Lunaticus Book Three: New Moon Rising

BY : JBankai89
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus
Dragon prints: 4092
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

STOP! This is book three of the Lunaticus series. Go back and read Half Moon and Moonstruck first.

A/N: Welcome back to the final part of the Lunaticus series! I hope you enjoy this final part, and if you don't, well...I did my best, and after writing and rewriting the outline for this damn story close to 4 times, I'm finally at a place where I'm happy with how it's turned out, and I hope you guys also enjoy the close to the series that I have been working on since May 2016.

For the time being, I will be posting once every two weeks, because as of right now I only have about half the chapters completed. Once I have more done, I'll go up to posting once a week. (Also because I finally got myself a real job so I have significantly less time on my hands to actually write...) This is to ensure that I won't suddenly have to take a hiatus, cuz I really, really, don't want to do that to you guys. So, the choice was every two weeks, or wait longer. The next update, chapter two will not be up until April 7th though, so there will be a 2.5-week wait for the next instalment. Sorry about that. :(

Note: Please be aware that this fic will also include Harry being paired with an Original Male Character.


New Moon Rising

The last tie was broken. Man and the claims of man no longer bound him.”

-Jack London, Call of the Wild

Chapter One – The Other Side

Harry felt heavy, as though his body weighed several tonnes. He let out a soft groan, and despite his overwhelming exhaustion, he felt no pain. This was significant, though he could not for the life of him remember why.

His eyes flicked open, and he found himself in some sort of void. Black, endless in all directions, and yet confining at the same time. It was not the void that drew his attention however, but the other being that resided there with him.

Harry sat up slowly and regarded the lithe white wolf curiously. It was small, and at first Harry almost mistook it for a coyote. The creature cocked its head to the side, watching Harry as intently as he watched it, its piercing emerald gaze bore into him with an intelligence Harry would not expect from such an animal.

What are you?” Harry tried to ask, but his voice was terribly hoarse, and the question escaped him as a low growl. The creature did not respond, but continued to watch Harry intently. Harry looked down at himself, and he felt strangely exposed, for he was naked.

In an instant, he was dressed in his old school robes, and Harry recalled at once the last time he'd found himself in such a place.

So, not dead then, he thought, and took a step towards the creature. Its ears pricked and it turned from him, trotting away at a leisurely pace, and Harry hastened to catch up with it.

Hey, wait!” he called, but the creature did not respond to his voice and continued his walk onward. Slowly, a pinprick of light appeared in the distance, and Harry felt a strange pull to catch up to the creature before it disappeared into that bright light. His calves burned as he ran, and though the speed of the creature's stride did not waver, it always seemed just out of reach.

Harry realized that he was slowly catching up to the creature, but so too was the light growing brighter. He strove to ignore the ache in his calves as he ran, and at last his fingers threaded through the thick fur and in an instant everything stopped.

 

Harry opened his eyes.

“Hey, Harry,” a female voice said.

It did not come from the bedside, but from next to him instead. Harry turned and saw Hermione smiling at him sadly, a thick bandage over her left upper arm.

At first, Harry was too disoriented to answer her, struck both by anguish that she had gotten caught in the crossfire—the one thing he did not want to happen—and the fact that he could see her.

 

Completely.

 

Harry blinked hard, but her visage did not blur, and it was sharp and clear. Harry lifted his hands to his face to be sure, and found that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He didn't feel particularly joyed by this however, not when it had been his fault that Hermione had gotten hurt.

“You're...?” Harry began to ask, and she smiled weakly as she nodded. Despite the calm demeanour she was clearly trying to exude, Harry could practically feel her anxiety bubbling just below the surface. “God, Hermione, I'm so sorry this is all—”

“—It's not your fault, Harry,” she interrupted, her voice hard. “You're my friend, my best friend. You and Ron...there's nothing I wouldn't do for you two, so don't you dare blame yourself for this. I was the one who wasn't being as careful as I should have been, and took my eyes off Greyback for a second too long.”

“You can't blame yourself either,” Harry shot back, groaning with pain as he forced himself to sit up, while Hermione helped him up one-handed. “You didn't ask Greyback to turn you, he's to blame, not you.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but at that same moment his bedroom door opened and in bustled the last person Harry expected to see: Madam Pomfrey.

“Awake at last, Potter?” she asked, and Harry nodded, the small movement making his shoulder ache. He grimaced at the pain, but she did not visibly react to it, instead pushing forward as though she hadn't noticed. “Good, take this,” she said, and pulled out a blue vial of potion from the potions bag on the bedside table. She handed an identical one to Hermione. “It will help with the pain, and I have Professor Slughorn brewing a batch of Wolfsbane Potion for the both of you.”

Harry turned to Hermione, who looked just as troubled as he did. After seeing the difference in Remus on and off of Wolfsbane, Harry was more than a little reluctant to take it.

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said to her quickly, and she nodded a little.

“I've left some extra vials with Mr Weasley, and I will be back in a few hours to check on your bandages, all right?” The pair nodded, and she slipped out of the room, as quickly as she had come, shutting it firmly behind her.

“What do you want to do, Hermione?” Harry asked, knowing full well that she'd understand what he meant by do.

“I don't know,” she answered honestly, her eyes shining a little, “I can't leave Ron, but I don't know if I can stay either...” She frowned and rotated her shoulders, “I just feel...trapped.”

“You don't know if you can stay with Ron?” Harry asked, frowning as he unstoppered the vial and knocked it back. As with most potions it was exceptionally foul, and tasted very much like petrol mixed with bad eggs. He gagged it down as Hermione shook her head, and took her own dose before she explained.

“No, I mean stay in the wizarding world. I mean, things are better for them—us, now, but...” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Harry knew what she meant. Even with everything that had changed in the last few years, they were outsiders now.

“What happened?” Harry asked, keen to shift topics. He felt the same edgy, caged-in feeling that Hermione had mentioned, and he hoped that at least talking might help distract him from it. “After...I mean, I remember you and Ron finding me, but it's all pretty hazy.”

Hermione did not speak at first, her gaze focused instead on the bandage on her forearm. Harry waited patiently, and he relaxed a little as the potion began to do its work, and some of the pain began to fade.

“Well, we—Ron and I, I mean—wanted to check on you since it was the moon, and when we got there you weren't there. We both figured that the park was the most likely place you'd be, since it has the most open space for a werewolf to run. You were hurt very badly when we found you, with two bites, we didn't know what to make of it—”

“—Moony,” Harry filled in with a frown, his gaze dropping as well. “He tried to protect me from Greyback, but when he couldn't beat him, he turned on me.” He chanced a glance up, and saw that her anguished expression had shifted to one of shock. For Harry, the concept that Moony had turned on him still felt so surreal, and it hadn't completely sunk in yet for him. Keen to not dwell on it for too long, he addressed Hermione again. “What happened next?”

“Ron picked you up, but when we were getting ready to head back to Grimmauld Place Greyback appeared—it almost seemed like he came out of nowhere—but it was raining so hard we couldn't see very far and he sliced open my arm. I told Ron to run but he wouldn't...he shot a Stunner at Greyback, but you know werewolves are very powerful magical beings so it didn't do much beyond knock him back a few feet, but it was far enough for us to run off.

“Greyback came after us of course, and I just kept throwing Stunning Spells at him while Ron ran ahead with you, but it was like trying to knock out a bear with a marshmallow. We made it back inside the warding, and that's when I blacked out,” she finished, while she drew her knees up to her chest. Her wide-eyed terror at what was to come next in their lives shone in her eyes. Harry couldn't recall ever seeing Hermione look so frightened. Something else occurred to him too while she was telling her tale, something that perhaps she hadn't realized yet.

Given that she'd survived her turning, outside of the rituals Ulrich had mentioned to him, she was a Dominant werewolf, not a Submissive, like he was.

He wondered vaguely how that would affect her relationship with Ron, or if indeed anything would change between them at all. He wanted to believe that their relationship could survive anything, but this was big.

Instead of speaking, Harry reached out for her hand and she took it at once, squeezing tightly.

A soft tapping on the door drew them out of their moment, and Harry glanced up to see Ginny and Ron let themselves into the room.

“Hey guys,” Harry said, his voice cracking a little at the sight of them. It felt so strange, like there was an invisible wall between them now, dividing the two humans from the two werewolves. Madam Pomfrey's entrance and exit had been so fast that Harry hadn't had time to really think on it, but now that he'd had a chance to, it felt strange—very strange.

“How're you feeling?” Ginny asked as she pulled up a chair. Her eyes immediately fell to the thick bandages on his shoulder and side, and a horrified, anguished look filled her eyes. Ron had sat down on the other side of the bed and took Hermione's hands in his. She offered him a weak, sad smile as their fingers laced together.

“I'm all right,” Harry answered her at last, “I mean...I'm not fine, but...I don't know.” Harry shook his head a little, but it didn't help to clear his thoughts nearly as much as he hoped that it would. “It's a bit overwhelming.”

“I'll bet,” Ginny replied with a humourless laugh. She reached for his hand and offered it a light squeeze, “I know it's a bit soon, but...have you given any thought to what you're going to do?”

Harry knew what she meant, but he'd been awake for less than an hour. Harry wasn't sure if she knew that or not, but nevertheless he knew his answer. He wasn't entirely certain if Ginny or Ron would understand it however, and he offered up a vague shrug.

“I haven't had a chance to really think about it,” he replied vaguely, “it's not like I'm going anywhere for a while, I still have some time.”

 

~*~

 

That evening, Hermione left with Ron to head back to their flat.

Harry didn't want her to go, he felt a strange sense of disconnect without her nearby, and he wondered vaguely if this was the Pack feeling that bound werewolves together. She seemed uncertain about leaving, and kept glancing back at Harry worriedly.

“Go on,” Harry said, and forced a small smile, “you and Ron need some time together after...everything.”

Hermione's eyes turned to glass, and she broke away from Ron to hurry back to Harry's bedside, and pulled him into a tight hug. He hissed as the move aggravated his wounds, but not enough to be considered genuinely painful. He hugged her back just as tightly, and after a moment she let him go, then reluctantly left Harry alone.

 

But not for long.

 

Hermione and Ron hadn't been gone ten minutes when he heard the muffled flare of his Floo coming to life, and thirty seconds later he saw Ginny letting herself into his room.

“Ron contacted me and told me that he took Hermione home,” she explained while she pulled up a seat next to his bed. “I figured you could use some company.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a faint smile. “I don't...I mean, it feels weird to be alone.” Harry fell silent, and his thoughts strayed back to what had brought him here. It wasn't Remus's fault, but Harry found it difficult to not lay blame on him. If Remus hadn't walked back into his life that day, none of this would have happened.

“Remus...” Harry began, the name slipping past his lips almost of its own accord, and immediately Ginny reached for Harry's hand and gave it a soft squeeze. He tried to ignore the mixed sense of longing and anger that he felt at the thought of the older man.

“He wanted to come see you while you were sleeping,” she said gently, “but Ron wouldn't let him into the house. They yelled at each other a bit, then Remus took off. I think he wanted to make it up to you, but Ron said he'd done enough damage, and wouldn't let Remus near you when you were so vulnerable.”

 

Harry didn't know how he felt about that.

 

He had hoped that once the bond broke, he would lose his feelings for Remus. That would be proof that all of it had been the bond, and Harry had not truly fallen for the older man.

But festering at the back of his mind was a desperate need that he still felt for Remus. This time, Harry couldn't claim that it was the bond at work—it was him.

“It's good that Ron didn't let him in,” Harry said at last, “I want to be over him, really, I do, and his scent here makes it harder.”

“Is that really what you want, Harry?” Ginny asked softly, her tone uncertain, but cautious.

“Yes,” he answered at once, and turned to meet her worried eyes. “Ginny, I love him, I do, but...I can't go there again. He took everything that I was, everything that I am, and destroyed it. I hardly recognize myself anymore. It's better that we're not together.”

His hand tightened in hers, but she didn't answer him. She looked troubled and unconvinced, but did not speak on it, and merely held Harry's hand in silent reassurance.

 

~*~

 

After two days in bed, the caged-in, restless feeling he'd woken up with had become almost too much for him to handle. Thanks to his newly acquired werewolf abilities, Harry was subject to a number of sensory experiences that left him feeling distinctly overloaded and overwhelmed all at once.

It took about twenty-four hours for his other senses to kick in, and the faintest smell was enough to make him dizzy, and his head pounded from his heightened hearing.

The bites had healed fairly quickly, and now were little more than a faint pink swath of skin, but the muscles, bones, tendons, and internal organs were all still healing, and it still hurt to move.

I need to get out of here, Harry thought anxiously as Ginny marched him back to bed, insisting he rest after she'd caught him pacing in the sitting room that afternoon, I need a new start.

 

The knowledge that he needed to leave had come to him easily, and with very little anguish at the thought of leaving everything that he had ever known and loved behind. Too much of Grimmauld Place reminded him of Remus, of his human life, of what he'd lost. He needed to leave—he wanted to get out to Greyback's pack territory. He knew the man wasn't exactly the friendliest person in the world, but he genuinely believed that he would offer him a place in the pack—he was kin, after all.

Unfortunately, Ginny didn't seem to completely get that, and refused to let him go anywhere until he was properly healed.

“I promised Madam Pomfrey that I wouldn't let you out of my sight until you were actually better, and running off to God-Knows-Where isn't going to help you get well, now lie down.”

“Ginny, for the last fucking time, I'm fine,” he protested as he was forced back onto the bed, “would you stop being such a goddamn mother hen?”

“Well, I have to, seeing as you won't care for yourself properly,” she shot back.

“Mini Molly,” Harry said, and she glared at him.

“Shut up.”

Harry offered her a grin, then eased back on the bed. The silence between them was warm and familiar, and though she was acting as his warden, Harry didn't feel at all awkward. He wasn't certain if explaining to Ginny the claustrophobia he was experiencing would help, and instead chose a topic that did not revolve around him, for a change.

“So where's Malfoy? I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since I woke up.”

“We're still seeing each other, if that's what you're asking,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “He just is fed up of being dragged into your...stuff. He doesn't care if I'm here or not, he just thinks...” she trailed off with a frown.

“He just thinks what?” Harry asked, and Ginny hesitated, offering him an apologetic half smile before she spoke, picking her words carefully.

“He thinks you should clean up your own messes. He doesn't really see that sometimes you can't, you know? I think part of it is you two have history, so he doesn't care to learn as much compared to if it was someone else, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said with a small smile.

Discussing Ginny's relationship problems was a precious reprieve. It was almost enough to make him forget everything that happened, how much had changed in just two short years. Not focusing on his own problems, even if for a short while felt good.

As far as Harry was concerned, not thinking about Remus, or werewolves, or anything else about his own life was a blessing.

 

Ginny left that evening after dinner, which after much fussing Harry finally managed to sit at his own table for the first time since he'd woken up. He was still sore, but given that he was in no danger of tearing open any of his injuries, he saw no reason not to.

“I'll be back early tomorrow, okay?” she said, and Harry smiled at her warmly, drawing her in for a hug.

“You don't have to, you know, I'm okay,” Harry replied, but Ginny looked unconvinced. “I mean, I'm not running though the hills, wind in my hair, the hills are alive with the sound of music fine, but...I'm coping.”

Ginny stared at him, confusion at his statement written all over her face, but after a moment the caring, worried smile returned.

“I'll be back tomorrow.”

Ginny disappeared into his fireplace in a flash of green, and the moment Harry was certain that she wasn't about to run back to Grimmauld place at once, he got up and ascended the stairs slowly, his hand resting over the scarring on his side left by Moony, it aching dully from the small amount of activity he'd engaged in that day.

Upon reaching his bedroom Harry did not lie down to rest. He went to his wardrobe and dug out his old rucksack, drew out his wand from his jeans pocket, then began to summon various items from around the room—clothes, toiletries, the mokeskin pouch Hagrid had given him, his photo album, his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and the shards of the mirror that Sirius had given him.

He packed it all in the bag as neatly as he could, then turned to the last two orders of business before he could officially leave his human life behind.

He wrote a short letter to Hagrid, asking him to take care of Strax for him, now that he couldn't, and headed downstairs to send off the owl with the letter, who seemed to have some inkling about its contents, and appeared quite distressed as Harry sent him off.

That finished, Harry took a slow breath in an effort to calm his shaking, and called out to the ancient house elf.”

 

“Kreacher?”

 

Crack!

 

“Master called?” Kreacher croaked, appearing at once and bowed low to Harry, then straightened up as he awaited some sort of command.

“Yeah. Er—I'd like you to go to McGonagall at Hogwarts, tell her that I'd like you to work there for the next little while. Can you do that?”

Harry had no idea what sort of reaction the order might bring, and he could clearly see the look of distress in the ancient elf's eyes, but he vocalized none of it. Instead, he bowed low.

“Kreacher will do as Master wishes. Kreacher will go to the school.”

Another sharp crack! And he was gone.

 

“Guess there's only one thing left to do...” Harry muttered to himself, and looked towards the entryway of the house. His hand tightened on the strap of his bag, but he couldn't convince himself to move. As he stood there, memories flooded back to him, the Christmases he'd spent with his friends here, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, chatting idly with Remus while he cooked, their evenings in the sitting room, sometimes talking, sometimes reading. Harry felt a warmth settle in the pit of his stomach as he recalled all these small moments, but the nostalgia made his heart ache for what he had lost.

Why did it have to happen like this? He wondered for the hundredth time, and shook his head a little in an effort to dispel the misery that began to flood into him, but the action did not help very much.

At last, Harry took his first steps towards the door, and made it almost all the way into the front hall when a knock sounded from the door.

Harry knew at once that the person knocking was a werewolf. He wasn't certain exactly how he knew, but Harry supposed that it had something to do with his newfound senses.

In addition to knowing that it was a werewolf, Harry also knew with absolute certainty that it was not Remus. The scent was familiar, however, and as he opened the door, he also found himself relieved that it was also not Greyback.

“Hey Harry,” Ulrich said with a kind half-smile, his thick arms crossed across his chest as he looked down at Harry.

“Um, hey,” Harry replied, blinking in confusion. “Um, not to be rude or nothing but...what're you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” Ulrich replied with an arched brow, as though he thought the reason for his presence was rather obvious. “Alpha wanted you dragged back to the territory right away, but I thought you might need a bit of time to acclimate to everything before we brought you to the pack.”

“Yeah, good call, that,” Harry replied with a weak, humourless laugh. “Er, how did you know that I'd want to go to the territory, and not make a go of it in the wizarding world?”

“Alpha would have wanted you to come regardless, but the lure of a fresh start is one not many would pass up,” Ulrich said simply.

“You sound like you're speaking from experience.”

 

Ulrich smiled.

 

“I might be,” he answered a vague shrug, and held out a hand. “Ready to go?”

Harry nodded at once and took it. Ulrich led him down into his front garden, just beyond the Anti-Apparition warding, then moved his hand to squeeze Harry's shoulder tightly.

Harry felt the pull of Side-Along Apparition take hold, and Harry clenched his eyes shut, not certain what he was heading for, but positive that it would be better than what he was leaving behind.



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