Chapter 8: Bring Me Sunshine, Send Her Rain.

Oh look! Actual new content! Ain't that a miracle? It's not long, but it's something.

Thank you guys for your patience, life has been a bit of an arse recently with a friend passing away whilst I have been trying to settle into a new job (which is much more demanding in both time and energy than my previous) plus dealing with Life-In-General. As I have mentioned before it is likely the next few chapters may be a little shorter than some of the previous and that the updates might be a little more irregular but I hope you will all stick with me because I have SUCH PLANS for this fic.

As always if you are a new reader; Welcome to Roksmore, my friends.

Harry collapsed face first onto his bed with dry, heaving sobs forcing their way out from his chest, which felt tighter than even when he has apparated. He was also far too exhausted for the level of emotion he was currently experiencing, it was threatening to overwhelm him completely. Harry flinched when he felt something land on the bed beside him, but in looking up he realised it was only Hedwig. She ruffled her feathers and cocked her head in a clear question.

"What's the matter?"

Harry sat upright, pulling his knees into his chest, and stroked the owl's feathered head softly. Tears were streaming down his face. He was just thinking that he missed Hogwarts' size where it was possible to disappear for hours without coming across another person, when there was a tentative knock at the door. Swiping the tears hastily from his cheeks, he looked up to see Archie leaning just outside the door, shirtless but wearing baggy grey joggers, his hair scuffled obviously from having just gotten out of bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head harshly.

"You wanna be alone?"

Harry hesitated before shaking his head again. Archie was silent for a short time, remaining hesitantly at the door.

"Hey, I was thinking of getting in some potions practice. I haven't brewed in a few weeks, what with it being summer and Kayne brewing the wolfsbane this month, do you want to join me?"

It was fairly obvious that the elder boy was trying to distract him but Harry couldn't begrudge the effort.

"Sure," he shrugged, "only, could we brew in my trunk? I don't want to go anywhere near the school building right now…"

"'Course, mate. Let me just go put a shirt on. 'Cause flames and shit."

Harry surprised himself by snorting in laughter as Archie span and disappeared down the short corridor. By the time Archie returned, carrying a briefcase the almost the same as what Harry had purchased from Mr Mulpepper's just a few days ago but a little scuffed and battered, the younger boy had washed his face and composed himself into something resembling his normal self. The werewolf couldn't help but feel a little relieved by this, despite knowing that something was most certainly still troubling his young friend.

"Werewolves first…" said Harry, sweeping his hand forwards with a small bow and a smirk.

Archie laughed brightly but remained where he was, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Don't you need something to brew with? Or… you know, in?"

"Already down there," Harry prompted.

Archie shrugged and made his way to the trunk, muttering the password and lifting the lid before descending the stairs to the lab inside. Harry marvelled for a moment at just what magic could accomplish, before following.

Inside, Harry had set up a cauldron on each of the two stone tables. The copper cauldron nearest the door was the larger of the two and had been perched on the table and otherwise untouched, evident in the way it was leaning slightly back against the wall it stood against. In the centre of the room another stone table stood with with 'standard size two' copper cauldron resting carefully upon it, resting much more neatly atop a thin metal stand that's legs splayed outwards like a spider to accommodate necessary flames. To the right of the cauldron was a small, open wallet which contained Harry's potions knife and stirring rods from last year.

"You know if you're going to be spending time down here I best get rid of this knife and buy one that isn't made of silver. Can't have you burning yourself if I accidentally leave it hanging around now, can we?"

Archie grinned, though a slight blush formed on his cheeks.

"You don't have to do that." He said, but Harry was already shaking his head, his hair falling into his face.

"Of course I do. I don't want you getting hurt. Now stop being difficult and tell me what type I need to get because- I don't have clue…" Harry looked at the werewolf expectantly and was a little pleased to notice the uncharacteristically shy smile that had lit up the other boy's features.

"Well," Archie said turning his back to the younger boy, "before Rue got me a literal freakin' lava knife-" his tone became more excited even as he spoke and Harry realised that it wasn't just the knife Archie was so happy about, but he said nothing because Archie was speaking again. "I used to use one made from Vanax Steel. In fact, I still have that one somewhere. I'll find it for you, so you don't have to buy one."

"Are you sure? I don't mind buying one."

"Maybe, but there is no point in you buying a knife when I have a perfectly serviceable one upstairs. I mean-" Archie turned his head around in confusion. "Does it count as upstairs when we are on the same level, despite having come down a flight of stairs to arrive here?"

"Don't ask me shit like that when I'm running on caffeine alone. Ask a professor or something."

"Did you just swear?"

Archie looked bewildered, Harry smirked.

"You're growing up too fast, kid. Can I move your six?"

Harry frowned, then nodded as he realised Archie was referring to the larger cauldron that was sat atop the second workstation. They worked quietly for a few minutes, each boy setting out their equipment and ingredients as required. Harry was surprised to notice that when he opened his briefcase the ingredients rose out in unfolding shelves much like a magical interpretation of his Aunt Petunia's make-up box. When the briefcase was fully unfolded, the largest shelf folding to the rear and allowing two further compartments to unfold to each side, each of the one hundred ingredients could be seen and selected easily. A shallow drawer at the base of the contraption slid open, housing the spare phials and stirring rods. It was once again dawning on Harry the incredible things that magic could accomplish, such as containing so much within a briefcase barely five centimetres tall and no bigger than a shoebox. But then, Harry supposed, I'm thinking this whilst stood in a potions lab within a school trunk. Looking over to Archie's cauldron, which was already bubbling with its contents, Harry shook himself back into action.

"Do you have any matches?"

Archie looked up from where he was measuring out a teaspoon of crushed snake fangs.

"What are matches?" he asked.

"Wha-" Harry stared. "Matches? Little sticks that make fire? You can transfigure them into needles pretty easily?

"Is that a muggle thing?"

"I mean… I guess so? Primarily at least, but have you seriously not got a clue what I'm talking about?" Archie shrugged.

"I can make fire with my wand, why would i need a little stick to do it for me?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, silently.

"Yes, alright," conceded the elder boy. "The wand is a stick, I know, but whatever. You need me to teach you the spell?"

Harry nodded, so the older boy moved around the desk to stand next to him and pulled his wand from his sleeve. Pointing his wand at the base of Harry's cauldron, he demonstrated slowly the wand motion, like an uncrossed f, a few times until Harry had it right.

"The incantation is 'semper flamma', 'always flame' is the literal translation, meaning the flame will be impervious to wind, rain, splashing ingredients and the like. To dispel it, you can just use 'finite'."

Harry focussed on the base of his cauldron and muttered the spell, grinning widely when a small flame erupted from the end of his wand.

"Cool! Thanks! I never get spells right the first time!"

"No problem, kid. Now, what are you making?"

"Erm-"

"Didn't think that far ahead, did you?" Harry shook his head.

"What have you brewed before? I know the curriculum is slightly different at Hogwarts even in the lessons that are similar in origin, so I can tell you what you might have missed on our end." Archie pulled a slim journal from the base of his potions kit which had been sat atop his stirring rods. It was a battered book and looked to be at least half full, although of what Harry could only guess.

"We did the Boil Cure first, then an Antidote to Common Poisons, Pompion Potion, Forgetfulness Potion and the Wiggenweld Potion. I think that is all."

Harry tried not to drop his head in embarrassment at the look of shock on Archie's face. The older boy pondered the information for a moment, then nodded decisively.

"Have you ever made the Herbicide Potion, Swelling Solution or Herety Draught?"

"Oh, yes, we made the Herbicide Potion too. Not the Swelling Solution or… the other one. I haven't ever heard of that."

Archie considered him again for a moment, then opened his journal to the very beginning and flicked through a few pages, before setting the open book onto the desk next to Harry.

"The Herety Draught is a fire protection potion, it works basically the same as a flame-freezing charm. No matter, you can work on a Swelling Solution today. The Swelling Solution is no more complicated than anything you made last year but the recipe is complex enough that we I can teach you about stirrings and the like along the way. Is that okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Here is the recipe," Archie said gesturing at the book on the counter, where Harry could see a recipe printed neatly with scribbled annotations filling the margins, "have you got the colour guide I gave you the other day?"

"I do," Harry confirmed, "but is there really that big of a difference in the outcome of the potion if the colour is a shade or so off?"

"Yes."

"Why though?"

"Because the potion colour is reminiscent of the ingredients interacting with one another. The Swelling Solution, for example, is meant to be shell pink when complete, if you have a potion that is blush pink you have probably added too many puffer-fish eyes and that instead of a solution which will not swell equally. To put it into context, if you used the blush pink swelling solution on a quaffle, you might end up with something which resembled a garden gnome in shape. If you end up with a potion that is lilac you haven't added enough bat spleen and the result will probably be instead of swelling the potion will cause an increase in density of the object, so you might end up with a quaffle that feels like a bludger. Do you see? The colour will indicate that the potion has not been made correctly, which will also mean that any antidote will need to be modified to reverse the adverse effects."

Twenty minutes later, Harry had produced the first stage of a passable Swelling Solution. Archie, who had been keeping an ear out for questions whilst focussing on his own Wound Cleansing Potion, was now hunched over his desk scribbling in his journal on an already thoroughly annotated page.

"It says to leave for an hour dependant on the type of cauldron." Harry commented into the otherwise silent room.

"Hm?"

"The recipe. It says the brewing time is dependant on the type of cauldron. How do I figure it out?"

Archie closed his journal and stood up, walking to Harry's station and peering over the smaller boy's shoulder.

"Ah, don't worry. That is more to do with how large a batch you are making rather than the material of the cauldron. If you were brewing a larger batch in a larger cauldron you might need to brew for longer, but this one only needs an hour."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. He tidied the station slightly and sat down beside his friend, beginning to copy down the recipe and his annotations into his own journal.

"So, do you want to talk about what got you so upset this morning?" Archie's voice was quiet, tentative, but it was evident from his tone that he did truly care about the answer.

Harry shrunk into his chair a little further.

"I don't know if I can really explain. I know I over-reacted, Remus was explaining some stuff that happened a long long time ago, but I think I just got totally overwhelmed with finding out that people are- not who I thought they were. My old potions professor is coming here and he hates- no, hated- me. He was super close with my mum and Remus in school but my dad and Remus' husband bullied him and-" Harry stopped, taking a deep breath and screwing his eyes shut.

"Remus' husband is Sirius Black, who is not guilty of giving my parents' location to Voldemort even though that is part of what he went to prison for. The guy who betrayed them got away and Sirius never got a trial… Sometimes I wonder why I bother in the wizarding world because, no offence, you all do shit really backwards sometimes. Snape is insanely good at potions but is apparently Dumbledore's man and I don't know whether or not he is really safe, because he is literally being sent to this school to watch over me.

"I don't know how to feel." Harry shook his head, eyes still closed, before looking up at Archie. "Is it too much to ask for a little bit of peace? In the space of thirteen months I have gone from unloved muggle orphan whose parents were drunks that died in a car crash, to famous wizarding boy who has faced Voldemort twice, whose parents were also wizards and were killed by said evil megalomaniac, transferred schools twice and learned the kindly old man is fucking insane and has been orchestrating my life since I was a year old!" Harry hit his fist into the wooden desk and slowed his breathing, which was harsh and laboured.

Archie pulled the smaller boy into a loose embrace where the two remained for several minutes, before Harry pulled back and wiped at his face, frustratedly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Asking for a little bit of peace is so within your rights, Harry." Archie looked down as he spoke, his eyes lingering on the stone floor of the lab. "You don't need to be sorry for having emotions or wishing things weren't so difficult sometimes. We all do it. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry looked up hopefully.

"Will you come with me on Sunday? Snape wants to talk to me before he actually moves in next week and I don't want to go alone."

"Of course! I doubt Ariana would have made you go alone anyway but yes, I will come with you."

Harry's shoulders dropped as he breathed a sigh of relief. A weight felt as though it had been lifted as he realised he wasn't as alone as he had thought, what with Archie having his back, as well as Preston and Rue seeming to also care about him at least in some regard. Since moving to Roksmore, in the space of a mere week, Harry had gained three good friendships that he could tell would be incredibly valuable in the coming months, maybe even years. There was such support at Roksmore where at Hogwarts there had been none- fending for oneself being the dominant mentality in Gryffindor house especially.

"How long has your potion got left?"

Archie's voice startled Harry out of his reverie, the younger boy jumping slightly before slinking back into his chair.

"Thirty-five minutes left, why?"

"Once it's done, we can go tell Ariana that I will be accompanying you on Sunday. She won't have a problem with it, but we should let her know anyway." Harry smiled sheepishly.

"We should, but also because I never agreed to the meeting this morning before I ran off to have a moment. I also need to see whether Remus is still around, because I think I made him think that he was the reason I was so upset. I'm not sure, but I best make sure he doesn't think I'm mad at him."

"Probably a good idea," laughed Archie.