Disclaimer In chapter 1

A/N I've never written a chapter as quickly as I did this one. I suppose I just wanted to get one more out before school starts. It's longer than most others. . . . I hope it'll keep you satisfied for the time being.

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Attack

Over the next few weeks, Harry slowly started a routine. He woke up earlier than anyone else in the house most mornings, and usually sat outside, watching the sun rise in the sky. Then someone would bring him out breakfast, which he would eat alone. Sometimes he would take a walk in the forest, and other times he would retreat to his room, both times solitary. In his room he would practice magic, in the forest he would try to think things through. Both experiences left him feeling refreshed.

In the evenings he would have dinner with his house mates, sitting in silence as they discussed current events. He would disappear into his room again for the rest of the night, and wasn't seen again until morning. Only Hermione really understood what he was doing; he was trying to regain control of his life. He had been traumatized, no one could come out of what he had been through sane, but there was no room for error when it came down to battling Voldemort, and he needed to have a clear head when that moment came.

He had attempted wandless magic a couple times more, but had been unable to do anything other than Wingardium Leviosa, which was actually the first spell he had learned at Hogwarts. He figured he would be able to do more wandless magic soon enough, but it didn't seem to be an urgent matter. He still had his wand, after all.

During his walks he would sometimes go to a small clearing he had discovered a week after his arrival. It was like a small meadow, though blanketed with several feet of snow, but he found it to be very peaceful, and he loved the way the sun reflected off of the whiteness. That place gave him a feeling of freedom, and allowed him to do his best thinking. It was surrounded on all sides by icy trees, but created such a feeling of openness that never failed to make Harry gasp when he reached it.

It was peculiar times. Harry often left the house without a cloak on because the sun managed to keep him warm. Other times the wind would blow so harshly that he had to bundle himself up with scarves and mittens. The weather was as unpredictable as Voldemort's next move.

They didn't get much news, only the information Dumbledore gave them. The Daily Prophet had stopped going out long ago, according to Ron, so there was no way of knowing how far Voldemort's arm had reached, if the Death Eaters had invaded other countries. But they knew for a fact that none of the Hogwarts students had been captured yet, which was comforting.

Harry seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement with the household; they told him everything he needed to know, and he told them whatever he deemed necessary of knowing. They didn't speak to him much, which was okay with him. They just let him do his thing, trusting that he would tell them if something important happened.

It had been a month since Harry had left Hogwarts when he decided to take Ron and Hermione on his daily walk. He figured that they could use some fresh air, and he hadn't spent any time with just the two of them for a long while. They walked in silence through the forest.

When they reached the clearing, Harry stopped, his eyes scanning the perfect surface of the snow. It had snowed again last night, Harry had watched the flakes pass by his window, silent.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. Ron's eyes were also scanning the snow.

"I come here every day," Harry said. "I think better here."

He lead them out into the clearing to the log he usually sat on. He brushed the snow off of it.

"Why'd you bring us here?" Ron asked him, sitting down.

Harry shrugged, sitting between Ron and Hermione. "I guess I was tired of being alone."

Harry felt Hermione's eyes on him, but chose not to make eye-contact. Instead he looked down at his fingers. They were slightly numb from touching the snow, and he rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

"I also wanted to talk to you guys," Harry went on. "About the prophecy."

This time Harry felt both Ron's and Hermione's eyes on him.

"Do you believe it?" Harry asked no one in particular.

Ron shifted slightly in his seat. He sniffed. "I'm not sure, mate," he said. "I guess it's true, I mean, how else could you have survived fifteen years ago? I just don't know though. Maybe I don't want to believe it."

Harry turned to Hermione. "What about you?"

Hermione turned her gaze to the trees. "Well, you both know what I think about Trelawny, but I suppose it could have been a real prediction. She was right about Wormtail and Voldemort, wasn't she? She could be right about this. . . ."

Harry nodded and looked back out to the trees. They sat a few minutes in silence until Ron spoke again.

"What about you, Harry?" he asked. "Do you believe it?"

Harry nodded. "I don't want to, but it seems like I don't have a choice. Dumbledore's probably going to end up doing something so that I can take Voldemort down. It's doing that that's the problem."

"I never knew someone could have such a hard life," Ron said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"Cheers," Harry returned.

They sat in silence for a bit longer until Harry looked to the sky. A magnificent eagle owl was soaring towards them. Harry stood up, and the owl swooped to his shoulder. He untied the letter that was attached to his leg, and opened it hastily.

Harry—

I hope you are settling in well, and that you have regained the weight and strength you lost in Hogwarts.

I write to you to inform you that your Apparation lessons will begin shortly. Remus Lupin will be instructing you, I'm afraid that I will be unable to teach you myself. There has been word that dementors have been sighted not too far from where some of my students are hiding, and I must attend to that issue immediately.

This owl is safe if you wish to write me back.

I'm sure this will end soon. Do not lose faith.

—Albus Dumbledore

Harry lowered the letter. Ron and Hermione were watching him expectantly.

"Lupin's going to teach me to Apparate," he informed them.

"Why not Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"Dementors were seen near someone's hiding place."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Who's?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked back at the letter. "I don't know. . . he didn't say." Harry stroked the owl's back and said to it, "You can go home. I won't be writing back." The owl took flight and disappeared over the trees.

Harry shivered slightly, but not from the cold. He hated dementors immensely. That feeling had only heightened last June when Sirius had died, Harry felt that it was the dementors' fault that Sirius had missed out on 12 years of his life, it was their fault that he had to relive his worst memories every night. Sirius could have been happy, instead of suffering. If it weren't for the dementors, Sirius could have caught Wormtail that night on the Hogwarts grounds. . . .

He thought it was strange that every time he came to this clearing, his thoughts turned to his godfather. Harry felt Hermione and Ron watching him.

Harry turned back to his friends. "I've thought of a name for this place," he said, his throat oddly constricted.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Padfoot's Pasture," he said.

Hermione and Ron looked around, whether it was to avoid eye-contact with Harry or to try out the new name, he didn't know. Ron smiled. "I like it."

"Me too," Hermione agreed.

Harry nodded, smiling slightly. "Padfoot's Pasture," he repeated. It was perfect. It was a memorial to Sirius, and a tribute to the Marauders. In his mind he imagined Sirius' dog form bounding out of the trees and into the snow, rolling around playfully. Perfect.

As they were leaving a few minutes later, Harry stopped before they had entered the forest.

"Hold on," he said, pulling out his wand. He pointed it to a nearby tree. Using a spell he had learned a long time ago, he burned some markings into the bark.

R.I.P. Padfoot.

Below it, he burned a paw print, similar to the one Sirius had sent him as a good luck wish in his fourth year.

He smiled at his work. Hermione put an arm on his shoulder, and Ron came up on Harry's other side. For a long time, they couldn't look away.

-

Harry was in the kitchen when Lupin Apparated. Immediately he rose from the table, and hugged his ex-Professor.

"How are you, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I'm still alive," Harry responded.

Lupin smiled. Harry saw something strained about his professor's emotions, and immediately knew that he hadn't taken Sirius' death too well.

Harry offered Lupin a cup of coffee which he accepted, and they both settled down at the table.

"Where's Hermione and Ron?" Lupin asked.

"They went to buy some things at the store," Harry responded, drinking deeply from his mug.

"And everyone else?"

"They're having a snowball fight outside."

"Ah," Lupin said. He watched Harry. "Are you keeping yourself busy?"

"There's not much to do around here," Harry said. "I go for a lot of walks in the forest. Most of the time I stay in my room and practice magic."

"It must feel good to have your wand back."

Harry nodded. When both of them had emptied their cups, they rose from the table and went to the den where they cleared a large space in the middle, moving the couch and chairs aside.

"Now, Harry, Apparation is similar to using Floo Powder except you don't have to use the fireplace. What you do use is your mind. Apparation is entirely mental, and requires complete and utter concentration," Lupin said.

Harry watched him.

"All that you need to do is imagine the place where you want to go in your mind's eye. Similar to Floo Powder, say the name in your head, and then focus your mind, willing yourself to appear there. Got it?"

"Focus my mind, got it," Harry said.

"We're going to start small, not long distances or anything. What I want you to do is close your eyes and try to move yourself to the couch. Imagine yourself appearing on the couch. Try it."

Harry looked around to the couch which was on the opposite side of the room. He closed his eyes.

Okay, Harry, focus.

He imagined himself landing on the couch. He then willed his mind to do it. He opened his eyes. He was in the same spot.

"Try again," Lupin urged. "This time, try to imagine that you're already there."

Harry closed his eyes. He imagined that he was already on the couch. A sudden rushing sound passed through his ears, and he found himself standing on the sofa cushions.

Lupin smiled. "Excellent," he said. "Do it again." Harry jumped down from the sofa, and strode back to where he had started out.

He closed his eyes again, and again found himself on the sofa.

"Good, good," Lupin said. "Now I want you to try it with your eyes open."

Harry walked back to his starting point, and looked at the sofa. I'm already there, he thought. The world dissolved around him, and then came back into focus, he was back on the couch.

Lupin was smiling. "I must say, Harry, most wizards never learn how to Apparate, and for those who do, it takes a long time to learn."

Harry sat down on the sofa, waiting for Lupin to continue.

"Most times when you Apparate, there will be certain points where you will appear; you will have no control over where you show up. These are safe points, I believe one of them was the forest for the Quidditch World Cup, but when you Apparate, you will automatically appear there." Lupin walked to the window and peeked out. "Try to Apparate into the center of their snowball fight."

Harry nodded, and cleared his mind. Next thing he knew, he was being hit in the face by a fist-full of snow.

"Ha! Gotcha, Harry!" Neville yelled.

Harry smiled and bent over to pick up some snow. He threw it back in Neville's direction, and hit him on the arm. Harry was hit in the back, and turned to see Ginny poking her tongue out at him.

He ran to the cover of some trees, and joined in their fight. Lupin also came out, and joined Harry's team, laughing as though he hadn't laughed for years.

-

That night, while he was lying in bed, Harry listened to rain lashing at the windows. It had started to rain as the sun had gone down earlier that day.

His mind wandered back to Padfoot's Pasture. He imagined himself walking through the clearing with his godfather, perhaps laughing as Sirius told him about one of his pranks, or maybe talking about Voldemort's newest reign of terror. He wondered what Sirius would have said if he had known about the prophecy. Harry rolled over and tried not to imagine the look on Sirius' face when he had been hit with that Stunning Spell.

The temperature dropped several degrees. At first Harry thought that his window might have blown open, but then he noticed the deathly silence that pressed in on his eardrums that could only mean one thing.

Dementors.

He rolled out of bed and snatched up his wand from his bedside table. He ran from his room out into the hallway. Looking left and right, he saw that everyone had their doors closed. Good. He rushed to the kitchen, and froze when he saw the towering figures gliding in through the open door.

Harry cast his mind around for a happy thought. All he could think of was Sirius, for some strange reason.

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled. Not surprisingly, only a wisp of silvery smoke appeared. The dementor impatiently tried to sweep it aside as he moved towards Harry. Harry backed up into the wall, his wand still raised.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried again. This time nothing happened. Harry felt his world slipping from his grasp. He was falling to the ground.

"Expecto. . . . Expecto. . . ." But nothing happened. The dementor was lowering it's hood, it's clammy hands were stretching out towards Harry. Harry's eyes rolled up in his head as he felt the cold breath on his face. . . .

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry —"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"It's too late, Harry —"

"We can still reach him —"

The sounds of someone struggling for breath as they wrestled with someone else. . . .

"There's nothing you can do, Harry. . . nothing. . . . He's gone."

-

Hang in there, Harry.

"Sirius?"

Don't let go.

"Sirius? Is that you?"

You have to fight, Harry. You can't give up.

"I won't."

Promise me.

"I promise."

Wake up, Harry. The voice was getting softer.

"Sirius! Don't leave me!"

Wake up. . . .

"Sirius!"

Don't give up.

"Sirius!"

I love you, Harry.

"SIRIUS!" Harry sat bolt upright. He was covered in a cold sweat, sitting on his bed in his room.

"Harry!" a voice cried from the doorway.

Harry sat, trying to catch his breath. He clutched his chest, his eyes closed, tears pouring silently from his eyes.

Someone pushed his shoulder and made him lie back down. A damp cloth was put to his forehead.

"Where are the dementors?" he asked wearily.

"They're gone. Neville scared them off."

"Neville—?"

"Open your mouth, Harry."

Harry silently obeyed. He tasted the sweet chocolate being put on his tongue. He felt better, his body warmed up as he swallowed to morsel.

He reached to his bedside table to retrieve his glasses, and when he put them on he saw Hermione breaking off more pieces of chocolate.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Open—" she put more chocolate on his tongue "— The dementors got to you. We came out when we heard you trying to get rid of them. One of them was about to kiss you. Neville used his Patronus on them. . . it was brilliant."

Harry rubbed his temples. "I couldn't fight them," he said in a small voice. "I tried, but I couldn't. . . ."

"Harry, that's nothing to be ashamed of. You've been through such a horrible ordeal, it's not your fault you couldn't find a happy memory."

"All I could think about was Sirius," Harry said, wiping his eyes.

Hermione looked at him sadly, and then set down the chocolate on the table. She leaned over and hugged him tightly. Harry buried his face in her hair.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have known the dementors were even in the house until it was too late."

Harry nodded, and they separated.

"Dumbledore's in the kitchen. Do you want to see him?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Hermione nodded her understanding, and gave Harry another piece of chocolate. "Try to sleep. It's still nighttime."

Harry rolled over to his side as Hermione left, closing the door behind her. He couldn't sleep. Sirius had spoken to him, he was sure it had been him, and Harry wished once more that he would have another chance to speak with his godfather.

As sleep finally came to Harry, he couldn't help thinking that Sirius was with him in that room, perhaps in his dog form, curling up on the floor, prepared to watch over him.

Somehow he knew that Padfoot lives on, just like Prongs, inside of him.

-

A/N I'm working like a house-elf on the next chapter, but I won't be able to get it out for a bit, I suppose.

peace

felony melanie