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A Wolf to Potters	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2652 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Thank you for all the reviews! This is the last chapter of “A Wolf to Potters.”
            “Are you quite all right, Harry?”
            Harry started and opened his eyes. His back was cold and stiff, and after a second, he realized what it was. He’d been leaning against the wall outside Dumbledore’s gargoyle for so long that he ached. And he’d fallen asleep there!
            Harry felt his face burn as he stood up. He didn’t want to look like a little kid.
            Dumbledore stood in front of him, peering down with gently twinkling eyes. Harry nodded to him and said, “I need to ask you something, Headmaster. Please. It’s very important. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t know the password…” He glared at the gargoyle from the corner of his eye. The gargoyle didn’t move, but Harry thought it sneered like Malfoy anyway.
            “It must be urgent,” said Dumbledore, and spoke to the gargoyle. It was out of the way in a second, and Harry stared at the moving steps leading upwards. “Come along, then.”
            Dumbledore seemed to gesture Harry ahead rather than push him, but Harry knew Dumbledore must have used his hand, because he didn’t think he could walk on his own right now. He bit his lip and stumbled on up.
            When they reached Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore put his cloak over the back of Harry’s chair and insisted he sit down in it. Harry blinked a little and stared around at all the strange silver instruments and the golden-red bird on his perch. He chirped at Harry and then at Dumbledore, who smiled at him as he walked behind his desk.
            “This is Fawkes, Harry. My phoenix. He’s always happy to have company.”
            Harry nodded awkwardly to Fawkes and then faced Dumbledore. He opened his mouth, but Dumbledore held up his hand for a second, and Harry had to close his mouth even though he really didn’t want to.
            “I think you should have some hot chocolate to warm you, my boy. Allow me to order some from the kitchens.”
            Harry sighed and nodded. He had to admit he was very cold and stiff, and the Invisibility Cloak, which he’d taken along with him so no one would spot him in the corridors and send him back to Gryffindor Tower, hadn’t kept him comfortable.
            The hot chocolate was there a few minutes later, and Dumbledore gave it to him with some cream on top. Harry sipped it and felt better. Then he remembered what he wanted to ask.
            His stomach went sour. He put the mug down on the arm of his chair.
            “It must be a large problem if chocolate can’t make it taste better.”
            “It is, sir.” Harry looked up. “I—I met Mr. Lupin a few days ago. And he told me all sorts of things about my father and Sirius Black and—and Professor Snape.” Harry thought he might as well use Snape’s title so Dumbledore wouldn’t waste time by telling him to use it. “I need to know what you think of it.”
            Dumbledore clasped his hands together and spent a moment surveying him. Then he nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape did mention that to me. I don’t know how many questions I can answer, Harry. There are some secrets I keep which aren’t my own.”
            Harry shivered and said, “But I just want to know what you think. I mean—I mean, Sirius Black was a murderer, and he even tried to murder Snape when he was in school. Why did you let him stay?”
            At least Dudley had never seriously tried to kill Harry. Maybe it was just because he didn’t want to do any chores himself or lose his favorite toy to beat up on, but Harry had never faced what Snape had.
            Dumbledore sighed, a sigh that seemed to come from the heart. “Alas, my boy, that is down to the power of one old man to forgive too much. When Sirius played that prank on Professor Snape--”
            “It wasn’t a prank. Not if it could get him killed.”
            Dumbledore slowly nodded. “You’re right. And more sympathetic to Professor Snape than I would have thought you could be.” He smiled at Harry.
            Harry only shrugged. He didn’t know what was properly sympathetic and what wasn’t. He knew what he wanted to say and what was right. “So you forgave Black because he was sorry for it?”
            “I wonder about even that, given what came later,” Dumbledore mused. “But he seemed to be sorry at the time, and I couldn’t explain what had happened fully and expel Sirius without betraying both Remus’s and Professor Snape’s privacy.” He looked gently at Harry. “Professor Snape told me that you found out about him last year.”
            Harry nodded. He had another question to ask. “You couldn’t figure out some way to punish Sirius Black otherwise?”
            “The one bad thing about a school like Hogwarts is the speed with which gossip spreads. An expulsion needs to be revised and signed by the Board of Governors, and I had already gone against their wishes by allowing a werewolf student into the school in the first place. They would more than likely have insisted on expelling not only Black, but Remus and our newest student werewolf.”
            Harry nodded again. He could see the sense of it when it was explained like that, but he still thought there was something else Dumbledore could have done.
            He had to admit that he didn’t know what it was, though.
            “Understand, Harry,” Dumbledore added then in a solemn voice, “I am only telling you this because, by a series of rather extraordinary coincidences, you have become involved in two adults’ private lives. I would not have answered your questions if you had not already met Remus and heard the story from Professor Snape himself.”
            Harry said, “I know.” He hesitated, and then he blurted out, “But, sir, no one ever told me that about my father. I might not have ever known. Why do people keep hiding bad things about my parents from me?”

            “Because they died young.” Dumbledore stood up and came around his desk to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Then he gently picked up the mug of hot chocolate and held it out to Harry again. “I don’t think anyone wants to speak badly of them. Even Professor Snape keeps his silence most of the time, you’ll notice.”
            “He just treats me badly,” Harry said into the cup as he drank.
            “Have you had him in class since your conversation with Remus, Harry?”
            Harry looked up and shook his head.
            “Then I think you might find some things have changed.” Dumbledore lifted a hand when Harry started to speak again. “I’ll leave it up to Professor Snape to explain that or not, as he wishes. He is an intensely private man, and wouldn’t thank me for anticipating him.” Dumbledore smiled. “Now, tell me about that interesting prank the Weasley twins pulled yesterday.”
            *
            “Brooding, Potter?”
            Harry blinked. He’d been sitting by the lake, because at least out here there were fewer people trying to call him the Heir of Slytherin and no voices muttering in the walls. He turned and looked in silence up at Snape.
            “You are.” But Snape didn’t move away or take points or do some other sneery thing. He stood there and stared.
            Harry finally decided that if he was going to get in trouble, it already would have happened, and he turned back to the lake. When he threw a stone in, little ripples started up. Harry watched them and wondered for a second if ripples ever had problems like this, secrets they couldn’t talk about. He doubted it. Maybe he should have been born a ripple. They probably didn’t have parents, either. Or at least they knew all about their parents, who were probably other ripples.
            “Look at me, Potter.”
            Harry was at the point where he just didn’t care much one way or another. So he turned and looked up at Snape from inside the confines of his cloak.
            For an instant, Snape showed his teeth and amber eyes in the flashes that had told Harry he was a werewolf in the first place. Then he sighed and sat down next to Harry. Harry controlled the urge to edge away.
            “I hated your father,” Snape told the water. “I still do. And I hate Black and Lupin.”
            “I know,” said Harry. “And you hate me.”
            “That has begun to change.” Snape looked at him, then away. His voice was so tense that Harry said nothing, where a few minutes ago hearing something like that would have made him yell in surprise. “You are not—you did not try to tell your friends that I was a werewolf.”
            “Yeah, but I couldn’t,” said Harry. “That’s not because I was noble and liked you. I don’t like you.”
            Snape turned back to him. He seemed to have relaxed for some reason. “And I don’t like you,” he said. “But I think you must have been speaking the truth when you told Lupin that you were bullied and knew what it was like.”
            “Yes. My cousin.” Harry thought this was the strangest conversation he’d ever had with anyone. But he might as well go on having it until Snape woke up and started assigning him detentions again.
            Snape stared at him and sniffed. This close, Harry wondered how no one had ever figured out that Snape was a werewolf before. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t obvious if you didn’t already know about it.
            “I never smelled blood on you,” Snape whispered. “Never the kind of traces that hatred and lies and despair leave.”
            “I think it’s because I came to school and got away from him. And it’s not like he beat me up every day and I was bleeding all the time.” Harry said another thing, because he wanted to and because any minute this would end anyway, so he might as well do what he wanted while there was still time. “Not like you. Your bullies were here.”
            Snape’s face went still, as if he was listening to something. Then he sniffed again.
            “You are not lying,” he said. “I can identify the stink of lies. It’s better than any other senses I have for giving away a student’s secrets.”
            Harry stared at him and said, “I think it was—it was shitty of Black to do that to you.” Snape didn’t scold him for language, which was another incredibly strange, dream-like happening. “And it was horrible of my father to bully you. I think he was trying to save your life that time, though. And it was bad of Lupin to never try to adopt me.”
            “He is right that a werewolf would not be allowed to have custody of a child.”

            “But he could have done something else, couldn’t he? We could have gone to a different country. I don’t think anyone would have cared there.” Harry closed his eyes and sat back. The wind was cool on his scar.
            “You think he did not do right by you.”
            “Yes.” Harry opened his eyes and looked across the lake. There was enough wind now that it was stirring up little waves, Harry watched them splash on his feet, and waited for Snape to get fed up with this and go away.
            But Snape didn’t. “Because of what happened to you when you were with the Muggles.”
            Harry nodded. Maybe the mood was ending, and Snape would start making fun of him any second now. That would change the way he felt right now, although it wouldn’t make him forget this strange, strange conversation.
            Snape shifted a little and cleared his throat. Harry heard him sniffing for some reason. Then he asked, “What did the Muggles do to you? Beyond your cousin?”
            Harry turned and stared at him. If he had been going to tell anyone, it wouldn’t have been Snape, who would probably save up the facts and use them to make fun of Harry in class the next time he messed up a potion.
            But Snape was frowning and staring at him. And—well, he hadn’t made fun of Harry by telling people his cousin used to beat him up in the week since he’d learned that, since Lupin was here.
            Harry made the same kind of choice that Hermione was always telling him not to make, like sneaking out under the Invisibility Cloak and going after the Stone himself. He trusted Snape, and he said, “They kept me in a cupboard and didn’t feed me much.”
            Snape frowned harder than ever, and Harry wondered if he should have added more details. He supposed it didn’t sound that bad when he put it like that, not bad enough that Snape would understand why he’d prefer to live with a werewolf.
            But Snape sniffed, and sniffed again, and then he said, “You are telling the truth. It smells like snow. That crystalline and pure.”
            “Yes, I am.” Harry wrapped himself more firmly in his cloak and looked back towards the school. It would be time for dinner soon. He wanted to leave, but he also wanted to stay here and continue this strange conversation with Snape for as long as he could.
            Snape said abruptly, “Lupin stayed only long enough to try and convince me to spend time with him. He seems to have this idea that we are defined by our condition, and that means we are naturally best friends.”
            Harry said the first thing that came to mind. “Is he mental?”
            “Even for a werewolf, yes.” Snape sniffed again, but this time, Harry couldn’t tell what emotion he was hoping to pick up. His voice was elaborately casual. “If you were hoping to talk to him through me, that is impossible.”
            Harry shook his head. His face was tight and hot, but he had spent so much time in the last week brooding about Lupin and Black and his father, and it just wasn’t interesting anymore. “I don’t care about him.”
            “That is a lie.”
            “Fine.” Harry flexed his hands for a second. “I got my one miraculous escape in my life. I escaped my relatives to come here. I won’t try to make Lupin adopt me when that should have been something he did on his own.”
            “You will not even ask him.”
            “I did. I asked him why. And now I’m not going to ask him anymore.” Harry turned away and stood up. It was really too cold to go on sitting by the lake, especially now that he thought he wasn’t going to get any answers he wanted to hear.
            “You are a strange boy, Harry Potter,” said Snape, and stood up with him.
            That was something Harry had heard too many times to feel either glad or worried about it. He started towards the school, and Snape walked beside him with his cloak flapping in the wind and such a scowl on his face that Harry wasn’t surprised Malfoy, who’d started towards Harry, turned and went the other direction.
            Snape stopped him before they got anywhere near the school with an arm held out in front of him. Harry turned, still shivering, and looked up.
            “You are used to not relying on others,” Snape said, staring off into the distance, maybe at the entrance gates. “You won’t ask Lupin again, or anything about him. If he comes back, you would turn your head to the side and ignore him. You didn’t whine to your relatives because you knew what they would say. You didn’t tell anyone here about them because you thought you’d already used up all the luck you get in your lifetime.”
            “Yes,” Harry said, when a few minutes had passed in silence and Snape glared at him for a response instead of simply waiting.
            “Pride is a brittle tool,” said Snape, as if talking to himself this time. “Try to rely on it and it’ll crumble.”
            “I also have my friends,” Harry said, and his pride stung him a little. Was Snape giving advice to Harry or himself? Harry didn’t see what he had to be proud of. A reputation and a scar on his forehead that he’d never wanted? Even his Quidditch skill came from his dad, people had told him over and over. It wasn’t really his.
            Snape turned to him suddenly, and Harry thought he saw a red gleam in Snape’s eyes. Unnerved, he moved a step back. Snape sniffed with wide nostrils, and Harry wondered if Snape was reconsidering letting Harry know about his secret at all. Maybe to make sure it was really safe, he would crawl into Harry’s bedroom in Gryffindor Tower and eat him.
            “You have friends,” Snape said, with a slow nod. “And that makes you different from me.” He hesitated, then took a vial out of his pocket. It had a potion in it that was so white and powdery it looked like fresh snow. Harry didn’t move as Snape thrust the vial at him.
            “What is that?” Harry finally asked, when Snape went on holding out the potion and didn’t say anything.
            “The antidote to the Secret-Keeper Potion I gave you.”
            Harry knew he gaped, and Snape gave him a scornful smile as if he hated the back of Harry’s throat, but Harry couldn’t help himself. “But why would you give me that when you were so paranoid about me revealing you were a werewolf?” he whispered.
            Snape stood looking at him for a moment with the wind whipping harder and small snowflakes beginning to fall around them. His eyes were black, or amber in the right light.
            “Because,” said Snape, “we have better leverage over one another than that.”
            He turned and strode towards the school.
            Harry watched him go for long moments. Then he held his nose and swallowed the white potion, which was not at all like snow and hard to get down without gagging.
            And when that was done, he went and found Ron and Hermione, because even if it was possible to get through some things without your friends, Harry didn’t want to.
            And I have the choice.
            The End.
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A Wolf to Potters