The Song of the Trees

Chapter Five: The Curse and the Werewolf

"Where did you find him, Miss Vane?" whispered a gentle voice.

"In-in a f-field near the forest around the g-gates," sobbed another voice in answer, a girl's. "He was unconscious in a p-pool of blood, and his wand was at a f-few feet from him, and I did-didn't find his glasses and he was bleeding and -"

"That's all right Miss Vane," said the first voice firmly. "It's not the first time Harry finds himself in the Hospital Wing, after all -"

"That must be the biggest understatement I've ever heard," a third voice cut in, clearly exasperated. "This boy is always involved in something dangerous! I've already had dark spells, incompetent teachers, Quidditch, Dementors, dragons, giant spiders, Blast-Ended Skrewts, Death Eaters, more Quidditch and more dark spells, and now this! How can the same person attract so much trouble?"

"Don't be so loud Poppy, you're going to wake him up."

"In the state he's in? HA! He'll be lucky if he ever wakes up!"

The voices were the first thing Harry's comatose brain registered. He heard them intermittently, clear then muffled then clear again, as if they were coming from an old radio. His limbs were as heavy as lead and there was an acrid taste in his mouth. He felt as if he was buried under tons of cotton.

Harry kept his eyelids shut, trying desperately not to wake up. But it seemed that even without the nurse's furious whispering he wouldn't be able to drift off to sleep. He finally gave up and wearily opened his eyes.

The Hospital Wing of Hogwarts appeared in a blur. Harry automatically reached for the bedside table where he usually put his glasses, but his right arm refused to move correctly and collided with the table; a bottle that had been put on the wooden surface, dangerously close to the edge of the table, swayed and fell to the floor. The resulting crash made the other occupants of the Hospital Wing squeak in fright, and a moment later Harry vaguely distinguished Madam Pomfrey's blurred shape rushing to his side.

"Sweet Merlin, he's awake! Can you hear me, Potter?"

Harry tried to answer "Obviously," but it came out as an inaudible mumble. His mouth was thick and dry and he had trouble moving his tongue.

"Oh, God... Miss Vane, help me to put him back in his bed, he's about to fall from it..."

Madam Pomfrey's arm slid around his waist as two other hands seized his left arm and pulled him back in the middle of the bed. Madam Pomfrey grabbed the pillows and arranged them while the person called Miss Vane was supporting Harry in a sitting position.

"Here - he can lie down now," came Madam Pomfrey's brisk voice.

Miss Vane gently pushed Harry back on his pillows.

"Is there something you want, Harry?" she asked in a still tearful voice.

Harry nodded and was able to grunt "water" more or less distinctly. He heard Miss Vane whispering "Aguamenti" somewhere on his left and a second later a glass of water was pushed against his lips.

His eyes widened slightly in shock and he felt a twinge of annoyance at the fact she obviously thought he couldn't drink on his own, but then maybe she was right: he would be likely to spill everything down his front. Harry swallowed his pride and grudgingly accepted her help.

Once he had gulped down some water, his throat wasn't so dry anymore and his tongue seemed functional again. He tentatively cleared his throat.

"How are you feeling now?" said the girl who had helped him to drink.

"Better, thanks," he answered in a slightly hoarse voice. "You're the one who found me, aren't you?"

"Yes - I had gone out early and I found you lying in a grass and covered in blood. I Levitated you to a friend's house and as soon as I could I sent a word to Professor McGonagall. My friend went back to the wood where I found you, to see if there was someone else... he's not back yet."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. He remembered now... the werewolf leader, his wand in its eye... the skinny werewolf, biting his shoulder... the curse he had cast... his fall in the grass, and his realisation... he was a werewolf...

"Do - do you remember me, Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped open once more. The girl sounded both hopeful and nervous. He turned his head to have a better look at her and squinted. He could distinguish long black hair and blue robes, but that was it.

"Well, considering I'm not wearing my glasses..." he said slowly.

"Oh, yes, I'm so stupid," said the girl very quickly, her voice slightly more high-pitched than before. "I'm Romilda Vane. Er... does it ring a bell?"

Harry frowned. "Do you have anything to do with Chocolate Cauldrons spiked with love potion, in sixth year?"

She giggled, sounding a bit embarrassed.

"Here we go... I was afraid that would be the only thing you'd remember about me. Ah well, it's entirely my fault, I guess - ah Harry, this is the friend I've been telling you about, Bernard Olibrius."

Another blurred shape had entered the Hospital Wing, breathing heavily.

"Merlin," said an old, wheezy voice. "I'm too old for this kind of things. Professor McGonagall, I found someone else. A man, unconscious; in a pretty bad shape too. Hagrid was with me; he carried him to his hut. Said there was no time to bring him up there. He'd like to see you, by the way."

"Thank you, Mr. Olibrius," said McGonagall's crisp voice. "I'll be going in a minute."

Professor McGonagall's tall and dark shape approached Harry's bed.

"Can you hear me, Potter?"

"Of course, I'm bitten and scratched but I'm not deaf," Harry answered wearily.

Romilda started giggling but stopped dead almost immediately. Harry suppressed a smirk; he had almost sensed McGonagall's glare.

"Apparently you weren't the only one who was wounded last night," she went on in a disapproving voice. "As the other victim's injuries seem even worse than yours, Madam Pomfrey and I are going down to Hagrid's hut to see whether we should arrange his departure to St Mungo's or if he can be cured here. I can see you don't look too bad; however, if you need anything, you can ask Miss Vane. She offered to take care of you."

Harry nodded in agreement and Professor McGonagall left the Hospital Wing, followed somehow reluctantly by Madam Pomfrey ("Are you sure you don't need me for the moment, Potter?").

Harry sank back in his pillows. A great fatigue was lying heavy on his whole body, pinning him down to the mattress. The window next to his bed was open and he could clearly hear the merry singing of the birds in the Forbidden Forest. The sunbeams cast long rectangular patches of golden light on the floor, meaning the sun had risen only hours before. It was probable he had stayed unconscious for a very small amount of time given the severity of his wounds.

Someone coughed discreetly, pulling Harry out of his musings. He realised Romilda and Olibrius showed no intention to leave him in peace; actually they had sat on straight-backed chairs next to his bed. He inwardly groaned. The last thing he wanted was a conversation with Romilda and Olibrius; he'd rather have all the time to think about the recent - and considerable - complication in his medical situation. Healer Parletoo would have a fit when he learned about him getting bitten by a werewolf...

"Here are your glasses," said the old man eagerly, pushing a hard and cold object in Harry's hand. "I took the liberty to use a mending charm on them... they were broken..."

Harry mumbled a word of thanks and clumsily put on his glasses with his left hand. The Hospital Wing finally came into focus, as well as Romilda and Olibrius' beaming faces. The old wizard was holding something else that looked like a dirty and ragged piece of cloth. Noticing Harry's gaze, he awkwardly held it up.

"Hum... I found this in the wood, too... Thought it may belong to you... It was already in this state when I picked it up. It's a kind of cloak, I think..."

Harry suddenly recognized, with a jolt of horror, the silvery material in which was made the torn cloak Olibrius had found.

"Oh no," he groaned, seizing with his good hand the sad remains of his Invisibility Cloak and spreading them on the bed.

The Cloak was in a terrible state. It was stained with mud and dust, and even blood; worse still, it was in tatters. A great rip ran along the whole length of it, dividing it almost completely in two, and the hems were frayed. Scraps of silvery cloth were sadly hanging from the bed and trailing on the floor. Harry doubted he would ever be able to wear it again.

Romilda and Olibrius were shifting uneasily in their chairs, shooting anxious glances at Harry's face. He assumed his expression was close to devastation, but then he could hardly blame himself for feeling so sorry for losing his Cloak. The reason why he was so depressed wasn't even that Invisibility Cloaks were very rare and precious; now he had lost it, he realised how much his Cloak meant to him.

This Cloak had been a faithful companion in almost all his escapades around the school, and even later when he wandered at night to occupy his sleepless nights. It had known the silent search for Nicolas Flamel, the furtive sneaking to Hogsmeade and the dangerous incursions into the Death Eaters' bases.

This Cloak had known the Marauders' pranks and nights of full moon.

This Cloak had been the only thing he had inherited from his father.

Harry swallowed hard. Obviously there was nothing he could do about it for the time being; he carefully folded the dirty and ragged Cloak and put it away. Slumping back on his pillows, he started contemplating the ceiling, not wanting to give Romilda or Olibrius a reason to talk to him. After a few minutes of total silent, he heard Olibrius leaving quietly, followed by Romilda who just stayed the time to mumble she was in Madam Pomfrey's office if he needed anything.

Harry hardly heard her. He felt completely hollow.

***

An hour later, neither Professor McGonagall nor Madam Pomfrey had returned from Hagrid's hut. Tired of lying in bed and chewing over the same unsolvable problems, Harry decided to get up and join them at Hagrid's. He had to ask for Romilda's help to get dressed; his right arm wouldn't move and any brusque gesture threatened to make the gashes in his chest bleed again.

His robes and shirt being ruined beyond any hope of repairing, even by magic, Romilda went to fetch a Seventh Year's uniform. It was weird to wear again the plain black Hogwarts robes, adorned with the red and gold Gryffindor badge sewed on the chest. Harry disregarded the red and gold tie Romilda had brought with the uniform and walked with relief out of the Hospital Wing, his arm in a sling.

He had to talk to Professor McGonagall; she would be able to tell him where Remus Lupin was, and Remus Lupin was the only person he could take advice from in his current state. He felt slightly better when he thought he wouldn't have to be alone for his transformations. Remus wasn't so lucky when he had been bitten in the first place.

The sun was high in the sky as Harry walked down the stone steps leading to the smooth lawn around the castle. He was halfway to Hagrid's hut when he noticed someone sitting on the stone bench outside the hut. Someone with acid green hair.

Smiling to himself, he quickened his pace until he was at a few feet from the hut. The acid-green-haired woman hadn't lifted her head at his approach and seemed to be contemplating her shoes.

"I'm not sure green is your colour, Tonks," Harry called out with a grin.

She jumped in shock and her eyes widened at the sight of Harry in his Gryffindor uniform. Harry was startled to see her eyes were red and puffy and her face was pale with anxiety, but he hadn't the time to ask her anything; next second she had sprung to her feet, smiling from one ear to the other. They had become close friends since they were working in the same department at the Ministry.

"Wotcher Harry!" she said in her usual bright voice. "Since when are you a seventh year?"

"Since my clothes have been completely ruined by a bunch of creatures that wanted to taste what was under the clothes," said Harry as he hugged her briefly with his good arm.

"You seem quite whole for someone who has nearly been eaten," she noted, pulling him by the hand to make him sit on the bench next to her.

Harry showed her his bandaged arm and the gash that could be seen just below his neck, half-hidden by his open collar.

"They managed to get a little bit of me... but I must taste really foul, they gave up after that. How's Remus, by the way? I haven't seen him in a long time."

Tonks' smile slipped off her face and a worried glint came to her eyes.

"He's in there," she whispered, showing the hut with her thumb. "I've been called this morning by McGonagall - he's been found in the woods outside Hogwarts, unconscious."

Her voice broke on the last word.

"Last night was full moon," she went on with a slightly trembling voice. "And there was no Wolfsbane potion left... he had to go out and suffer the full transformation. God only knows what happened to him."

Harry went very still. His heartbeat increased suddenly and started pounding against his ribs, so loudly he was sure Tonks would hear it. Remus had been in the woods last night. He had been one of the werewolves that had gone after him. And he was injured.

Harry could only hope he had nothing to do with his friend's current state. After all, maybe Remus had been hurt in a fight with another werewolf; they were all driven mad by hunger...

"And... why aren't you allowed in there?" he asked in a strained voice. The words seemed to come out of his mouth reluctantly, as if they would have preferred to stay hidden in his head. And come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Tonks took a shuddering breath and slid both hands in her green hair, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples as if to squash away an image lingering in her mind.

"He's - he's not doing well at all," she choked, tears filling her eyes. "I saw him when I first arrived... he's got several bruises and cuts, but the worst - the worst is he's under a sort of spell... and McGonagall can't undo it... She told me she would lift it if I left her alone with him, but I know she can't, she's been in there for far too long..."

An icy feeling of dread spread from Harry's heart to the tips of his limbs and rushed to his head, almost causing it to spin. A spell... Even as he tentatively put his left arm around Tonks' shaking shoulders, the words he had uttered last night echoed in his ears.

Atram noctam time.

McGonagall wouldn't be able to undo it...

Harry abruptly rose, startling Tonks.

"Harry - where are you...?"

Harry merely shook his head as an answer and walked round her, decidedly heading for Hagrid's front door.

"Wait!"

"I'm not going to wait, Tonks. If there's something I can do -"

"I know. I'm coming with you."

Harry stopped and looked over at her uncertainly. Determination was etched in every feature of her pale, heart-shaped face.

"You think you can help him?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Well I -"

"Then let's go."

And without giving him any more time to weigh the pros and cons, she grabbed his hand and led the way up the worn stone steps and to Hagrid's gigantic front door.

Madam Pomfrey answered Tonks' forceful knock on the oak door. Her reproving expression turned to indignant astonishment when she saw Harry standing next to her.

"Potter!" she blurted out, as if she couldn't believe her own eyes. "What are you doing -"?

"Sorry Poppy," said Tonks firmly, cutting across her. "An emergency."

And without further ado, she seized the nurse's arm and pulled her out of the hut, before dragging Harry inside and slamming the door in Madam Pomfrey's outraged face.

"Nice move," said Harry, impressed.

"At least all my Auror training won't have been a complete waste of time," Tonks answered with the ghost of a grin. "Poor dear," she added, a guilty look on her face. "She didn't deserve it but she would have submerged us with questions and reproaches..."

As they talked, they had moved closer to Hagrid's enormous bed in the furthest corner of the room. Professor McGonagall was bent over it, waving her wand in slow, fluid motions and chanting incantations. Flashes of lights erupted from the wand every few seconds, illuminating briefly the figure lying on the bed. Harry and Tonks stopped just behind her and watched silently as she worked. Harry found himself praying for a miracle.

Professor McGonagall suddenly straightened up with a sigh, sounding utterly discouraged - something Harry had never witnessed before. Unable to stand the uncertainty any longer, he abruptly spoke up.

"Professor McGonagall, how is -"

Professor McGonagall jumped at the sound of his voice and wheeled around, her wand at the ready, with extraordinarily quick reflexes for such a thin, old and respectable-looking witch.

"Potter!" she hissed furiously when she caught sight of him and Tonks, standing apprehensively behind her. "Did you swear to make me die of a heart-attack? What are you doing here? Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

"Please, professor," said Tonks. She sounded so much like a helpless little girl that both Harry and McGonagall stared, with expressions close to shock.

"Please," she repeated. "I need to know h-how he is."

Professor McGonagall sighed again. The fire lit in the huge chimney illuminated sporadically the lines carved into her careworn face and the few white hair escaping from her neat dark bun; and all of sudden she seemed very old and weary.

"Nymphadora," she said softly. "There is not much I can do for Remus. He has been hit by a very ancient spell, the Atra Nocta spell..."

She went on talking, but Harry didn't hear the rest; his head had started to spin again. Remus had been the skinny werewolf he had fought the previous night. And now he was dying, because of him.

Harry made up his mind in two seconds; he roughly shoved Professor McGonagall out of his way and closed in two steps the gap separating him from the bed where Remus was lying, unhearing McGonagall's furious protest and Tonks' astounded exclamation. His stomach gave a lurch at the sight of the man spread on the white sheets. Remus' face had been cleaned from the dirt and mud soiling it, but an ugly gash was running diagonally on his forehead from the edge of his greying hair to his right eyebrow: a wound without doubt caused by the stone Harry had thrown at his head the previous night...

Remus looked as if he was plunged in a very deep sleep; he was still moaning softly, his head thrashing from side to side and his bloodied forehead covered in sweat as he desperately tried to fight off the nightmares haunting him. His gestures weren't as vigorous and violent as last night; quite the contrary, they looked feeble, almost half-hearted. He was giving up. Another half an hour and he would be dead. Already his skin was deadly pale, nearly grey.

Harry fumbled for a minute with his chest pocket, handicapped by the obligation of using his left hand. He finally got his wand out of it and directed it to Remus' head.

He thought he heard professor McGonagall say something, but he paid no attention. He was trying very hard to concentrate now... that wouldn't be easy... Casting a dark spell to a werewolf in a surge of fury and hatred, during a deadly fight, was one thing; lifting the same spell when he was weakened and wounded and knew he was pointing the wand at one of his closest friends, was another.

"Harry, you can't lift the spell, it's impossible. That spell can be lifted only by -"

"SHUT UP!" roared Harry. His wand was trembling in his left hand. He could do it. He had to. Even if he had to face Remus' and Tonks' questions afterwards... He closed his eyes, concentrating on the man lying in front of him. There was nothing else in the world, just him, the wand, and Remus.

"Finite Atra Nocta", he whispered, and as they had done the previous night the words echoed all around the room in sinister murmurs.

Harry opened his eyes. His wand was still pointed at Remus, but nothing had happened. Beads of cold sweat slowly rolled down his forehead, but he didn't pause to wipe them off. He concentrated harder than ever, refusing to believe that he could fail - that Remus could die because of him. He was putting all his strengths in the counter-curse; his effort was so intense his wand started to vibrate, but Remus was still unconscious.

"Potter, I have repeated those words five times already," came McGonagall's weary voice. "They are no use if they aren't spoken by -"

"Professor, look!" squealed Tonks suddenly.

Remus had started to smoke; thin wisps of vapour were now rising from his whole body, lazily twirling in the air, and heading with a sort of nonchalance for Harry's trembling wand. The first ribbon of white smoke reached the tip of his wand and seemed to hesitate for a second before making contact. Harry let out a gasp. The wand was being forcefully pulled out of his hand, and he had to grip it twice as hard so as not to have it snatched away from him.

All the curls of white smoke were now entwining, forming a thick ribbon twirling and revolving in a spiral, sucked back from Remus' body and into Harry's wand. Harry smelled burning flesh: his wand was overheating and burning his palm. Had he been able to feel the pain, he would have dropped it.

The spiral of smoke stretching between Remus and his wand was spinning faster and faster and the pressure was becoming unbearable. The vibrating was now spreading to Harry's whole body, and he dimly felt McGonagall's long-fingered hand firmly clenching around his upper arm to help him to hold the wand steady.

Just as he was thinking he would only be able to hold on for one more minute, it all stopped. There was a loud bang and the pressure was lifted so abruptly Harry was thrown backward, colliding right into Tonks and Professor McGonagall. All three of them crashed in a confused heap on the floor.

There were a few moments of total chaos; every effort from Tonks to disentangle herself from the other two only worsened the mess, Professor McGonagall had her arm trapped under Harry's body, and unfortunately Harry was feeling so drained out by the effort he had just put in the counter-curse that he didn't move at all. Had he been given the choice, he would have been more than happy to lie down on the hard floor for a week or two. He could also feel a terrible migraine coming.

Finally, Professor McGonagall shouted: "The pair of you - OUT OF MY WAY!"

Tonks went stock-still and Harry rolled onto his side with a groan, releasing McGonagall's arm. She got to her feet, staggering slightly, and without so much as a glance towards Tonks and Harry she rushed to Remus' side. Tonks eventually scrambled to her feet, though not without accidentally hitting Harry in the face with her elbow.

Harry took his time before getting up. He laboriously straightened up in a sitting position, rubbing his temple where a dull ache was developing, and hauled himself up by gripping the foot of the nearby table. His left hand was stiff from the prolonged contact with the burning wand and his right arm was as insensitive as before. He still managed to stand up straight and slowly joined McGonagall and Tonks at Remus' bedside.

Tonks was excitedly whispering as she wiped Remus' forehead, still covered in sweat and blood, with a wet cloth.

"He - he looks just fine now, Professor! Look, he's just asleep! He's safe now!"

"I know, Nymphadora, I know," said McGonagall in a slightly harassed voice. "The counter-curse worked correctly. Now he needs Madam Pomfrey's help. Where is she, by the way?"

"I'll get her," Harry offered quickly, hoping to have an excuse to leave before he had to confront Remus.

Professor McGonagall shot him a piercing look. "No, Potter - Nymphadora will get her. I have to talk to you. No, Nymphadora," she added, her voice rising. "Don't ask him any questions. Save them for later. Go now, please."

Tonks, who had opened her mouth with a determined look on her face, closed it again and nodded in agreement. She quickly passed by Harry without looking at him, opened the front door and walked out. As soon as she was out of earshot, McGonagall beckoned to Harry, who reluctantly took a few steps closer to the large bed where Remus lay.

"You know what I'm going to ask you, Potter, don't you?" she said brusquely.

"I have a fairly good idea," Harry mumbled, his eyes fixed on his shoes.

McGonagall laid her hand on his arm again. He hesitantly raised his head - kindness was written all across her severe face.

"We both know," she began slowly, "that the Atra Nocta spell is a One-Side Spell. Only the caster of the spell has the power to lift it, which means you were without doubt the one who used this spell on Remus. I have complete faith in you, Harry, but I must ask you the question Nymphadora will certainly ask, too. Why did you hit Remus with such a powerful Dark spell in the first place?"

Harry stared wordlessly in McGonagall's eyes for a good minute. Then, just as he opened his mouth, a sigh and a ruffling of sheets drew their attention back to Remus' bed. He was moving.

McGonagall briefly glanced at Harry before going to check on Remus. Harry didn't follow her; his headache was worsening, reminding him of the terrible migraines he had suffered from right after Voldemort's death. He squeezed his eyes shut and leant against the table, in an attempt to ease the shooting pain.

"He needs nothing more than a good rest, now, I guess... Potter?"

Harry wearily opened his eyes. McGonagall was looking at him in concern.

"Headache," he mumbled as an answer to her questioning gaze, rubbing his temple with his left hand. "Need to lie down."

At this instant, the door opened and Madam Pomfrey's voice cut in the thick, still air of the hut.

"What is going on, Minerva? First I am rudely thrown out of here, then Tonks comes to tell me Potter somehow healed my patient..."

Harry covered his eyes with his good hand, pushing his glasses on top of his head, and pressed hard on his forehead in an attempt to stop his head resounding like a gong. The ground suddenly didn't feel as steady as usual; it was swaying under his feet. Harry blindly grasped the edge of the table, his eyes still shut tightly, as he lost his balance and slid to the floor.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!"

Someone was grabbing his shoulder and hauling him from the floor, making him sit with his back against Hagrid's old armchair. The neck of a bottle was pushed against his lips and a cool substance flowed into his mouth. He almost choked, but as soon as he was able to gulp down the liquid, he felt a new strength spreading into his body. The floor was firm and still once more and he tentatively opened his eyes to see Madam Pomfrey crouching next to him, an anxious look on her face and a bottle of Quick-Strengthening Beverage in her hand.

"Potter - you're just out of the Hospital Wing and you're doing Advanced Magic?" she said, the kindness in her voice contradicting the reproach. "And with your left hand, when you're right-handed? I'm not surprised you're so ill... You need to go back to the Hospital Wing; and you'll be kind enough to stay there until I tell you to leave. Tonks will help you."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly as he felt the migraine coming back. He stood up with Tonks' help and together they got out of the hut.

They walked back to the castle in silence. Harry was looking straight in front of him, knowing that the slightest jerk of the head would bring another pang of pain, and Tonks was quietly walking alongside him. When they entered the Hospital Wing, they still hadn't said a word to each other. Tonks helped Harry out of his uniform; her eyes widened slightly when she saw the blood-red scars running across his chest, but she didn't make any comment. Harry plopped himself down on his pillows and let out a sigh of relief. The cool pillow was easing the headache a bit. He felt the mattress go down a few inches near his feet. Tonks had sat there.

He didn't look at her, silently praying that she would leave him alone.

"What happened, Harry?"

She didn't sound accusatory, but there was an unusual coolness in her voice. Harry closed his eyes. He wanted her to leave.

"You ran into Remus last night, didn't you?"

Harry sighed and reluctantly opened his eyes to look at her. Her face was set in a hard mask, and he knew she wouldn't go unless he gave her the answers she wanted.

"He's not responsible for all these," he tiredly said, gesturing towards his chest streaked with red scars. "There were about twenty of them..."

"But Remus is the one you cursed."

"Yes," said Harry in a barely audible whisper. There was no point in denying it. Tonks was an Auror; she knew what the Atra Nocta spell was.

Tonks rested her hand on Harry's bandaged shoulder; her expression softened a little when she asked:

"And your shoulder? Did he do it?"

Harry looked away from her; he didn't want to see the look on her face when he would answer, surely enough, he felt the hand on his shoulder tense when he nodded. Then there was a long pause.

"He didn't only scratch you. The wound's too deep."

Harry didn't answer. It wasn't a question.

"He bit you." Her voice was hushed and the last word caught in her throat.

Harry finally returned his gaze to her. Her face was paper-white and her chin was trembling like a very small girl's. She was looking at a spot on the wall behind him with a helpless, lost expression, her eyes widened in something that looked like terror. Just as he watched her, her shockingly green hair slowly turned to a dull, mousy brown, and sadly fell around her face.

He awkwardly covered Tonks' hand, still resting on his shoulder, with his own.

"Tell him I'm not angry at him," he said in an oddly hoarse voice. "Not in the slightest. Tell him that."

She looked back at him, tears slowly filling her eyes. Bending over him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him briefly. As he hugged her back with his good arm, she whispered in his ear:

"It'll break him..."

Then she released him and walked out of the Hospital Wing without another word, leaving Harry alone with his anxiety and his persisting headache.

***

On the evening of the same day, Harry's headache had long subsided but Madam Pomfrey stubbornly refused to hear him whenever he mentioned his eventual getting up. When he expressed the wish to write to Lance - who was certainly wondering why he hadn't showed up at training today - and to Hermione - because if she ever found out Lance Colman was more informed than her about Harry's state, he would be sure to never hear the end of it - Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even allow him to write himself. Therefore, Romilda Vane took upon herself to write the letters while Harry dictated. As soon as Romilda had gone to the Owlery with the two letters, however, Madam Pomfrey declared he had had enough intellectual activity for the time being and forced him to lie down in semi darkness, with the instructions to stop thinking.

By the time night fell, Harry had counted a hundred times the number of cracks and damp spots visible on the white painting of the ceiling, and he had gone half-crazy with boredom. Tonks hadn't come to see him again and all he had heard about Remus was that he was conscious and fine, though tired and bruised. Madam Pomfrey went to check on him at half past ten and declared he had to spend the night there and that maybe, if she was satisfied by his condition, she would let him go the following morning.

Harry waited until the door of her office had closed behind her and then swung his legs out of the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress. Reaching under his pillow for his wand, he pointed it at Madam Pomfrey's door and muttered: "Muffliato." He cast the spell twice, just in case; Madam Pomfrey had the ears of a gun dog, and he really didn't want to be heard and made to lie down again. Spending a whole night awake in bed was out of question.

He silently got up and threw a few clothes on his back with some difficulty. Once he had gotten dressed, he swiftly made his way out of the Hospital Wing. Thank Merlin; his head was no longer hurting him.

Helped by his catlike sight in the dark, he aimlessly wandered in the castle for about half an hour, before finally deciding to head for the Owlery in case one of the owls he had sent would come back with a reply.

The Owlery was the same as ever, except for the thick beams supporting the ceiling, now scorched and blackened by the fire that had ravaged the castle during the war. Harry had been told that the owls had took some time before daring enter the room again; some of them had been caught in the fire and literally roasted, scaring away all the others which had flown for their lives. Then, some Death Eaters had thought very entertaining to shoot them one by one as they fled the burning Owlery. Owls had avoided Hogwarts for almost a year after that.

Harry sat on the windowsill, staring up at the moon, which was already high in the star-sparkled sky. A nasty shiver ran across his spine. He had never been fond of the icy, ghostly light cast by the silvery orb; but now the sight of it brought a cold feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He wondered if it was a side effect of a werewolf's condition.

Harry suddenly froze as he heard heavy footsteps in the staircase leading to the Owlery. He thought fast for a few seconds; if he stayed where he was, in the patch of moonlight, he would be seen and - most likely - sent back to the Hospital Wing. That was not an option. But leaving wasn't one, either - there was only one staircase leading up there and there was no way he could go down it unnoticed. As the footsteps drew nearer, he quietly retreated in the shadows, away from the window, and waited.

The dark silhouette of a tall man came into view and stood in the doorway; his shoulders were slumped and his stance betrayed either discouragement or exhaustion. Finally the man walked in the Owlery - and Harry, even if he had been expecting it, felt his heart leap in his chest when he recognized Remus.

Remus slowly dragged his feet to the window where Harry had been standing only moments before. Harry experienced another shock, along with a pang of guilt, when the moonlight fell on his lined face, illuminating the ugly gash running across his forehead. Other than that, though, Remus looked as fine as Harry had ever seen him after his transformations - except for his eyes. The glint he was used to seeing in Remus' eyes had gone, leaving them dull and hollow.

Remus slumped against the window frame, looking out of the window with the same empty eyes. Harry nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Remus showed no intention to leave any time soon, and as Harry wasn't looking forward to have a conversation with him, all he could do was try to leave without being noticed.

But even he couldn't hope to go unheard by a werewolf's sharp ear. He had just taken two steps towards the door when Remus turned sharply towards him, alerted by the very faint creak of a straw under his foot.

"Who's there?"

Harry sighed in resignation and turned back to him.

"Harry?" Remus asked in a toneless voice.

Harry nodded and, upon feeling he couldn't delay any longer a confrontation that would have to happen anyway, joined him at the window.

An awkward silence followed, as the two men avoided each other's eyes.

"Did you talk to Tonks?" Harry finally asked hesitantly.

Remus nodded. "Yes. And she told me what I've - what I -"

His voice suddenly shook and he had to take in a deep breath to calm down.

"After that I didn't see much of her," he went on in a low voice. "I didn't see anybody. I - I wanted to leave tomorrow morning... I didn't think I would run into you tonight, Madam Pomfrey said you were too ill to leave the Hospital Wing."

"Anybody who has the tiniest scratch is too ill to leave the Hospital Wing in Madam Pomfrey's opinion," Harry said with a slight smile. "Why didn't you see anybody? I'm sure Tonks would have been happy to spend the day with you - I heard her complaining very often about not having enough time to dedicate to pampering you..."

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Harry," Remus repeated in a strained, painful voice.

Harry frowned.

"You're leaving? Where?"

Remus shook his head, his breathing irregular, as if he was fighting back sobs - which was, to put it mildly, a completely ludicrous idea when coming from calm and composed Remus.

"Look, I - I know you said you weren't angry at me... And even now, you're talking as if nothing had happened... But something did happen Harry! I just passed on to you one of the most terrible curses known in the wizarding world... As if you hadn't been through enough... Do you really think you won't hate me, by the time your first transformation is over? Being a werewolf is a nightmare... I deserve to be hated. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Remus," Harry began, slightly alarmed by Remus' increasing restlessness.

"I can't afford friends," Remus went on, his voice trembling now with repressed sobs. "I always lived fearing constantly that I would wake up one day to find out I had ruined someone's life. I can't stay. I must go, go where I won't be a threat to anybody."

"Remus!" said Harry loudly, cutting across Remus' frantic monologue. "When I said I wasn't angry at you, I meant it. And I have no intention to change my mind anytime soon. I know it wasn't your fault; you had no control over your actions when it happened. Let me finish!" He raised his voice as Remus showed every sign of wanting to interrupt.

"I will never hate you. I need you as a friend. Tonks needs you as well. You can't leave, you just -"

"Harry, I can't even look at you in the eyes right now," Remus cried in frustration. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at myself in a mirror again, not after what I did. What do you think James would say if he knew I bit his only son?"

"He would probably say you're the world's biggest idiot for wanting to run away and stagnate in your bleeding loneliness!" Harry angrily retorted. "What the hell, Remus! You used to have three friends, who knew you were a werewolf, didn't you? Did they push you away when they learnt about you? D'you think I'm gonna push you away? What about the Weasleys? And Hermione? And Tonks?"

"That was before I bit you!" Remus moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"That was an accident!" roared Harry, now literally beside himself in fury. "A fucking combination of circumstances! There was no Wolfsbane potion left, I was outside on a night of full moon, I happened to run into a pack of werewolves, and of all the twenty werewolves longing to take a bite at me, you had to be the one to succeed! Well, that's all bad luck! And if it's anybody's fault, it's only mine; I should've known better than to wander outside last night. But don't you say you're responsible for it!"

Harry paused, breathing hard. Remus was staring at his hands spread on the windowsill, but Harry wasn't sure he could really see them. He was still very pale and his eyes were wide and bloodshot, filled with utmost despair.

"Look," said Harry more calmly. "You cannot leave. I need you now, more than ever. You know the first thing I thought this morning, before I realised you were the werewolf that had bitten me? I thought I was lucky to have you as a friend, because then I wouldn't have to be alone for my transformations. Well, I'm still willing to spend them with you."

Remus shut his eyes and took in a shuddering breath. A single tear started to run down his cheek but he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand. He gulped and straightened up, and for the first time that evening his eyes met Harry's.

"I think you're right, you know," he murmured, sounding a lot calmer. "About James. Not only he would have said I was the world's biggest idiot, but he would have also punched me, just to make me stop yelling hysterically."

Harry grinned.

"The only reason why I didn't do it was that I can't use my right arm right now," he answered.

Remus smiled weakly. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "For biting you, for yelling, for wanting to leave, for doubting your friendship... I'm sorry, Harry."

"That's quite all right," Harry sighed, sitting on the window ledge next to Remus. "I must apologise too for cursing you, by the way... I almost killed you with that spell."

"That was a nice bit of magic, if you ask me," said Remus pleasantly with the usual glint finally back in his eyes. "I haven't got a clue where and how you learnt that spell, and I probably don't want to know. It was as nasty as one could wish. I had the feeling of drowning in a thick and black liquid, while my worst fears were coming true before my eyes, one after the other. Like an endless nightmares-filled night, very unpleasant."

"Sorry..." said Harry, a bit sheepishly.

Remus laughed. "Don't be. You lifted the curse, after all. Better still, you lifted it while you were sick and wounded, and that's a bit of an achievement! The Atra Nocta..." he sighed, almost dreamily. "I'm very impressed, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry answered, grinning widely.

There was a silence, but this time it was comfortable.

"Harry... it didn't hurt when I bit you, did it?"

Harry shot at Remus a sharp look.

"No, it didn't," he said slowly. "I'm still insensitive."

Remus nodded, looking relieved. They remained silent for several long, serene minutes, before Harry suddenly saw the shape of a bird outlined against the moon.

"That's an owl," said Remus, who had noticed the small black shape Harry was staring at. "You're expecting mail?"

"Maybe... I sent a letter to Hermione, but I didn't think she would write back today, she's working all day long... And as for the other person I wrote to, I would be surprised if he bothered to answer at all..."

The owl finally reached the Owlery Tower and rushed into the circular room, dropping a letter at Harry's feet. He carefully picked it up and unfolded it.

"It's from Lance," he said, surprised. "I really didn't think he would muster the strength to take a quill."

Harry,

You won't be surprised to hear Robards was furious at you. Actually, "furious" doesn't even begin to describe what he was. He yelled at Hampton for half an hour without pausing to breathe. The guys were taking bets on how long he would last before one of his veins bursts. I made sure someone told him you had a serious accident, but be sure to get your ass back at training as soon as possible, or at least come tomorrow to explain your absence. Robards is very close to firing you.

I hope you'll be able to tell me what on earth happened to you this time, so I can marvel at your bad luck again.

Try to recover quickly; training's not funny without you.

Lance.

Harry smiled to himself as he folded the letter and put it in his pocket. Lance's carelessness annoyed most of the people who knew him, but Harry was only amused by it. It was a nice change from the seriousness everybody thought appropriate when addressing him - the 'Boy Who Lived'.

"Who's Lance?" asked Remus.

"Just a guy from work," Harry answered, still smiling. "An Auror apprentice, like me. He was writing to say my Head of Department was considering firing me for my absence. Ah well, the man never liked me anyway..."

He looked sideways at Remus and was surprised to see his worried expression.

"What?" he said curiously. "If I say I had an accident, which I can easily prove -" he gestured towards his bandaged shoulder, "- he can't fire me. Anyway, Scrimgeour won't let him. He almost forced him to put up with me for the past two years."

But Remus shook his head, nervously biting his lower lip.

"Harry, people don't like employing werewolves. I just hope you won't lose your job because of me..."

Harry opened his mouth, then, not knowing what to say, he closed it again.

There was a short silence.

"Oh," said Harry at last. "I hadn't thought of that."

*************

A/N: For all those who have been wondering: 'Atra Nocta' is Latin for 'Black Night'; 'Atram Noctam Time' means 'Fear the black night.' Sounds more impressive in Latin, doesn't it?