A Plan
Remus enjoyed the mild summer night as he walked through the ancient gates towards the Castle. He made frequent trips between Hogwarts and the continent on the Order's business, as a fair amount of his assignments now dealt with liaison work between English wizards and their counterparts in Europe. The Europeans needed to be kept aware of Death Eater activities and it was also important to gather information from them. Remus realized he could accomplish this just as easily working from the Order's London base, but he suspected Dumbledore wished to spare him having to spend any more time than necessary at 12 Grimmauld Place. As a result, Remus frequently occupied a suite of rooms not far from the Headmaster's quarters.
He had just arrived from Paris where he had met with a small group of French and German wizards who had gathered evidence of increased use of Dark Magic in their own countries. None of the news was definitive, but Remus was sure that it would find its place in the pattern of what they were beginning to understand about Voldemort's plans.
Remus hoped Dumbledore wouldn't want to spend hours going over his information. It was late and quite frankly, he was looking forward to a good, long sleep in a comfortable Hogwarts bed.
The moving staircase brought him to Albus' door, which stood ajar. Someone other than the Headmaster was speaking. Remus hesitated a second, then tapped on the door and poked his head around it in time to hear "-cheeky enough to propose his own vow! Such a deplorable lack of manners!"
The speaker was a huffy Phineas Nigellus, who scowled at Remus' interruption.
"Come in, Remus!" Albus positively beamed from behind his desk. "Phineas was giving me most welcome news!"
The long-dead Headmaster's elegant brows arched in disdain. "Welcome news to you lot, no doubt! You have the same warped attitudes as my reprehensible great-great-grandson. It's no wonder he was such a hellion at school, Albus, with you as his Headmaster. I cannot begin to tell you how disturbed I was to have to plead for his miserable life to be given back to him. How I wished he deserved such a gift! But, what else could I do? He is the last Black."
Remus' heart beat faster as the import of this little speech hit him. "Are you saying that Sirius-"
Phineas' glare suddenly transformed into a cold smile, which Remus did not find at all comforting. "Ah, yes, the werewolf. Honestly, Albus, you have a lot to answer for!"
"What Phineas is quite deliberately not telling you, Remus, is that the pact of Cognatus Putus has been invoked, but not through the intercession of Sirius' ancestors. I understand that, while a fair number of them supported Sirius, a greater number of them did not."
"But, then how-"
"Obviously, the higher powers did not listen to the family's wishes!" Phineas scoffed at Remus' obtuseness. "He was found worthy in spite of himself. He did seem to get on quite well with the Judge. Although, perhaps that's not too surprising. The boy always had a certain talent for charming those in authority."
Remus kept his expression impassive, but a surreptitious glance at Albus confirmed his suspicions. Albus, too, realized that, in spite of his fulminating, Phineas was pleased about Sirius' imminent return.
"That's it, then. He returns on Halloween at dusk in the stone circle at Castlerigg. Now, I need some rest." And with that Phineas became quite motionless and astoundingly portrait-like.
Albus rose and came around his desk to stand in front of Remus. He placed an old, but still strong hand on the younger man's shoulder. Now that Phineas was silent, Remus' feelings bubbled to the surface. His face reflected hope and disbelief and a mute plea for reassurance that he had not heard incorrectly.
"He's coming home, Remus. We'll have him back in a few months."
A fierce protectiveness flared through Remus and he glowered at Dumbledore through the tears that had welled up in his eyes. "Yes, Albus, *I'll* have him back. And I won't permit you or anyone else to lock him up in Grimmauld Place. Don't even think about caging him in that tomb of a house!"
Albus neatly undercut Remus' anger. "I won't, Remus. I made a grave mistake with Sirius, and, rest assured I will apologize to him as soon as I can. He can stay here. I have thought of a task for which he is very well suited."
Dumbledore outlined his plan. Sirius could not be an effective member of the Order if he was forced to stay in hiding. And, the only way to combat that was to clear his name and restore his freedom. Peter Pettigrew had to be brought to justice. Sirius' mission would be to find Peter. And, since only Remus, Albus, and Harry would know anything of Sirius' return, certainly the Death Eaters would never expect a dead man to be hunting Wormtail.
"But, Albus, what about Mrs. Black? She must be screaming her displeasure to the world, so Kreacher knows, too! What about the other portraits? They can talk to anyone who goes into that house!"
"Kreacher can no longer leave that building. I've placed both a Non- Apparition Charm and a Boundary Charm on him, which prevents him from leaving the property, unless I or a living member of the Black family returns to that house and releases him. As for Mrs. Black? Who is there to hear her but other members of the Order? If she starts shrieking about Sirius coming back from beyond the grave, do you think people will believe her or think she is delusional?"
Remus thought of another complication. "Narcissa Malfoy! She may have portraits of Black ancestors at her house!"
But, once again, Dumbledore was way ahead of him. "I instructed Phineas to check on that. Perhaps not surprisingly, all of the portraits in that house are Malfoys."
Somewhat reassured, Remus turned his attention to the small matter of keeping Sirius hidden or disguised from unfriendly eyes while he hunted Peter.
Albus eyes' fairly danced in his head. "As to that, I have a suggestion to make to Mr. Black when he returns. I suspect he'll find it almost irresistible."
A slow smile spread across Remus' face when he heard the key piece of the old wizard's plan. "Oh, yes, Albus. This idea will make Sirius salivate like Padfoot scenting a savory bowl of fresh meat."
Remus envisioned the eager, anticipatory expression on Sirius' face. He imagined the aqua-gray eyes sparkling at the challenge and practically felt the vibrations in the air of a man who now had a purpose and a goal. And then another thought crossed his mind and he felt guilty about not thinking it sooner.
"What about Harry? When will we tell Harry?"
"Harry is not yet where he needs to be with his Occlumency skills. He must prove himself more impervious to Voldemort's mental probing before we can safely tell him about Sirius."
"He's making progress, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's coming along nicely. He should be quite capable of hiding this sort of secret within himself by the time he returns to school. I'm sure we'll be able to rely on Harry to do whatever he can to protect Sirius."
"And, as Sirius will be staying at Hogwarts, I assume Harry will be able to see him most days."
Dumbledore nodded. "They will have some much needed time together. I'll let it be known that I'm personally giving Harry extra instruction to provide him with an excuse to frequent this part of the castle."
A little while later, Remus stood at the darkened window of his bedroom staring into the night. Snatches of the conversation with Albus and snippets of Phineas' information swam to the surface of his brain. He felt if he closed his eyes and reached out his hands he'd feel a whisper of warm skin or silken, black hair. Sirius was just out of reach.
And still part of him feared to accept what he'd been told. If something unexpected happened and Sirius didn't return, then surely his mind would snap. He wouldn't be able to bear it. He felt impaled on his longing for his lover, as if a lance speared straight through his body, anchoring him to the earth.
There was no moon. The stardust strewn across the black velvet sky bathed the earth in silver. And, that most brilliant of stars would return to him. He could not let himself completely believe it. He wouldn't believe it until he saw Sirius, held his body close, tasted his kiss. If only he could have some sign, something to hold onto until the end of October. Remus leaned forward, his ears straining to hear a beloved voice whisper, "I'm coming home."
All he heard was the night song of insects and the gentle rustling of leaves.
The Visitor
Harry lay on his back, staring at his bedroom ceiling. He did a lot of that these days. He drifted through time, waiting. Waiting for the Daily Prophet, waiting for Hedwig to return from delivering messages, waiting for the days to pass until he could go to the Burrow for the last few weeks of summer vacation.
Harry was ambivalent about that visit. On one hand, it would be great to get away from Privet Drive. But, on the other, he didn't think he could deal with the Weasleys walking on eggshells around him, unsure of whether they should mention Sirius' name or pretend he never existed. Harry knew they'd try to take their cues from him, and, quite frankly, whether or not he wanted to talk about Sirius changed by the hour. And, now there was a thought that always lurked at the back of his mind, droning like a busy bee. At what point would the Weasleys become targets of the Death Eaters because they were close to Harry?
Life at Privet Drive had never been so good. The Dursleys no longer gave him long lists of chores. In fact, they acknowledged his existence as little as possible. Their fear of having a coven of wizards and witches descend on them because of possible mistreatment of Harry was a greater motivating force than their desire to be mean to him. Uncle Vernon came close to giving himself a stroke at the effort of pretending to be nice to Harry whenever they got near each other. Dudley simply lurked in the background, trying to stay as far away as possible. Aunt Petunia hid her dislike and fear, and only interacted with Harry when absolutely necessary.
The torpor of his days was disturbed twice a week for Occlumency lessons. Harry's teacher was Patty Robertson, a short, plump Canadian witch who bubbled over with good cheer and grandmotherly smiles. Dumbledore had recruited her for her impressive knowledge of high-level mental defense training. She was an incongruity to Harry. He always thought of fresh- baked cookies whenever he saw her, until he remembered Dumbledore's implication that she had served her own Ministry in an obscure office which had no known function, except that whenever they were assigned to investigate known Death Eaters, those people invariably turned up dead.
Patty was a combination of sweet and tough. She used exercises that got progressively harder, forcing Harry to reach past the limits of his strength to combat her. She was able to judge the line beyond which Harry would fail. And, she'd push him just far enough beyond, but not too far. With Remus' encouragement, he also made the effort to practice the exercises she gave him to strengthen his skills. At least it helped take his mind off Sirius and the acidic tang of guilt he tasted whenever he thought about his own role in his godfather's death.
Harry had come to treasure Remus' support. He occasionally visited, when his Order assignments permitted. And he always replied promptly to Harry's letters. Remus wrote long responses in his elegant script, his words organized and thoughtful, like a scholarly paper. He usually included stories about Harry's parents and Sirius. Harry wondered if that made Remus miss Sirius any less, or if he, too, kept ripping the scabs off the wounds he suffered.
But, there were days when Harry fell into a downward spiral of guilt and self-blame. He chewed on all of the "if onlys," placing the heaviest blame on his own actions and omissions. Then, the heat of summer and his own depressed thoughts weighed on him like heavy chains, making it almost impossible to rise from his bed.
While a fair amount of Harry's days were spent comfortably numb, his nights were an entirely different matter. He dreaded going to sleep, fearing where his dreams would take him. Over and over again, he found himself in the Department of Mysteries, running blindly, knowing that if he moved just a little faster, he would get there in time to save Sirius. So often he'd reach the door of the Death Room, only to hear Sirius' laughing voice say, "Come on, you can do better than that!"
And Harry's stumbling feet would lurch him into the room in time to see Sirius fall through the veil. He would scream Sirius' name, but his voice would be drowned out by Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant shriek. Jolted awake, sweaty and shaking, Harry's throat would ache from his subconscious effort to smother his own voice. He never went back to sleep after those nightmares. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he'd dream of his godfather and see his pale eyes gleam with amusement and hear his barking laugh. Or was he condemned to relive Sirius' death forever?
In early August Harry received an unexpectedly terse note from Lupin.
Harry,
I need to discuss something with you. Please let me know when would be a good time to visit.
Remus
Harry couldn't decide whether this sounded ominous, or if Remus simply had something to say that he didn't want to trust to parchment.
Regardless, several days later found Remus sitting with Harry in the Dursleys' kitchen. Harry's relatives had gone out to a matinee, sidling out the door and trying to keep as far away as possible from Remus. Harry couldn't help smirking at the thought of how quickly the Dursleys would move if they knew the prematurely worn man in their kitchen was a werewolf.
"Can I get you anything to eat, Remus?" Harry asked. His ex-professor looked only slightly better than when they had met at Sirius' memorial.
Remus declined the offer. He saw the worried look settle on Harry's face. The boy had dark smudges under his eyes. His skin was pale and his hair limp and dull. Remus sighed, knowing he was about to ruin the one last bit of potential happiness Harry had for the summer.
"Harry, I didn't want to send you a letter about this. I thought you deserved to be told face-to-face."
He hated seeing the immediate wary tension that took over the teen's body. "Did something happen? Is everyone-"
"Everyone's fine, Harry. Nothing has happened."
Harry could see in Remus' face that the older man was sorry about what he was going to say.
"The long and short of it is that you can't stay at the Burrow this summer."
"Why not?" Harry practically yelped.
"The Death Eaters have become a little more active lately. And you are the target they most desire. The Burrow simply doesn't have enough protections on it for your safety. It will take a good bit of time to fortify that house, and none of us can be spared right now to do it."
"But, what about the Weasleys? If the Burrow isn't safe for me, it's not safe for them, either. What's to stop Voldemort from attacking them? They're probably targets, too."
'Why should any kid have to go through this,' Remus wondered.
"You're quite right, Harry. That's why they spend most of their time at the Order's Headquarters. Fred and George are relatively safe, since the Death Eaters are not strong enough or organized enough to carry out a raid in the middle of Diagon Alley. But, the Burrow is isolated and that makes it a convenient target. Luckily, perhaps, Molly's and Arthur's tasks for the Order are such that it makes sense for them to stay in London. But, even though you can't go to the Burrow, there is no reason why you couldn't join Ron and Ginny and Hermione at Headquarters."
Harry blanched and turned away. Remus understood the feeling. He spent as little time there as possible, even now, when he knew that Sirius would return to them. The heavy, brooding atmosphere of that house chilled him to the bone. Maybe he imagined it, but it seemed to Remus that the silent, malevolent shades of Sirius' bloody-minded ancestors bristled with hostility, knowing that the last Black had escaped their clutches and their designs once again. Remus loathed the stale, moldy, claustrophobic feel of the place and the weight of centuries of hatred directed at the person most dear to him. Remus avoided Grimmauld Place whenever possible.
"I won't go back there, Remus, not unless it's absolutely crucial." Harry suddenly raised his eyes from his feet and fixed them on Remus. It was disturbing to see Lily's eyes fired by the sort of desperate intensity James' expression would take on in times of danger. "I can't go back there just to hang out and visit, like I'm supposed to be on a vacation trip. Even with Ron and Hermione there, I can't do it. I don't want to think about-"
Abruptly he stopped and turned away, his breath coming in small, hitched gasps.
Remus understood Harry's feelings all too well. "I know, Harry. I try to avoid that place myself. But, I'm afraid there are really no alternatives. You know, it might help to spend some time with people who know what happened, and have some sense of what you're going through."
"No." The quiet finality of the word surprised Remus. He had expected anger and shouting. This deliberate and determined response, and the grave expression on Harry's face as he uttered it showed a measure of the distance the boy had already traveled this summer along his own peculiarly lonely road to maturity.
"It's not always wise to cut oneself off from people who care about us," Remus encouraged gently.
"How much time do you spend with other people, if you're not dealing with Order business?" Harry challenged.
Remus knew he was caught. "Not much," he admitted. "On the other hand, I'm used to living a fairly solitary life and relying on my own devices. But, it's not an easy path to take. And I hate to see you choose it this early in your life."
Harry shrugged. "I'll be with people again once school starts. It's not all that long from now."
'I wish I could tell you, Harry,' Remus thought and bit back the words that had sprung to the tip of his tongue. He reached out and gently pushed a particularly errant lock of Harry's hair back were it belonged. Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture. "I wish I could do more for you, Harry."
That at least raised a small smile on the boy's face. "You've really done alright this summer, Remus."
Then he turned and looked at the calendar. August was slowly creeping away.
TBC
Remus enjoyed the mild summer night as he walked through the ancient gates towards the Castle. He made frequent trips between Hogwarts and the continent on the Order's business, as a fair amount of his assignments now dealt with liaison work between English wizards and their counterparts in Europe. The Europeans needed to be kept aware of Death Eater activities and it was also important to gather information from them. Remus realized he could accomplish this just as easily working from the Order's London base, but he suspected Dumbledore wished to spare him having to spend any more time than necessary at 12 Grimmauld Place. As a result, Remus frequently occupied a suite of rooms not far from the Headmaster's quarters.
He had just arrived from Paris where he had met with a small group of French and German wizards who had gathered evidence of increased use of Dark Magic in their own countries. None of the news was definitive, but Remus was sure that it would find its place in the pattern of what they were beginning to understand about Voldemort's plans.
Remus hoped Dumbledore wouldn't want to spend hours going over his information. It was late and quite frankly, he was looking forward to a good, long sleep in a comfortable Hogwarts bed.
The moving staircase brought him to Albus' door, which stood ajar. Someone other than the Headmaster was speaking. Remus hesitated a second, then tapped on the door and poked his head around it in time to hear "-cheeky enough to propose his own vow! Such a deplorable lack of manners!"
The speaker was a huffy Phineas Nigellus, who scowled at Remus' interruption.
"Come in, Remus!" Albus positively beamed from behind his desk. "Phineas was giving me most welcome news!"
The long-dead Headmaster's elegant brows arched in disdain. "Welcome news to you lot, no doubt! You have the same warped attitudes as my reprehensible great-great-grandson. It's no wonder he was such a hellion at school, Albus, with you as his Headmaster. I cannot begin to tell you how disturbed I was to have to plead for his miserable life to be given back to him. How I wished he deserved such a gift! But, what else could I do? He is the last Black."
Remus' heart beat faster as the import of this little speech hit him. "Are you saying that Sirius-"
Phineas' glare suddenly transformed into a cold smile, which Remus did not find at all comforting. "Ah, yes, the werewolf. Honestly, Albus, you have a lot to answer for!"
"What Phineas is quite deliberately not telling you, Remus, is that the pact of Cognatus Putus has been invoked, but not through the intercession of Sirius' ancestors. I understand that, while a fair number of them supported Sirius, a greater number of them did not."
"But, then how-"
"Obviously, the higher powers did not listen to the family's wishes!" Phineas scoffed at Remus' obtuseness. "He was found worthy in spite of himself. He did seem to get on quite well with the Judge. Although, perhaps that's not too surprising. The boy always had a certain talent for charming those in authority."
Remus kept his expression impassive, but a surreptitious glance at Albus confirmed his suspicions. Albus, too, realized that, in spite of his fulminating, Phineas was pleased about Sirius' imminent return.
"That's it, then. He returns on Halloween at dusk in the stone circle at Castlerigg. Now, I need some rest." And with that Phineas became quite motionless and astoundingly portrait-like.
Albus rose and came around his desk to stand in front of Remus. He placed an old, but still strong hand on the younger man's shoulder. Now that Phineas was silent, Remus' feelings bubbled to the surface. His face reflected hope and disbelief and a mute plea for reassurance that he had not heard incorrectly.
"He's coming home, Remus. We'll have him back in a few months."
A fierce protectiveness flared through Remus and he glowered at Dumbledore through the tears that had welled up in his eyes. "Yes, Albus, *I'll* have him back. And I won't permit you or anyone else to lock him up in Grimmauld Place. Don't even think about caging him in that tomb of a house!"
Albus neatly undercut Remus' anger. "I won't, Remus. I made a grave mistake with Sirius, and, rest assured I will apologize to him as soon as I can. He can stay here. I have thought of a task for which he is very well suited."
Dumbledore outlined his plan. Sirius could not be an effective member of the Order if he was forced to stay in hiding. And, the only way to combat that was to clear his name and restore his freedom. Peter Pettigrew had to be brought to justice. Sirius' mission would be to find Peter. And, since only Remus, Albus, and Harry would know anything of Sirius' return, certainly the Death Eaters would never expect a dead man to be hunting Wormtail.
"But, Albus, what about Mrs. Black? She must be screaming her displeasure to the world, so Kreacher knows, too! What about the other portraits? They can talk to anyone who goes into that house!"
"Kreacher can no longer leave that building. I've placed both a Non- Apparition Charm and a Boundary Charm on him, which prevents him from leaving the property, unless I or a living member of the Black family returns to that house and releases him. As for Mrs. Black? Who is there to hear her but other members of the Order? If she starts shrieking about Sirius coming back from beyond the grave, do you think people will believe her or think she is delusional?"
Remus thought of another complication. "Narcissa Malfoy! She may have portraits of Black ancestors at her house!"
But, once again, Dumbledore was way ahead of him. "I instructed Phineas to check on that. Perhaps not surprisingly, all of the portraits in that house are Malfoys."
Somewhat reassured, Remus turned his attention to the small matter of keeping Sirius hidden or disguised from unfriendly eyes while he hunted Peter.
Albus eyes' fairly danced in his head. "As to that, I have a suggestion to make to Mr. Black when he returns. I suspect he'll find it almost irresistible."
A slow smile spread across Remus' face when he heard the key piece of the old wizard's plan. "Oh, yes, Albus. This idea will make Sirius salivate like Padfoot scenting a savory bowl of fresh meat."
Remus envisioned the eager, anticipatory expression on Sirius' face. He imagined the aqua-gray eyes sparkling at the challenge and practically felt the vibrations in the air of a man who now had a purpose and a goal. And then another thought crossed his mind and he felt guilty about not thinking it sooner.
"What about Harry? When will we tell Harry?"
"Harry is not yet where he needs to be with his Occlumency skills. He must prove himself more impervious to Voldemort's mental probing before we can safely tell him about Sirius."
"He's making progress, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's coming along nicely. He should be quite capable of hiding this sort of secret within himself by the time he returns to school. I'm sure we'll be able to rely on Harry to do whatever he can to protect Sirius."
"And, as Sirius will be staying at Hogwarts, I assume Harry will be able to see him most days."
Dumbledore nodded. "They will have some much needed time together. I'll let it be known that I'm personally giving Harry extra instruction to provide him with an excuse to frequent this part of the castle."
A little while later, Remus stood at the darkened window of his bedroom staring into the night. Snatches of the conversation with Albus and snippets of Phineas' information swam to the surface of his brain. He felt if he closed his eyes and reached out his hands he'd feel a whisper of warm skin or silken, black hair. Sirius was just out of reach.
And still part of him feared to accept what he'd been told. If something unexpected happened and Sirius didn't return, then surely his mind would snap. He wouldn't be able to bear it. He felt impaled on his longing for his lover, as if a lance speared straight through his body, anchoring him to the earth.
There was no moon. The stardust strewn across the black velvet sky bathed the earth in silver. And, that most brilliant of stars would return to him. He could not let himself completely believe it. He wouldn't believe it until he saw Sirius, held his body close, tasted his kiss. If only he could have some sign, something to hold onto until the end of October. Remus leaned forward, his ears straining to hear a beloved voice whisper, "I'm coming home."
All he heard was the night song of insects and the gentle rustling of leaves.
The Visitor
Harry lay on his back, staring at his bedroom ceiling. He did a lot of that these days. He drifted through time, waiting. Waiting for the Daily Prophet, waiting for Hedwig to return from delivering messages, waiting for the days to pass until he could go to the Burrow for the last few weeks of summer vacation.
Harry was ambivalent about that visit. On one hand, it would be great to get away from Privet Drive. But, on the other, he didn't think he could deal with the Weasleys walking on eggshells around him, unsure of whether they should mention Sirius' name or pretend he never existed. Harry knew they'd try to take their cues from him, and, quite frankly, whether or not he wanted to talk about Sirius changed by the hour. And, now there was a thought that always lurked at the back of his mind, droning like a busy bee. At what point would the Weasleys become targets of the Death Eaters because they were close to Harry?
Life at Privet Drive had never been so good. The Dursleys no longer gave him long lists of chores. In fact, they acknowledged his existence as little as possible. Their fear of having a coven of wizards and witches descend on them because of possible mistreatment of Harry was a greater motivating force than their desire to be mean to him. Uncle Vernon came close to giving himself a stroke at the effort of pretending to be nice to Harry whenever they got near each other. Dudley simply lurked in the background, trying to stay as far away as possible. Aunt Petunia hid her dislike and fear, and only interacted with Harry when absolutely necessary.
The torpor of his days was disturbed twice a week for Occlumency lessons. Harry's teacher was Patty Robertson, a short, plump Canadian witch who bubbled over with good cheer and grandmotherly smiles. Dumbledore had recruited her for her impressive knowledge of high-level mental defense training. She was an incongruity to Harry. He always thought of fresh- baked cookies whenever he saw her, until he remembered Dumbledore's implication that she had served her own Ministry in an obscure office which had no known function, except that whenever they were assigned to investigate known Death Eaters, those people invariably turned up dead.
Patty was a combination of sweet and tough. She used exercises that got progressively harder, forcing Harry to reach past the limits of his strength to combat her. She was able to judge the line beyond which Harry would fail. And, she'd push him just far enough beyond, but not too far. With Remus' encouragement, he also made the effort to practice the exercises she gave him to strengthen his skills. At least it helped take his mind off Sirius and the acidic tang of guilt he tasted whenever he thought about his own role in his godfather's death.
Harry had come to treasure Remus' support. He occasionally visited, when his Order assignments permitted. And he always replied promptly to Harry's letters. Remus wrote long responses in his elegant script, his words organized and thoughtful, like a scholarly paper. He usually included stories about Harry's parents and Sirius. Harry wondered if that made Remus miss Sirius any less, or if he, too, kept ripping the scabs off the wounds he suffered.
But, there were days when Harry fell into a downward spiral of guilt and self-blame. He chewed on all of the "if onlys," placing the heaviest blame on his own actions and omissions. Then, the heat of summer and his own depressed thoughts weighed on him like heavy chains, making it almost impossible to rise from his bed.
While a fair amount of Harry's days were spent comfortably numb, his nights were an entirely different matter. He dreaded going to sleep, fearing where his dreams would take him. Over and over again, he found himself in the Department of Mysteries, running blindly, knowing that if he moved just a little faster, he would get there in time to save Sirius. So often he'd reach the door of the Death Room, only to hear Sirius' laughing voice say, "Come on, you can do better than that!"
And Harry's stumbling feet would lurch him into the room in time to see Sirius fall through the veil. He would scream Sirius' name, but his voice would be drowned out by Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant shriek. Jolted awake, sweaty and shaking, Harry's throat would ache from his subconscious effort to smother his own voice. He never went back to sleep after those nightmares. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he'd dream of his godfather and see his pale eyes gleam with amusement and hear his barking laugh. Or was he condemned to relive Sirius' death forever?
In early August Harry received an unexpectedly terse note from Lupin.
Harry,
I need to discuss something with you. Please let me know when would be a good time to visit.
Remus
Harry couldn't decide whether this sounded ominous, or if Remus simply had something to say that he didn't want to trust to parchment.
Regardless, several days later found Remus sitting with Harry in the Dursleys' kitchen. Harry's relatives had gone out to a matinee, sidling out the door and trying to keep as far away as possible from Remus. Harry couldn't help smirking at the thought of how quickly the Dursleys would move if they knew the prematurely worn man in their kitchen was a werewolf.
"Can I get you anything to eat, Remus?" Harry asked. His ex-professor looked only slightly better than when they had met at Sirius' memorial.
Remus declined the offer. He saw the worried look settle on Harry's face. The boy had dark smudges under his eyes. His skin was pale and his hair limp and dull. Remus sighed, knowing he was about to ruin the one last bit of potential happiness Harry had for the summer.
"Harry, I didn't want to send you a letter about this. I thought you deserved to be told face-to-face."
He hated seeing the immediate wary tension that took over the teen's body. "Did something happen? Is everyone-"
"Everyone's fine, Harry. Nothing has happened."
Harry could see in Remus' face that the older man was sorry about what he was going to say.
"The long and short of it is that you can't stay at the Burrow this summer."
"Why not?" Harry practically yelped.
"The Death Eaters have become a little more active lately. And you are the target they most desire. The Burrow simply doesn't have enough protections on it for your safety. It will take a good bit of time to fortify that house, and none of us can be spared right now to do it."
"But, what about the Weasleys? If the Burrow isn't safe for me, it's not safe for them, either. What's to stop Voldemort from attacking them? They're probably targets, too."
'Why should any kid have to go through this,' Remus wondered.
"You're quite right, Harry. That's why they spend most of their time at the Order's Headquarters. Fred and George are relatively safe, since the Death Eaters are not strong enough or organized enough to carry out a raid in the middle of Diagon Alley. But, the Burrow is isolated and that makes it a convenient target. Luckily, perhaps, Molly's and Arthur's tasks for the Order are such that it makes sense for them to stay in London. But, even though you can't go to the Burrow, there is no reason why you couldn't join Ron and Ginny and Hermione at Headquarters."
Harry blanched and turned away. Remus understood the feeling. He spent as little time there as possible, even now, when he knew that Sirius would return to them. The heavy, brooding atmosphere of that house chilled him to the bone. Maybe he imagined it, but it seemed to Remus that the silent, malevolent shades of Sirius' bloody-minded ancestors bristled with hostility, knowing that the last Black had escaped their clutches and their designs once again. Remus loathed the stale, moldy, claustrophobic feel of the place and the weight of centuries of hatred directed at the person most dear to him. Remus avoided Grimmauld Place whenever possible.
"I won't go back there, Remus, not unless it's absolutely crucial." Harry suddenly raised his eyes from his feet and fixed them on Remus. It was disturbing to see Lily's eyes fired by the sort of desperate intensity James' expression would take on in times of danger. "I can't go back there just to hang out and visit, like I'm supposed to be on a vacation trip. Even with Ron and Hermione there, I can't do it. I don't want to think about-"
Abruptly he stopped and turned away, his breath coming in small, hitched gasps.
Remus understood Harry's feelings all too well. "I know, Harry. I try to avoid that place myself. But, I'm afraid there are really no alternatives. You know, it might help to spend some time with people who know what happened, and have some sense of what you're going through."
"No." The quiet finality of the word surprised Remus. He had expected anger and shouting. This deliberate and determined response, and the grave expression on Harry's face as he uttered it showed a measure of the distance the boy had already traveled this summer along his own peculiarly lonely road to maturity.
"It's not always wise to cut oneself off from people who care about us," Remus encouraged gently.
"How much time do you spend with other people, if you're not dealing with Order business?" Harry challenged.
Remus knew he was caught. "Not much," he admitted. "On the other hand, I'm used to living a fairly solitary life and relying on my own devices. But, it's not an easy path to take. And I hate to see you choose it this early in your life."
Harry shrugged. "I'll be with people again once school starts. It's not all that long from now."
'I wish I could tell you, Harry,' Remus thought and bit back the words that had sprung to the tip of his tongue. He reached out and gently pushed a particularly errant lock of Harry's hair back were it belonged. Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture. "I wish I could do more for you, Harry."
That at least raised a small smile on the boy's face. "You've really done alright this summer, Remus."
Then he turned and looked at the calendar. August was slowly creeping away.
TBC