinkling slightly, she wiped the mouthpiece off, raised it to her mouth, and began to play a soft, lilting melody. It soared over the treetops and danced across the lake, reflected off the mountains and reverberated around them.

"That was beautiful," Hermione said softly, almost reverently, when the last strains had died away. "What was it?"

"A folk song called Shenandoah. It came with my first harmonica." Lily studied the thin silver bar. "This one's chromatic--it'll play everything. I won an amateur contest with it when I was seventeen."

Hermione smiled. "That's neat." She settled back and looked up. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but...what's the last thing you remember?"

"Before I woke up in the graveyard, you mean?" Lily asked gently. Hermione nodded. "Harry. I remember Harry. Because the last thing I heard was Harry start screaming."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"I understand. If I'd just met somebody who was supposed to have been dead, I'd probably have asked them what the last thing they remembered was too." Lily studied Hermione's face. "Tell me honestly, Hermione. Do you love my boy?"

"More than I thought was humanly possible," Hermione said softly. "He means everything to me."

"Good." Lily dropped her chin to her hand and stared out across the grounds. "Then that's all that matters."

~~~

"Remus--eh, Professor Lupin?"

Remus looked up from the essay he was grading, raising his eyebrows slightly at his erstwhile friend. "Yes, James, can I help you?"

James stepped into the room. "Have you seen my wife anywhere?"

"Yes, she and Hermione are down by the lake," Remus answered, going back to the essay. "They seem to be getting along pretty well."

James nodded. "What about Sirius?"

There was a snorting and a scuffling, and a large black dog scrambled out from under the desk, looking up at Remus accusingly.

"Sorry, Sirius," Remus told it. "Go back to sleep."

Sirius shook himself crossly and curled up at Remus's feet again. Within seconds, both men could hear his snuffling snores.

James sauntered over and picked up the first of the essays. "What are these?"

"Third year essays," Remus said shortly. "Hinkypunks."

James scowled. "This one looks like the victim of essay-murder."

Remus looked up at him in amusement. "Like yours looked any better when McGonagall got through with them?"

"True," James chuckled. He set the essay down. "I still say Sirius's were worse, though."

"Oh, no contest there," Remus agreed. He picked up another one of the essays. "This one could almost be his reincarnation...if he was dead, that is. I mean, about the only word he spelled right was his name...and even that he forgot one of the letters and had to squeeze it in."

James laughed. "Somehow, this is where I thought you'd end up." He paused. "Not where I thought I'd end up, though."

Remus sighed. "I don't know what you're looking for, James. Reassurance? Or a solution? I'm not a miracle worker...I can barely solve my own problems."

"No, I'm just...I don't know," James sighed, stepping back. "I don't know who I am, I don't know why I'm here...and I don't know what to do about it."

"Don't have a heart attack or anything," Remus said dryly, "but have you ever considered doing research?"

"I wouldn't know where to start."

"Ask Madame Pince. Or ask Hermione Granger, she's got a catalogue of all the library books in that head of hers." Remus shook his head. "I'm sorry, James, but I've really got to finish grading these essays."

"Sorry." James turned. "I guess I'll leave you to your work." He paused. "Just like always." With that, he left.

Remus bit his lip hard. The remark had quite a sting to it. James had often teased him about his studious habits when they were younger. At one point in the fifth year, James had been urging him to work with them on some prank or other. Remus had responded with, "In a minute, let me finish my work." Impatient, James had planned the prank without him...then blamed Remus when they got caught. James had yelled for ten minutes while Remus cowered, then refused to speak to him for almost a month. Sirius had tried to reconcile them, but James wasn't having any of it. The Marauders had already been Animagi for quite some time, but James wouldn't even come down to the Shrieking Shack that month and even managed to prevent Sirius and Peter from going. The transformation had been hellish, and on the third night it had been so bad that Remus had been in pain for some time afterwards. A week later, while visiting Hogsmeade with his girlfriend, someone had slipped poison into Remus's drink. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was being very dizzy, then of collapsing into Shannon's arms while she screamed his name. He had come very close to dying. It was then, and only then, that James had reconciled with him.

Tears pricked at Remus's eyes. All his emotions came to a head at once. He was exhausted. He missed Shannon more than he had in years, missed the carefree days when all he had to worry about was next week's Quidditch match or next month's transformation, missed the easy companionship of his youth. He was scared for Harry, scared for Sirius, scared for Hogwarts, scared for the wizarding world. Abandoning his essays, he buried his face in his hands.

Remus felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Sirius's concerned face. "Don't let him get to you, Rem," he said softly. "It's going to be okay."

"I just...I don't know," Remus sighed. "I think I could handle this...if it wasn't for Harry. He deserves a chance to get to know his parents...but I'm so scared for him. What if they hurt him?"

"He'll be okay. We'll take care of him." Sirius smiled gently. "After all, that's what family is for, right? To protect you."

Remus felt his heart lighten. He and Sirius were Harry's family. The three of them were as close as they could be. Harry trusted them, he knew he could depend on them for whatever he needed. And they would protect him from whatever happened. "Yeah, Siri. That's what family is for."

"Professor?"

Remus jumped, startled. Sirius turned back into a dog with a pop. Neville stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Yes, Neville, can I help you?" Remus asked, trying to still the frantic beating of his heart.

Neville stepped into the room, holding out a sheaf of parchment. "I redid that essay for you. I would have waited, but..." He grimaced sheepishly. "I was afraid I'd lose it."

Remus smiled. Of all his students, Neville was one of his favourites--quiet and unassuming, unsure of himself, but quite a good student for all that. "Thank you, Neville."

Sirius poked his head out from behind the desk. Neville noticed him and smiled. "Is that your dog, Professor?"

"In a sense," Remus said guardedly. "He really belongs to himself."

Neville held out his hand. Sirius sniffed it, then allowed the boy to scratch his ears. "What's his name?"

Remus couldn't for the life of him remember the name Sirius had told Harry to call him by, and he knew better than to give out Sirius's spirit name, so he said the first dog name that came into his head. "Sprocket."

"Like the dog on Fraggle Rock? Nice name." Neville smiled as Sirius wagged his tail. "I used to love that show when I was little, before Gran got rid of the television."

Remus watched them, feeling a little more relaxed. "You like dogs, Neville?"

Neville nodded. "I always wanted one, but Gran said no. She doesn't like animals...I only got to keep Trevor because Great-uncle Algie gave him to me."

Remus smiled. "Well, thank you for the essay."

"No problem. See you later, Professor."

Neville left the classroom. Sirius watched him go, then transformed back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Rem...I should've been more careful."

"I don't think you need to worry much about Neville...he's a brave lad, but he's got a big heart." Remus ran a hand through his greying hair, suddenly looking even more tired than before. "It could have been a lot worse, that's for sure. If you don't mind, Sirius, I've got to finish these essays."

~~~

Sirius had stayed in Remus's office the first day of classes, but it he had apparently developed claustrophobia. He'd always hated being cooped up and he'd almost suffocated, even though the office wasn't all that small. Second day, Remus had propped a window open, but even that hadn't been enough. Finally, Remus had allowed him to leave the office if he promised to stay in his dog form. Sometimes he ran around outside; other times he explored the castle, going places he hadn't been in years.

One afternoon, he prowled into a Charms classroom. The teachers had all been informed of who he was and that he was innocent, but most of the students were unaware of either of those facts. Flitwick looked up and said kindly, "If you stay, I warn you that I have a class coming in a minute."

Sirius nodded and curled up in the back. He must have fallen asleep; when he woke up, Flitwick was delivering a lecture.

"Mind your diction, mind your movements," he was squeaking. "It's often the little things that make a difference. You know, they say that a single butterfly, beating its wings in China, can start a hurricane on the other side of the world."

Sirius's sensitive hearing picked up the rustle of a student raising its hand. "Pardon me, Professor," a soft, familiar voice said. Sirius picked up his head and turned in the direction of the serious, dark-haired student in the back row. "But how does the butterfly know when to beat its wings?"

Flitwick pondered the question. Sirius remembered Flitwick saying the same thing to his own fifth year class; never before had anyone asked a question like that. "I suppose," he said finally, his squeaky voice unusually sober, "I suppose that the butterfly has to simply beat its wings and hope for the best. Sometimes, one simply has to trust that Nature knows its own ways and its own timing."

Sirius caught up to Harry after the class and nudged his hand. Harry looked down, then smiled faintly. "Hello, there," he said softly, scratching his ears.

Neville caught up to him. "Oh, you've met Sprocket?"

"Sprocket?" Harry repeated.

Neville nodded. "That's what Professor Lupin said his name was, anyway...I saw him yesterday."

"Oh, yeah. We go way back, right, Sprocket?" Harry said. Sirius wagged his tail, detecting the faint hint of amusement in his godson's tone. Harry almost smiled again and scratched Sirius's ears fondly. Sirius wagged his tail harder, then nudged Harry and licked his hand lovingly.

Neville grinned, then glanced around and dropped his voice. "That's right. He's your godfather, isn't he?"

Harry and Sirius both froze. The hackles on the back of Sirius's neck rose; he growled softly.

"It's okay," Harry said quickly, resting a hand on Sirius's head. "How did you...?"

"I sort of...saw him yesterday. When I stopped by to drop off my revised essay. He turned back pretty fast...I just didn't say anything, and Lupin seemed so relieved that I let him think I hadn't seen." Neville looked a little uncertain. "I wouldn't turn him in, Harry. I mean...I know how I'd feel if my godfather was accused of something he didn't do."

"You knew?" Harry asked, surprised. Sirius, too, was startled.

Neville shrugged. "I guessed as much...I hear and see more than people give me credit for. I sleepwalk, too--that night Siri--er, Sprocket here--showed up our third year, when you wound up in the hospital wing, I woke up suddenly just down the hall and heard you yelling at Snape about how he was innocent. I know Snape thought he wasn't, but I respect your opinion a lot more than I do Snape's."

A grin tugged at Harry's lips. "Thanks, Neville. I appreciate that."