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The Only Way - "A sign would've been nice. Horcrux, five miles straight ahead."

Remus sighed to himself, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall as bits and phrases of a fierce discussion drifted about him. Arthur and Mad-Eye had decided to call an emergency Order meeting after giving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny a thorough inspection for injuries and sending them to their rooms with a draught of dreamless potion. Molly and Bill were reassuring the Delacours that everything was now under control and apologizing for the whole mess.

The rest of them had squeezed into the kitchen of the Burrow, where they sat around the table and grimly went over the details of the attack. Kingsley and Mad-Eye were filling Minerva and Sturgis in on what had happened; Minerva's face was ashen and Sturgis had his fists clenched in his lap.

It was painful to see just how few members the Order had left. Emmeline's murder had been a bit of a shock, but Dumbledore's death and Snape's betrayal had caught them completely unawares. Lack of numbers not withstanding, they were going to need time to cope with the loss of their most powerful member and the threat that Snape posed.

A light touch on his shoulder made Remus open his eyes, and he found himself looking into Tonks' worried gaze.

"You sure you're all right?" she asked softly.

He nodded, half-smiling. "A little bruised, but that's it. What about you?"

"All I need is a bed," she sighed. She suddenly noticed her hand was still on his shoulder; he could see a pink flush creeping up in her face despite the dirt and grime on her cheeks as she quickly removed her hand.

They were both saved from further awkwardness by the sound of footsteps on the stairs, prompting everyone's gaze to swivel toward the doorway. Molly and Bill entered a moment later, both looking exhausted.

"Are they all right?" Arthur asked, standing up to let his wife sit down. Charlie moved over so Bill could join him on the counter.

"Bit hysterical at first, but I reckon they'll be fine," Bill said heavily, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "It's a good thing they knew about the risk beforehand."

"Sorry your big day had to turn out like this," Kingsley said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Bill shook his head. "It's fine; I'm just thankful no one got seriously hurt."

"Well, I think we've learned our lesson," Mad-Eye growled, his magical eye spinning crazily in its socket. "We can't afford to stay laid back like this. Albus is gone. There's nothing we can do about that. But it's no excuse for this sort of thing. It should never have happened – or at least, gotten this far."

There was some squirming amongst the Order members that had been present at the wedding. The security measures they had enforced had not been adequate. But then again, the wedding had been a risk in the first place.

"I agree," Kingsley said. He fingered the cut on his chin as he spoke. "Dumbledore's plan was for the Order to go on even after his death. Our mission is to defeat You-Know-Who and protect Harry and help him in any way we can, not fall apart because Dumbledore's gone."

"Then the first thing we have to do is pick a new leader, isn't it?" Charlie said matter-of-factly.

They looked around at each other, unsure of what to do next. From the beginning, it had always been assumed that Dumbledore was the leader and always would be; no plans had been made regarding times of peril that Dumbledore wasn't presiding over.

"I nominate Minerva," Remus said quietly. "As Headmistress of Hogwarts and Dumbledore's second-in-command, she is most suitable for the position." He'd heard about the board of governors' decision just the day before – Hogwarts would remain open.

"Any objections?" Mad-Eye growled. "No? Minerva?"

Eyes turned to Minerva, who seemed to be fighting an inner battle as she sat stiff-backed with her hands clasped in her lap. When she finally looked up, her eyes were blazing.

"For Albus," she said, "and for Harry."

"Good, that's settled," Mad-Eye said, ever business-like. "Now, about tonight. To sum it up, a group of Death Eaters ambushed the field during the reception. Three Death Eaters were captured and about seven or eight Disapparated. No one was killed or severely injured."

"Where'd they come from?" Sturgis asked, brows furrowed. "I thought there were wards around this place."

"Only the house, not the field," Arthur said, shaking his head. "It's a decision I'm regretting." Molly put a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"There's no point in worrying about what's already happened, or what we could have done," Bill said. "We have to focus on what we're going to do now. The one thing we do know about this attack is that they were after Harry."

No one looked remotely surprised to hear this; in fact, Remus saw, the entire Order took it resignedly. The boy was their first priority, as it had been Dumbledore's – they could not afford to lose him, and neither could the rest of the world. Whatever they believed, whatever Muggles or the Minister or Harry himself believed, he was without a doubt the only one who could stand against Voldemort.

But that meant putting him on the line; that meant, for Remus, giving up yet another person he loved to the hands of fate. And Harry was so much more than just his best friend's son – he was the embodiment of the three people he had lived for. James was in his face, in his stance, his stubbornness. Lily was in his eyes, the green eyes James used to make up songs about as he walked through the corridors. And Sirius was in his laughter, his carefree grin. He would have liked to say that he saw a bit of himself in Harry, too; maybe his intelligence, but the other two had been smart – James and Sirius had just let their mischievous side cover it up. Not all Hogwarts students could turn themselves into Animagi.

But that was life. That was war. Letting people go and letting themselves get hurt in their own destiny, waiting on the sidelines until it was all over to pick up the pieces, to bury the bodies. No matter what anyone said, it never got easier.

"One of us should always know where he is," Sturgis said. "Not just an Auror or something; one of us. And he should be able to contact us whenever he wants, without fear of the message being intercepted or delayed."

He wanted to tell them that it wasn't right. Tagging Harry like that, having people following him around. James and Sirius would never have stood for it themselves. They had hated being watched, being protected. The one thing that had annoyed Sirius more than returning to the Black house was the fact that he had to be locked up. He'd always been restless, edgy. In the end, it had cost him his life.

"And we'll have to increase security in major areas," Kingsley said. "King's Cross, Diagon Alley, the Floo Network. Aurors can be stationed in Hogwarts, too."

It was more than a question than a statement, but as Kingsley looked to Minerva she nodded firmly. "I was just going to ask the Minister about that. Not just for Harry's protection, of course, but for the rest of the students and staff."

"I'm sure it can be done," Kingsley said, and Tonks nodded with him.

"Other suggestions?" Arthur asked.

"Well it's not really about Harry specifically," Sturgis began, hesitating a bit. Minerva nodded at him to continue. "It's – well – I mean, what about Snape?"

"What about him?" Mad-Eye snapped.

"Well, I mean, he had a lot of information, didn't he?" Sturgis said, quite taken aback at Mad-Eye's brusque tone. "Dumbledore trusted him, so he had to know a lot about the Order. Shouldn't we be doing something to prevent…"

His words trailed off as he shrugged. There were many things Snape could do to the Order with the knowledge he possessed, all of them potentially fatal.

"We've done all we can do," Arthur said with a sigh. "Dumbledore was our Secret Keeper, not Snape, and now that we've abandoned twelve, Grimmauld Place, he doesn't know where our new headquarters is. He may know who our members are and what our plans were, but they can always change. And now that we know he's working for the other side, he can't come back as a spy."

There was a carefully controlled bitterness in Arthur's voice that was mirrored in the faces of those listening. If there was anyone they detested more than Voldemort right now, it was Severus Snape.

But Remus was still doubtful. Could Dumbledore's judgment really have been that off? Or had the old man's instincts, for once, really failed him? It was true that Snape had been obsessed with the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and had ultimately joined Voldemort as a Death Eater, but he had returned. Dumbledore had trusted him, and he had proved useful in many situations, not least of all his brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus while he had been teaching four years ago.

But the question was: Had he really returned? Had he truly "switched sides," as Dumbledore had believed, or had he acted as a spy under the mere pretenses of turning a new leaf? There was a great amount of evidence that Snape was still loyal, and an equal amount of evidence that he was a traitor. All personal grudges aside, Remus would have liked to believe that there was a reason, a good reason, that Dumbledore had trusted Snape and died at his hands.

As new conversations broke out about Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Death Eaters, Remus sat back and watched them through detached eyes.

If only James and Sirius hadn't made so much fun of him at Hogwarts… If only I hadn't told them to stop... If only I had known then what would happen later... If only Dumbledore hadn't been so trusting... If only Harry wasn't so like James… There were so many ifs, so many decisions he regretted, and absolutely nothing he could do about them.

After all the lights went out and the house had fallen silent, Ron got out of bed. He heard Harry do likewise as he edged toward the door, careful not to step on the planks that creaked. He opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was deserted.

He slipped out with Harry behind him, and the two of them stole down the corridor. He felt slightly foolish as he crept past Mum and Dad's room like he was a thief in his own house. They tiptoed down the stairs, almost unconsciously skipping over the squeaky ones. He felt Harry hesitate at the third landing, but continued on without speaking until they reached the bottom.

There was a dim light on in the kitchen and Ron checked to see that his wand was still in his pocket before moving forward. It seemed he didn't go anywhere without it anymore.

"Ron? Harry?"

The whisper floated out into the darkness from the kitchen, and suddenly Hermione and Ginny were standing in the doorway, their figures illuminated by the light behind them.

Harry stopped dead beside him, staring at Ginny. "What – why is she here?" he demanded of Hermione, keeping his voice low.

Ginny folded her arms as Hermione gave him an only slightly apologetic look. "She knew," Hermione whispered. "I couldn't stop her."

"After all that, Harry, you were planning to leave without me?"

Ron recognized the steely edge in his sister's voice and took a small step away from Harry. It scared him when she started sounding like Mum.

Harry seemed lost for words. "I – you – "

"Save your nobility for other people, Harry, because it's wasted on me," Ginny said. "I'm going wherever you are and doing whatever you're doing until this thing is over, and you can't stop me."

"You don't understand," he said wearily – pleadingly – shaking his head. "We're not going back to Hogwarts. No one will be with us to protect you, no teachers, no Aurors, no wards, not your mum, your dad, your brothers. Just us and your wand between you and Voldemort. There's no turning back. Do you want that? Do you want to give up everything you have here for that?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not for that. For you."

It was silent for a moment as Harry looked at her wordlessly, a strange expression on his face. Standing next to him, Ron could almost feel the fight draining from him. Finally, Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ginny, bending his head to whisper something in her ear that made her mouth twitch.

Hermione smiled at them as they went in and sat around the table; he and Hermione on one side, Harry and Ginny on the other. A small candle burned between them, causing shadows to flicker across their faces.

"The Death Eaters today…they were after you, weren't they?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry's face was unreadable. "Who else could they want? No doubt everyone'll be scrambling to think of some new way to protect me now." There was no mistaking his sardonic tone.

"Bill was taking a risk with the wedding," Ginny said. "Everyone was. How could You-Know-Who pass up a chance like that? It's not like we were keeping it a secret."

"I always thought it was too good to be true," Ron muttered. "Being all carefree like that, for a couple of hours." Hermione reached for his hand under the table and gave it a small squeeze.

"So what now?" Ginny asked. "What now, if you're not going back to Hogwarts?"

It amazed him, sometimes, how strong his sister was. He'd always looked down at her as the baby sister like the rest of his brothers, although of course he was only a year older. She just seemed so small, and she was Bill's and Charlie's and – well, everyone's favorite, really, and they all wanted to protect her. So he just did the same.

But somewhere, sometime, while he hadn't been watching, she had changed. He'd known she'd had her fair share of trauma, what with Riddle's diary and the Department of Mysteries and all, but he still couldn't imagine her like…well, like Hermione. Older; more serious, more responsible, more like an adult. Two days and she was sixteen, though, and he'd been through a lot by the time he was sixteen. She was as strong as he'd been a year ago, smarter and more skilled maybe. Maybe it was because of Harry. Lots of things had changed because of Harry.

Harry looked at her full on. There wouldn't be any secrets between them now. "I'm going to Godric's Hollow," he said. "You know, where my parents… I just thought I might start there."

She nodded, smiling at him. "Maybe we'll find something. And we can visit your parents' graves."

But she was still younger. She always would be.

"You do realize," Hermione said cautiously, "that nobody's going to let us just walk out of here by ourselves?"

Ginny gave her a look that said, We're not stupid, you know, but Harry merely nodded. "That's why Lupin is going with us. He told me he'd been thinking about it before the wedding," he added, seeing their incredulous looks. "He visits my parents' graves every year, and he wanted to take me this time. I haven't told him anything else; just that I'd wanted to visit Godric's Hollow too."

"Then maybe we should stay here," Hermione said. "Maybe it should be just you and Lupin."

"But – "

"She's right, Ron," Ginny said sternly. "We'd only end up getting in the way if we went."

Harry looked around at them, a smile flitting across his lips. "Thanks," he said.

"So Godric's Hollow first," Hermione said. "And then what? How are we going to get away without the Order noticing?"

"Well, I've thought of two ways," Harry said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "When we go to Diagon Alley with your mum, we can take the Invisibility Cloak and slip away. Or we can do the same thing on the Hogwarts Express. Make a show of boarding the train, then put on the Invisibility Cloak and get back off."

Hermione looked extremely skeptical. "The cloak won't cover all four of us," she said matter-of-factly.

There was a strange light in Harry's eyes that looked very familiar. "Mad-Eye put this charm on me two years ago, when we were sneaking out of the Dursleys'," he said. "It's called a Disillusionment Charm. It's got a chameleon effect; you're not invisible, but transparent, almost." He took out his wand and tapped the table.

Hermione and Ginny gasped and Ron's jaw dropped.

The candle that had been in the middle of the table was now suspended in midair, the table beneath it gone.

"It's still there," Harry said, grinning. He rapped his knuckles on what seemed to be thin air, but they could all hear a hollow thock, thock as his hand hit the wood. "It takes on the exact color and texture of whatever's on the other side of it – in this case, the floor."

"Wicked," Ron breathed, running his fingers over the tabletop. He was rather impressed; Harry had thought most of this out pretty well.

"I learned it from Lupin," Harry said, satisfactorily watching Hermione inspect the table with a frown. He tapped it again with his wand and it returned to its original state. "Two of us can use the cloak and the other two can use the charm. No one will notice until we're too far to be found."

"You've got it all planned out, haven't you?" Hermione asked quietly. Ron could hear the defeat in her voice, the acceptance that Harry knew, for once, exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

"But what'll we tell Mrs. Weasley?"

"We'll have to pretend we're still going back to Hogwarts, for one," Ron said. "We can tell her we're going, but not that we're coming back. She wouldn't suspect anything." It pained him to think about lying to Mum. Well, he always did, but only about little things. Like whether he was doing all of his homework on time instead of playing Quidditch and eating all his vegetables at dinner instead of living on Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes.

But this wasn't a real lie, was it? He wouldn't be saying they'd be coming back when they really weren't; it would be an unspoken assumption on her part that if they were going, they would return, like always. It wouldn't be his fault her assumption was wrong.

"We should at least leave a note for her or the Order, so they know we've gone off by ourselves and haven't been kidnapped by Death Eaters or anything," Harry said.

Ginny was quiet; Ron knew what she was thinking. This was the real thing. Not some joke, like that one time when they'd played along with Fred and George and pretended to be lost in Diagon Alley but ran back to Mum right before she could go into hysterics. This time, they'd really be gone. It wasn't even to some vast network of shops, where people always watched out for little kids and gently steered them away from Knockturn Alley or helped them if they got hurt. They'd be entering the real world.

And what would Mum say if – on top of letting her run away with him on the most dangerous quest he could ever have thought up – he let Ginny get hurt, or possibly killed? She probably wouldn't leave enough bits of him left to burn for the former, let alone ever forgive him for the latter. That was, of course, if his brothers didn't get to him first.

"Harry…"

There was a pleading note in Hermione's voice that made Ron's heart seize up. They all knew what she was going to say, what she really wanted; but Harry's mind was made up.

"There's no other way, Hermione," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. Quite frankly, it scared Ron that Harry could be like that. But he was one of the few that could see the true Harry inside, the frightened Harry, the boy Harry, and knew that to fight Voldemort, it was the only way to be. "I can't let anyone stand in front of me anymore. I can't watch people die trying to protect me when it won't do any good in the long run. The whole Order can shield me or hide me for as long as they want, but it's only pushing back the inevitable, letting more people die. It started with Voldemort and me, and between the two of us this thing is going to end." He looked at Hermione, then Ron, then finally Ginny. They held each other's gaze for a long time, their eyes burning with fierce determination.

"It's the only way."

Harry woke up early the day he'd told Mrs. Weasley he was going to Godric's Hollow. From the view Ron's bedroom window afforded him, he could see grayish clouds spreading over the sky like a thin smoke. Ron was still fast asleep, and Harry moved lightly so he didn't wake him up. Pocketing his wand, he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

He kept his eyes trained on the stairs as he tiptoed down them, carefully keeping his mind blank. He didn't know what to think, now that he was finally going to visit the place his parents had been murdered, the place he had received his scar. And he was afraid of what he wouldthink if he let himself, so he kept all thoughts firmly covered by a filmy layer of vagueness.

He found Mrs. Weasley and Lupin waiting for him when he reached the kitchen; the former stood by the stove with various pots steaming away behind her and the latter was sitting at the table finishing a glass of milk. They had been quietly conversing until he appeared; he reckoned they'd been talking about him, considering the way they abruptly stopped upon his entrance.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Weasley said brightly.

"Morning," Harry said as he took a seat next to Lupin. Mrs. Weasley handed him a bowl of soup. "Thanks."

"Had a good night's sleep?" Lupin asked, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"Yeah," Harry said, taking another look at what Lupin was wearing. He furrowed his brows. With a faded gray sweater and a baggy pair of jeans, Lupin looked exactly like a middle-aged Muggle man. "Er – why are you wearing Muggle clothes?"

"Godric's Hollow is a Muggle village, isn't it?" Lupin said, cocking his head at him. "It was abandoned a while ago, but there are still people who visit the cemetery there."

"Abandoned? Because of Voldemort?"

Lupin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nobody ever found out what happened that night. They just assumed the murders were the work of a Muggle killer. I suspect most of them left for the cities in search of work and whatnot."

Harry looked down at the steam spiraling up from his bowl. Abandoned. What did an abandoned village look like? Would it look exactly the way it had sixteen years ago? And his parents' house, would it –

He shook his head. There was no use wondering; he'd be seeing it for himself in a couple minutes. He finished his soup while Mrs. Weasley and Lupin debated whether it would rain or not; despite his protests, Lupin ended up accepting the small umbrella Mrs. Weasley insisted he take.

Lupin stood up as Harry handed his empty bowl to Mrs. Weasley, and the two of them headed toward the back door.

"How are we getting there?" he asked.

"Side-along Apparition, if you don't mind," Lupin said, straightening the collar of his sweater. "We'll be back in time for lunch, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, nodded at them. "Be careful, you two," she said. "Are you sure you don't want a sweater, Harry dear?"

"I'll be all right," Harry said, taking Lupin's proffered arm.

"Here we go," Lupin said.

The awful, constricting sensation Harry had experienced once before last summer came over him. It felt like someone with very big hands was squeezing his head and his chest, and stuffing up his nose and mouth while they were at it so he couldn't breathe, and –

He gasped as his feet slammed into the ground, and his fingers clutched Lupin's arm for support. He gulped in the cold predawn air and wiped his watery eyes on his sleeve. As he regained his breath, he slowly let go of Lupin and looked around.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. He and Lupin were standing in what appeared to be a village square, completely deserted and soundless. There were no birds, no rustling leaves, no nothing except for his own shallow breathing. Everything was shrouded in a wispy, ethereal mist.

"Are you all right?" Lupin asked. "I prefer brooms, too, but this is faster."

"I'm fine," said Harry, rubbing his ears. Lupin looked him over, as if checking to see that he wasn't missing any parts. After a moment he nodded satisfactorily, although Harry was sure he would have noticed if he'd left something behind.

"This way," Lupin said, setting off at a brisk pace. They passed by an inn and a few dilapidated houses, all of which showed the signs of the neglect of at least a decade. The cracks in the cobbled street beneath his feet were filled with weeds.

Neither of them said anything as they passed by more rundown cottages and a store whose dusty display window sported an advertisement for dolls and children's toys. This was where his parents had hid from Voldemort, sixteen years ago. This was where Voldemort had found them and murdered them. This was where his mother's love had protected him from the Killing Curse and destroyed Voldemort; this was where he had received his scar.

"It's coming up," Lupin said quietly, glancing back at him. "Just here…"

They were nearing the edge of the village, and Harry could see the beginning of a forest beyond the tops of the roofs. There were fewer houses now, and the cobblestone street had faded into a well-worn, dusty path. Harry kept his head bowed, scrutinizing the puffs of dust each step of his sneakers sent up.

Soon enough, he heard Lupin's footsteps slow down and eventually stop. Hesitantly, Harry picked his head up.

With his hands in his pockets, Lupin was gazing down at an old, rusty iron gate that stood before him, its bars bent and crooked. It hung slightly open, as if inviting him into the fairly large plot of land it stood entrance to.

Bounded by a short black fence, it was a fairly simple cemetery, unadorned except for the few wilting flowers that lay at the foot of one or two grave markers. Long green grass, weighed down by the early-morning dew, blanketed the graves in a soft, waving layer.

Lupin's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh before he withdrew one hand from a pocket to reach out toward the gate. It swung open noiselessly, without the creak Harry had expected.

The rain began to fall as Lupin led the way through the rows of stone markers, all inscribed with unfamiliar names and a wide range of dates. The light sprinkle, which drizzled down tombstones and pooled on bronze plaques, turned suddenly into a pounding downpour as Lupin reached a cluster of graves that lay beneath the arms of an ancient oak tree.

Regardless of the hammering rain, Lupin closed his eyes and knelt in the wet grass. Standing beside him, Harry stared at the two markers before him through glasses blurred by the rain and mouthed to himself the names chiseled into the cold, gray stone.

Lily Evans Potter
1960-1981

James Potter
1960-1981
Mischief Managed

He stood there, looking down upon all that remained of his dead parents, and waited for tears that did not come. He, too, knelt in front of the two graves and closed his eyes. Remembering his mother's and father's faces – from the crowd that had beamed at him from the Mirror of Erised, from the collection of photographs in the album Hagrid had given to him, from the ghostly images of Voldemort's Priori Incantatem – he wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like if Lily and James were alive. What it would have been like to have a home to go back to during the holidays, to write letters and have memories of a childhood filled with hugs and laughter, and to have never seen the Dursleys. To have known Sirius properly, as his true godfather and not a mass murderer sent to Azkaban for twelve years; not a prisoner in the confines of his own house; not a noble, desperate hero who had died for such a foolish cause.

…And, most of all, to not be here, kneeling in sorrow and grief and helplessness, wishing impossible wishes and dreaming impossible dreams.

"Sirius buried them."

Harry could barely hear the whisper over the drumming of the rain. Lupin went on, speaking almost to himself, recalling the memories. "He told me he did, after he found out about Peter and saw the house… Got them out before the Muggles started swarming around, gave his bike to Hagrid so he could take you… And he brought them here; he buried them, made the markers himself. We used to come every year, the last day of October."

Harry blinked against the rain. Raindrops gathered at the corners of his eyes and slipped down his cheeks, mockeries of tears he could not cry.

"They loved you. All of them – Lily, James, Sirius. I think they knew it might end up like this. They were always worried. And I should have known…all of us should have known we couldn't trust Peter…the way he'd been acting, the way he was always with us, but never a part of us… Should have known…"

A pale, trembling hand reached out to touch the stone, to trace the letters.

"And now…it's just us," he murmured. "Just you and me."

And it was right then, listening to Lupin, that Harry finally figured it out. Finally figured out that he was not, and never would be, the only one that felt the pain. Finally figured out that there were people who were affected more deeply and harshly by the deaths and the destruction, people who had grieved for far longer than he had.

And at that moment, Lupin became much more than just a former teacher. He had been James and Sirius's best friend, a man both of them had trusted with their lives; he was Moony, the last Marauder, the last link to Harry's past; and so, to Harry, he was no longer just Lupin. He was Remus.

"You and me," Harry whispered.

Remus slowly turned his head and their eyes met. It was an awful feeling, looking into those eyes and seeing the dark haze of pain and regret, the glazed detachment of losing everything.

And they reached out and embraced each other; hesitantly at first, and then fiercely, as if they were all that they had to cling to as the world around them fell apart. Friend to friend. Brother to brother.

It meant more to Harry than he could ever say. They released each other and got up wordlessly, looking down at the graves one last time before turning to leave. They walked out of the cemetery side by side, shutting the gate firmly behind them.

"Molly's going to kill me," Remus said wryly, observing their drenched clothes. "After that whole umbrella thing."

"We can say it had a couple holes," Harry said, grinning.

Remus smiled back. "I suppose we could, but we'd have to ruin a perfectly good umbrella."

It felt unbelievably wonderful to walk down the street together, and Harry felt a glimmer of hope that maybe Remus could finally be for him what James and Sirius had never gotten the chance to become. But it was just a glimmer, because everything was so unpredictable now. He couldn't afford to give anyone much of anything, like he had given to Sirius, for fear that it would end up killing him sooner or later.

"Are we going back?" Harry asked suddenly.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I was planning on it. Why?"

"Er – I was thinking maybe, you know…" Their steady stride had come to a halt.

"The house?" Remus asked softly. His eyes had become cloudy again.

Harry nodded.

Remus shook his head. "There's nothing there," he murmured. "Completely destroyed."

"I dunno…I just…" Harry shrugged, unable to complete his thoughts because he himself didn't know what to think. Why?

Remus sighed. "If you really want to," he said, "I can't stop you." He seemed to want to say more, but thought better of it. "It's close by, the other way."

Harry nodded and they turned around, their gait somewhat less confident now. Harry kept his eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore the heady anticipation building up in his chest. There was no use getting excited – there was a far less chance of stumbling across something than not. But he was still nervous, still eager.

He had been so busy attempting to suppress his thoughts that he nearly walked past it. Remus gently put a hand on his shoulder, and he swiveled around.

He was unaware that he had moved further, but all of a sudden he had left Remus behind and approached the wreck.

And it was a wreck – it was nothing but the broken remains of a humble, two-story cottage, destroyed by magic. Shattered bricks were strewn around with shards of half-buried glass. There was a tinny plinking sound as the rain hit twisted bits of metal.

No one had bothered to clean up. The wood, the furniture, anything that could signify that this had once been a house, had decayed and rotted away, leaving behind only fragments and splinters of an existence that could never be put back together.

He stared down at the rubble, at the empty mound of grass and dirt and junk, and wished with all his heart that the tears would come.

Maybe he really had expected something, something more than a ruin stained by blood and screams and death, something only half-healed by the passage of time. Something more than agonizing reminders of what he'd had for far too short a time. A sign would've been nice, he thought bitterly. Horcrux, five miles straight ahead. As he walked away, back to where Remus was waiting, he couldn't help but feel bitter disappointment well up inside.

Up Next: Draco learns the true meaning of 'death and destruction' and receives another mission.

Ah, yes - happy pi day to all. :) And as you might've noticed, neither of us could come up with something witty/touching for Lily's gravemarker. If you've got a suggestion, feel free to stick it out there. And yes - review. We're running out of reasons why you should, so just go with the flow. Please?