Chapter 6

Harry found it odd to have nice dreams. They were a rarity in his case, almost a luxury that he could ill-afford, but now they seemed to be the only kind he had.

One night he found himself in a field of crimson flowers and the next, a room so filled with great black dogs that all he could see were wagging tails and lapping tongues. He remembered spending time at the beach and playing in the sand with his mother and father. Beating Malfoy at Quidditch. Leading a trek through the jungle. A thousand different things that ranged from mildly pleasant to his very desires.

He could not understand it. Sometimes he woke up smiling but smiling had seemed utterly useless; meaningless, really. Whenever he had dreamt before, it had meant something, signaled something, or else brought along some benevolent pain. Dreams were supposed to make things clear.

But these didn't, and it confused him, made him wake to run his fingers searchingly across his scar. Now even his scar gave him no more warnings. Occasionally he wondered if he wanted to have the pain back- at least pain was he could recognize and deal with. An Unforgivable was one thing, but helplessness?

He wondered which one he would rather face.

"That's hardly reassuring," said Lupin, startling Harry as he wandered absentmindedly towards the fire.

"What is?" said Harry, shifting his trunk nervously against his hip. Had he been speaking out loud?

"Don't go in yet." Lupin crouched down, looking at the fire. A handful of Floo Powder remained unused in his hands, though Harry had already thrown in his own. "See? It should have turned green."

Harry peered at it. It was true- rather than green, the fire that lit their room's fireplace had turned a pale, fitful blue, like the heart of a particularly strong flame. "Does it matter? We're already running late, like you said."

"I'm not sure," said Lupin as he sifted the Floo Powder from hand to hand. "This hasn't happened before. And I was already having doubts about leaving without Zacharias..."

Harry snorted. "He was the sod who ran off."

"I'm responsible for him, at least until term starts. We don't know where he could have gone."

"He'll turn up."

Lupin glanced down at his watch. "I suppose. I guess we'll have to risk it- get that bag? Thank you," he replied as Harry handed him his familiar brown briefcase. "Go in, Harry. I'll be right behind you if anything goes wrong- which I don't think will."

Harry hitched the trunk up further and stepped into the fire. The flames felt oddly cold and it made him nervous.

"Professor Lupin, I-,"

"Go! Before the Powder burns out." But saying this, Lupin still seemed uncertain. He opened his mouth again as if to continue but shut it quickly.

"Nine Mortmain Hills!"

"Nine Mortmain Hills!"

"Harry, I'm-"

But Harry was already gone. Lupin stared after him, doing nothing for the moment; his mouth was parted slightly and filled with the words he meant to say.

He swallowed them entirely before entering the fire with his eyes fallen closed, as seemed to come naturally these days. Without anyone there, without Harry there, watching, he allowed a certain shattered slant to his shoulders and the way he tipped his head. He could relax and uncoil until all the strings seemed to come undone, and the scraps they held together bore less and less of a resemblance to a man.

But then he shook the hair out of his eyes and opened them again; the scraps were painfully gathered back together, as scraps are, and there was that familiar form in the fireplace, faintly recognizable as the Remus Lupin from better times. The flames lit smoky shadows in his face.

He murmured "Nine Mortmain Hills" and waited for everything to fall apart.

Harry stumbled out of the fire, expecting to see Hermione, perhaps Ron, and a home that he always imagined as a toned-down Privet Drive. There would be that organization, rather than Aunt Petunia's fanatic perfectionism, and neat bookcases filled with neat tomes of neat, stately books that Hermione would have read. The perfect, ordered family.

What he saw was a cavernous hall that was barely lit by a fire that could be considered roaring in normal conditions. The darkness seemed infinite.

'The odd Floo Powder,' was Harry's first thought. His immediate reaction was to whip out his wand, brandishing it in front of him like a stunted sword. 'It must have been tampered with...'

But what could he do? 'Professor Lupin will be coming,' he thought, but felt guilty for wanting to bring him into the danger. Since this was danger, wasn't it? It had to be.

There was nothing to do but wait, wand held at the ready and all his senses heightened and alert. Soon, the darkness began to recede. It took only a while longer to realize that the room, which had seemed impossibly large before, was actually no bigger than, perhaps, the Potion's dungeons. The darkness was oddly deceiving.

After a few tense seconds, Harry began to make out dim shapes. Warily, he moved towards them, keeping one hand trailing along the wall. Whatever they were there were stacks of them; some had been propped against the wall like tremendous storage boxes. Although he made slow progress, Harry soon managed to reach the nearest one.

It was slightly longer than he was tall. He stretched out a tentative hand and ran his fingers along it to find that the wood was polished and smooth. A little more exploration told him the box was widest where it was level with his shoulders and then narrowed down to the base. With a start, Harry realized what it was and recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest. His steps backward from the coffin were jerky and stiff, nearly causing him to trip before he had reached the fireplace.

That was where he knocked into Lupin. The older man cried out and stumbled back with one foot still in the fire. He threw out a hand just in time to catch himself, gripping the mantle.

Hurriedly, Harry pulled him back up. "Professor! We've got to leave, it isn't safe here! That Floo Powder must have been tampered with or something because-"

"Harry-"

"We haven't got the time!" Harry shouted, almost excitedly. "You can Apparate, and I'll wait here? - or we can make a Portkey. I saw Dumbledore do it last year-"

"Harry." Lupin looked pained, his eyes flashing back and forth from Harry's face and the fire. "Slow down."

"We can't afford to slow down. Unless," Harry laughed. "You meant to bring us here." This time Lupin's eyes remained on the fire. Seeing this, Harry faltered. "Professor? You- this isn't Hermione's house- was there some sort of...change of plans that you forgot to tell me about?"

Lupin straightened his shoulders, sorting himself out. "There was no change of plans, Harry." He sounded guilty, as if waiting for himself to be chastened. "This is where the Floo Powder was meant to take us."

"I-I...I don't understand-"

"That was the point." 'No, no,' Harry thought, dreading, 'This can't be happening, not again...' But what if it was? Lupin hunched forward with his forehead against his supporting hand, peering up at Harry through his weathered features. Harry didn't want to believe treachery of the man he called a mentor, but being wrong again, letting trust get in the way; it could only be called foolishness. "But let me explain."

"Where are we?" said Harry, maintaining calm.

Lupin sighed heavily. His eyes were closed again and Harry felt betrayed by this, among other things- so many things were more than met the eye. "You're standing in a coffin maker's workshop. The...man, himself, won't be about now, considering that its still day outside. A...vampire."

Harry said nothing, not wanting to believe what he heard. He forced himself to anyway. Sometimes distrust got you farther than shining faith ever would.

Lupin looked uncomfortable. "But we won't be dealing with him. I just planned to pass through."

"You're talking like a traitor, Professor."

The expression in Lupin's face suggested that he had been struck. He swallowed once before replying, "You'll have to take my word that I'm not, for now. Put on your invisibility cloak if it makes you feel any more secure. Or- we could turn back."

"Just- just tell me where we're going. Give me reason to believe that this isn't some trap. I'm sick of traps."

"When have I given you reason to distrust me, Harry?" asked Lupin, his voice low, as if speaking took the life out of him.

"There's a first time for everything." It felt almost like...kicking a dog that was already down, but Harry did not waver. He even hoped that he looked imposing, his wand a burnished red-brown in the firelight, and he wanted the truth. "Tell me, or we're turning back and I'll find Hermione's house on my own."

Lupin sighed. "The...Malfoy Estate."

Harry became silent, worrying his lower lip. "The Malfoy Estate," he repeated.

"I'll explain. After Lucius Malfoy was taken in to Azkaban, his wife disappeared- to France, we expect, she's said to have acquaintances there. Draco hasn't been since term ended- until his father escaped, and we located them both in The Leaky Cauldron."

"What? Are we raiding their china collection? Painting graffiti on their walls?" said Harry. "What does it matter?"

"The ministry seized their lands for a search- they're trying to uncover anything pointing towards what Voldemort has planned. Of course, other Death eater homes are getting the same treatment, but Fudge has a personal grudge against the Malfoy name, for now.  The search hasn't rooted out much as of yet."

"Malfoy...I mean, Draco could have taken anything worth finding."

"Perhaps. Or Narcissa." Harry nodded. "But they're still looking; I think they've nearly covered the entire place, and afterwards it's going to be demolished."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with you. With any of this...not telling me things and misleading me?" Harry never meant to let that coldness creep into his voice, but it was there, tangible, and Lupin felt it too.

"There'll be a ceremony." His words were hollow. "Fudge will be there to preside over it, a big gala event with near all the Ministry there, and he wants you, too. He's gotten pressure to acknowledge your contributions publicly."

It wasn't what Harry expected. "But-"

"I didn't like the idea. They said they got all the spells in the area down, but I don't think that it's safe for you to wander into enemy territory. We don't know what kind of traps Voldemort might have set out for you. Will have set out for you." He sat down on Harry's toppled trunk, eyes closed as if all he wanted was rest. And Harry wanted to pity him for it, but Lupin would not take pity- yet, who was the leader, now? Age no longer took precedence; it seemed that Lupin was incapable of it, and that Harry, leader by nature, could only step in and take his place. It was only another troubling sign that Lupin no longer seemed to care.

"Professor..." Harry began, but whatever he meant to say ended quickly. He had to get the truth. "I'm here, you must have changed your mind."

"Fudge insisted. There was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise...but then he assured me that there would be safety measures put in place." Lupin paused. "I knew from the start that you wouldn't like them, but they had to do. He wouldn't have it any other way." His eyes flickered open for a moment. "I only did what I thought would be best. I had to bring you, I even thought I'd hold out from telling you until we were at the gates- but I guess that fell through."

"What's the worst Fudge could do? Hire some guards, cast some shielding spells?"

The answer never came. A door opened at the other end of the hall, letting in a flood of daylight that blinded them entirely. Harry wanted to charge but could only cover his eyes, the light was so overpowering. Although his wand was still in his other hand it could be no use if he couldn't see.

"I thought I heard voices down here," said a hard female voice. Harry peered between his fingers, blinking. A woman stood in the doorway, the light behind her throwing her form into silhouette. "Is- is that you, Remus? What're you doing back here?"

Lupin recovered before Harry did, rising from the trunk with his hands on his knees. Assuming authority. "Paying a visit to the Malfoy Estate."

"The Malfoy Estate," she said, unsurprised. "Why, did your mother-"

"No."

She sniffed. "You don't have to be so damn curt with me, Remus Lupin. Look at this, getting me sidetracked- move your arses over here before Master Hoch realizes I had the door open."

"Come on, Harry," said Lupin, lifting the trunk. Harry remained unmoved.

"You haven't finished talking. I'm not coming until I hear everything."

The woman marched down the stairs and into his face in a remarkably short amount of time. Harry caught a glimpse of short, fawn-brown hair and a flair of loose-cut robes. "Who are you to try to make me lose my job? Or, rather, my life as well- Hoch has got a bloody bad temper and pointy teeth to go with it. Get up here or my boot will do it for you."

Apparently, the kick that followed was only a demonstration. Harry climbed the stairs, seething a bit, but voiced no other complaint.

They emerged into a showroom that attempted to be sophisticated but failed. There were contradictions everywhere, from the paneled walls made of a dark wood, perhaps mahogany, to the battered edges of their oriental rugs. Disgruntled, Harry found himself ushered down a narrow corridor and out a backdoor.

Someone had set out an old armchair by the door. It was worn around the edges and had gone concave to fit the human form; cigarette burns had become more of a pattern than the flowered upholstery, which had once been pink and green but was now a feeble muddle of both. The woman sank down into it and camouflaged instantly.

She speared a cigarette out of her shirt pocket. It lit at once. Holding it between two fingers, she admired it for a moment before sticking it between her lips and inhaling.

"The things they think of now." She grinned. "How've you been, Remus?"

He and Harry stood awkwardly at the door, busy supporting their various bags. "Look, Lynn, now isn't the greatest time to chat about the past, but perhaps later."

"Who said we were going to chat?" she scoffed, blowing spirals of smoke that condensed themselves into dragons and chuffing gnomes. "I demand from you an afternoon for tea, an explanation, and an assurance that that boy you've got isn't your son."

"No, no, of course not," said Lupin mildly. "He belongs to James."

"And Lily, too, I hope?" She studied him, mouth turned into a quirky little sneer. "He doesn't do them justice."

At this, Harry felt himself flush, but said nothing, though his fingers trembled whitely where they clenched his wand. Lupin intervened.

"Now, really, Lynn. Don't be bringing your opinions into this. Harry and I had better be leaving, but I promise you- you can quote me on this-"

"I will."

"-that you will get that afternoon in the near future. I'm in town." He smiled too pleasantly, Harry thought through narrowed eyes while wringing his wand, for someone talking to such an unpleasant woman.

Distracted by this as they left, skirting an alleyway to emerge on to a larger road, it was quite some time before Harry remembered his original purpose.

"I don't suppose you're ready to continue, now, are you?" he said coldly, sidestepping a street sign. There was little other pedestrian traffic to contend with, even at this time of day, and the shops here were not as spirited and friendly as those in Diagon Alley. Every structure seemed geometric and measured, the buildings neither looming over the street nor presenting a distant distraction. The streets were carefully cobbled and catching your feet between the stones was an implausible, no, unthinkable affair. The only smell on the air was a non-committal half-scent that could have been any number of things, but wasn't. It made Harry feel almost...unnatural, and he had never been so conscious about the state of his hair, which he had long since given up on.

Lupin gave him a worried look and then stopped walking, trying to hide it. He turned so he was facing Harry and put down his briefcase to grasp him by the shoulders.

"Perhaps it isn't worth the trouble. We can turn back, Fudge's idea was silly, too dangerous."

Harry shrugged away his hands in disgust. "Will you stop avoiding this! All I want is hear things the way they really are. Fudge wants me protected- so what? That's only what Dumbledore's been doing all along, guarding me during the summers. What about this makes you not want to tell me?"

At this, Lupin fixed him with a hard stare, as if searching for some sort of affirmation. It made Harry uneasy; underneath that gaze was a form of desperation, one last plea for an easy way out of all this. But Harry would not allow him an easy way.

"Fine," he said after some time, soft enough that Harry barely caught it. "You'll be confined to a set of rooms until they've finished the search, which could take any amount of time. No one will come in, you cannot come out. You'll be guarded like...some sort of prisoner." His eyes were closed again. "Sometimes I forget that you aren't the third year I first knew, Harry. I should've told you from the start, let you make your own choice in the matter.

"Then why didn't you?" said Harry.

Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, considering, as if speaking was painful. "I knew that...afterwards, you would never forgive me."

"I would-"

"No. You don't understand, Harry. Listen to me. I was the one who suggested to Dumbledore that Sirius should be contained. For his own safety, for the safety of the Order- but do you know the truth?" He laughed humorlessly. "I did it for my own peace of mind."

And then, Harry Potter, who had faced Voldemort and worse, who dangled one-handed from his broomstick and kept his focus, who had thrown off Cruciatus- Harry Potter felt frightened. Because it was then he realized that if one death could reduce a man to this, war could bring the world to its knees.

He crouched down to pick up the briefcase and shoved it into Lupin's arms. The calculated shock was enough to make the older man open his eyes.

"Let's go," said Harry, moving on without a backward glance. "We don't want to be late."

No, the truth was, Harry Potter had no time for dreams without a purpose. He had to save two worlds, wizarding and Muggle, and a broken man.

Not to mention himself.