First Place - Angst

"Potions don't work! Charms don't work!" Madam Pomfrey was ranting. "The only injuries I can heal on him are topical. There are sprains in both shoulders! He was hit by Cruciatus eleven times and he's had a concussion for days!"

"Harry?" a gentle voice spoke.

A hand brushed back his hair and Harry flinched. He opened his eyes and the first face he saw was Snape's, leaning over him. Harry felt his eyes go wide and he drew in a sharp breath. He scrambled backwards, hitting the headboard, and held up his arms in front of him. Each action brought pain but that was barely noticed in the pure panic he was feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut and trembled. Magic rolled off him in waves but he fought to keep it in.

He felt a sharp wave of guilt and then just concern touched by a little fear. There was love there too, now that Harry could identify that warming emotion. Slowly he lowered his arms. Remus and Dumbledore and Pomfrey were there, all waiting for him.

"Harry?" Remus prompted him quietly.

"Moony?" Harry's voice was scratchy and quiet. He felt tears come to his eyes.

Remus moved slowly onto Harry's bed and Harry fought against the urge to flinch away, bile rising in his throat. The werewolf wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry tensed, but then felt something inside let go. Tears gushed out and Harry shook. He gripped Remus's robes and didn't even know what he said as he cried.

"Let it out," Remus rocked him, holding him as gently as he could.

Harry ignored the pain in his shoulders and his back, his head and throat, in all his joints. He felt completed wasted and empty when the tears stopped. Somehow, Remus knew to stay, not to let go.

"Harry," Dumbledore sat in the chair that Remus had abandoned, "your father told us what happened."

You remembered what happened to you while you were under Imperious. Harry knew that from forth year, from the imposter Moody, from Voldemort and Belletrix. Did his father blame Harry for their capture? He had told Harry to leave. Had he had a plan to escape himself once Harry was safe? Harry closed his eyes and tucked his head against Remus. He didn't feel seventeen, like an adult. He wanted his cupboard, that small dark place where he could curl up and hide from the world.

"You were missing for three days Harry," Remus whispered to him. "I was so scared I had lost you."

A profound feeling of embarrassment crept over Harry and he extricated himself from Remus's arms. He settled back on his pillows stiffly and forced himself to allow Pomfrey to check him over and heal what she could. She gave him several potions to take, and the pain reliever was most welcome.

"I had to wait," Harry hoped they didn't ask what had happened. "I had to be touching Dad to get us out." He had to keep them from asking. "I saw Voldemort's magic. I think... I think it's all that's keeping him alive. If the Order can distract him I can kill him."

"I believe I can take care of that for you," the headmaster twinkled at Harry.

Harry forced himself to go back to his daily routine when he was released. His friends were almost frantic with worry when he walked into the Gryffindor common room, to all appearances unharmed. He now had a network of scars on his back to compliment his front though, and Madam Pomfrey had ordered him to be extremely careful with his arms. She had managed to partially heal his shoulders, but the rest of the healing had to be done the muggle way.

The only large difference came when his next Potions class was scheduled. Harry just stood frozen outside the door, unable to walk inside, and his friends waited for him patiently. They knew the basics of what happened to him in captivity but he hadn't gone into detail, and they hadn't asked, sensing that he wasn't ready to talk.

"Harry," Hermione put a hand on his arm and he felt his muscles all tighten, his stomach cramp. He pulled away from the touch, "you have to see him sometime."

"I...," Harry swallowed, staring at the door. "Not here. I'm not ready. I can't."

He turned and fled. One look at his father in the great hall after Harry had been released from the hospital wing was enough to tell him everything had changed. Harry couldn't look at him without his whole body tensing, his stomach knotting, his breath tightening... and his father wouldn't even glance his way.

Hermione tutored him in Potions from there on. She handed in the essays he wrote and collected them when they were graded. Under her supervision he brewed the potions that were brewed in class. She might have been reporting to his father, but if she was she didn't say. Dumbledore had to be aware of the situation, but no one commented. There was only a little more than two months left until the N.E.W.T. exams anyway.

The worried glances his friends shot him did not go unnoticed. Harry was talking less, and eating less. The few people he had been comfortable with he could no longer let touch him, and casual contact with other students made him ill. He tried to shut away the memories of the torture with Occlumency but they kept coming back in his nightmares. He started brewing Good Dreams on his own and taking it nightly, and he had to alter it. It was no longer strong enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

There were no more extra lessons. Dumbledore did not want them dueling until Harry's shoulders were healed and Harry and his father were not even looking at each other.

Harry continued to teach the Slytherins, but he was distant and no longer joked with them or drank with them. They actually seemed to understand better than anyone else. No worried looks came from them. They just treated him like they had ever since the lessons started. Luckily, the Slytherins were not touchy people anyway, so Malfoy was the only one of them who really saw that reluctance on Harry's part.

"Harry."

Harry looked up from his parchment. He was working in Hermione's common room, having spent much more time there since he left the hospital wing. He did not like being in the crowded Gryffindor common room. There were too many people, and most of them did not consider Harry's usual aversion to personal contact, never mind his more recently developed fears.

"Yeah 'Mione?"

"You're late," Hermione said shortly. Harry just knit his brow, trying to think of what she was talking about. He didn't have any more classes that day, "Your appointment with McGonagall?"

Harry winced. He had successfully made himself forget all about that. It was the day before the Easter Holiday started, the day of his last career advice appointment. He dragged his feet all the way to his Head of House's office and hesitated before knocking on her door.

"Come in," McGonagall's voice came from inside.

Harry opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and sitting stiffly in a seat across the desk from her, "Sorry I'm late."

She looked over her glasses at him sternly, "These appointments are for your benefit. Missing them will have no effect on me."

"I should just go," Harry stood and took a few quick strides.

"Sit down Harry," McGonagall ordered sharply. Harry did as he was told and looked at her with a closed expression. It was a staring contest for at least a full minute. "I understand you no longer wish to become an Auror."

"Sorry Ma'am," Harry looked down, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes. He kept himself as shielded as he could. "I just..."

"Harry," McGonagall's tone had softened, "I am not upset that you've changed your mind. I understand perfectly well that working for the Ministry does not appeal to you now. And I believe we've already established that you need not call me Ma'am in private."

"Thank you," Harry lifted his head. His Head of House was looking at him with concern.

"Have you looked into other possibilities for employment?" McGonagall questioned him, still looking concerned.

Harry shook his head. He looked away from those concerned eyes, not wanting to have his walls torn down. They were already brittle, "Not really. I have more than enough to do for now... and then... it may not even be an issue after..."

A few quick blinks was the only sign that McGonagall understood what he meant, "Harry, when was the last time you spoke with Severus?"

"I have to go," Harry stood and was out the door before she could stop him. He could feel her anger behind him, but did not know who it was directed at. His own heart was pounding in his chest and his breathing had quickened.

Harry went up to the top of the tallest tower again, to the spot he had come to think of as his, his place for thinking, for privacy. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head bowed, shaking slightly but not allowing himself to cry. When Hedwig came he turned away, not able to even take comfort from her silent presence. His friends knew that the capture by the Death Eaters had done something to damage his relationship with Snape but he couldn't even say exactly what had happened, or why he couldn't get past it.

Every night since then, no matter what he did to the potion, he had dreamed of the Dursleys, and right alongside his uncle had been his father. Somewhere deep inside Harry knew his father had been under Imperious, had not wanted to hurt him, but he still felt betrayed. Then his nightmare would shift to McNair, Avery, and Malfoy. He had woken and only barely made it to the bathroom more than once. No one knew about that, and no one ever would.

Easter Holiday came more quickly than Harry expected. Hermione and Ron were staying in the castle with him and the three of them spent most of that time studying for their N.E.W.T. exams. Even Ron was feeling the pressure of the looming exams that would decide whether or not the Ministry accepted him for Auror training. He had already made it past the initial application process. Next was the N.E.W.T.s and then further testing.

Harry had taken a brief break in studying to take a walk on the grounds. His shoulders were still sore and Madam Pomfrey had agreed to let him start his lessons in the Room of Requirement again, but insisted on going with him the first time and explaining to the instructor to go easy on him. The castle created instructor somehow knew how to work Harry back into shape.

It was beautiful outside. There were buds on all the trees, and some of the early flowers were starting to come up. The breeze was brisk, but Harry wore a cloak and the sun was warm.

The castle was almost entirely empty. Nearly the entire student body had gone home for the holiday, and several of the staff members were gone as well. Remus was off on Order business and even Snape had disappeared for the week.

Harry noticed that the Whomping Willow had frozen. He watched carefully, knowing that Wormtail knew about the passage there. Dumbledore should know if a Death Eater was sneaking onto the grounds, but Harry was there and almost welcomed the chance to beat any Death Eater to bloody pulp.

The figure that crawled out of the passage was familiar though, and Harry scanned him quickly, making sure of his identity.

"Remus!" Harry ran towards him.

The werewolf stumbled as he got out of the tree's reach and it began thrashing again. Harry hurried and caught Remus before he fell. He slung one of Remus's arms over his shoulder and put an arm around his waist to keep him standing. The contact was unwanted but Harry shoved those feelings away. Remus needed him.

"Harry," Remus gasped out, "need Albus."

Harry nodded, "I've got you Remus."

In a flash they were in the headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked up from behind his desk and stood quickly when he saw them. He walked over and helped Harry settle Remus into a chair before handing over a few vials of potions.

"Trap," Remus said between breaths. "We walked right in. They got Sturgis... and Emmeline. Alastor's at Headquarters... with Molly... fussing over him. She has to... reattach... his leg." He drank the potions and his breathing evened but was still wheezy.

Harry looked away for a moment. He hadn't really known Sturgis Podmore or Emmeline Vance, had only met them a few times really. After going over the situations again and again Harry knew that he couldn't have made a successful attempt on Voldemort's life either time he was in his presence in the past two years, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he should have tried.

"Are you okay Remus?" the headmaster asked. Harry felt an immense sadness coming from the man, and that powerful guilt again. Two Order members were dead on a mission Dumbledore had sent them on. He was feeling as guilty as Harry felt.

Remus nodded slowly, "I'll be fine."

Harry clenched his jaw. Not one of them believed those words. Remus was going to be anything but fine.

The failed mission seemed to be speeding along Remus's deterioration. He looked like every day was the day after the full moon. Hermione shared a few sad looks with Harry and admitted she had found nothing that would help Remus. Harry watched him carefully while he prepared for exams and thought of ways to draw Voldemort out.

With six weeks left until exams the seventh year students were all looking a bit strained. Those few that had left studying until the absolute last minute had already been to Madam Pomfrey for calming draughts. Headache potions were being handed out like candy and there wasn't a single one of them who didn't carry a bag full of books everywhere they went. Lavender Brown had burst into tears into the common room and Hermione and Parvati had taken her up to their room and forced a sleeping potion on her.

Harry and the headmaster had started dueling again. For some reason Dumbledore did not try to get Harry to talk about his captivity. Maybe the headmaster was allowing Harry to open up at his own pace. He didn't know, but whatever the reason was, Harry was grateful. Harry bested Dumbledore in the dueling for the first time and when he did he just stood there frozen in shock for a minute, staring at an unconscious Albus Dumbledore. It was less that he had actually beat the headmaster, and more what beating him signified.

Having only the dueling sessions with Dumbledore and Potions tutoring with Hermione for his extra lessons gave Harry more than enough studying time. Still, he was arriving at all his classes with only moments to spare, just as the rest of the seventh year students were.

"Today we begin your revision for your N.E.W.T.s," Remus announced. Harry gave the werewolf a sharp glance. It looked like he was standing by will power alone. One hand gripped the edge of his desk and Harry knew that stance, was intimately familiar with it. Remus was only barely hanging on to consciousness. "Your first year was quite a while ago, but you will be expected to know those things you should have learned that year, and each subsequent year."

Remus turned to tap the board with his wand, but the wand never made it. Harry was up like a shot as Remus wavered and caught him before he fell. He was glad he always sat in the front row in that class.

"Damn you stubborn wolf," Harry muttered.

He checked Remus's vital signs and found that his pulse was thready and his breathing labored. Scraping sounds signaled chairs being pushed back and his classmates getting to their feet. Harry ignored them and focused more deeply than he had since he escaped from Voldemort's latest headquarters. Remus's magic was slowed and flickering.

"Everyone out!" Harry ordered loudly.

Hermione came and knelt beside him, sniffling. "How is he?"

"Not good," Harry said with difficulty. His vision blurred with hot tears, "Damn it Remus, don't do this to me!"

The door shut and Harry looked up to see that Ron was the only one left in the room.

"Harry?" Ron questioned with almost overpowering concern, for both Remus and him, Harry was sure.

"Tell them I have an emergency Portkey or something," was all Harry said before he closed his eyes and held Remus close to him. He opened his eyes and placed Remus on a hospital bed, "Poppy!"

The hospital matron came running out at Harry's almost panicked call, "What happened to him?"

"He collapsed in class," Harry felt his chest tighten. Though Harry had refused to discuss his captivity with anyone, Remus had been there, silently supporting and comforting him.

Harry just sat in the chair next to the bed and held onto one hand, his head hanging while Madam Pomfrey cast several spells and drew some blood for analysis. He didn't even flinch when she called for his father through the Floo.

"I need you to check this Severus," Pomfrey ordered, most likely referring to the blood. "He's been hiding something for weeks."

"I'll be back as soon as I know Poppy," Snape's voice was strained, and Harry felt a strong sense of guilt and longing, but his father was gone before Harry got a chance to concentrate more clearly.

The headmaster and McGonagall came and went, both of them assuring Harry that he need not attend the rest of his classes for the day. Harry did not eat lunch and only had a few bites of what Dobby brought for dinner but didn't taste what he ate. Once the elf was satisfied Harry banished the rest of the food.

Snape and Dumbledore returned to the hospital wing a few hours before curfew and had a conference with Pomfrey in her office. The door was open though, and with Harry's senses all slightly improved by the dragon blood he could hear every word.

"There were no poisons, or any other potion," Snape informed them, "but I found traces of silver. It is only a small amount, but any amount is too much. There is nothing we can do, except to keep him comfortable."

Harry felt like he was spiraling, falling into a deep black pit. This couldn't be happening to him, not again.

"He won't be able to teach," Dumbledore said with pain and sadness. "I'll need you to take the upper years Severus." There was no answer and Harry assumed his father had just nodded in response. "I'll try to arrange something else as quickly as I can. Do not let word of this out. Remus's presence in this school serves many purposes."

"Pettigrew," Snape growled. Harry's jaw clenched at mention of the name.

"Indeed," the headmaster agreed. "He will not come near the castle with Remus here. I have several calls to make."

Harry knew that the conference had ended. He got to his feet and almost ran from the wing. When the professors left they would not find him sitting with Remus, as he had been since that morning. Harry ended up on his tower again. He couldn't face his friends and their questions just then, couldn't tell them Remus was dying.

"Harry." Leave it to Dumbledore to find him. Harry just looked up, too empty and worn to cry. "I understand how you must feel." Harry's jaw tightened, like hell you know. How many of your fathers have died young? "I am sorry but I must ask a favor of you. There are very few people in this castle qualified to teach Remus's classes, and there will be several classes that the staff can not cover. I need you to take those classes for us."

"Me? I...," Harry was shocked, but it didn't even compare to the hollowness.

"You would only need to follow the outlines Remus has laid out for the classes, and it would only be for a week at most," the headmaster explained.

Harry closed his eyes, then opened them as he turned his head away, "I've never said to no to what was needed of me before."

"Remus keeps his class notes in his office desk, lower right drawer," Dumbledore said quietly, his voice not showing the guilt and remorse that were his dominant emotions at that time. "You're needed for the second years tomorrow."

Harry just nodded and felt Dumbledore leave him. He left shortly after and went straight to Remus's office to familiarize himself with the lesson he would teach the next day. It was scheduled during his normal Potions time, proof enough that Dumbledore knew Harry no longer attended that class.

The sun did not blacken in the sky. The Earth did not pause in its elliptical path through the heavens. Hell did not breach the fabric of existence and let loose thousands of demons to prey on humanity. The sky was still blue and the grass green and night followed day the same as it had for millions of years.

Looking at Harry Potter though, it might have been easy to assume otherwise. His usually vibrant green eyes were missing their shine. His skin looked taught and thin. If he was not wearing the flowing robes that hid the shape of nearly every Hogwarts student it would be possible to count every rib.

Remus Lupin wasted away in the hospital wing, in a private room. The student body was told that he had a virus and would be better soon. Harry was proud of his acting abilities, as he did not gape at the blatant lie. As it was it hardly affected him. With everything else that had happened to Harry in just a few months, this was too much. Harry felt numb.

He sat by the bed that Remus rested in, not having woken once since he collapsed, and studied or wrote his essays. Madam Pomfrey didn't yell at him once to leave. She sat there too sometimes, as did McGonagall and Dumbledore, and Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

From what Harry had pieced together from the few times Remus mentioned Pomfrey in conversation, the hospital matron had been close to Remus when he was a student. Harry bit his lip as he remembered the night he had learned that Remus had already lived longer than a werewolf should.

He took out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing. Remus had told Harry about the Flamels on more than one occasion. They had been like a substitute mother and father to him for years. With the Sorcerer's Stone destroyed there was nothing they could do to heal him, but they deserved to know he wasn't well... if they were still alive.

Harry transformed and grasped the roll of parchment in his talons. He didn't know where to find the Flamels, but he knew who must. He flew out the hospital window and circled to the castle to land on the sill outside Dumbledore's office. A peek inside told him the headmaster was absent. He nudged the window open and flew inside and dropped the scroll, then transformed again.

"Fawkes," Harry approached the bird and stroked his plumage. They had a special relationship, though Harry couldn't even begin to understand it. "Please bring this to Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel quickly. Please."

Fawkes cooed softly and rubbed his head against Harry's hand. He then glided down from his perch and took the parchment in his beak, before disappearing in a flash of flame. Harry just stood for a moment before transforming again and returning to the hospital wing and his vigil.

"I've done the best I can Moony," Harry whispered as he watched the last Marauder take shallow breaths. "I only wish my best was better."

Finding the Key - Chapter 42

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