"The Bitter Glass"
By fyre
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TEASER: Of Western Stars universe Harry's second year at Hogwarts is about to begin. After the events of last year will a certain Mister Padfoot even let Harry go? With neutral's authorization and approval to play in her universe.
TIME LINE/CATEGORY: Harry's second year at Hogwarts, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." Set in neutral's Of Western Stars universe. The story arch is as follows:
Of Western Stars by neutral
Of Snow by neutral
Clawtracks of a Star by neutral
Let Winterlight Come by fyre
Hunting for Marbles by neutral
The Bitter Glass by fyre
Half of Dueling Range by neutral
Good Intentions by neutral
A link to neutral's stories can be found in my favorite authors section on as well as a link to her own website and her email address.
RATING: PGish Violence, some language, mentions of abuse.
DISCLAIMER: No major plot lines, characters, setting, or major events alluded to in this story are mine in any way. Some of the words are pulled straight from the movies or from JRK novels for the sake of continuity and are NOT mine. The background information and history that differs from JRK books belongs to neutral. No money is being made off this story. Please ask author before reproducing or posting anywhere else.
SPECIAL THANKS TO: neutral who without her permission, her encouragement, her constant source of inspiration, and writing this would not have been possible. Thanks for betaing!
SCHEDULE OF POSTING: It has been a year since "Let Winterlight Come" was first posted on While I promised myself for the sake of readers that I would finish over 50 of this story before I began posting, I am fifty eight pages in and only on Chapter IV. Couple that with pleading reviews for the next part, finals, my computer getting the blue screen of death, and the bar, I have decided that if you guys don't mind a fairly irregular posting schedule I will begin posting what I have now. But I promise I will not abandon this fic and will try to keep any wait between chapters to an absolute minimum.
NOTES: I wrote this piece with neutral's permission to play in her universe and with her wonderful characters. Every chapter, idea, plot, and take on characters in the universe was discussed and approved by neutral before posting. I apologize in advance for the grammar and spelling mistakes that got by me. Some of the odd sentence structure is purposeful for effect, even if it violates basic principles of grammar. Just go with it.
CHAPTER I: The Werewolf, the Wizards, and the Wand
"Wands at the ready?"
A solemn nod. "Ready."
"Very well then. Count off."
"One, two, three, four, five, si--"
"Rictasempura!"
"Protego! Padfoot!" Harry said indignantly. "That's cheating!"
Sirius ducked the reflected curse and grinned. "Winning is winning, Harry. Stupefy!"
Harry dodged left and raised his wand determinedly. "Expelliamus!"
"Locomotor chair!" The item flew from its placed on the veranda and was knocked aside by the force of Harry's disarming charm. "Petrificus Totalus!"
"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled and the two spells met with a sizzle of energy and color throwing them both to the ground. Not even trying to get up or clear the dust from his eyes knowing full well how fast his godfather could be, Harry let instinct guide him. "REDUCTO!"
He felt the hex begin to form but then sputter out, his wand shuddering in his hand. Too much power, Harry realized wildly as his holly wand began to glow and grow warm in his hand.
"EXPELLIAMUS!"
There was no time to dodge; his wand was yanked out of his hand towards Sirius, but no more was it a thin stick of wood. The wand was now a flaming missile headed straight towards his godfather.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Sirius threw up his hands to ward off the flying wand, ducking as it missed his head by mere millimeters. It embedded itself deeply in a tree with a bang.
With a groan Harry flopped back onto the grass. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes trying to rub the gritty tired feeling out of them. They'd been working on this for days and still his wand gave out at the worst possible moments.
"Hey, none of that now."
Harry moved his hands and blinked up at his godfather who was kneeling beside him. "I don't know if I can do this," he said.
"Of course you can," the black haired Marauder scolded as he helped Harry sit up. "You're doing a great job. It's actually working the spells now instead of just being used as a prop. Gods know how you managed to fool your teachers all last year," Sirius muttered as he began pulling strands of grass out of the boy's mess of hair. "But then seeing as how they are all blind, ignorant, stupid, incompetent--"
"I didn't manage to fool all of them," Harry admitted under his breath as he got to his feet, brushing off his trousers. "It wants to work, I can feel it," he continued in a louder voice, going over to stare at the embedded wand. "It's just . . ."
"Just what?"
Harry bit his lip. "I'm not sure this is my wand," he confessed.
Sirius stared down at his godson for a long moment before gently pulling out the unblemished holly wand from the blackened and scorched tree. He turned it over in his hands thoughtfully. "Wands are tricky things, Harry. Some people think that they are only focuses, channels for our innate power. Witches and wizards forget that the core itself has its own power, separate and unique from its wielder. One wand for one wizard, that's what we used to say in the Department. One wand," he handed it over to Harry who took it carefully, "one wizard."
"Well," Harry said at last, "At least it likes you now; it's stopped burning you."
"And a good thing too," Padfoot agreed. "Hard to examine the thing when it likes to singe people. Enough dueling for now, how about we go inside and try some transfiguration!" he said gleefully, placing his arm around Harry shoulder and hugging his godson to him.
"You just like to watch me turn Moony's tea set into rabbits and chase them all over the house," Harry said poking Sirius in the side with the tip of his wand.
"May I remind you, Mister Talons, that your last rabbit had a tea spout for a nose?" he retorted archly as they headed back towards the door.
Harry's shoulders sank. "Transfiguration is much easier with no words or wands."
"Well, if I'd known about this sooner, I would have been able to get you into tip top shape ages ago. So secretive, Harry," he said with affectionate exasperation, ruffling the boy's inky hair. "But not any more," Sirius added, eyes intense on the boy beside him.
"Not anymore," Harry agreed hurriedly, quick to put his godfather at ease, pleased when the sudden anxiety left Sirius at his affirmation. "When I go back to Hogwarts I'll be sending so many letters Hedwig will be exhausted."
The Marauder froze in the middle of opening the front door. "Er, Harry . . . about Hogwarts. I don't think--"
"Bugger!"
Harry's green eyes widened at the sound of the barely muffled curse from indoors. "Moony's back!" he called out excitedly. Ducking around his godfather he raced inside towards the fireplace.
Remus was just getting to his feet when he was bowled over by a black haired, scarlet robed blur.
"Moony! You're back! How did it go? What did they say? Did they like it? What about the changes you made? When will they--?"
"Easy, Harry!" Sirius said with a laugh, pulling Harry back to sit on the couch and give the werewolf breathing room.
"Nice to get a warm welcome after only being gone for two days," Remus said laughingly, getting up and brushing soot and floo powder off his robes and trousers with the parchment bunched in his hand.
"Sit down, sit down," Harry said eagerly, bouncing in his seat in anticipation.
Mischievously, Remus took his seat with leisurely slowness, getting comfortable, rearranging cushions, watching out of the corner of his eye as Harry watched him, waiting impatiently to get answers to his most pressing questions.
Moony was just about to suggest tea first when Padfoot threw a pillow at him. "Oh stop torturing us, Moony! Well?" Padfoot demanded. "What did they say?!"
Harry took this as permission to ask his questions and the words once again rushed out in excitement. "Did they like it? Are they going to publish your book?"
The werewolf hesitated for a bare instant before answering. "They liked it."
Sirius caught the deliberate wording, the pause. He knew his friend too well; something had not gone right. "But?" he pressed.
Remus shuffled his papers nervously. "The market on defense books is rather . . . saturated at the moment," he answered, unable to meet either blue or green eyes.
"But your book is wonderful," Harry said in utter bewilderment as to why anyone would hesitate in publishing his guardian's work. "It's got that really good explanation of shield work and-and that chapter on werewolves . . ."
Remus hid a wan smile at the sight of James and Lily son's earnest expression.
"I thought you said that most of the current defense books were awful, just prejudicial against non-humans and skimpy on anything resembling a decent hex or counter-curse," Sirius said, growing upset. "I know you use a pseudonym. It isn't because you are a--"
"I've never confirmed or denied the . . . rumors to my editor and she has never asked. That I am a werewolf made no difference in any event," Remus explained firmly. The last thing he needed was Sirius going on a crusade for his sake: he knew from experience Padfoot would do so before you could say lumos. "People just like reading Gilderoy Lockhart's books," Remus explained in a calm, reasonable voice. "He's reissued his entire series with the release of his autobiography. Compared to that, an anonymous author writing a dry, serious book just wouldn't sell."
"It's not dry and serious!" Harry exclaimed fiercely. "It's brilliant. The chapter on vampires is very funny, and the sketch . . ." Harry lowered his voice to a whisper as if imparting a most wonderful secret. "The sketch looks just like Professor Snape!"
Remus fought laughter manfully; Sirius didn't even bother. "Harry's right, besides I'm Sirius, remember Moony?"
"She didn't say she wouldn't publish it, just that right now it wasn't feasible. I haven't given up," he assured Harry as the boy opened his mouth to protest.
"Who is this Gilderoy Lockhart anyway?" Sirius asked peevishly, kicking at the ottoman halfheartedly.
"Lockhart, Lockhart . . ." Harry repeated under his breath. "There was an advert for him in the Daily Prophet yesterday," Harry said, sitting up as he remembered. He jumped off the couch and darted into the kitchen to dig through the paper box near the stove. He came dashing back, proffering the slightly wrinkled paper to his godfather. "Here."
"Magical Me by Gilderoy Lockhart," Sirius read. "Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five time winner of . . . Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile award? What is he, a warrior or a peacock? Look at his robes!" Sirius said in disgust, brandishing the paper. "No one wears those things talking with wendigos or traveling with ghouls or chatting up yetis or whatever the hell he's done."
"He's quite the media darling though," Remus put in, staring with a strange fascination at the smiling, beaming picture of blond coiffed perfection, blinding white teeth, and sea green and crème coloured robes. It was the same look people gave train wreaks and other appalling events-- the sight was horrifying but oddly captivating.
Lupin shuddered.
"I'll bet," Sirius muttered.
"Why did he write an autobiography if all his books are autobiographical?" Harry asked as he read over Padfoot's shoulder.
"Good question. This man appears to be in love with himself."
"And a good portion of the wizarding world agrees with him," the werewolf said. "Never mind about my book. It will get published eventually," he said staunchly, getting to his feet and smoothing Harry's wild hair down.
Harry looked up at him sorrowfully, but then brightened. "We could always publish it ourselves."
Sirius's eyes widened. "Hey, now there's an idea! Brilliant proposal, Mister Talons. Inspired! I can see it now. Marauder's Press. We could--"
"No," Remus said sharply. He immediately softened his tone when he noted Harry shrinking in on himself. "Thank you, but no. It is a very nice thought, but I'd like to try having one of the larger more established presses print it first," he added, not wanting to crush either of them, knowing that if he asked they would move mountains to publish his book.
Padfoot was silent before he nodded in understanding. He knew how important this was to his friend, the legitimacy of a larger press publishing. "Sure, Moony. I can't imagine this guy holding the bestseller list longer than a couple of weeks. It's just freakish amazement that's got people buying now. Nothing more than a fluke. It'll pass," he said assuredly.
"And maybe you could add that section on the last Dark War since you have more time until the final copy is due," Harry put in watching his guardian's face carefully for signs of distress or disappointment.
"An excellent idea, Mister Talons," Moony said, bowing formally to the boy. "You have my thanks. Now how about some tea? I'm famished."
"Isn't she beautiful?" Sirius said happily.
Harry looked askance at the Ford Anglia from his perch on his godfather's motorbike. The car had taken some serious coaxing to be led back into the Moor House's extensive garage/workshop where Sirius tinkered with his projects. Even now Sirius left the doors open so the Ford could roam as it wanted to around the grounds.
"She?" Harry asked, perplexed, swinging his legs idly.
"All cars and all motorbikes are shes," Sirius informed him, wiping his oil stained hands on a towel. "She may not look like much on the outside, but she's got a good engine." He slammed down the bonnet and patted the car gently. The Ford started on its own and purred beneath his praise. Padfoot smiled. "She'll get us to the Burrow for your birthday party just fine."
Harry nodded absently, mind on other things. "Will my Hogwarts letter know to go to the Weasley's house if we leave so very early tomorrow morning?"
Sirius stilled. "Uh . . . Harry . . . about Hogwarts," he carefully began.
Catching sight of the Animagus' worried expression, Harry hurried to explain. "I'm almost done with my homework. Almost. I know I shouldn't have put it off, but," here Harry ducked his head sheepishly "But there's not too much left. We don't have any Defense homework this summer."
Padfoot's hands clenched at the reminder of Quirrell, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who wasn't alive to give summer term homework. He took a deep breath and turned to face the boy. "Harry?" he began in a strained voice.
"Yes?"
"Your first year was really, really dangerous, right?"
Carefully Harry thought back: three headed dogs, dragons, forbidden corridors, jinxed brooms, unicorn killers, the Forbidden Forest, devil's snare, enchanted mirrors, wizard chess, and Voldemort. Harry shrugged. "I guess."
"You guess?" Sirius snorted derisively. "Hogwarts wasn't exactly safe last term," he said moving forward. "What with Voldemort being there, nearly getting jinxed off your broom, and the Forbidden Forest detention going after a fiend that killed unicorns." Sirius reached out and grabbed Harry by the shoulders and leaned in. "I mean, you only went to Hogwarts because you said, you saw, well . . . it was important. You understand what I'm saying, don't you Harry?" Sirius asked urgently, rubbing his hands slowly up and down Harry's arms.
"First year was a bit of an adventure," Harry said slowly, watching his godfather's face, trying to see if that was the right answer.
"More than an adventure, it was dangerous!" Sirius said insistently. "Dumbledore was supposed to protect you. Hogwarts' wards were supposed to keep you safe. And they didn't. Moor House is much safer. You're much safer. Here. At home," he added after a beat, "with Moony and me."
Harry bit his lip wondering just what exactly his godfather was trying to tell him. Did he want Harry to promise to stop looking for trouble at school? Harry was more than willing to promise. He didn't want to get involved in those types of adventures, it just was occasionally necessary. Harry was well aware that he risked more than his own life, her risked the lives of his friends who would follow him anywhere. He would be happy to promise if that was what Padfoot wanted.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Sirius asked.
"Yes," Harry said firmly. "Yes, I understand."
The Marauder blinked in surprise. "And you're not upset? I-I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm being selfish--"
Harry rushed to reassure him. "You're not! You're not! You're right. I shouldn't just--"
"You'll still get to learn, to study--"
The black haired boy nodded. "I'll be able to study more if I'm out of trouble."
"Exactly!" Sirius cried. "Exactly! And you'll still have time with your friends, I promise. So we're all right then, Harry?"
"I'll stay out of trouble," Harry agreed.
Sirius sighed in relief. "Good, good. Come on, lets go get packed and get ready for bed. Big day tomorrow you know. Tomorrow you're twelve."
Harry hopped off the motorbike and followed his godfather into the house and hurried upstairs to get started on packing a few things in his book bag he wanted to show Ron tomorrow. The Animagus watched him go with a devilishly pleased expression on his face.
"What are you smiling at?" Remus asked as he carried a tea stained mug and several dirty dishes from his study towards the kitchen. That smile never bodes well, Lupin thought darkly.
Sirius rocked on his heels, grinning. "Just had a little talk with Harry," he said airily.
"Oh?" The werewolf pushed the swinging kitchen door open with his elbow and dumped his dishes in the sink.
Padfoot followed eagerly behind him. "I explained to him the realities of the situation and Harry, brilliant boy that he is, totally understood and completely agreed."
"So he agreed?"
Sirius hopped up on the countertop to sit, watching as his friend absently waved his wand to start the dishes rinsing as he put the kettle on. "Yup."
Moony shut off the water. "Sirius, what are you talking about?" he asked in bewilderment.
The black haired man rolled his eyes in exasperation. "About Harry not going back to Hogwarts this term."
Remus eyed him incredulously. "You told Harry that," he said in disbelief.
"Yes."
"And Harry agreed?"
"That is what I just said," Sirius huffed. "Is there an echo in here or something?"
Remus folded his arms across his chest and raised one knowing eyebrow. "Harry agreed to not go back to school."
"Yes."
"That's exactly what he said?"
"Er . . ."
"Did he say that?" Moony asked pointedly. "Did he say, 'Sirius you're right, not paranoid and manically overprotective. I shouldn't go back to Hogwarts. Ever.'"
Sirius rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. "Well . . . er . . . Harry did say he wanted to stay out of trouble," he finished defensively. "And I am not paranoid or manically overprotective."
Moony sighed and put a hand to his forehead tiredly. "Did you say to Harry that you were not going to let him return to Hogwarts?" he asked slowly as if speaking to a five year old.
Padfoot bristled. "We talked about how dangerous Hogwarts was and how he could study better if he wasn't in trouble and how Moor House was safer and . . . and . . ." The werewolf's amber gaze bored into him. Sirius fidgeted.
"no," he admitted at last.
"Well then, I guess Harry is going."
"He is NOT!" Black jumped down off the counter. "I won't have my godson at that-that . . . school! If you think for one second that I trust--"
"Padfoot?" Harry's voice floated down from his room, cutting off the tirade.
Sirius pushed his way into the living room and stared up at Harry who was leaning over the banister. "What is it, Harry?"
"Do you think I should bring my school books?" Harry asked, brow furrowing in consideration.
"I don't think that you'll have any time to study, Harry. It's your birthday party, remember?" he said encouragingly. "Never mind about homework."
"Oh, right."
Sirius waited until the sounds of footsteps retreated back up the stairs before his pleasant expression collapsed into dismay. "He didn't understand," he muttered to himself.
"Padfoot," Remus said, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we should just let him go to Hogwarts."
"No," he said sharply. "It's too dangerous. It's just-- it's just so hard to tell him," he groaned. "Harry's so excited about school; I think he really likes it despite it being dangerous and failing potions and the whole place being staffed by morons and Snape . . ."
Sirius suddenly whirled around, excited. "You tell him Moony."
"Me?" choked the werewolf. "Oh, no," he said shaking his head vehemently. "This is your idea. If you want to withdraw him from Hogwarts, coop Harry up, keep him wrapped in cotton wool for the rest of his life, then you tell him he's not going. I'll have no part in this."
"But Moony!"
"No." Remus made a break down the hall towards the sanctuary of his study, choosing to ignore the whistling teakettle. The whole house can burn for all I care, must get away!
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please?" Sirius gave him his puppy dog eyes.
Be strong, Remus. "No."
With a pop, Sirius was in his Animagus form and whimpered he pawed at Moony's leg.
"Now this is getting embarrassing," Lupin informed him with a laugh.
There was another popping noise and Sirius was tugging at his sleeve.
"Please Moony?"
"No!"
"Harry."
"Mmmm."
"Harry, it's morning. Time to get up."
Blearily, Harry sat up in bed and blinked myopically at Remus. With great ceremony, the werewolf handed him his glasses.
"Harry Birthday, Harry," he said, offering the boy a one armed hug and a smile.
"Twelve. I'm twelve," Harry announced sleepily to the world at large. He then promptly burrowed back under the covers before Remus could stop him.
Laughing, he dragged the boy out. "Come on. Get ready. We've got to get over to the Burrow for lunch."
Harry walked slowly towards the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. "Where's Padfoot?"
"He's braved the kitchen to make breakfast for you," Remus replied with a grin only imagining the chaos downstairs. It was a testament to how awake and aware Harry in fact was that the boy didn't even react to the unusual event of Padfoot attempting to make anything other than his famous lamb curry without burning the house down. The werewolf smoothed down Harry's wayward hair and pushed him gently towards the bathroom. "Go, wash your face. It'll help you wake up."
Harry had just stumbled down the stairs when Sirius came waltzing out of the kitchen, singing.
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Harry. Happy Birthday to yoooOOOoooouu!" He picked up his godson on the last word and hugged him tight.
"Morning Padfoot," Harry murmured into the Marauders shirt, which smelled of butter, syrup, and Grim.
"Bit sleepy this morning, huh?" Sirius said knowingly, sharing a grin with Moony who watched from the foot of the stairs. Harry's sleep patterns had always been erratic and his guardians made an effort to cater to them. It wasn't as if their own were much better: Remus up at all hours when inspiration struck him, Sirius sometimes sleeping till noon, other times out at dawn at his mysterious "job," not to mention the nights when the moon was full. "Never mind," Padfoot said with a gentle laugh. "Breakfast and then you can sleep on the way."
"Hmm," was all that Harry could manage following both men into the kitchen.
It was the thrum of the Ford Anglia that woke Harry. Blinking, he raised his head of Remus' lap and stared at the blue sky and white clouds surrounding them.
"Awake are we?" Moony asked as he quickly stopped trying to massage out the knots of pain that crampt his hands, refusing to worry the child. Putting aside his ever-present notebook and quill where he'd been scribbling ideas, Lupin helped Harry sit up.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, pressing his face to the windows and them moving forward to lean over the front seat to stare out of the windshield.
Sirius pointed out a hill in the distance, hardly needing both hands to steer because the car knew the way home. "See that? Ottery St. Catchpole. We're almost there. You feeling more awake now, Mister Talons?" he teased.
Harry nodded distractedly, staring avidly down below. "It's almost as good as your motorbike."
"Almost," Sirius agreed with a smile as they began their descent.
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