Harry Potter and The Boy Who Had No Choice

Why is Malfoy in Detention?

Chapter Ten

Light streamed in from the window, the end of summer's blaze still glowing. Harry sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, and glanced around the room to see if any of the other boys were awake. They weren't. He laid back down, trying to remind himself of that night's dream.

It wasn't like any of the others he had. The others were nightmares, terrifying reminders of his past and those he had lost. This was different. It was happy and warm, yet, at the same time, left Harry feeling empty and longing for something he couldn't quite reach.

All he could remember was a flash of pearly white teeth and the sound of laughter echoing through a hallway.

Sure that the others in his room were asleep, Harry reached under his bed for Sirius' diary and thumbed to the next entry.

September 14th, 1976

Dear not-diary,

I thought I should specify that THIS IS NOT A DIARY because James caught me writing in it yesterday evening. James, if you're reading this, you're adopted and Lily Evans will never love you.

Just kidding. Well, about the adopted part. Also, GET OUT OF MY THINGS!

Anyway, Moony had his first 'time of the month' of the year. He let me stay for the transformation this time. Well, more like I came with him to the Shrieking Shack and refused to leave and he didn't really have the energy to fight with me, but still.

Everything he described was true; it was horrific. It's really quite awful how terrible it is for him, and how fun it is for the rest of us. There's nothing quite like racing through the Forbidden Forest, wind running through your fur...

Harry braced himself for the familiar pull of the memory and landed solidly on his feet. Glancing around, he determined he was inside the Shrieking Shack. The old, rickety house was both in better and worse shape than when Harry was here his third year.

The house itself seemed much sturdier and less likely to crumble at any moment. In fact, certain aspects of the place were actually homey. There was a tan couch pushed against one wall and a clearly new rug covering the wooden floor.

In many other ways, however, the house looked significantly worse. For one, reddish brown stains that looked eerily similar to dried blood splattered the walls, and the room reeked of pain. The couch, which admittedly was probably very nice-looking when it first arrived, had numerous gashes in it, revealing the white stuffing inside.

Harry stopped observing the room when he heard an anguished cry from upstairs. He rushed up to the second story, briefly forgetting that this was a memory and there was nothing he could do to help.

What he stumbled across once he reached the upstairs bedroom was not quite what he expected.

Remus sat hunched in the corner, his face twisted in terrible pain as he bit his lip and tried to refrain from screaming. A creak across the room caused Harry to whip around and see Sirius taking a tentative step towards his friend.

"Stay away!" Remus shouted, although his voice was much deeper and aggressive than normal.

"No." Sirius moved swiftly across the room and wrapped his arms around his taller friend. Remus struggled at first, but he was clearly drained and weak, and he gave up after only a few moments.

"I'll hurt you," he choked out as a tear slipped onto his face. Despite his protests, he buried his face in Sirius' neck and held onto him tightly.