Anywhere But In Between

Notes: So... we actually started this Saturday, the day the book was released, because I (Kouri) was a gigantic loser and read it all in one day, then needed desperately to detox. Also, we hated the ending. So, here it is. But don't be too alarmed-- we're giving this an actual plot, and we tried to make it as reasonable as we could, so it wouldn't just be a let's-bring-back-this-dead-character fic for the sake of it.

DO NOT READ UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED BOOK FIVE.

Or at least, if you do, don't come yelling at us for spoiling you. Thank you and good night. ^^;

Chapter One

Harry had only been at the Dursleys for another two weeks before he felt that he had definitely had enough. Of course, he could feel some sort of attachment to Petunia, knowing that she had, after all, agreed to take him in. Even after dementors had attacked Dudley. It gave him some small amount of new respect for her.

Naturally, this respect was diminished by the fact that she had ever married Vernon. And then have the gall to have a child with him.

Add that to the constant housework, being shut up inside most of the time for fear that the neighbors might see him, listening to Dudley's whimpering, the fear of being found by Voldemort (even though he couldn't be harmed by him while at the Dursleys, which was a small comfort), and the perpetual ache where Sirius had been . . .

Harry would have rather been almost anywhere else on the planet.

At least this time he was getting regular letters from Ron and Hermione, as well as Hagrid -- although their letters did little but remind him that he wasn't going to get any more from Sirius. Every time Hedwig hooted, he grabbed the letter frantically, hoping against hope --

But no. Sirius was gone, and he knew he had to get used to that fact.

It somewhat mollified him that at least he knew why he had to stay at the Dursleys. That kept him from ripping all their hair out in their sleep.

He had been there about three weeks when a brief note arrived. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and he eagerly tore it open. He saw, with some surprise, that it was from Professor Lupin.

"Harry -- although it's necessary you spend most of your summer with the Dursleys, as your protection, Dumbledore thought it would be all right if you came and spent a brief vacation, maybe a week or so, with me. Would you like to? I'm not at Grimmauld Place anymore. Send Hedwig back with your answer and I'll come as soon as I can. -- Remus Lupin."

Harry eagerly snatched up his quill and a sheaf of parchment. Although he would have preferred to go stay with the Weasleys for a while, he was perfectly willing to go to Lupin's instead. As long as he wasn't living at Grimmauld Place anymore -- Harry honestly would have preferred a life with the Dursleys before ever setting foot in that house again.

He had a vague suspicion that Dumbledore knew he was not exactly handling the loss of Sirius, and was thus sending him to the only person who could really understand. He didn't really object, as long as it got him away from Dudley, who still thought he was responsible for what had happened the previous summer.

He quickly scribbled, "Dear Professor Lupin, you are my savior. I'd be glad to come stay with you for a while." He signed it and gave it to Hedwig, who begged a piece of carrot before taking off into the night sky.

When Remus said he would come as soon as he can, he seemed to honestly mean it. Hedwig arrived with his answer of 'sit tight, I'll be there soon' about ten minutes before Remus knocked politely on the front door.

Harry pounded down the stairs, but Vernon beat him to it, glowering. Harry glowered right back. He was no longer remotely frightened of Vernon after Mad-Eye Moody had threatened him. Vernon swung the door open and gave Remus a distasteful look. Although they had only met briefly at the beginning of the summer, Remus' shabby overcoat and drawn appearance was enough to convince Vernon that Remus was no good. "What do you want, then?" he demanded. "Not selling anything, are you?"

"Not at all," Remus said politely. "I've actually come to see Harry -- take him off your hands for a week or so. Ah, there he is." Not quite as politely, Remus surreptitiously elbowed Vernon in the side so he could get inside. "Good to see you, Harry."

"I'm getting my stuff," Harry said, holding up one finger to indicate that he would only be a minute, before scampering back up the stairs.

Vernon glared at Remus. "Who are you?"

"Just a friend," Remus said, shrugging elegantly. "I assure you that I'm a responsible adult that's perfectly capable of taking care of your nephew for a week -- not that I think you'd care if anything happened to him," he added, with a bit of a steely grin.

Vernon cleared his throat. "You don't look responsible," he said, giving Remus' clothes the eye.

"Well, it's hard to get work," Remus said loftily, then smiled again, showing a bit of tooth. "Being a werewolf and all."

Vernon meeped and hastily backed away. He muttered an excuse and then went into the other room. Remus cleared heard him say to Petunia, "What in the devil's name will that boy bring into the house next?"

He smiled. Every once in a while, being a werewolf had its advantages. Harry thudded hurriedly down the stairs, lugging his trunk after him. Remus raised an eyebrow. "You didn't need to pack all your belongings," he said. "This is only for a week."

"I don't trust Dudley," Harry said darkly. "Hang on while I fetch Hedwig." He went back up the stairs.

Vernon was back out in the hallway by the time Harry reappeared with Hedwid's cage and his broomstick in one hand. "So you're taking all this, then?" he asked, sounding satisfied. "You won't be back again this summer?"

"I'll be back," Harry said. "Much to my great dismay. I just want my stuff, that's all."

Remus cleared his throat and levitated Harry's trunk. "All set, then, Harry?"

"Very," Harry replied. He sneered at Vernon, then followed Remus out of the house. He was quite surprised to see a small car parked by the side of the road. "You drive?" he asked.

Remus gave him a tired grin. "Every once in a while, it comes in handy. I learned a while ago." He popped the boot open and accepted Harry's trunk, shoving it inside. Harry carefully stowed Hedwig in the backseat, then stood with his Firebolt in his hands, looking at it mournfully.

"You all right?" Remus asked, shutting the boot and glancing over at him.

Harry shook himself hastily and shoved the broomstick into the back of the car. "Fine," he said. "Just fine."

Remus gave him a look that let Harry know he didn't believe a word of it, but opened the door and got in anyway. Harry followed suit, and they drove in silence for a few minutes. "So your aunt and uncle weren't too horrible to you, were they?" Remus asked. "Mad-Eye made me promise to find out, so he would know if he had to come give them a proper hexxing."

"They haven't been any worse," Harry said with a shrug. "And they never locked me in the closet."

There was a pause. "Well, that's something anyway," Remus said.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, rather curious to see where Remus lived.

"My apartment," Remus said. "I live in the suburbs of London. It's not much, but -- "

Harry cut him off. Ron had said the exact same thing about the Burrow, but Harry had found that absolutely brilliant. "I'm sure it's fine," he said, although he gave Remus' patched clothes a glance and remembered what Sirius had said about the anti-werewolf legislation that Umbridge had worked so hard to put in place.

He shut off those thoughts rapidly, before he could start to think about Sirius again.

"Actually," Remus said conversationally, "I only have enough money to afford the place because of what Sirius left me. I have what he left you, too, by the way."

Harry blinked back tears. "Ah," he said.

Remus gave him a sidelong glance, but didn't pursue the subject any further. In truth, he didn't particularly want to talk about Sirius any more than Harry did. But Dumbledore had set this up so they would both have the chance, and Remus thought he might be irritated if he didn't take it.

He asked a harmless question about Harry's O.W.L.s, and since Harry had done fairly well on them, this seemed to be a safe topic. He had only failed the Divination, which he had completely expected to fail in any case, and didn't seem to care at all. The only exam he had done unexpectedly badly on was Astronomy, and that was mostly because of how it had been interrupted.

Still, he had good marks where it mattered -- Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms. He'd even scraped a good grade on the potions O.W.L.

"Well, here we are," Remus said with false cheer, parking the car. He got Harry's trunk and motioned for Harry to follow him inside. The hallway was dim and uncarpeted. Remus shoved a key into the lock of one of the apartments and opened the door with a jerk. "It sticks," he said over his shoulder. "You'll get used to it."

Harry followed him inside, and did his very best to not looked shocked. He had thought that the Weasleys were poor, but this went far beyond the standards they lived in. The apartment Remus lived in was only two rooms. The living room held a single armchair, and the kitchen went along one wall. Harry glanced past Remus and saw that the bedroom contained only a bed and a dresser that looked like it might fall over at any moment.

The only other thing of note in the apartment was a large metal cage stowed in the corner of the living room. The bars were dark, but there were bright bits of metal showing through, like they had been gnawed on. Harry couldn't help but stare.

Remus picked up a sheet and tossed it over the cage. "For, ah . . . you know. Don't worry, full moon isn't for another three weeks."

"I wasn't worried," Harry responded automatically, wondering where he was going to sleep.

"I told you it wasn't much," Remus said with a dry smile.

"It's not the Dursleys," Harry said quickly. "That makes it much."

Remus smiled again, and this time it was slightly more genuine. "Are you hungry? I would have cleaned up a little more, but I was so anxious to get you here . . . never mind that, anyway. Hungry?"

He was, but the thought of food made his stomach churn. "No," he said. "I'm all right."

Remus gave him a sharp look, obviously not believing a word of it, but chose to not challenge him. "You may as well put Hedwig in the corner," he said. He had already shoved the trunk into the corner opposite the cage. "I don't really have anywhere for you to keep your things, but . . ." He frowned at the armchair absently, then took out his wand and twitched it, muttering under his breath. The chair elongated into a couch. "That'll have to do for sleeping," Remus said. "I'd make it a bed, but you know the rules of Transfiguration -- you only have so much matter to work with -- honestly, I don't even remember what that thing was when I got it; I've used it for so many things."

Harry was somewhat pleased by the all-purpose furniture. He put Hedwig and the Firebolt in the corner, then let Hedwig out of her cage. "It's marvellously comfortable," he said, flopping onto the couch.

"I think it's because of all the air in the cushions, you know, because of the stretched out matter," Remus said. "But enough magical theory. You're sure you're not hungry? I know the way the Dursleys feed you, and you're looking awfully peaky."

Privately, Harry thought that Remus wasn't one to criticize on who was looking peaky. He had never seen the werewolf in a worse state. He was thinner than usual, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. The lines in his face seemed to have only gotten deeper, and his hair was greying so badly that someone meeting him for the first time would have been hard put to figure out what color it had been originally. "How about this," Harry said, trying to get his stomach to unclench, "I'll eat if you do."

Remus laughed softly. "I can probably manage that," he said. He opened the fridge and rummaged around. "Truthfully, I feel bad, living off of the money Sirius left me," he said, trying to gently bring the subject around again. "But I don't have time to work anyway, even if I could get a job. I've got too much to do for the Order. Although, now that the prophecy's out of his hands, it's anyone's guess what he'll do next . . ."

Harry's stomach immediately tied itself into knots at the mere mention of Sirius. He stared at the plate of food that Remus set down in front of him and contemplated throwing up.

Remus sat down on the floor, folding his legs underneath himself. Normally, he would have made the couch into a low table and eaten sitting at it, but he didn't want to ask Harry to move. He looked comfortable, if it was possible to look comfortable and utterly forlorn at the same time. "Go on," he said, gesturing to the food. "I promise it's good. I'm not a cook like Molly Weasley, but I have a little talent."

"Right," Harry said shakily, and forced a mouthful down. He looked around for a few seconds. "It is . . . safe here, right?"

"Oh, as safe as we can be without going . . . to Grimmauld Place," Remus said, nearly choking over the words. "But I didn't figure you'd want to go there any more than I do. I only moved here a week ago, and I don't think Voldemort has been keeping too close an eye on me . . . Dumbledore set some good, solid protection spells for me. Trust me, he wouldn't have let you come here if he didn't think it was safe."

Harry nodded and shoved his food around his plate, hoping that Remus wouldn't notice that he wasn't eating. Not that Remus appeared to have much interest in the food either. Harry put his fork down with an audible clink. "If you're not eating, I'm not either."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, then nodded and said weakly, "Yes, all right. Like some tea, at least?"

Harry nodded, feeling that he could probably stomach tea.

Remus went over to the counter and took out the chipped tea set that Harry had seen him use during their third year. It seemed an incredibly distant time to him. He could hardly even believe that he had only met Remus three years before.

There was a pause while Remus rustled at the counter, putting some tea and water into the pot. He tapped his wand against the edge and it issued a jet of steam. Harry watched him as he poured two cups, then felt he had to ask.

"Why d'you keep bringing up Sirius?" he asked abruptly.

Remus hand jerked. He knocked one of the cups off the counter, and it shattered on the tile floor. He slowly looked down at it, as if he had no idea what could have happened to it. Then he mumbled, "Reparo," waving his wand in the general direction of the cup. He knelt beside it, picked it up, and filled it with tea again. The spill was left on the floor, unnoticed.

"You can't stand to talk about it or hear his name," Harry said, "but you keep bringing him up."

Remus handed a cup to Harry, then settled at one end of the sofa with his own. "I thought you could probably use the chance to talk about him," he said quietly. "To talk about . . . what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said fiercely. "I don't want to talk about what happened. I don't want to talk about how I miss him. I want him back. He was supposed to be my family, and now he's dead."

Remus stared into his tea. "I know," he said softly.

"Then why do you want to talk about it?" Harry snapped.

Remus shrugged vaguely. "Dumbledore thought you needed to, so who am I to argue?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry challenged.

"Not really," Remus said with a wan smile. "Although I daresay that I could probably use the chance as much as you could."

"Maybe we should just sit in miserable silence together," Harry said, his tone a little less harsh. It was more of a suggestion than a snipe.

Remus shrugged again, and for a few minutes, they did just that.

"I miss him," he finally said, staring at the sheet covering the cage.

"It's not fair," Harry said bitterly. "He loved me, and . . . maybe I'm forever cursed to be an orphan."

"You're right," Remus said wearily. "It isn't fair. But look at it this way. You've still got Ron and Hermione. You've still got all the Weasleys -- Percy notwithstanding, since he's off being a gigantic ponce. You've got other friends among the students. You've even got Dobby."

"Somehow, that makes it more unfair," Harry said heatedly.

"How so?" Remus asked, stirring his tea with his index finger.

"I've got all these people, and you've got . . . me," Harry said, realizing that Remus, if possible, might feel worse about Sirius' death than he did. "Not really worth much, is it."

Remus shrugged. "I'll get by. I did while he was in Azkaban. And then I didn't even have you. I just had myself."

"I'm surprised you even want me," Harry said, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping back into his tone. "Seeing as it's all my fault."

Remus sighed heavily. "No, it isn't. It can be blamed on a lot of people, Harry. There were a thousand ifs that led to this. If Snape hadn't stopped teaching you Occlumency . . . if Sirius hadn't allowed himself to be goaded . . . if Kreacher had been hung by his toes and left in a closet to rot somewhere . . . if Fudge has listened and secured Azkaban . . . a lot of people can be blamed, so don't take it all on your shoulders. Sirius knew what he faced when he left that house. And he didn't only leave it just because he'd been cooped up in it so long, although I won't deny that played some part."

"If I hadn't stuck my nose where it didn't belong, he wouldn't have left to come save me."

"But again, if Snape hadn't stopped teaching you Occlumency, you never would have gone."

"If I hadn't looked into that Pensieve, Snape wouldn't have stopped teaching me!"

"Snape shouldn't have stopped teaching you even then," Remus snapped, the first hint of anger in his voice. "All right, so you saw his little schoolday humiliation. Big deal. He put lives on the line because he couldn't face with a greasy loser he was." He shrugged a little, the anger fading slightly. "But see? I could go on with the ifs. If we hadn't treated him like a git in our schooldays, he wouldn't have felt the need to hold a grudge against us for so many years. And if we wanted to, we could probably blame all that on Sirius' mother for being such a cruel, unmitigated bitch. See how this gets tangled very quickly?"

Harry glanced up, surprised to hear Remus using such language. "No wonder he was nuts," he said, almost under his breath.

Remus pretended to not hear him. "Everything influences everything else, Harry. It's just a fact of life. You can't blame yourself for Sirius' death. He went there because he loved you, and that's not a gift to be thrown away lightly."

"Just like my mother," Harry said, starting to get more upset. "I can survive a killing curse, but I can't keep the people who love me alive! They all die instead of me! What's the good in that?"

Remus opened his mouth, then shut it, looking away. "Yes, well," he finally said, "I deserve a great deal of the blame too, if you're going to get into it. I couldn't stop him from coming to save you. I couldn't save him, either. I was standing right there, but . . ." He spread his hands out in front of him, the tea perched preacriously on the arm of the sofa, forgotten. "But I couldn't save him," he finished softly.

"I want him back," Harry said simply. It was all he could think to say.

"I do, too," Remus replied.

"Apparently, I've got all this special magic," Harry said. "And it doesn't do me a whit of good. If only there was some way to just . . . just go get him. Snape, with all his pompous jabbering, mentioned something about putting a stopper in death, but he was probably only feeding his ego . . ."

Remus had an expression on his face that was vaguely similar to what Harry imagined someone might look like if they got struck by lightning.

"He was feeding his ego, wasn't he?" he asked, giving Remus a look.

"Well, there are hundreds of ways to put a stopper in death," Remus said, trying to not sound evasive. "It's called poison, Harry."

"Your look didn't say 'poison'," Harry retorted. "Your look said 'hey, why didn't I think of that?'"

"Did I have a look?" Remus asked vaguely, picking up his tea.

"You had a look," Harry said firmly.

"Imagine that," Remus said, obviously thinking very intensely.

"Or we could just sit here and sulk and starve ourselves to death," Harry said deliberately.

Remus jumped, startled out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What were you thinking about?" Harry pressed.

"Nothing, really," Remus said. "Anyway, it's incredibly dangerous and wouldn't work, it was just a stupid thought." Obviously flustered, he continued to stammer. "There'd be all sorts of things we'd need that we wouldn't have, and it's been nearly a month, so we probably wouldn't be able to find him anyway . . ."

Harry levelled him with a terrific glare. "Enough with the secrets. Just spit it out."

Remus hesitated. "There's a potion," he said. "An incredibly complicated potion. The Draught of the Living Dead. Did Snape ever mention it?"

"At some point," Harry said. "It sounds vaguely familiar."

"You can brew it to specific times," Remus said. "But the most it works for is an hour. Anyway, it makes someone temporarily die. It can be dead handy, no pun intended, but it's nearly impossible to make -- there are only two Potionsmasters in the entirety of England that can do it, I think -- "

"And one of them's a slimy git, isn't he," Harry said.

Remus nodded. "And in any case, after a month -- with only an hour behind the veil, we'd never find him, Harry. And even if we could find him, I don't think we could bring him back."

"Then all we've lost is an hours' worth of time?" Harry asked. He didn't believe in 'nevers' anymore.

"Well, and the disgustingly large amount of money it would take to purchase the potion," Remus said, "and if the potion goes badly, our lives. And if the Ministry finds out about it, our freedom."

"Why would the potion go badly?" Harry asked. "When you buy the potion, you just make sure there are people around to make their lives a living hell if we die."

Remus gave him a look. "I didn't say they'd do it purposely. It's a tricky potion. And brewing it in fear probably wouldn't help much."

Harry ground his teeth in frustration. "It's still a chance, and that's more than we've got right now! He deserves a chance!"

"Harry," Remus said gently, "everyone who has ever died in the history of mankind is behind the veil. What would the odds of finding him be?"

"Isn't there a spell you can use to locate people?" Harry asked, feeling as though he were grasping pathetically at straws.

"Yes, but I don't know if magic works after one is dead! I've never been dead!" Remus was starting to get upset, partly because he thought the idea had some merit, but he couldn't conceive of it actually working. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "Besides," he said, "Dumbledore had me bring you here to work through this, not go off on some harebrained scheme that won't work anyway."

"Oh yeah," Harry said sarcastically, gesturing to his plate, "we're working through it real well, aren't we."

Remus sighed, pushing one hand through his hair.

"All right, fine," Harry snapped. "Draught of the Living Dead, you said? I know where Knockturn Alley is. I have the money. I'll get the potion and I'll do it myself."

"Harry!" Remus looked seriously alarmed at this concept. "You do know what sort of trouble we'll be in if you die, don't you?"

"But I can't!" Harry said, feeling a touch of hysteria coming on. "Unless Voldemort manages to somehow make the potion without my realizing it! Because he's the one who's going to kill me! It said in that prophecy!"

Remus blinked. "It said what now?"

"The prophecy. It said 'either one must kill the other'. That means that only Voldemort can kill me!"

Remus shook his head. "No. It's still too risky."

"I'll do this with or without your help," Harry snapped.

"No, you won't," Remus said heavily. "I will."

Harry blinked. "But you can die! I can't die. At least, I can't die because of this."

"Which means it's quite possible that the potion wouldn't work on you in the first place," Remus pointed out coolly. "No, it would have to be me."

"But it's not permanent death, so it shouldn't count!" Harry protested. "Should it?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Remus said, now with a touch of dry humor in his tone. "But that's not the point. I'll do it; I'm more suited to it anyway. There are far fewer people who would care if I accidentally managed to off myself trying to bring Sirius back."

"So that's what makes you better suited?" Harry asked irritably. "Less people will miss you?"

"Well, that and the fact that the fate of wizardkind doesn't happen to rest rather squarely on my shoulders," Remus said.

Harry ignored this comment, feeling that it hit somehow below the belt. "He was my godfather!" he said furiously, feeling tears burn at his eyes. "I'm the one who should do it! I was closer to him than anyone else and it's all my fault anyway!"

"Don't make me lecture you on the guilt thing again," Remus said. "And although you were very close to Sirius, you were not the only person who was."

"Okay, you were his best friend," Harry grudgingly admitted.

"James was his best friend," Remus corrected.

"I always got the impression that you were just . . . his best friend also," Harry said, confused. "One would think that he could have two. I have two."

Remus shrugged a little. "I suppose," he said, looking vaguely distracted.

"What now?" Harry burst out, frustrated.

"I loved him," Remus said softly.

"So did I!" Harry protested.

Remus turned and gave him a tired look. "Most likely not in quite the same way that I did."

Harry couldn't help his jaw sagging slightly. "So you . . . oh."

"Yes, precisely," Remus said. "Oh."

"Uhm, okay," Harry managed. About a million questions raced through his head at this new development. He settled on the most immediate and most pertinent to their situation. "And did he . . . uh . . ."

Remus' lips twitched slightly. "Yes," he said simply. "James was his best friend. I was something else altogether."

"Well," Harry said. "Oh."

"Does it bother you?" Remus asked, almost sounding curious.

"Well, it's a bit to take in," Harry admitted. "But I'll get used to it. I think." He frowned. "Why didn't either of you ever tell me?"

"Honestly, we were so used to hiding it from when we were teenagers, that it never really occurred to either of us to tell you," Remus said. "Or at least, that's what it was for me, and I can assume the same about Sirius." He choked slightly over his name. "It was something that Voldemort could have used against us -- not to even mention Snape, who was just as fond of tormenting us as we were of tormenting him." He sighed a little. "Besides, things had been a bit . . . different . . . since he came back."

"Different how?" Harry asked.

"Well, twelve years in Azkaban didn't exactly improve his temperament," Remus said dryly. "And thirteen years of believing him a traitor and a murderer didn't exactly improve mine. We were working it out . . . we still loved each other, it was just . . . different." His voice drifted off momentarily. "We never really finished figuring out what we were going to do, how things were going to be."

"What was he like before . . . before everything?" Harry asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Well, first he was a single-celled organism living in his mother's womb . . ."

Harry gave him a look. "I don't want to hear anything having to do with his mother. At least, not unless it's directly related to him. You know what I mean."

Remus shrugged. "So much of the way Sirius was did relate directly back to his family, though . . . they really were a rotten bunch, put those Dursleys of yours to shame. When I first met him . . . he was always so full of mischief and energy, and it was a while before I realized that it was all because of how angry he was. Angry at his parents, angry at fate for giving them to him. He was a lot better once he ran away and started living with James over holidays . . . his pranks were a lot less malicious after that."

There was a brief silence while Harry turned all this over in his mind. "I knew him," he said, "but I didn't know anything about him. Does that make any sense?"

Remus gave him another tired smile. "You didn't really have that much time to get to know him."

Harry sagged a little against the sofa cushions. "Tell me about him?" he asked.

"I did," Remus said. "But he had his good qualities, too . . . you saw most of them. He was loyal, and brave almost to a fault. Ridiculously overprotective, of course . . . God forbid anyone even look strangely in my direction . . . but he could be cheerful when he wanted to be, and he was never anything but kind to me."

Harry wasn't sure that anyone who had ever met Remus could stand to be mean to him, given how nice a person he usually was. Then again, given his wolfish tendencies, he was sure that Remus had received a lot of harsh words and acts in his life.

"Look," Remus said, "we're both tired and miserable. Let's get some sleep, and maybe in the morning, we'll realize what a stupid and crazy plan this is. All right?"

"I've noticed that sleep just helps me work out the kinks," Harry mentioned. "Sleeping on a stupid plan never stops me."

Remus smiled a little. "Well, in that way, you are just like your godfather. But I still need the rest."

Harry nodded. "Thank you for rescuing me from the Dursleys."

"It was my pleasure," Remus told him.

****