Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

That evening was Harry's fourth Patronus session with Remus. Preoccupied though he was with thoughts of Sirius and the Dementors' kiss, he could see that Harry was frustrated by the fact that so many weeks on, he was still only managing to produce an indistinct, silvery cloud rather than a true Patronus. Remus on the other hand was by no means disappointed.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," he told Harry over some chocolate after his third attempt of the evening, during which the Boggart-Dementor had again simply hung between them, neither advancing nor retreating in the face of the Patronus. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?" he added reasonably.

Harry scowled. "I thought a Patronus would -- charge the Dementors down or something," he said, flopping into a chair. "Make them disappear --"

"The true Patronus does that," Remus admitted, sitting down on the desk next to him. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time." He tried to think of something to say that would cheer Harry up. "If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground." OK, that doesn't sound very confidence-inspiring.

"You said it's harder when there are loads of them," Harry pointed out sullenly.

"I have complete confidence in you," Remus said, giving Harry a smile which he hoped reflected that confidence. Actually he was fairly certain the boy could hold his own against as many as three real Dementors, so long as help was near at hand and quick in coming. He did not anticipate any further Dementor-induced near-fatal accidents on the Quidditch pitch; Dumbledore's wrath should keep them at bay. But instead of giving voice to doubts and halfhearted reassurances that might damage Harry's confidence, he thought a distraction was in order.

"Here -- you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won't have tried it before --" He reached over and pulled two bottles of Butterbeer from his briefcase. He had loved the stuff as a boy and hoped Harry would as well.

"Butterbeer!" exclaimed Harry, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"

Remus gave Harry a look. He had actually suspected that Harry had been sneaking into Hogsmeade with his friends since the day he had been unable to find him in the castle, but Hogwarts was such a sprawling place; Harry could have been anywhere. Remus had not liked to assume based on so little evidence.

"Oh --" Harry was saying, quickly and badly covering for his slip. "Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade."

Not half the liar James and Sirius were when they were caught, Remus thought, raising his eyebrows and trying hard not to smile. "I see," he said at last. "Well -- let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher ..." Though if I didn't, I'd be one of the few who don't. Doesn't everyone favour their own old house?

Harry clinked his bottle against Remus's and then drank, looking thoughtful.

I should really say something to him about sneaking off to Hogsmeade. After all, it could be dangerous for him. He was pretty sure Harry has James's Invisibility Cloak, but if he knew about that, so did Sirius. Remus drank his own Butterbeer still gazing thoughtfully at Harry who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Still, if I confront him about that, it might make him nervous. I do want him to trust me, he acknowledged his weakness.

"What's under a Dementor's hood?" Harry asked suddenly, interrupting Remus's thoughts.

Remus himself had been thinking about just that earlier in the day and the truth was, he did not honestly know the answer. "Hmmm ... well," he began carefully, "the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon." God, I've gone into "Professor mode", thought Remus. All technical, emotionless answers. I sound almost as bad as old Professor Seagram.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"They call it the Dementors' Kiss," he continued, pursing his lips and suppressing a shudder. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and -- and suck out his soul." His voice trembled and cracked at the end and he pressed his lips together, hoping Harry had not noticed, and not trusting himself to continue right away. His mind was once again filled with the image of Sirius helpless, terrified, at the mercy of one of those cold things, the light dying in his eyes.

But Harry was too busy trying to wipe sprayed Butterbeer off himself to notice the lapse in his professor's usually-calm demeanor. "What -- they kill --?" he was sputtering.

"Oh, no," Remus said, forcing iron control back into his voice. Did part of me want to talk to Harry about this? "Much worse than that," he continued. "You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no ..." he grasped for a word. "Anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just --" God, get me through this without breaking down, "... exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone for ever ... lost."

He took a drink of Butterbeer then to gain a moment to collect himself. Does Sirius still have a soul to lose? he wondered, then continued recklessly, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

Harry looked stunned. Why did I tell him that? Remus chided himself. Do I need someone to talk to about Sirius so badly that I'm ready to pour my heart out to a thirteen-year-old boy? And one who will never understand, in any case. Or is it only that I want to hear his reaction?

"He deserves it." Harry's voice was heavy with emotion.

"You think so?" Remus asked, consciously trying to keep emotion out of his own voice. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"Yes." Harry's tone was defiant. "For ... for some things ..."

What was I hoping he'd say? Remus thought, staring at the boy who was blushing and looking at his shoes. He obviously knows about enough of it to hate Sirius. And he'd hate me too for anything I could tell him to try to change his mind. After all, Sirius is the reason he has no parents.

He could not think of anything further to say to Harry at all, in fact, and when Harry swallowed the last of his Butterbeer and got to his feet Remus was so deep in his own thoughts that he barely had the presence of mind to wish the boy good evening as he left.

A few days later, at a quarter to eleven in the morning, Remus joined the crowd of students and staff heading down to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He had seen Harry practicing with the rest of the Gryffindor team the previous evening, the spitting image of James in his Quidditch robes, and was pleased to see that the young Seeker was back in possession of his new broom. He toyed with the idea of telling Harry where the broom had come from, but since he could not explain why or even how he knew, he refrained. Besides, he doubted Harry would react well to the news.

He was glad to finally get a chance to see Harry play. He hoped that for the remainder of the year the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule and the dates of the full moon would work in his favour. He could almost imagine at this distance that it was James out there. Imagining that, he could as easily imagine that he himself was a teenager again and that if he reached out his hand he would find Sirius's fingers not far from his own -- he might turn his head and see Sirius leaning forward, eyes intent on the pitch, cheeks flushed and lips parted in anticipation. But instead he found himself seated in the professors' box next to Severus Snape. He doubted they were going to hold hands.

Instead, Remus turned his eyes forward just in time to see the teams entering the pitch. There was Harry, crimson robes flowing, broom in hand, striding confidently to the centre of the pitch. Even his walk reminded Remus of James. Harry was looking at the Ravenclaw Seeker, a petite and pretty girl named Cho Chang. Remus knew her from his lessons. Her performance in Defence Against the Dark Arts was decent.

He nearly laughed at the look Harry was giving her. He was eyeing his Ravenclaw counterpart with frank interest and when she smiled at him he unconsciously reached up a hand and ran it through his hair, making it stick out in all directions. Remus felt a stab of recognition at the gesture. So like James, he thought for the millionth time, amazed that Harry had managed to inherit that mannerism from the father he had barely known.

The teams mounted their broomsticks and took off at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle. He watched with pleasure as Harry soared around the pitch, eyes questing for that elusive flash of gold. What became of the toy snitch we gave you for your first Christmas, Harry?

Remus was deeply amused by the commentary provided by one of the Gryffindor boys. Instead of commentating on the match, he kept going off on tangents about the qualities of Harry's new broom -- and being repeatedly told off by Professor McGonagall for doing so. Remus had to admit that, based on Harry's performance, the broom was impressive. Of course plenty of that was Harry's own talent but the speed and the cornering could only be down to the quality of manufacture.

After a few moments of watching Harry, Remus found himself getting caught up in the game, forgetting himself and cheering when Gryffindor scored their first goal. He blushed and sat down quickly as Snape gave him an acid look, but he noted that both Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were sporting the red and gold. So much for not playing favourites, he thought with a smile. He felt no further compunction about cheering over the team's next seven goals.

There was a gasp from the crowd as Harry went into a dive, closely followed by Cho Chang. Remus thought he saw a glint of gold near the ground before a bludger heading directly for Harry distracted him. Duck, Harry! Remus half stood up, intent on the action. Harry swerved at the last second and Remus let out the breath he had been holding, sitting back down. But the snitch had vanished.

Ravenclaw had gained thirty points by the time Harry sighted the snitch again. The Ravenclaw Seeker appeared out of nowhere, directly between Harry and his objective. Instead of barreling right through her, he swerved to his left. Remus could see the Gryffindor captain yelling and waving his arms at Harry. He grinned. I guess Harry knows which game is more important.

The girl was now following Harry around the pitch. The mark of a lesser Seeker, thought Remus, but also an excuse to keep an eye on Harry. He's inherited James's charisma, all right. I wonder if he has the confidence to back it up? Harry was leading Cho on a merry chase, circling, swooping and diving, perhaps trying to fake her out, but to Remus it looked suspiciously like flirting.

Harry was just hurtling towards the Ravenclaw end of the pitch when something on the ground below caught Remus's eye. Three tall, black, hooded shapes. At first glance Remus thought they were Dementors, but then he caught sight of the flicker of a badly-cast illusion spell. Someone has a nasty sense of humour, he thought grimly. He hoped Harry would not panic. Don't look down, boy. Just get that snitch!

The Ravenclaw Seeker saw them first and gave a squeak of surprise as she pointed, distracting Harry who could see her out of the corner of his eye. He glanced down. Don't panic, Harry! Remus thought at him urgently. You don't feel any cold, you don't hear any voices. Please, realise they're not real.

But rather than turn tail or try to land safely, Remus saw Harry reach into his robes and whip out his wand. With only half an eye to his spell and the rest of his attention still focussed on the hovering snitch, Harry roared out the words of the Patronus Charm. There was a sudden, dazzling, silver-white light which half-blinded the spectators.

And then Remus saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. Galloping away unheeded from the end of the Harry's wand, through the air and down to the earth, was a huge, shining silver stag. "Prongs," Remus breathed in disbelief. Dumbledore and Snape both gave him curious looks but everyone's attention was still on the magnificent Patronus charging down a group of terrified students in Dementor costumes. They fell over one another trying to get away from it and landed in a tangled heap of black robes before it dissipated. Remus saw that it was the Malfoy boy and a couple of his Slytherin friends.

There was about a second and a half of stunned silence from the crowd before someone in the Gryffindor section raised a cheer that was quickly taken up by the rest of the red and gold supporters. Looking up, Remus saw that the Gryffindor team had completely surrounded Harry, who was triumphantly holding the snitch aloft. As they dragged him down to the ground many members of Gryffindor house left their seats and began hurrying down to the pitch. Rising from his seat Remus went to join them.

"Glad to see you in such good spirits, dear boy!" Dumbledore called merrily as he hurried past. "Going to congratulate young Harry on his ... remarkable achievement?" The old man raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Remus nodded. "Indeed, Professor," he called back, grinning. "All of Hogwarts should be proud to have such a talented Seeker among them." And with that he hurried towards the exit.

I don't know why I should be surprised at the form his Patronus took, thought Remus as he pressed through the crush of students. After all, who in this world or beyond it would be the first to protect Harry, if not his father? Still, the appearance of the stag had been unsettling. I've come back to Hogwarts. Sirius is here, or somewhere nearby. Now Prongs has put in an appearance. It's like a Marauders reunion. Next thing you know, Peter will be showing up!

It took some work to get through the crowd to Harry, but being a professor had some advantages, such as students being disinclined to jostle one. Within moments he was standing behind Harry. Leaning over and speaking quietly into his ear so as not to be overheard, he murmured, "that was quite some Patronus." Had Harry seen the shape it had taken?

The boy turned around and grinned at him, cheeks nearly the colour of his Quidditch robes. "The Dementors didn't affect me at all!" he exclaimed. "I didn't feel a thing!"

Remus smiled. "That would be because they -- er -- weren't Dementors," he told Harry, hoping the revelation wouldn't damage Harry's confidence. "Come and see --"

Harry struggled free of his admirers and followed Remus out into the clear.

"You gave Mr Malfoy quite a fright," he said with a barely-suppressed laugh. He knew he should be angry at the Slytherins for pulling such a malicious prank, but the sight of the half-stunned boys still trying to disentangle themselves was really rather funny. They got what they deserved, he wanted to tell Harry. They won't try that again.

Harry looked momentarily stunned as he suddenly realised exactly what had happened. As Professor McGonagall, livid with fury, hurried over to the prostrate Slytherins, Harry began to laugh. Ron appeared at his side also hooting with laughter. Before long tears were streaming down both boys' faces. Not that I don't think they're entirely justified in this case, thought Remus. That was a really dirty trick to pull.