Harry’s smile quickly faded as he took in the sight of Snape’s scowling face.

“Potter. You will remain here until I am certain that you can perfectly brew the potion that you mindlessly destroyed in class today.” Harry sighed as he prepared his cauldron and the ingredients necessary to brew the Paternitus potion. Snape’s idea of perfection was higher than anyone else’s he knew, aside from maybe Hermione. Luckily though, the man seemed content to stay at his desk rather than pace around making scathing comments, as was his wont during class. Harry was reasonably certain that he could make the potion correctly now, if not perfectly.

When Harry had added the chopped ginger root, stirred three times anticlockwise and the doused the flame under the cauldron, he steeped back and breathed a sigh of relief. The potion was completely transparent, as it was supposed to be. He looked up at hi professor, who noticed his gaze and strode over.

Sneering at the potion, he sniffed once and then turned to his student, an unpleasant look on his sallow face.

“Well, Mr Potter, either you have done this potion correctly, or have somehow manipulated it so that it only appears to. There is only one way to test it…” Ignoring Harry’s yelp of pain as he grasped the boy’s arm fiercely, he waved his wand and a small cut appeared on the Gryffindor’s arm. He let three drops of blood fall into the cauldron before healing the small wound.

Releasing the arm, Snape curled his lips at the outrage on Harry’s face. Not allowing him any time to complain, Snape continued.

“Now, that your blood has been added, the potion will now test whoever’s blood is dropped in next for paternity. As I am, thank Merlin, not your father, nor in anyway related to you, the test will be negative when I add my blood. Unless of course, you have brewed it incorrectly, an avenue that we must certainly not ignore.”

Harry bit his lip in his effort not to respond in anger, but managed to restrain himself as Snape repeated the wand movement he had used on Harry on himself. When the elder man’s blood reached the cauldron, the potion turned a brilliant red. Having forgotten what the colour of a negative test was supposed to be, Harry turned to his teacher, and then took a step back in confusion.

Snape’s face was devoid of all colours, and his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the red potion. Suddenly, his customary mask slid back on and he turned to Harry with fury written all over his face.

“Potter!” The word was spat in Harry’s face and he instinctively flinched backwards.

“What the HELL did you do to this potion?” Harry was ashamed of the fear he could feel rising and the slight quaver in his voice as he replied.

“I...I don’t know, sir.” “You imbecilic, foolish, worthless, stupid…” Harry began to feel anger rise up in him, a tight ball of fire within him as he heard the harsh comments. Clenching his fists, he screwed his eyes up tightly and begged himself not to burst as he was sure he would as the all-consuming fury filled him.

“…just like that mangy mutt…” Harry snapped. Hot anger boiled up in him. He felt the pressure behind his eyes build. He was suffocating, cords binding him, tightening slowly around him… Then he was in the room that he recognised from his last vision and Voldemort was standing in front of him, as if he had been expected Harry to arrive.

“Ah, Harry Potter, here again. I’m afraid I can’t stay for long.” Harry was frozen with terror as Voldemort advanced towards him, hand outstretched. “I’ve got an important appointment with your dear relatives. Of course, they don’t know that yet, but they will, I promise.” His cold fingers were on Harry’s cheek now, and Harry could hardly make out the rest of words through the pain.

“I just thought I’d let you know, to give you a sporting chance, if you like. Then, if you don’t manage to do anything, it’ll be their blood on your hands. But then of course, you must be used to that. Now, dear boy, wake up and go trotting off to Dumbledore, like a good little boy. There may be another surprise for you there, if you are lucky.” Harry regained consciousness to see Snape’s face far too close to his own. Groaning, he tried to move back, before realising that he was in fact lying with his back supported by Snape’s chest, who was leaning over to peer into Harry’s eyes.

“Vision.” Harry choked out. “Have to go to the Headmaster.” He staggered to his feet and walked unsteadily to the door and up the corridor that led to the Headmaster’s Office, not even looking to see Snape’s reaction. He hadn’t forgotten who had caused his anger to surge in the first place, and was sure that if that hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t have been sucked into a vision. It vaguely crossed his mind that Voldemort seemed to have been expecting him, so how would he have known that Harry would get angry at that precise moment? Either Snape truly was working for the Dark Lord, or it wasn’t the anger inside Harry that caused him to be pulled into the vision.

Harry pushed away the confusing thoughts when he noticed that Snape had caught up with him just outside Dumbledore’s Office and had already said the password. Harry ignored him and swept past in as dignified manner as he could manage. At the Headmaster’s acquiescence, he entered the room. Remus was sitting there and the man stood hastily as he saw the teen’s face.

“Harry…? Are you alright?” Harry barely spared him a glance, all attention focused on the Headmaster. “Professor, I had a vision – my relatives…” Dumbledore immediately leapt to his feet, defying his old age, and had a short conversation through the Floo with someone. Harry swayed slightly and immediately Remus was at his side, steadying him. When Dumbledore had finished, he turned back to the boy, looking grave.

“Harry, did Voldemort tell you anything else? I need you to describe the whole vision, I’m afraid.” Harry frowned slightly in concentration.

“He said something about running to you, sir, and a surprise…” He trailed off. There may be another surprise for you there, if you are lucky. A surprise it was indeed when his scar split open with agony. Crying out, he was dimly aware of falling to the floor, drowning in pain, fingers scrabbling at his scar. He felt like there were cords around him, binding him, stiffening his limbs and increasing his torment. A face was in front of his own – the werewolf’s – no, Remus’, and he was talking, but Harry couldn’t hear the words. Harry’s hand was moving, but he wasn’t asking it to, the limb felt heavy and sluggish even as he tried to force it to stay still and he watched with growing panic as it hefted Harry’s wand in one movement. Harry’s jaw was grinding as unknown words were formed on his own lips without his knowledge, and then Remus – the werewolf – was falling backwards in a flash of bright light, blood gushing.

At this, Harry struggled harder, desperately fighting the constrains on his mind, have to help, have to help Remus, got to get free, get out of my mind. A snatch of memory came back from that dreaded day at the Department of Mysteries and Harry felt a surge of hope. Concentrating through the pain, he focused on the man he had just unwillingly blasted.

Remus, looking at me with concern in his eyes. Remus holding me close to him as I cry for Sirius. Remus threatening to kidnap my books so that I’ll come to his rooms more often. Waking up with my head of his lap. Remus’ presence, warm and comforting, beside me as I tremble in fear after a vision. Remus, lying on the floor, bloody and unmoving… With a last wrench, Harry pulled himself free from the vision and lay weakly on the floor, gasping for air. He struggled to his knees and crawled over to his surrogate godfather. Dumbledore was there, crouched by Remus but with Snape standing over him, his wand pointed straight at Harry. Harry looked with horror at the growing pool of blood by Remus.

“Oh Merlin…I…” Dumbledore’s shrewd eyes gazed into Harry’s briefly, and then he lowered his gaze and turned away to the fireplace, lifting the Floo powder once again. Harry stretched out one shaking hand to Remus’ face, touching the too-pale skin once before retreating. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the still body, even when Madam Pomfrey came hurtling through the fireplace and briskly began giving instructions.

Snape grabbed Harry by his arms and heaved him up. The boy was muttering to himself, alternately staring at the body and then at his hand, which still held his wand. “I killed him, I killed Remus…” “Potter.” Harry didn’t seem to hear the sharp voice of his Potions Professor, nor even notice that he was being held upright by the same man. With a frustrated sigh, the older man turned the boy to face him and roughly grabbed his chin and forced the green eyes to meet his own.

“Potter.” He spoke each word carefully, as if speaking to a small child. “Lupin is not dead. He was hit with a bleeding curse, but will recover easily. It looks much worse than it is.” The dazed look in Harry’s eyes remained, and Snape sighed. He looked around to see that Lupin and the Headmaster had disappeared, presumably to the Hospital Wing by Floo, and Poppy Pomfrey was walking towards them.

“For heaven’s sake, Severus, you’re supposed to be a Potions Master. He’s in shock – give him a Calming Draft then send him after me to the Hospital Wing.” Severus sneered at her to cover his embarrassment but she ignored him and followed after the others. Working quickly, Snape poured the potion down an unresisting Harry’s throat and propelled him into the green flamed fire.

“Hospital Wing!” Harry stumbled out of the fireplace with much choking and sputtering due to the lack of warning that he was given, only to see Remus, lying propped up with a few pillows obediently swallowing what looked like a whole tray of potions as Madam Pomfrey stood over him. Professor Dumbledore had disappeared, and for a moment Harry just stood there, watching Remus who looked, although not exactly healthy, at least very much alive and well.

After what appeared to be a final admonishment, Pomfrey left and Remus slid down further on the pillows and closed his eyes. Harry wanted so badly to rush up to him and apologise, to touch him and make sure that he truly was alive, but his shame kept him hidden in the dark corner.

When the werewolf appeared to be asleep, other thoughts began to invade Harry’s mind. Voldemort just possessed him and made him curse somebody! He could do it again, whenever – so many people could be hurt by him, he wasn’t safe. He was alone with Remus now – what if it happened again? He couldn’t be around anymore, he was a danger, a menace to society… Harry wheeled around to flee, to get away from everybody, he had to keep them safe, he had to leave…when he ran head-first into his Headmaster.

“Ah, Harry. Would you step outside with me a moment?” It wasn’t really a question, and Harry obeyed silently.

“My dear boy, I am sure that you are very worried about what has just happened. Rest assured, we will find a solution, but just as a temporary measure I am going to cast a spell on you that allows me to block your mind for you.” Harry frowned in confusion. “You mean, you’ll be in my head, shielding my mind.” “Not quite. I won’t be inside my head, but all attacks on your mental defences will be diverted, if you like, to me, and I will be able to block them.” “Oh, I see now. That’s cool. Why didn’t you do this when I first started having visions then, sir?” “I’m afraid that it is only temporary. It is very draining and I will not be able to hold it for much longer than a week, depending on how many times Tom attempts to breach your mind. I had hoped that you would be able to learn Occulmency before the visions became too severe. However, not to worry! We will focus on your Occulmency full time over the next few days. You are to be excused from classes and both myself and Professor Snape will be instructing you as much as we can.” Harry bowed his head. “I’m sorry that you have to do this, sir.” The Headmaster cut him off.

“No apologies, Harry. Now, hold still.” Harry stood while Dumbledore chanted a long, flowing Latin incantation that surrounded them both in a soft yellow light. When he finished, Dumbledore at once looked every inch the tired old man that he was and Harry felt a stab of guilt. However, the Headmaster soon recovered himself and started to speak again.

“I’m sorry to bring you more bad news tonight, dear boy, but I have just heard from the Auror team. I’m afraid that they were too late too save your family. None of them survived and the house is ruined. I’m so sorry, Harry.” There was such compassion in Dumbledore’s voice that Harry couldn’t bare to meet them. Instead he hunched his shoulders.

“Do you mind if I go back inside and sit with Remus for a little while, Professor? I just, I can’t…” A hand was placed gently on his shoulder for a second and Harry was glad of the brief comfort.

“Of course. Tomorrow I wish to speak to you some more, but for now, rest, Harry.” xxx Harry didn’t know how long he had been sitting by the hospital bed when Remus began to stir. Harry’s first instinct was to hide so that Remus couldn’t look at him with blame in those brown eyes. Harry couldn’t stand the fact that he had let down the only father-figure he had left and the guilt was eating away at him like acid inside.

Some fascination kept him still though; a desperate need to check that the Professor was alright, that he wasn’t in pain, that he was recovering.

There was surprise in the amber eyes as they fell upon the boy, but no anger or blame that he could spot. However, he braced himself for the disappointed words and deserved rejection and revulsion, but it never came.

“Harry, what are you doing here? You should be resting.” “I’m sorry!” Harry’s response was immediate and instinctive.” Remus frowned and Harry huddled backwards slightly. “Hey, it’s alright. What’s the matter?” Harry only just suppressed a sob, hands wrapped tightly around himself for support and meagre comfort. “I’m sorry! I just needed to see that you were alright. I know it’s my fault and I’m so sorry, and I swear that I never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t me, I promise, I would never hurt you, please, you have to believe me…” “Hey, hey, none of that. I know it was Voldemort, not you, Harry. I know that you would never do that.” Harry raised glistening green eyes that were full of pleading. “I was fighting, I was, as hard as I could I swear, but it wasn’t enough, it’s never enough…” Remus reached out and touched his arm.

“Merlin! You’re freezing. Come here!” He moved over and tugged Harry in beside him in the bed. Harry was reluctant to accept the offered embrace.

“You shouldn’t…I don’t deserve it, I might hurt you.” “Stop this right now Harry Potter! I do not blame you and I forbid you to do so! I’m fine now, and it’s over with.” Harry began to sob, everything catching up with him.

“I’m scared Remus.” He confessed, “I’m so scared.” Remus didn’t reply but wrapped his arms around the teen and pulled him close to his chest. Tucking Harry’s head beneath his chin he stroked the messy hair and softly crooned to the near-hysterical boy. Harry twisted his fingers into the material of Remus’ robes and held tight as he guiltily absorbed the comfort and warmth from the other man. Gradually the tears stopped, but he kept his face hidden and Remus kept rubbing his back gently. Secure in Remus’ embrace, Harry felt that perhaps everything was going to be alright after all.

Just as he was drifting off, Dumbledore’s last few comments suddenly got through to him.

“Remus?” he asked, ashamed of how small and weak his voice sounded.

“Yes Harry?” Remus’ voice was tender and warm.

“None of my relatives survived the attack. I can’t mourn them, I really can’t grieve for them. Does that make me a bad person?” The arms around him tightened a little and a kiss was pressed to the top of his head.

“No, Harry, not at all. Go to sleep now, and we’ll talk more in the morning.” Harry relaxed into the soothing motion of Remus’ hand stroking through his hair and across the nape of his neck.

“Remus?” His voice was drowsy now, but somehow this seemed very important, although he couldn’t remember why. “I’m sorry.” A gentle sigh. “Hush now, sleep.”