Chapter 43

Night Before Battle

The Truth about Sirius and Lupin

They sat there in silence for a long time. Harry thought that he even actually slept for a few minutes. It was very late by then and he was really tired. He wouldn't have believed that he could have slept, knowing what he was facing tomorrow, but for some reason he was fairly calm. He was unsure, then, what time it was when he realized that both of them were awake again. She had shifted in his arms and had stiffened briefly, so he knew that she was awake and probably wondering where she was. "Harry?" Her question was soft, like she was unsure if he was awake or not. He thought he could have pretended to still be asleep, but truthfully he wanted to talk some more, so he answered her.

"Yeah."

"Did I offend you or anything with what I said earlier?"

"No. You're right, obviously. I really don't want to, have to, uh, kill him, but I don't think I have any choice."

"No. I don't suppose you do. Does everyone assume that you want to do this?"

Harry thought for a long time about that question. "Yes. But, truthfully, it's been so much a part of my life for so long that I probably have never told them that I don't want to. Does that make sense? And I really want him dead. You understand that, don't you? He has to be killed somehow. And I do hate him. You understand that, too, don't you?"

"Yes. I understand. I just kind of wondered if anyone was thinking about you in this whole thing."

Harry gave a short laugh. "They think about me all the time. I am the classic 'golden child.' Did you miss that somewhere in the discussion earlier? 'Cause . . ."

She interrupted him abruptly. "No. I didn't miss that. I didn't mean to ask if they thought about you as much as if they thought about what you are feeling?"

"Do you mean do they send me for grief counseling and all that sort of junk, because . . ."

"No, Harry. That's not what I mean at all."

"Then you're going to have to explain it a little better because I don't have a clue what you are on about." He felt angry for some reason which he could not identify, like she was sort of implying that he was not grown up enough to handle the job.

"I just meant . . . Do they ever let you be . . . worried and scared? Or do you just have to pretend that you aren't?"

"Oh. Well, I . . . . can't be worried and scared can I? Everyone's counting on me. I am, to put it quite bluntly, their only hope. If I'm worried and scared, well . . . You heard what Ron and Hermione said was going on back at school and just in general. People are terrified, again, like they were the first time."

"But they are still fighting!"

"What?"

"Everyone thinks you're dead, right? Everyone except Dum . .Dumble . .dore?"

"Yeah."

"They're still fighting. They're fighting without you, Harry. So, although I believe that you probably are their best chance to eventually win, they are able to function without you and they are still fighting. In other words, it's not all on you. It's not completely your responsibility."

Harry thought about that for a long time without saying anything. Strangely, this did make him feel a little better. He didn't know why, but it did. "You're right. But Dumbledore might be making them do it and he knows I'll be there."

"You could be right. But unless he can force them to do it against their will, they are still planning on fighting without you. I'm just trying to say that I think it's all right if you let people know you're frightened."

"I'll make sure I announce that to everyone at the battle, then. Jeesh, Cassie, you're acting like I'm a big prat."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to everyone. I just meant to the people that you're close to. Like this Lupin person. And, of course, Ron and Hermione."

"They already know. I can't keep too much from any of them."

"And your godfather, Sirius." Suddenly Harry lost all interest in the argument about whether he should tell people he was afraid.

"What?"

"Well, you haven't mentioned him. But he's going to be happy you're back and he's going to be fighting with you and everything, I guess. I mean, he is a, uh, wizard and everything, isn't he?"

"Um . . .a wizard, yeah." There must have been something in his voice even though Harry was trying to keep it smooth. He didn't want to start crying again. That would just be too embarrassing for words.

"He's, uh, dead, isn't he?" Harry could only nod now, afraid to actually speak. He had talked about Sirius' death this year, quite a few times with people who knew about it, hoping that by bringing it out into the open, it wouldn't hurt so bad. It hadn't worked very well and for the most part his friends avoided the topic completely as much as possible. "So, when you said you couldn't write to him, you didn't just mean because you were in hiding, did you?" He shook his head this time but managed to whisper out a no. She didn't say anything for a while but Harry knew she hadn't gone back to sleep. Finally, she asked, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really." She didn't press him. She just nodded and was quiet again for a few minutes. "It was my fault." Harry expected a quick denial of this. Every time he said that to anyone before, they instantly jumped into rapid-fire statements that it wasn't true, even though Harry knew that it was. Cassie didn't say anything like that at all. Instead, he heard her whisper,

"Why do you think that? Did you kill him?"

It was such a ridiculous question that Harry almost choked. "Of course I didn't kill him! I . . . I loved him. And he," God, this hurt to say, "he loved me, too."

"So . . . you didn't kill him but somehow it's still your fault?"

"Well, I didn't kill him but I made it so that he . . . got killed."

"Mm. How did you do that?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, yeah. Well, that's all right." Harry couldn't sit there anymore with her. She didn't understand anything. She didn't know what he . . .

"I've got to get up." She didn't try to dissuade him or anything. She just shifted so that he could maneuver off the couch. He wasn't sure why he felt disappointed at that, but he did. A moment later, he was standing next to the couch, looking down at her. She was still half sitting and looking up at him. "I . . .I" He wanted to ask for his blanket back but he couldn't for some reason. The thought of trying to get comfortable again on that dreadful chair or, even worse, the floor was just impossible, especially knowing how it felt to hold her. "I need to get a drink."

"Okay." He went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink of water. He sat down at the kitchen table and drank it slowly, thinking over the entire conversation. He wished that she would start nagging him to tell him all the details, or make stupid assumptions, or say that he shouldn't cry, or that everything would be all right, or some other trite stupid comment so that he could be mad at her. But, no! She had to be so darn understanding and sympathetic that it just made him want to keep talking. He didn't want to talk about Sirius. She could never understand about him - never! So there was no point in talking about it, was there? No! Of course not. He stepped over to the door and looked out the window. Yeah, they were still there. He wasn't surprised. Her concerned face peeked out of the living room a minute later. "Harry? Are you all right?"

He nodded and went back into the kitchen. He heard her soft footsteps behind him. Her arms slid around his waist from behind and he felt her press her face against his back. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"You don't need to apologize. You didn't say anything wrong."

"Then why are you hiding out in the kitchen?"

"I'm not hiding. I was just thirsty." She stepped from behind him and then took a drink out of his cup and he felt a sudden thrill at the familiarity. She had done that once before and he had thought at the time that it was one of the most intimate things they had ever done. Of course, that was before the kiss on the couch. The same couch where they had been sitting a few minutes before. In the dark. Under a blanket. Completely alone. Was he insane? Why wasn't he distracting her from her questions? That would shut her up for sure. He put his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up to his. She smiled but before he could lower his head to kiss her, she stepped away from him again. She left the kitchen, and Harry thought this might be her way of inviting him back to . . . the couch with her. He followed a mere two seconds behind her. She was busy disentangling the two blankets and Harry felt such a powerful stab of disappointment that he almost stopped her.

"I don't blame you for not . . . wanting to talking about things. I'm being too pushy. It's all right if you're mad."

"I'm not mad, Cassie. And I . . . don't want to sleep on the chair, or even sit on the chair. I want to hold you again. Is that all right?" In answer, she put his blanket back over the top of hers and Harry groaned to himself at the sight she presented in the dim light of the room. He was awfully glad the girls had decided not to wear the T-shirts. A niggling voice in the back of his brain disagreed. He shoved that voice way back into the furthest corner of his mind and smiled at her. It took a few minutes this time to get comfortable. She was tense and Harry was tense. Finally, somehow, they managed to find a reasonable position and Harry wrapped his arms around her waist.

Then he started talking. And he surprised himself in how much he told her. "I made a mistake. A really big mistake. I thought that . . . he was being hurt and I went to rescue him. Hermione tried to warn me that I was rushing into things. But I didn't want to believe her. Instead, I blamed her for not caring what happened to him, insisting that I needed to find him immediately." Harry didn't even mention Kreacher and the part that his lies had played in the whole fiasco. It didn't really matter, anyway. "It was a trap. They, . . .he wanted me to come there to rescue Sirius so that they could . . . get me to do something for Voldemort. Then they were going to kill me." She nodded. Harry was even more surprised that he could speak about this as calmly as he was. He kept going. "A whole group of, uh, . . . people on our side . . . came to get me. There was a big fight. Then, suddenly he was there and then he hugged me and then suddenly he was, uh, dead. His own cousin . . . she killed him. She killed him. He was there and then he wasn't and they wouldn't let me go get him. I wanted to die, too. I didn't care about . . . . Lupin held me back. He wouldn't let me go and get him. He was right there, just beyond the curtain. Maybe I could have reached him. Maybe he was still alive. Maybe if I'd have been faster I could have brought him back. Maybe. Maybe he saw me and wanted me to get him and I . . . I didn't and maybe he still is blaming me, and maybe. . . . It was all my fault. All. My. Stupid. Fault."

Harry was very sure that she hadn't understood the whole last part of his narrative but he was grateful that she didn't ask any more questions. He steeled himself for the usual rush of comforting words that followed him anytime the story was discussed. People tended to say stupid things like 'He died trying to protect you, Harry' ( like that was supposed to make him feel better), or 'He knew the risks when he came to the Ministry' (that didn't mean he wanted to die), 'At least he didn't suffer' (that was comforting), 'You were doing what you thought was right, after all' (Ditto, ditto, ditto).

"That must have been terrible. It must still be terrible. I can tell you miss him a lot. What was he like?"

"He loved me."

"I'm glad."

Harry relaxed, then. Telling the whole stupid story and not being condemned for it somehow made the pain a little easier to bear. She just sat quietly in front of him, her head leaning against his chest. Harry closed his eyes and felt her breathing deepen and slow as she went to sleep. It was quite a while later that he opened his eyes again. She was still asleep and he tried hard not to move so that she wouldn't wake up. He just stared out into the darkness. He had no idea what time it was. She still had her watch on and he tried to look at it, but it was too dark in the room and the dial didn't light up or anything. He guessed it was about 2 or so, but he didn't really know for sure. Despite his best efforts at sitting very still, it wasn't too long before she moved again and woke up.

"Did you sleep?" Her voice was heavy, soft, and sleepy.

"Yeah. I just woke up a few minutes ago."

"Um, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You've told me about Sirius and you mentioned someone named Lupin in that story and then you asked about him earlier. Who is he?"

"He was a friend of my dad's, just like Sirius was. I met him in third year when he came to teach at Hogwarts. We've gotten to be friends since then."

"What does he teach?"

"Well, he doesn't teach there anymore. But he taught us Defense for one year."

"You mentioned your defense classes before. Is that like Karate and stuff?"

"Um, no. The name of the class is Defense against the Dark Arts."

"The Dark Arts? Oh, you mean like Voldemort's magic, dark magic?"

"Yeah. The class teaches us to recognize and fight dark magic. He was a really good teacher. I learned a lot that year."

"Then why isn't he still teaching?"

"I told you . . . .His health isn't good."

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, okay, that's not really true. You have to understand that I usually don't tell people this because then they hate him. This one fact led to . . . .Well, I guess you'll never meet him so it doesn't really matter. And to understand this one thing lets you understand all the other things that came after it and so it's important but it's also terrible and yet it's-"

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to tell me whatever it is you're trying to tell me or not tell me, but I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Sorry. He's a werewolf."

She laughed then, obviously thinking he was joking. "I'm serious, Cassie. He's a werewolf. A real one. He turns into a big gray wolf when the moon is full and then he's really dangerous and stuff. And so parents didn't want him around their kids, once the news got out."

"Werewolves don't exist, Harry."

"Yes. They do. You just don't know about them. But I've seen him transform and I've . . . It's incredible. It really is. But beautiful, somehow. And scary. He takes a potion now that . . ."

"Stops it?"

"No. There's no cure for it. It just . . . Well, it makes him stay conscious of himself when he changes, so he's not dangerous, well, not as dangerous. But wizards hate werewolves and so he is pretty much shunned by people when they know. And it makes him horribly thin and sick looking."

"Are you being serious?"

"Completely. Like I said, I wouldn't tell you because now you'll be frightened of him and hate him, too. But you'll never meet him, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"I thought you liked him?"

"I do. I really do. He's kind of, um, taken over for Sirius now that he's . . . gone."

"Then I'd like him, too."

"You'd be scared." He tried to put a teasing note in his voice, wanting to stop talking about this with her. He needed to stop telling her all these secrets about himself. But, somehow, holding her tonight, he felt very comfortable and wanted her to understand him, really understand him. And that meant she had to understand all the things about himself that he usually never told anybody.

"Maybe a little. But then I'd like him. Is he nice to you?"

"Nice? Yeah. He's nice. He likes me a lot. But then, he was a really good friend of my dad's. I'm a lot like my dad. So I guess it's not hard for him to like me."

"So he likes you only because you remind him of your dad?" Harry thought about that. He had never had the same sort of relationship with Lupin as he had had with Sirius. But he supposed that was because Lupin was just naturally more reserved. Sirius tended to be very emotional - he laughed, lived, loved, and hated very strongly. And he didn't care who knew it. Lupin, no, Remus, was more subtle about expressing his emotions. But that didn't mean he didn't feel things just as much. He knew that Lupin liked him. And he was the one who had always told Sirius that Harry was not identical to James, even if they did look alike.

"No. I think he just likes me because I'm . . . .me, I guess. Boy, that sounds really stupid."

"I don't think so."

Harry sat quietly for a few minutes. He was dreadfully homesick at that moment, talking about Sirius and Remus and thinking about his dad. He felt so lonely which was probably ridiculous since his two best friends were right in the next room and he was holding Cassie. That thought reminded him of his line of thought earlier while the two of them had been in the kitchen. He suddenly wanted to kiss her again, really kiss her. Maybe then he would feel a little less alone. He bent forward until his face was level with hers. "Cassie?" She turned in mild surprise at his voice in her ear and he kissed her. Her lips softened a little and then she turned in his arms. Harry put both his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, then tilted his head a little so that he could deepen the kiss, but she pulled away. Harry was surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, it's just that . . . this is not the right time or place. We're lying on a couch together in the dark. I think we need to be really careful."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm not mad. I just . . . . I'm tired. I'm going to try to sleep some more."

"Okay." He was tired, too. He should probably sleep while she did. It would probably be light fairly soon and who knew what the morning would bring.

When he woke the next time, she was already awake. "Hi."

"Hi." He couldn't see her very well in the darkness, but he could tell from her voice that she was smiling.

"Can I ask you a stupid question, Harry?"

"Sure."

"What's a portkey?" That was so unexpected that Harry almost laughed, but he caught it back before it escaped.

"That's not a stupid question at all. I should have explained it a long time ago - well, earlier in the evening. It's a, uh, thing, that . . ."

"What does it look like?"

"Well, it can look like anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it can be anything. You just pick an object, any object. An old shoe, a piece of paper, an old soda can, a statue, a paperweight, you know, anything." Or a trophy, he thought, but he didn't say that. "You put a spell on it and then when you touch it, it takes you to a pre-set location."

"Takes you? What does that mean?"

"It takes you. You leave one place and wind up in the other place."

"Instantly?"

"Yeah, pretty much. There may be a little lapse for a long distance. I'm not really sure about that. It seems instant. It's not my favorite way to travel, though. You kind of have a hard landing, usually. I usually wind up on my butt."

"That's impossible."

"It's magic."

"I still don't know that I believe in this, um, magic that you do."

"That's all right. You don't need to. You'll be going home in the morning and it's probably best if you can just forget everything you heard here tonight."

"Do you really think you can take me home in the morning?"

"Yeah." He tried to inject that one word with as much confidence as he could. He really thought that the Death Eaters would have something better to do come the day of the actual battle than sit outside on a Muggle street hoping that an unknown wizard would suddenly turn up. He did avoid telling Cassie one thing, though. It wouldn't be him taking her home. Too risky. It would be Ron. They hadn't talked about it. But he knew. And Ron knew, too.

"So . . . if you don't like to travel by, uh, portkey, what do you like? Are there other options?"

"Oh, yeah. There are lots of different ways to get from place to place. The best one and easiest one is apparating. That is just like it sounds. You pop out of one place and end up in the other place. Kind of like on the old Bewitched reruns. But I'm not old enough to do that yet. You have to learn how and then you have to take a test. If I'm still, um, around next month, I can go take my test. I've practiced a little and it's great. But I'd need to work at it before I would dare try to go get my, uh, license." It took Harry a minute to realize that Cassie was laughing. Not soft gentle chuckles or wondering amazed giggles, but actual belly laughs. She was smothering her face in the back of the couch so that she wouldn't wake up Ron and Hermione but he could feel the way her shoulders were shaking that she was howling with laughter. He just pursed his lips and folded his arms and waited for her to stop. It took a very long time. Just when he thought she had calmed down she would start up again. Finally she sat up, wiping her face on the back of her hands.

"Test . . . license . . . Bewitched reruns! Oh, Harry! That is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time! How do you make this stuff up?"

"I'm not making it up! I'm serious. You just, uh, pop out of . . ." She started giggling again and Harry stopped talking. "It's fine. Don't believe me. I think I laughed, too. When they told me."

"But I mean, it's just so silly. You either do magic or you don't right? It's ridiculous that you have to learn to do this stuff."

"Well, uh, no. Why do you think we go to school?"

What?" She was genuinely confused by that statement and Harry was confused at her confusion. What didn't she understand?

"I'm sorry. I asked why you think we go to school if it's not to practice."

"Well, to learn things, of course. Why does anyone go to school?"

"That's right. To learn magic."

"You go to a, uh, magic school?"

"Yeah. What did you think we were talking about?"

"I thought that maybe some, well, um, witches and wizards happened to go to your school but that you just learned regular stuff."

"Oh, you mean like, um, French and geometry and chemistry and stuff?"

"Basically, yeah, I guess." Harry thought for a minute before he answered her. He guessed that he could understand her confusion, especially if she still refused to believe that they were actually magic.

"Well, that's not how it is. We just have classes on learning how to do magic. It's fun, although of course I have some subjects I like better than others." Cassie nodded. "And we have to take tests and things to make sure we learned it all."

"So it's not just natural?"

"Not really. Some people make it look really easy - like Hermione. Even though she's Muggle-born she's the top in most of her classes." Harry chuckled, remembering how obsessed Hermione had been with her grades through the years. "Others, unfortunately, just can't do very much right at all, even pure blood wizards have to learn how to do it. Like Ron, for example. His family is pure wizard for as far back as they can even remember but he and his brothers and sister still had to go to school and some have done really well and others, like Ron, have to really work at it. His grades aren't that fantastic although he is good at some things."

"How many brothers and sisters does he have? Obviously there are more than just Ron and Ginny."

"Yeah. Would you believe me if I told you there are seven kids in that family? Ron and Ginny are the youngest. Ginny is the only girl."

"And she's a year younger than Ron?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause then and Harry thought that she may have fallen asleep again. He was just about to drift off himself, warm and relaxed despite the circumstances. But she wasn't asleep because she suddenly said, "Tell me about her."