The Proud Man's Contumely

Chapter Three: What a Noble Mind is Here Overthrown

Harry climbed the stairs to the room he had shared with Ron the previous summer, and so assumed he be again this year. Though, he fancied someone had added a few more steps to the flight since then. When he finally reached it, the door to the room was ajar, and so he pushed it open without knocking.

Ron and Hermione both sat very close together on Ron's bed. As of yet unnoticed, Harry watched as they cast doe-eyed looks at one another. Not meaning to interrupt, he politely waited to be noticed, but was soon thoroughly nauseated. He finally, tactfully cleared his throat. When Hermione noticed Harry in the doorway she gasped and both of them pulled the hands that lay between them very quickly into their laps, staring, mouths slack, back at Harry. Not surprised in the least, but highly amused by their reaction, Harry gave them a quirky smile.

"Well, don't all rush to greet me at once or anything," he said teasingly. Hermione was the first to recover from the shock of his sudden appearance, and she vaulted from the bed toward him.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, flinging herself into a hug that quite took Harry's breath. Ron, who didn't appear to approve of Hermione's enthusiasm, rose as well, delivering a friendly slap to Harry's back.

"We thought we heard something downstairs earlier," he said, grinning. "But we just figured it was Tonks reporting in." Harry chuckled at that, confessing his earlier clumsiness. Meanwhile, Hermione had recovered her sense of propriety and taken a few steps back, yet eyed Harry with a curious expression.

"What?" asked Harry, thinking from the look she was giving him that he might have had a boggie or something and swiped at his nose.

"Harry, you look...different," she said wonderingly. Harry's brow furrowed. He and Ron both looked down the length of his person, and then at each other. When Ron shrugged they both turned and looked inquiringly at Hermione.

"Different? How?"

"I'm not sure. You just look...good," she finished in slightly breathless awe. Harry blushed crimson. Ron toed the floor, tossing grudging looks up at Hermione who, after an uncomfortable silence, shook her head as if to regain her senses and cleared her throat.

"So. H-how've you been?" she asked quickly with a forced smile, trying to gloss over the awkward moment. Harry shrugged morosely and she nodded. Another brief silence ensued.

"Well what are we all just standing around for?" Ron said overloudly. Taking their cue, the three shuffled over to the beds to have a seat. But when Hermione chose Harry's instead of Ron's, Ron rushed past him looking very put out, and planted himself beside her, leaving no room for Harry himself. Ron then gave Hermione a critical look and she bit her lip contritely. Harry waited for whatever was passing between them to run its course, and when he deemed the coast was clear he plopped down across from them on Ron's bed. As if a spell had been lifted, everyone seemed to cheer considerably, expressing how nice it was to be together again.

"Say!" Ron ventured, wasting no time after all the standard niceties had been exchanged. "Did you get a chance to try your birthday present?" Harry frowned and shook his head. "You don't happen to have it on you, do you?!" Ron asked, practically bouncing in his eagerness.

"Oh. No, I left it behind," Harry explained apologetically. " I kind of left in a hurry." Ron was heart-broken, but appeared to understand.

"Fred and George caught me at it," he said dejectedly. "I haven't had a straw in over two days." He groaned. Hermione, suddenly realizing what it was he was on about, rolled her eyes and heaved a very exasperated 'Oh not that again.' But Ron just smirked and waved his hand dismissively, leaning in toward Harry as though she was no longer allowed to share in the conversation.

"It's a real shame you didn't get to try it, mate. I told Fred and George we'd be more than happy to help them test it again. Though they didn't seem too keen on the idea. I guess you'll just have to wait until it hits the market."

"Ron, really!" Hermione scolded, refusing to be shut out. "If we're lucky it never will hit the market. And you shouldn't be encouraging them!" she added, crossing her arms. "I ought to tell Mrs. Weasley."

"You don't dare!" said Ron, sounding thoroughly scandalized.

"Oh don't I? It's for their own good!" she said defiantly. "They're going to land themselves in Azkaban with this nonsense." Harry followed the exchange with mounting intrigue. Obviously the two of them had been round and round about this before.

"What's up?" he asked. It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes.

"Hermione thinks," he began in a way that said very clearly that whatever she thought he considered to be completely ludicrous, "that Fred and George are making cock..."

"Coke!" Hermione corrected, blushing furiously.

"...Whatever, some muggle drug, and mixing it with sugar." He laughed. "Isn't that a lark?"

"Er...well, actually, Ron..." Harry said with an apologetic look. From what'd he'd gathered about the mysterious stuff, it sounded reasonable, and certainly would surprise him.

"See!" Hermione needled.

"Oh, not you too!" Ron heaved an exasperated sigh. "You two just can't accept that this is going to be the Weasley's big break."

"Big break right into prison," Hermione snapped. Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He was definitely staying out of this one.

"Well, I think they're brilliant," Ron said matter-of-factly, "and they don't need a muggle drug to make money. So there."

"I happen to agree. But apparently someone needs to tell them that!" Ron and Hermione glared at each other. Harry decided it was time for a change of subject.

"So..." he said loudly and got completely ignored. "...What's the story with the portrait downstairs? Or rather, the missing portrait downstairs." You'd have thought he'd just suggested sitting down and having a nice, quiet tea with the Dark Lord. Their faces fell slack and, slowly, they turned to face Harry. Ron quite looked as though someone had died. "What?" Harry asked. Hermione glanced nervously at Ron as if hoping he had an answer. When none came she took a deep breath and seemed to be trying to decide where to start.

"Professor Lupin hasn't quite been himself lately," she began in a measured voice. Harry didn't exactly need to be told this, it was all too apparent. Though, obviously there was much more to it than he had previously thought.

"Yeah," Ron added hesitantly, "he didn't take it too well when...well, after that night...you know." Indeed Harry did, and could definitely empathize. So what was the big deal?

"So?," he asked when they didn't volunteer more.

"He's been kind of a loose canon," Ron said, but stopped again. Hermione sighed and decided it best to take it from the beginning.

"They'd been fixing up the house, cleaning out closets and wardrobes, taking things off the wall. Except for the tapestry in the parlour, and the painting in this room," she said, gesturing to Phineas' empty frame, "they'd managed to get everything else down."

"But Mrs. Black was being stubborn," Ron said, suddenly deciding to be helpful. "Wouldn't come down for nothing, and throwing a bloody fit whenever they tried something. But when Hermione got here, she dug up this really great removal charm from the library."

At the mention of the library, Hermione became instantly excited. "Oh, yes! The library here is fascinating, Harry. You should definitely go see it. There are just dozens of rare and one of a kind books, all of them very old. Mostly they're on the Dark Arts, but several are on lesser known charms and even potions!" She was nearly breathless at the mention.

"Hermione practically lives there," Ron said, rolling his eyes in feigned exasperation and giving her a playful smile. "Even though we aren't really supposed to go in there."

"No one said we were forbidden," Hermione interjected, highly offended by the insinuation that she was openly disregarding the rules.

"Lupin and Dumbledore frown on it 'cause of all the Dark stuff in there," Ron explained. "But you know Hermione. Keeping her away from a library is about as easy as prying butterbeer away from a disgraced house elf," he finished with a wink to her. Hermione clearly didn't approve of the analogy, but her glower was insincere. Their blatant flirting was beginning to make Harry squeamish. "She's found loads of great books on hexes and curses and jinxes," Ron continued.

"Mostly on how to counter them," she added as a disclaimer.

"They'll be great for when we start back with DA," Ron finished excitedly.

Harry shook his head at him. "There's no DA anymore. Dumbledore made me promise we wouldn't meet again."

Ron looked almost insulted. "Wot?"

Harry shrugged. "He said he's found a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that knows their stuff."

"Well," Ron said sulkily, "he's said that before. And Hermione's already snuck them out. Couldn't hurt anything if the three of us had a look at them."

"I agree," said Harry, "and this is all really fascinating and everything, but you're avoiding my question. What happened to Mrs. Black?" Knowing they'd been caught, Ron and Hermione dropped the pretence and finally attempted to just come out with it, blurting the story in turns so that Harry almost became dizzy.

"Professor Lupin tried to use the charm I'd found," Hermione started out, "but it didn't work..."

"...Sure made the old bat angry though. She started calling Lupin all sorts of dirty names. I thought he was taking it all pretty well actually. Prolly used to it by now. But then..." Ron couldn't bring himself to continue and glanced at Hermione who took the baton, though looked very uncomfortable.

"She...Well she started to say some very mean things about...about Sirius." She whispered his name much like she had once whispered Voldemort's, which slightly irritated Harry.

"Lupin just kinda snapped," Ron informed him, sort of dreamily as if lost in the memory of it. "He set her on fire. Just like that, as if he's just been waiting for an excuse or something. Didn't say a word either, just stood there and watched her scream and burn with this blank expression on his face." Harry sat heavily back on the bed, his concern for his newly appointed guardian returned with renewed force. Hermione sat looking thoughtfully at the floorboards. "Almost burned the whole place down," Ron continued. "Well, at least it took care of the problem I guess," he said with a short, half-hearted laugh. "Of course, no one said a word to him about it. We've just been giving him a lot of space. Especially after the Kreacher Incident." He slowly shook his head. Harry waited in vain for further explanation.

"Well?" he asked peevishly. "Are you going to explain the 'Kreacher Incident' or not?" Ron woke from his thoughts and looked at him, mouth gaping.

"You don't know what happened to Kreacher!" he said. It wasn't a question, thus confirming Ron's claim to the title of Master of the Obvious. How the hell was Harry supposed to know any of this? Hermione looked even more disquieted than before. Her eyes misted over and when she spoke her voice quavered.

"Professor Lupin's been a bit..."

"Sociopathic?" Ron offered. "Homicidal?" Clearly he wasn't as adversely effected by the 'Kreacher Incident' as she was.

"Ron!" she snapped, completely horrified. "The Professor has been under a great deal of stress lately," she vehemently insisted to Harry, though sounded as if the attempted justification was for her own sake rather than his. Hermione then fell silent, battling tears, and Ron looked at her imploringly, as if asking for permission to elaborate. Harry was on tenterhooks. Finally, out of utter frustration, he slammed his fists down on his knees and shouted at them.

"You two are infuriating, you know that! Will someone please just spit it out? Why is it no one can ever just give me a straight answer!?"

Hermione's long threatening tears finally fell unfettered. "I suppose you might as well go ahead and tell him," she hollered at Ron. "After all, he'll probably be just as happy about this atrocity as you are. You're heartless! You know that? Both of you!" And with that she stood huffily and rushed from the room. Harry watched her go, not just a little upset by the condemnation. After all, he didn't even know what in hell they were taking about, and didn't feel he quite deserved to be called names for his presumed reaction to news he hadn't even heard yet. That Ron didn't follow her to try and comfort her, indeed, that he seemed quite unaffected by the display, told Harry this must have been an all too frequent occurrence. Once her sobs faded from earshot, Harry and Ron leaned in toward each other conspiratorially. Ron didn't need to be prompted.

"So what happened was, since...Sirius (God, this whispering thing was going to seriously start getting on Harry's nerves) was the last Black, Kreacher wasn't bound to the house anymore. Little sodder musta known he was in for it, 'cause he disappeared that night. Prolly ran to the Malfoys," he added with a disgusted sneer. "But Lupin tracked him down. Supposedly it was the first thing he did when he got back. He searched the house, and when he couldn't find him anywhere he walked right straight back out the door to go look for him."

Harry drank in Ron's narrative and scooted to the edge of the mattress, eager to hear what he was sure to be news of Kreacher's gruesome and most horrible death. God how he would have liked to have been the one to have given it to him.

"He was gone for days," Ron went on. "They said when he came back he looked like Death. He wasn't around to take his potion, see, so he's had a full blown transformation. And just running 'round the countryside, can you believe it? I'm surprised Dumbledore just let that slide. Anyway. He walked in after, like, a week and he had Kreacher's head, or what was left of it, tucked under his arm," Ron gushed, confirming Harry's assumption. "It's mounted on the wall of his room." Ron said this as though very impressed by it. Harry sat back with a gratified smile spreading across his face. He could certainly understand now why Hermione had been so upset. And she was right, he was tickled pink about the 'atrocity' and so forgave her presumptuousness. Ron nodded at Harry, his eyebrows raise, apparently very pleased with the effect his story had had. Harry thought about the irony of the Kreacher being mounted on Remus' wall. But as happy as he was to learn of the little cretin's untimely demise, the fact that his usually quiet and reserved mentor had been driven to such a violent extreme disturbed Harry very much. As if reading his thoughts, Ron spoke mournfully.

"Lupin's been a bit distant since that. He locked himself in with Buckbeak for days. Wouldn't talk to anybody." At the mention of Buckbeak Harry sat a little straighter.

"How is Buckbeak, by the way? Do you think he'd mind if we went up to visit him?" Harry asked hopefully. Ron, who wasn't nearly so well acquainted with the animal, shrugged animatedly.

"If you could get there. But you'd be hard put to find him."

"Huh?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

"Lupin's set him free," Ron said, once again as if this was something that Harry ought to have known. Harry was beginning to wonder how long his patience was going to hold out. "Since the danger of him getting killed by the Ministry is passed really, Lupin sent him back to the Dark Forest with Hagrid. And boy was he thrilled." Harry could just see the gruff looking half-giant with a goofy smile, his small beetle-black eyes all a-twinkle with unshed tears at finally being able to take his old friend back home. Ron shrugged.

"Lupin said Sirius would have wanted it that way," he said quietly. "...He said he wished he could have done the same for Sirius...y'know, given him freedom...while he was still alive."

After that comment, neither of the boys felt much like talking anymore.

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