Chapter Twenty-One: You've Been Warned

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      Over the next few days Harry's mind was occupied solely by two things: training and Werewolves. He continued to lead the daily training sessions for the Aurors, which only got more draining as they progressed. Though despite his worries everyone did well; only two people ever had to leave for the Infirmary, and it was solely because they accidentally bumped heads during an exercise. The rest of the Aurors had made it so far with no injuries other than a scratch or a bruise. Harry was proud of them; considering he was trying to teach what he himself had learned over his years of fighting the Death Eaters, and not what the Ministry tended to sugarcoat war with. 

      That left the Werewolf thing. Harry was confident in his father's ability as a Potion Maker, but he was also a firm believer in Murphy's Law: whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. That's why Harry spent the two days before the full moon picking out a perfect room for Remus and making sure that Neville was ready in the Infirmary to intercept and do whatever would be needed once Remus arrived there. Harry had settled on a large empty room near the Potions Lab and Infirmary; it was roughly the size of a small classroom at Hogwarts yet had remained unused because the Joint Forces decided to leave it open as a multi-purpose room. The idea was that it could be used for literally anything at any given time. Thus, it was perfect for housing Remus during a transformation.

      When the night of September 30th arrived Harry had somehow calmed himself down considerably. He ate dinner with his family and friends, and spent the few hours between dinner and the transformation in his office looking over some battle strategy he'd written up during the day. A knock on the door at 9:45 told him that it was time to go.

      Harry opened the door for his father, who was standing on the other side. He didn't need to say anything; Harry knew. He'd already picked up his things. Harry stepped out of the office and locked the door behind him. They walked away, towards the room where the transformation would take place. Both men were silent as they walked, but Harry noticed that his father fiddled with his hands just like he did when he was nervous; the only difference being the presence of a ring on the elder's finger.

      "Nervous?" Harry asked him.

      His father looked up at him, seemingly stunned by the question; or, rather, that Harry was asking it. He quickly masked himself with a slight smile. "What makes you think I'm nervous? I've done this thing with Remus hundreds of times."

      Harry snorted. "If you haven't noticed," He said, "We have the same face, the same expressions, and apparently the same mannerisms. I do that-" He pointed to his father's hands, which were still fiddling with eachother nervously. "-when I'm worried."

      His father made a face like he'd been caught in a lie, which he had been. He sighed. "As confident as I am in my potion-making abilities, I've never brewed real Wolfsbane before. Maybe if I had just swallowed my pride and let Snape do it-"

      "Listen," Harry interrupted. "I'm no Potions expert, but I know one when I see one. You knew exactly what you were doing in that Lab. For Merlin's sake, you followed the instructions!"

      The elder scoffed. "For Wolfsbane, just following the instructions isn't enough. One less stir and the whole thing might be a dud. And if it is..."

      "I planned for that," Harry assured him.

      "I thought you said you trusted my abilities!" He playfully jabbed his elbow into Harry's side.

      Harry laughed. "You know the saying, 'hope for the best, prepare for the worst?'"

      "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

      "My point is, I have complete faith in you and this potion. But if something, somehow, goes terribly wrong, I have a foolproof backup plan."

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