Remus stood in the corridor outside of Dumbledore's office, leaning against the wall, staring at the stone gargoyles which stood watch over the headmaster's concealed moving staircase. He hung onto his briefcase before him with both hands, gnawing on his lower lip.

"Why am I nervous?" he whispered to himself. "This is silly... I'm not twelve and about to get a detention or anything. I've not done anything wrong, I -" Remus stopped talking, for he'd heard a sound down the hall, and he listened carefully.

His heart skipped a beat, then, for he recognized the voice talking.

"....dunno where she got even half these things she's published. I never said anything like this before in my life! 'I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament because they're watching over me'? I'm sorry, I would be quite ashamed of admitting that, thank you very much - the whole entire world doesn't need to know all of my business, do they!?" Harry Potter's voice proceeded him.

"I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of Harry," came Hermione Granger's gentle tones, "I think it's rather endearing, that bit, and honestly you shouldn't be ashamed of being sad about something!" She paused. "If you ever do need to cry and would like to have someone to talk with, you know, that's what -- oh!"

She stopped mid sentence because they'd come 'round the corner then and there, in the hall, was Remus Lupin whose heart was pounding thrice the speed it ought to be doing.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry said in surprise, seeing Remus there in the hallway.

Hermione rushed up and wrapped Remus in a hug about his torso and Remus closed his eyes. Her arms looped about him about the middle - he was quite a bit taller than her and so thin that her palms clapped onto her elbows when she gave him a good squeeze. She stepped back, eyes shining with admiration, "Oh we've missed you!"

"Yeah we have!" Harry said, but there was more anxiety in his eyes than brightness.

Harry looked so much like James - Remus could tell just by looking at him he'd been hard at thinking for several days and clearly hadn't been sleeping well. The way Harry's hair stuck up a bit suggested repeated swipes of his palm through the strands, something James had done plenty of on a normal day, but Remus had noticed all last year during exams and the dementor lessons that Harry usually did it far more frequently when he was stressed, rather than for aesthetic purposes. Harry's eyes were also marked by dark shadows beneath them, and his shirt was wrinkled, one shoe coming a bit untied, and overall just that slightly unkempt appearance of one who was just too tired to give a damn.

Remus understood all too well the unkempt appearance of one who was just too tired to give a damn. It looked him in the eye every morning when he peered into a mirror.

"How have you been?" Remus asked gently, looking between Harry and Hermione. "I - I've heard about the Tournament, Harry. A friend of mine told me you'd been entered."

"Did Snuffles tell you, then?" Harry asked, voice conspirational.

Hermione looked about the corridor nervously at the mention of Snuffles, but the three of them were quite alone.can

"A different friend," Remus said. He turned to Harry, "How are you feeling about it?"

"Great," Harry lied. Remus could see the lie in his eyes. But Harry plowed on, "Pretty confident. I - I mean it can't be so hard, yeah? It's supposed to be safer this year than ever before," he added, when Hermione looked at him with a glare. Harry shrugged, "I mean, it can't be harder than Slytherin's monster or Voldemort trying at taking the stone, can it?" he chuckled. "It's not like I'm going to be - be fighting him again or anything. So, yeah. Confident. That's what I am." He nodded resolutely, then said, "And honestly right now I'm more frustrated with that maddening Skeeter woman publishing a load of dung in the paper about me and --"

"What?" Remus asked, brows cinched together.

Harry sighed and held up the copy of the Daily Prophet he had tucked under his arm.

Remus took it and shook it out. The headline was bold and stark against the white of the paper, a photo of Harry at the Wand Weighing Ceremony took up a good deal of the page, though he seemed to be trying to slide out of the frame as Remus looked it over. THE BOY WHO LIVED - WILL HE LIVE THROUGH THIS? HARRY POTTER LOOKS TO HIS PARENTS FOR COURAGE FACING THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT. Remus's eyes scanned over the article.

He was about to say something comforting to Harry - something like it was true that James and Lily were indeed watching over Harry if they were able - but Harry said quickly -

"It's a load of tosh, the whole article. I never said anything like that to her! We were in a dingy old closet and I was sitting on an overturned mop bucket and all I said was er while she asked a great load of questions and wrote about tears sparkling in my eyes -- which they were not," he added, pink from frustration.

Hermione sighed.

Remus folded the paper up. "I'm very sorry, Harry," he said. He wondered how much of the other articles that the Daily Prophet had published about Harry over the years had been true. He tried to recollect who the byline had been on them, if ever they'd been written by the same Skeeter woman or someone else at the Prophet. There were a myriad of articles that he had carefully cut out of papers over the years, all stuck to his refrigerator with magnets and spellotape back in York. He'd read every article about Harry, savoring every opportunity to be as close as possible to him... and it suddenly occurred to him that the articles might've been just as much tosh as this one apparently was.

What little he had always believed to know about Harry - perhaps it had all been lies.

But there was always all last year, wasn't there? When Remus had seen Harry at least twice a week and sometimes more? When Harry had come to visit him at his office and there was that time they'd shared a lunch in the Great Hall and Remus flushed suddenly, remembering offering Harry a bit of orange that he had been eating and Harry taking it but not eating it and how they'd learned over the summer that Harry was allergic to grapefruit and he suddenly felt an overwhelming guilt that sunk right through his heart to his stomach and weighted his spirits all the way to his toes.

He should've known that Harry was allergic to citrus long before that letter. If he'd been a proper godfather --

"Professor?" Hermione's voice broke through Remus's thoughts and he shook his head, regaining his focus, looking down at her.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"I just asked if you were here to get your position back?" her eyes were hopeful.

Harry was frowning down at the carpet, still frustrated.

"Oh. Oh - no. No. I can't. There are... laws... about werewolves and the sorts of jobs that we are allowed to keep."

Hermione's eyes were saddened by that.

"I'm just here to talk to Dumbledore about a matter brought to my attention by a friend of mine," he said. Then, "How has Professor Moody been treating you lot?"

"Oh he's brilliant," Harry said, looking up. "He's been teaching us loads of stuff."

Remus nodded. "Yeah? Has he?" Something in him ached to hear Harry speak of his replacement with such reverence.

"Yeah, you can tell he's really been in it, you know?"

Remus nodded. He wondered if Tonks's worries were founded suddenly. The students didn't seem to think there was anything odd about Moody and they'd all given raving reviews thus far as he'd made his way through the castle to Dumbledore's office. If there was someone impersonating Moody - a Death Eater up to no good like Tonks seemed to have been suggesting - then surely someone would have noticed something amiss by now. Something besides a preference for ketchup or tartar or whatever it was that Tonks had been on about... Surely something would have happened to be at least a bit suspicious.

Even when Voldemort himself had been masquerading as Professor Gaunt back in sixth year there had been signs, after all, long before November, that there was something off about the latest addition to staff... and he hadn't even been impersonating a real person. Especially not a person that Dumbledore knew quite well like Mad Eye Moody. After all, Moody and Dumbledore had been especially close during the days of the Order and Dumbledore would notice anything wrong about him quicker than Tonks would, surely.

Tonks was, after all, just as dramatic as Sirius when it came to such things as that.

"Well, keep me posted about your lessons with Professor Moody, won't you?" Remus requested, intending it to be to keep an eye on Moody through Harry's perspective.

"Yeah," Harry said, taking it that Professor Lupin was still interested in how he, Harry, was doing in that particular subject which had been Remus's specialty.

Remus reached out and lay a palm on Harry's shoulder. "Your parents really are watching after you, Harry, whether you said those words or not, they are. They would be worried sick about this tournament, but also be incredibly proud of you. Your father --"

The gargoyle blocking off Dumbledore's office leaped aside as the door to the moving staircase opened then and Dumbledore himself stepped into the corridor. He looked surprised to see Harry and Hermione and Remus all congregated outside.

Dumbledore smiled, looking 'round at the three of them. "My, my, what a busy corridor this is today," he said. He focused on Remus. "Hello, Mr. Lupin, I was just beginning to wonder to myself if you might have gotten lost on your way up to my office, or had, perhaps, forgotten the password?"

Remus flushed, "No, no - not lost by any means. I could still traverse these corridors with my eyes closed. Don't even need a map to navigate these halls."

He saw James's lips twitch slightly at the mention of a Map and he felt a bit of comradery with his old mate.

Until he remembered it was Harry and not James after all.

"I know what my godson's fucking name is!" Sirius's shout from the night before rattled through Remus and he had to shove it to the back of his mind because this time it had come with a bit of a mocking tone to it. I know what my godson's fucking name is - but you don't, it seemed to say, because you aren't close enough to Harry, are you... Professor Lupin?

"Hullo Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. She glanced at Harry, then back up at Dumbledore, "Harry and I were just on our way to the library and ran into Professor Lupin."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"And I was just about to come up for our meeting when these two came by," Remus said.

"Ah, it is always my pleasure to see two students working on their revisions," Dumbledore nodded.

"Actually, we've been looking for anything that might Harry next week at the First Task," Hermione answered. "Since Harry doesn't know what to expect, we've just been going over a lot of defensive magic." Hermione looked up at Professor Lupin. "Oooh! Professor! Perhaps you could help us once you've finished your meeting!"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but Harry said, "I can't ask any professors to help, Hermione."

"Oh but Harry, Professor Lupin isn't really your professor anymore. Are you?" and she looked to Remus, "Surely that wouldn't be cheating, just asking for some training advice?"

Dumbledore interrupted, "As a judge, I must agree with Harry that he is not allowed input from grown-ups, according to the rules of the tournament. As a friend, I would most definitely agree that it would be an excellent idea, should Mr. Lupin not be in a hurry to get back to other duties that are very pressing. I am sure, however, that with all of the hours of study that you have invested in the library and here at Hogwarts - being a top student, as the Prophet has indicated this morning - that you will most definitely have all of the skills that you need to... fly to new heights of achievement." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Harry nodded. "Of course," he muttered, "Wouldn't want to... break the rules or anything..." He looked up at Remus. "Thanks anyway, Professor Lupin," he said, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "C'mon, Hermione, we should let the grown-ups get to their meeting."

Remus noted the bitterness in Harry's tone, but Dumbledore seemed oblivious to it. "Come along, Mr. Lupin," Dumbledore said, motioning to the moving staircase that Remus could see winding off beyond the gargoyle.

Remus sighed and nodded, then turned to speak to Harry only to find that Harry had strutted off with Hermione rushing after him, looking over her shoulder at Remus and Dumbledore with an apologetic expression.

"After you" Dumbledore said with a chipper tone, "I've asked the house elves to bring up a good lunch for us to my office, I thought you might be hungry after having travelled so far from Blackburn. Best to have something in you before your return trip to Iceland, yes?"

Remus hesitated, still watching Harry until he had turned the corner at the far end of the corridor, and then he nodded and turned, taking the first step onto the moving staircase, which carried him away into the heights of the Headmaster's turret.

Harry walked briskly. He could hear Hermione chasing after him, but his hands in his pockets were balled into fists and he could hear a rentlentless pounding in his head that seemed to echo in his chest. He was so angry at Dumbledore...

Rumors had got around the school that Cedric Diggory was being trained by Oliver Kent (supposedly for Quidditch but what outstanding timing he'd had hiring him on!), and any given time you could look out the window to the grounds and see the hulking form of the Durmstrang instructor barking in Belgian at Viktor Krum. While there'd been no evidence of Fleur Delacor training with anyone, Harry was certain that wasn't for a lack of it. Madame Maxime was ironically more subtle than Professor Karkaroff, or more secretive, perhaps, and didn't parade her victor's work all over the place. Why wasn't Harry allowed to have a trainer, too? Dumbledore stepping in like that, as though the integrity of the rules of the tourney hadn't been shattered the moment a 14-year-old had been chosen as a victor...

Hermione was breathless. "Harry!" she pleaded, "Slow down."

They were somewhere around the Transfiguration corridor by now, having stormed through a secret passageway to get away from Dumbledore's office as quickly as possible.

Part of the reason he was so keen on staying ahead of Hermione as he walked was that his eyes were stinging, threatening to fill with tears.

For a split second, he'd thought maybe Professor Lupin would stay and help him, and he'd remembered how comfortable and good those dementor lessons had been last year, and he'd hoped for something similar now.

He'd pictured telling Remus about the dream he'd been having ever since the night his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Would Remus Lupin think he was weak for missing his Dad so much that he dreamed such a silly, childish thing over and over again?

He hadn't said it to Rita, or even really admitted it to himself, but he had been crying about them at night, hadn't he?

Harry took a deep breath and stopped.  Hermione rushed up so quickly that she nearly ran right into him, she'd been close to running to keep up.

He looked up at her.

"Oh Harry," she said, seeing his eyes were sopping and her lip trembling. "Harry," she pulled him into a hug and Harry stood there, hands still in his pocket, still balled into fists, his nose flaring and pressed his face into her shoulder. "It's alright, Harry, we're looking to find anything we can to help. I won't let you go to that task without something to help you, I promise, I'll do anything I can to --"

"'mione?" Harry whimpered.

"What, Harry?"

"I do miss my parents."

Silence fell between them, heavy and full of meaning.

Hermione rubbed Harry's back, pulling him even closer. "Oh Harry," she whispered.