Chapter 18: Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing
Lupin had enlisted Harry's aid in moving all of the desks to one side of the large classroom, and the task had been done in a reasonably comfortable silence. But now that the job had been completed and Harry stood facing his father, the awkwardness of the situation seemed to ease back in between them like a tangible physical presence. Lupin decided quickly to begin right away to avoid the inevitable tension beginning to sneak up on them once again. He turned from Harry's penetrating gaze to stride around his desk and picked up an oblong, heavy metal object, tossing it to Harry and apparently finding one for himself as well. Harry caught it by the handle easily, and began turning it over and over in his hands.
"Recognize that?" Lupin smiled in a business-like way at him.
Harry frowned in surprise as he studied the engravings on the blade. " 'Course I do…Godric's sword. I used it back in second year against a basilisk in the chamber of secrets. Where did you…" Harry let the question trail off as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand. It seemed lighter than the heaviness he'd encountered in the chamber; but then again, he'd been a scrawny boy of twelve.
"Dumbledore gave it back to me," said Lupin with a hint of loss and regret in his voice. "I'd left it with him…to give to you one day. I inherited it from my father. You're grandfather."
Harry looked up from the sword quickly and hefted it from his left hand to his right, hesitating momentarily. "Oh…of…of course you did. Well then…I reckon this is yours, isn't it?" He made as if to hand the sword back to Lupin, but the elder Potter raised his hand with a declining gesture.
"No Harry…It's yours now. I would have passed it on to you by now anyway if…if we'd been…"
Harry swallowed. "I know. You don't have to explain…I know."
A few more painful moments of silence passed, and Harry made as if he was carefully studying the sword to keep from looking into his father's face. A dull ache resided in his chest and pulsed somewhere below his Adam's apple before he realized that he was trying to hold back tears. The only time he could remember feeling as much misery as he did now was the time Voldemort's servant, Kavan, had taken Hermione. Back then, it had been coupled with a boiling rage, helping to keep the tears at bay most of the time. As for now though, all he felt was a dull, hollow ache with nothing else to serve as a buffer. In a word, it made him uncomfortable.
He began fidgeting even more with the sword until Lupin's strong voice cut through the silence.
"Harry, there's something you should know."
Harry looked up with a sudden flash of anger. "Oh gods, more secrets!?"
"No!" said Lupin quickly, "Not exactly. Just listen to me…The night Hermione was attacked, the night of the dark mark, something else happened. Something to me as well."
He had Harry's full attention now, and he decided as an explanation, to simply move nearer to his son and pull up the sleeve of his robe. Harry gave a small grunt of surprise as he saw a long jagged scar that had obviously been just recently healed. The wide, slightly wrinkled line was an angry red, and began from Lupin's elbow, almost down to his wrist.
"What…what the hell…" Harry sputtered.
Lupin grimaced as he let his sleeve fall back into place. "Hermione's attacker, Harry, stunned me…got to me first. Funny thing is if he'd cut just a little farther, I might have bled to death, slit wrist and all. Pomfrey was able to heal me properly, and after, I went to find Dumbledore. He sent the rest of the teachers to search the school for the man, and he and I met to discuss possible reasons behind the attack. The rest you know…" Lupin hesitated as he studied the younger man before him. "Harry, we think he meant to take some of my blood. That he did take some of it."
"You!?" Harry asked with astonishment. "What would Voldemort want with your blood!?"
Lupin backed from him a bit to take in his son's full form. Harry was standing before him tall and strong, but he held Godric's long sword limply to his side, the long silver tip grazing the floor. He understood Harry's disbelief. "Think Harry. When was the last time you remember Voldemort needing someone's blood?"
Harry thought, and then shuddered. It wasn't often that he allowed his mind to revisit the events of his fourth year. In fact, he'd done all he could to purge them entirely from his thoughts…at least in the waking hours. His dreams were another matter entirely…
"At the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago," Harry began unsteadily. "After he…after he killed Cedric Diggory and tied me against his father's grave, he sliced my arm and took some of my b…" Harry trailed off, and his voice lowered to a quieter tone. "I don't understand. What're you trying to tell me…"
"Harry," began Lupin, making a conscious effort to keep his voice controlled and strong, "where were you about fifteen minutes before Hermione left the common room and was attacked recently? Can you remember?"
"Still there…in the common room," replied Harry quickly, "McGonnagol had come in about twenty minutes prior to let us know who had been chosen for your advanced class. After, she let everyone else go but me; said she had more to talk to me about…"
"That explains it then," ruminated Lupin quietly. "He couldn't get to you, so he took blood from me."
Harry was beginning to get aggravated and made a conscious choice to let Lupin know. "Could you please elaborate? I'm failing to get the point."
Lupin turned to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, you'll learn I often get lost in my own thoughts from time to time. What I'm getting at is… Dumbledore and I believe that if he could've, Voldemort's servant would have attacked you that evening, Harry. Since you were not only surrounded by others, but also safe inside Gryffindor's common room, he took the blood from me. It makes sense. Surely he already has the bone of his father, easy enough to come by, and I'm certain it wouldn't be hard for him to come by the flesh of a servant…"
Harry felt his head beginning to spin. "If you're implying what I think you are, it makes no sense. If Voldemort needed my blood to get his body back, how would yours be a substitute for mine?"
Lupin turned to him, an unreadable expression playing on his features. "Harry, I know you remember the dark incantation he uttered then, don't you? Dumbledore's told me about it…"
Harry fell back a step as the vision of his encounter with the dark lord and Wormtail came flashing into his mind. "I try every night to forget…" he uttered with the tone of someone haunted.
As if it were a movie that had been merely put on pause, Harry's mind quickly replayed the events of that night, and the chilling words that had been spoken. Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…
Lupin felt his heart drop into his stomach, and his soul bled for all of the times he wished he could've been there for his son. The boy had seen too much, endured way beyond what a lad of seventeen years ought to…
"Harry," he began with an emotional throb to his voice, "long before you were Voldemort's enemy, there was Lily and I. Your mother and I were Aurors, part of the Order of the Phoenix, and we, above all the others went after Voldemort the hardest. Dumbledore's told me you know all about that. We believe that Voldemort must know by now of the switching spell Remus and I performed. So, he'd have no other more perfect substitute for your blood…than the blood of your father."
Lupin watched as Harry struggled to take in the new bit of information and to reconcile what he'd just said with what Harry himself already knew.
"Hang on," said Harry after a pause, "That just doesn't make sense though. After all, it's not really your blood, is it? It's Remus Lupin's."
"It's not actually the blood, or the body itself that counts in the incantation, Harry. It's the fact that in this body now resides the spirit and soul, the wholeness if you will, of James Potter. The heir to Gryffindor…that is, before you were born. Now the honor rests with you. You see, Gryffindor and Slytherin have been great enemies ever since the houses fought against each other so long ago for what each considered to be the best for the school. Since Voldemort considers himself the ultimate defender of Slytherin's heritage, he's determined to keep the grudge to the bitter end. See Harry, I'm still his enemy, and this body and blood now belong to me. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" Lupin paused to let his words sink in and then continued.
"Although I'm still rather stumped about the time turner, I believe Voldemort now has every ingredient he needs to get his body back. After all, he left a final warning the night of the dark mark, didn't he?"
Harry blanched. He hadn't thought that night, in his unbridled fury, to try to translate the Latin phrase placed so ominously below the dark mark. "I…I never found out what the phrase meant."
" 'Tempus id est propinguo', Harry. It means, 'The time is drawing near'."
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In all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, even in the years between when he'd been conspicuously absent from his master's dealings, Lucius Malfoy had thought he'd seen it all. He'd been witness to, and been involved in countless dark dealings; some more nefarious than others.
He'd seen Ministry members bribed, used and tossed away like garbage. He'd helped deal with those who had betrayed his master and been given the job of overseeing the burials, as with one of Voldemort's first servants, a sniveling disgrace to the house of Slytherin named Stuart Kavan. On more than one occasion, he'd helped Death Eaters who's names were not as high on the social climbers list and therefore not as apt to cause a huge stir, to carry on the work of ridding the wizarding world of mudbloods, one piece of filth at a time. He'd also been reduced, as of late, to waiting hand and foot on his master since the damnable scrot Harry Potter had taken his master's body yet again last year.
But never, in all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, had he witnessed a sight such as he was witnessing now. It wasn't as if it was particularly gruesome to him. He'd seen and performed enough dark spells to be used to gruesome by now. No, it was more…grimly interesting…of a sort. He expected that to a lesser wizard, the scene playing itself out before him now would be a particularly frightening thing, especially seeing as how he would soon be playing a rather grisly role in it…but no matter. Unlike Wormtail, another of Voldemort's pathetically weak past servants, he was a powerful wizard; able to prepare himself. He'd already performed a freezing spell on the nerve endings just below his elbow on his right arm. Although it made it a little harder to use his hand at the moment, as he could now no longer feel the tasks he was performing, he knew the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks.
Voldemort had drunk a last pail of unicorn blood, and was now replete for the task before him. Of course, his only job was to sit in the cauldron and let Lucius finish what he'd started, but as any competent wizard knew, one had to be strong to be able to withstand such a powerful incantation as this.
Lucius stood in the clearing of the Forest of Kavan, so ineptly named he thought with a brief smile, and gathered his ingredients before him lovingly, almost reverently. The quilt of darkness surrounding himself and the Dark Lord as they stood outside the ramshackle hut he'd rebuilt for him was so thick, he almost felt that he could reach out and grip it. He was sure that when he'd arrived the moon and stars had been out, but somehow, it was as if Nature knew that evil had come out to play and had hidden herself away.
He'd always loved the power performing the dark arts gave him. Its draw was passionate, addictive, and yet so subtle. It was too easy to be lost to it once you'd used it. Of course, for Lucius, he'd made a conscious decision long ago to lose himself to it. He'd wanted it, no matter what powerful pull that came with it. It was more potent in its addiction than any Muggle drug, and from the very beginning of his use of it he'd been fixated, then dependent, and finally obsessed…much like his master.
"Continue Lucius," spoke the throaty, high-pitched voice of Voldemort. "I grow impatient."
"Forgive me, my lord," said Lucius evenly, turning to grab the first ingredient. He picked up a goblet that had been set on the forest floor behind him, and slowly began pouring the powdery substance into the cauldron around Voldemort, speaking the incantation. As he began, whatever outside noises there may have been, vanished as quickly as the moon and stars had.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…" The powder swirled around Voldemort's transparent form and sank suddenly, as if it were one whole thing, into the bottom of the cauldron.
Voldemort lifted his head and hissed with rapture, his dull red eyes closed. "Yessss…I can feel my strength returning to me…"
Lucius nodded curtly to his master and quite calmly picked up a large, very sharp knife from the ground holding it above his hand at the wrist. He moved toward the cauldron and held the limb over it.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…" With not a hint of hesitation, Malfoy raised the blade high and brought it down quickly with a hard chopping motion. The severed hand fell into the cauldron with a soft splash, and after a moment of floating on the top of the water, it too disappeared to the bottom of the cauldron as if some unseen source had yanked its sacrifice down. Quickly he muttered a congealment spell, pointing his wand at the now useless stump, and the blood flow stopped, now clotted quite effectively.
He wrapped a cloth around it as well as he could and picked up the vial of blood he'd left on the ground.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" he uncorked the vial of Lupin's blood carefully with his teeth and spat the cork onto the ground. The contents fell thickly as a large clot into the cauldron, and sank to the bottom.
Malfoy stepped back, holding the stump that had once been his hand and despite himself, his body shook with a bit of excitement. Although he was known for his proud, usually indifferent demeanor, this night was exciting. With the rebirth of Voldemort's body, and with the help of a much more competent set of servants, led by himself, of course, the wizarding world would soon not know what had hit them. And after that, the Muggle world would have hell to pay as well…
The vile mixture in the cauldron began boiling rapidly although the fire under it was barely lit anymore, and Lucius let his eyes drift up to Voldemort's face. He'd not known until now how the reforming of his body would come about, but now, the awful scene was playing out before him in great detail. Bones began to rattle and fly up from inside the cauldron, *clicking* themselves together and upward with amazing speed and accuracy. Before long, Voldemort turned to fully face Malfoy, and Lucius had to admit the sight of a skeleton resting atop, or rather inside the transparent dark lord's form was a ghastly thing indeed. Voldemort himself seemed delighted.
Soon, tendons and muscles began to grow and take form as if from nowhere. Then brain and blood vessels and organs, and finally, a grisly pale colored skin began to crawl its way over the body like some sort of disease that was rapidly spreading. The final thing to take shape was the dark lord's eyes. The orbs formed, a bright, curiously familiar shade of green, before the green disappeared and a hint of his familiar glowing red began to appear. Very soon after, Voldemort opened his new eyes, now glowing bright red to their fullest extent in the skull-like face; his new body strong, yet colorless and shaped as if still made of only blanched bone.
Malfoy felt himself smiling, one of the first genuine smiles he'd done in a long time. Here now was his destiny staring at him like a shiny new thing. He would ride on the back of Voldemort's power until the dark lord trusted him with everything. He had no intention of betraying him; no intentions of trying to take his master's seat of power. He only wanted what was rightfully his…the right to be called second in command. Lucius smiled to himself. This was the first and only time he'd ever be able to be accused of being satisfied with second place.
Voldemort breathed, smiling once again at the sensation of full lungs and stepped out of the cauldron. His voice was still high-pitched and throaty, but full of a sort of Herculean power.
"Now, Lucius. You will receive your just reward."
Lucius bowed rather formally and approached his master, remembering not to look him full in the eyes. After all, the alpha male took full eye contact to mean a challenge, and Malfoy certainly wasn't stupid.
"Extend your arm," said Voldemort in a lordly manner.
Malfoy held out his arm and seconds later, Voldemort had replaced the nub with a large golden hand.
Lucius was appropriately stunned. "M..my lord. This appears to be different than the one you so graciously bestowed upon Wormtail."
"Wormtail was next to useless to me Lucius. I can say with some pleasure that you have accomplished far more than he ever did. This hand is powerful. With it, you will be able to literally crush your enemies within your fist."
Lucius gave Voldemort a 'May I?' glance, remembering to keep his eyes lowered, and the dark lord nodded. Malfoy strode over to the nearest tree, plucking a branch from it and holding it in his hand. When he closed his fingers over it and opened them again, there was nothing left of the limb but a fine powder.
He widened his eyes in appreciation; greed and a new sense of power shining in their gray depths.
"Thank you, master," he said smoothly.
Voldemort nodded imperiously. "Use it wisely…" He strode over to his servant and looked him over with a sort of appraising glance as the other stroked his own golden hand lovingly. "And now Lucius…you know what is left to do. Do it quickly."
Lucius nodded once and bowed stiffly to his master before backing from him and disapparating with a decidedly loud *pop*.
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Harry stood opposite his father, Godric Gryffindor's sword for now hanging complacently in hand, and quietly listened as Lupin began his lesson.
"Harry, I'm going to teach you what my father taught me, and what his father taught him. I'll bet you didn't know that Professor Dumbledore himself actually taught your great-grandfather to fence. They were close to the same age back then I expect." Lupin stood before Harry with a plain sword in hand.
Harry nodded grimly. "No I didn't. But apparently there's a lot I don't know."
Lupin looked Harry in the eyes and nodded, fully expecting that for a while, there would be a great deal of resentment from his son. He hoped that someday, Harry would begin to understand why he'd done what he'd done, but in the meantime, there was no time to dwell on it. Voldemort was most certainly moving toward a final battle, and the lines were swiftly being drawn. He expected that even now, the dark lord was busy thinking of ways to recall his death eaters, free and imprisoned. And he also realized that the Dementors, having thus far remained neutral, would probably not remain so for long. The time for choosing sides was imminent, and so was the time for being fully prepared.
He decided to leave Harry's comment aside for the moment and concentrate on the task at hand.
"Let's get started." Lupin raised his sword for a moment and began a series of movements, most of which Harry recognized, but only from some of the older Muggle movies Dudley had discarded and Harry had nicked when he wasn't looking.
"The most important things in fencing Harry are, number one: keep your eyes on your opponent at all times," Lupin raised his sword upward and brought it back with a powerful downward arc, the other arm slightly out and to his side.
"Number two: recognizing when the best time is for an attack, or for defense," Lupin moved nearer Harry with more thrusts and imaginary parries, still traveling in mesmerizing steps, "And number three…"
Suddenly he whipped around and with a powerful downward slash, made as if to cleave Harry in two. Quickly Harry brought his sword horizontally above his head to parry the blow, and gave his father a wide-eyed look of alarm when the blades never met.
Lupin straightened his stance and lowered his sword, breathing a bit heavily. "Number three Harry: realizing that while your opponent is attacking, he is simultaneously searching for weaknesses in your defense."
Harry nodded speechlessly, shaking a bit from the rush of adrenaline he'd just received, and slowly lowered his sword. He knew his father would never hurt him, but he'd just learned his first hard lesson. Always be aware.
Lupin backed away from Harry and moved back into his position a few yards in front of him. "Perhaps you might be wondering why I'm teaching you this. You might then need to ask yourself why Godric Gryffindor himself obviously thought it a worthy thing to know. Harry, a wizard's most powerful defense is his wand, or in your case, his magic, as you might not need yours much longer."
Harry flinched just a bit, out of what, he wasn't sure.
"But what happens when, or if, he loses his wand…or his ability to use magic? He is then left defenseless unless he knows some other means, some physical means of defending himself. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded. "I do. Professor, you're not telling me anything I haven't wondered myself for quite a while." He breathed in deeply, at odds with himself. "Thanks for teaching me."
For a brief moment in the seriousness of the lesson, Lupin let a bit of his affection for Harry show. "I've a feeling you're going to need this, son. If I could, I would spare you from any bad thing that might ever come your way…but you're a man now…I had to give up my chance for that a long time ago." He swallowed harshly and held his head a bit higher to ward off any more emotion for the time being.
"Harry, I'm not going to lie to you. This isn't going to be easy, and it's because you're my son, I'm not going to go easy on you. I want you to be as ready as possible to face any situation that might come your way. Before we're through here, you're going to have to demonstrate great speed, skill, dexterity, and intellect. It's going to take many hours of training; learning coordination, balance and flexibility in attacking and defending. But I believe that one day, all of this might save your life and if it does, then it will've all been worth it."
Harry took in his father's words for a moment and then simply gave him a curt nod. "I know. I'm ready."
If he could've read minds at the moment, Harry would've seen the pride his father had for him. The fact was that James, as Lupin, had watched his son as often and as closely as he could the brief times he'd been able to be a part of Harry's life.
He had taken in as much of his son as possible, so that later, when he was alone again, he could remember and ponder on him in great detail. Harry had a great love for his friends, especially for Hermione and Ron, the latter of which reminded him a great deal of Sirius.
He was fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. He was smart, though he didn't seem to pay quite enough attention to academics. He was extremely brave, if not always a fore-thinker. But that was what he had Hermione for. For James it had been Lily. He'd noticed the similarities between Hermione and Lily almost immediately. They were both strong, level headed, brave, and certainly kept the Potter men on their toes. She was just what Harry needed, and he smiled briefly, eliciting a questioning look from Harry. It was curious how men tended to flock toward women that were similar to their mothers, even when they'd not even known them. Such was the case with Harry. He imagined that the same traits that attracted James to Lily, were the ones that attracted Harry to Hermione.
Shaking himself from the brief reverie, he lifted his sword in an attack stance and motioned for Harry to do the same.
"Alright Harry, I'm going to begin a direct attack, stopping at each action that I take to explain to you what I'm doing and to give you the chance to decide what the best course of action would be for you to take."
Harry nodded and tensed his arms, his sword almost vertical and to his side, but Lupin neared him and grasped his arm, bringing the sword in front of Harry's body at a vertical angle.
"Lesson two, Harry. Never leave your body unguarded. Your sword is always in front and at an angle, ready to parry any blow. Understand?"
Harry nodded, and Lupin stepped back again to begin the attack, his arm extending and the point of his sword coming swiftly toward Harry in a threatening manner. Harry backed up a step, but was unsure of what to do since the threatening blade was neither up nor down for him to parry it. Lupin stopped just short of running him through.
"What would you think to do in this situation?" he asked.
Harry thought for a moment and brought his sword from its already upward position downward to swing up and under Lupin's blade. "Possibly this? That way, I'd be leaving him open and close to me for a counter-attack."
Lupin nodded. "Ok, then do it."
Harry brought the sword, which was pointing correctly up, in a downward arc again and brought it upward under Lupin's but the motion merely knocked the opposing sword from it's course. Lupin then swiftly drew a small dagger from beneath his coat, pointing the blade directly between Harry's ribs.
. Harry looked downward and sighed, lowering his sword. "I'm dead."
Lupin straightened. "Right you are. What I've just done is called a compound, which is two actions done simultaneously. You must always be prepared for the possibility that your opponent is carrying extra weapons. Now what is your job in this situation?"
Harry raised an eyebrow almost sarcastically. "To prevent it."
Lupin smiled. "Smart man. Now tell me how you might do that."
Harry thought for a moment, and motioned for Lupin to raise his sword back into his original attack position. When the professor had done so, instead of the previous downward and upward attack, Harry reversed it, and swung his blade from upward where it already was, to downward, effectively crushing Lupin's to the floor and wrenching it from his hand. Lupin made to reach for the dagger again, but the reversed action that Harry had taken had given him more time, and he dropped to one knee, bringing his sword to Lupin's neck and holding it at his throat.
Lupin beamed at him and gently brought a finger between himself and the blade threatening his wind pipe, easing it away from him.
Harry smirked. "Sorry."
"No, Harry that was brilliant! You learned from your mistake and performed the correct action. Your first attempt had you bringing your sword from upward, where it already was, to downward to upward again. It wasn't enough forcible momentum to make me lose my sword, and it gave me too much time to go for another weapon. But since your sword was already up, and on your second attempt you merely brought it downward, it was done much more quickly and forcibly and you were able to thwart me. The faster defense always has the upper hand."
Lesson number three, and they'd already spent half of their class time. As the minutes wore on, Lupin began to realize that Harry was a fast learner, and apt to be very skilled. He was agile, flexible, and strong; three qualities that had probably been helped along by Quidditch. Before they were through, Lupin had taken Harry through two or three more battles, each one faster and more furious than the previous, and by five o'clock the two were thoroughly sweaty and tired.
Lupin smiled at Harry and rested both of his hands, one with the sword, against his knees, leaning over and panting a bit. "W..well Harry, I think that's…enough for tonight."
Harry nodded open-mouthed and brought his sword-arm up to wipe at his brow. "After all of that, I can't believe I even killed the basilisk in the chamber of secrets…I really don't know yet what I'm doing."
Lupin smiled again, still puffing for air and stood up, his back aching and his legs and arms feeling quite rubbery. "Well I suppose the basilisk didn't have a sword of his own, did he?"
Harry moved to Lupin's desk and replaced the sword, nodding his agreement and smiling ruefully.
As the professor made to do the same, and the two faced each other again, they once again became aware of the awkward silence in the room. James felt his heartbeat quickening as he scanned his son, and felt an overwhelming urge to rush over and hug him tightly enough so as to try and crush away the years spent apart. But the uncomfortable look on Harry's face and the way he kept shifting from one leg to the other kept him rooted to the spot. James struggled to find a way to ease the tension.
"So…I suppose you're headed to Quidditch practice then?"
Harry was silent for a moment. "No…that..I mean it doesn't start until next Monday. We'll be looking for new beaters and a keeper then, I expect."
Lupin nodded in understanding and a couple more seconds of strained silence followed. Harry looked so much like James himself had looked at that age, although slightly more filled out. He supposed that the Dursley's had kept Harry busy with every backbreaking chore they could think of over his summers there. He grimaced sourly as he thought about the fact that even he had resentments toward Dumbledore. He'd not known of the treatment Harry had received there over the years until just recently, but then again, neither had Dumbledore.
"Well…" said Lupin carefully, moving toward his desk as if to straighten it, "You'd better get going, I suppose. Ron and Hermione must be waiting for you."
Harry nodded slowly, but made no move to leave as of yet, and kept raking his fingers through his hair as if having a mental battle with himself. After moving papers around on his desk for a few moments more, James stood again and turned slowly to face his son.
"Harry? Was there something more?"
Harry stopped his hand, mid-rake, and lowered it to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists as if not sure what to do with them. When his bright green gaze met his fathers, Lupin had to restrain himself to not run to crush Harry to him. He was so grown up, and yet, at times like this, he looked completely lost.
"Do you think…er…rather…would it be alright…if sometime we could…just sit…Could you maybe sometime take some time to…to tell me about my mother?"
Lupin felt his body beginning to shake and swallowed down the painful throb in his throat.
Unconsciously, Harry began to claw his hand through his hair again, and James had to keep himself from smiling. Well could he remember the times that he'd done that in front of Lily, and she'd reprimanded him saying, 'stop that…you'll go bald.'
"I don't really know anything about her…or..or you. I'd like to know all I can." Harry swallowed nervously.
James smiled at him and kept where he was only by sheer force of will. Harry was obviously not ready yet for the bone-crushing hug he wanted to give him, but he'd just made the first step, and James had to keep himself from crying for joy. What should he say?…'I'd love that Harry?' No, that would seem too eager, and he didn't want Harry to feel uncomfortable…
Lupin sniffed almost imperceptibly. "Of course, Harry. Anytime…You just let me know."
Harry nodded and shifted his weight again. "Well, I'll be off then."
Harry left the room, obviously deep in thought and headed back towards the Gryffindor common room, leaving his father slumped with exhaustion, both physically and mentally, and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
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