Harry Potter, and friends and foes, blah blah blah all belong to J.K Rowling and all the other bureaucratic literary minions underneath her. I make no momentary profit from this. None at all. So hard to believe, huh? Lol

As always, Carina and Reliena, thanks for helping me turn my strange writing habits into readable English.

Another note, if anyone is interested in being a beta reader for this story, please contact me.

Chapter Four

The Will and the Word

                        Four things come not back --- the spoken word, the sped arrow,

                        the past life, and the neglected opportunity.

                        -Arabian proverb

                        Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver.

                        -Sophocles

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"Bit of a creepy book this is. Wonder who assigned it, considering we don't have a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher yet."

Ron was sitting on top of the rickety desk in the room he shared with Harry. He was flipping through one of the new books they had just bought. "The Truth behind Black Magic: the Wizards, Magic, and Ideology That Promote the Dark Arts. It's got a guide to what sort of people are drawn to this stuff." Ron scowled. "Bet Malfoy is a perfect example."

Harry didn't answer. He was rummaging through his trunk, yanking out socks and quills, and throwing them over his shoulder.

Ron lifted his eyes above the gilded pages and curiously watched Harry. "Looking for something, mate?" he observed, an eyebrow raised at the mess Harry was making.

"Yeah. I can't find Lupin's present. I feel bad. I didn't even open it yet. I want to go see him, but I have to know what he gave me first." Harry rolled back on his heels and sat sprawled next to the open trunk. "It's not in there," he said dismayed.

"Where else could you have put it?"

"I dunno." He stood up and paced. "I came in here and sat on my bed and was talking to you and Hermione. I must have put it down somewhere around here." He began checking the creaking floorboards near the bed.

"Look under it," Ron suggested.

Harry lifted the mangy velvet bed skirt and spied the small wrapped package near the headboard. He snatched it up and sat back on the floor, now leaning against the bed.

"You're a genius, Ron," he said laughingly.

"I know, I know. I just try not to let it show. Wouldn't want to hurt Hermione's precious academic ego," the redhead joked. "Cut the suspense. Open it."

Harry ripped off the brown wrapping.

"Well, what is it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry replied, studying the strange object about half the size of his fist. It was made of a warm golden brown gem which swirled together with a lavender amethyst crystal. It felt pleasantly cool in his palm.

Ron squinted, trying to get a better look, but not willing to leave his comfortable spot on the desk. "He got you a rock?"

"No," Harry muttered, now focused on a short note which had also been wrapped around his gift. It was written in Lupin's slanted penmanship.

                        Harry,

This amulet is made of tiger's eye and amethyst. When these two gems work together, they protect the user from negative and reoccurring nightmares. Your father and Sirius searched for one to give to me a long time ago. It has helped me through some very difficult times. I hope it will be of an equally beneficial use to you.

Harry stared at the amulet in his hand and with a jolt, realized something. The past several nights he hadn't dreamed of Sirius's death. The amulet had been under his bed the entire time. It had worked. Harry felt slightly dizzy. He had been haunted by nightmares since Cedric's death. Perhaps this would really help. His heart felt lightened by that and he felt of rush of gratitude towards Remus Lupin. His old professor could not have any idea how much he appreciated this.

He remembered his original purpose in searching for the present. He put it on the small end table next to his bed and carefully tucked the letter away in one of his books. His eyes fell on the corner of the letter sticking out between the pages of the book and he was struck by a thought. What had made his father and Sirius look for that amulet to give to Lupin? He wondered briefly and then stood up. "I'm gonna go see how Lupin's doing."

Ron looked up from the book he was skimming now, Dueling for Beginners. "You want me to go with you?" he asked and started to rise.

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "Don't worry about it." He left before Ron could say another word. He headed towards the room on the fourth floor where Lupin usually slept when he was here. It was down the hall from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room.

He knocked lightly on the door, hoping he wasn't disturbing Lupin if he was resting.

"Just a minute." Harry heard what sounded like wooden furniture legs scraping the floor and then bed springs creaking.

"Come in."

Harry slowly opened the door. Lupin was sitting upright in bed, his side heavily bandaged and his equally bandaged ankle propped up on a pillow. His tired eyes lit up when he saw Harry's face.

"Ah, Harry, how are you? I though you were Molly," he said and started to get up.

"Oh you don't have to get up, sir," said Harry quickly.

"Nonsense. I only got into bed because I thought you were Mrs.Weasley coming to make sure I wasn't working." He gripped the leg of his bed and started to laboriously push himself towards the desk. Harry hurried forward to help. He took Lupin's arm and helped to the chair.

"Maybe you should take her advice."

The werewolf scowled slightly. "Nah, I'm fine." He turned to face Harry. "Here, sit." He conjured up a red armchair next to him.

Harry sat down in the surprisingly cozy armchair. "I wanted to thank you for the amulet. It's been working really well."

Lupin smiled. "I'm very glad to hear that, Harry. I hoped it would."

"Professor........ you don't think that's the wrong way to deal with the nightmares, do you?" Harry asked, wondering aloud.

Remus's eyes turned serious as he contemplated the question. "I have long wondered that and came to a conclusion. I don't believe nightmares are entirely malevolent, but nor do I think they are particularly beneficial. They exist as our deepest fears, horrors, and regrets manifested in a terrifying realistic form. And in some cases, a person can be too deeply affected by the constant replay of tragedy."

Harry could swear that for a second, the shadows in Lupin's eyes got darker and his prematurely lined face appeared older, defeated. Then the look faded and was replaced was Lupin's normal, concerned visage. Were you too deeply affected? he wondered.

"Besides, with your life, Harry, you should be given credit for simply waking up in the morning and making it through the day."

He couldn't resist the curiosity bubbling up inside him. "Why did my dad and......and Sirius," he said quickly, trying to ignore the quiver in his voice, "buy you that amulet? If you don't mind me asking, sir," he quickly added and then regretted the question. He realized how deeply personal it was.

Lupin suddenly became fascinated by his own hands, staring at his twiddling thumbs, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. "No particular reason," he said vaguely, but still refused to look at Harry. "But enough of this 'sir' and 'professor.' I haven't taught you in over two years. Remus is fine," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Harry knew Lupin was evading the question, but allowed him the quick change of subject. He didn't want to invade his privacy.

Lupin's face was grave again. He picked up a stack of papers from his desk. "Harry, there's something very important I have to discuss with you. But I will completely understand if you don't want to go through this now. There is absolutely no rush."

"What is it?" Harry asked, having a shrewd idea of where Lupin was leading.

Lupin was studying him carefully. "Sirius's will."

Harry's throat felt dry and his head very heavy. "What about it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"He left most of the Black fortune to you. Except for the house, which he gave to the Order and some money which he allotted to a few others. Most goes to you. I mean to arrange the transfer to your vault, but wanted to inform you first."

Oh, Sirius, Harry thought. The grief suddenly slammed into him, the way it always did. Why were you so good to me? What did you get in return? I led you to your death........ He stifled the sob that threatened to double him over. He simply nodded.

Remus looked uncertain and placed his hand gingerly on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, we really don't have to discuss this now. I just thought...." his voice trailed off and he didn't finish his sentence.

Harry stared determinately at the paneled wall. He wasn't going to break down like a child. He refused to let Lupin know how much he was still hurting. Sirius would have wanted him to be brave. "No, it's fine. So do you need my key or signature, or anything?"

"No, the will should be enough." Remus was still watching him carefully. He thought he saw a flash of glistening in the young wizard's bright green eyes, but it disappeared a moment later. His heart ached for Harry's pain. He desperately missed his best friend, but he was more accustomed to grief. He knew only to well what it was like to lose your parents. But to have lost his godfather as well....... Fate could be a cruel thing.

"There was something else he wished to give to you," Lupin rushed, hoping this would erase some of the pain from Harry's face. "It's in the cellar."

"What's in the cellar?" Harry asked with cautious curiosity.

"I'll show you," Lupin grasped for the crooked, knobby cane that was behind the desk. He grunted as he forced himself up on the cane, trying to put as little pressure as possible on his bad leg.

Harry tried to grab his other arm, but Lupin waved him off. "I can do this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, let's just hope Molly doesn't find out. She'll PUT me in a hospital."

Leaning heavily on his cane, Lupin slowly and laboriously made his way downstairs. Harry followed him, feeling uncertain about the injured man's chance of getting down five flights of stairs.

They finally made it; however, and Lupin leaned against the grimy wall for a moment to catch his breath. "Damnable ankle," he muttered under his breath.

They were in a cramped, damp hallway leading to small, formidable looking door made of wood and iron.

"In there." The werewolf pulled out his wand.

"Alohomora!" The door flew open and Harry had to squint to make out a large shadowy object in the dim room. Lupin led the way in and muttered something else. Torches flared up along the wall and illuminated the dark shape.

"Wow," Harry whispered.

"Do you recognize it?" Lupin asked.

With a start, Harry recognized a strange feeling of deja-vu. "I think it might."

"That's remarkable," Lupin commented, impressed.

Harry slowly walked around the gigantic motorcycle, taking in every detail of its dark steel gleaming in the torchlight, the black leather (or was it dragon hide?) seat and trim, and huge wheels that would have well-suited Hagrid.

"This was Sirius's pride and joy. He loved this bike," Remus said quietly. "He would have wanted to you to enjoy it as he had." Lupin felt a sudden pain deep inside as he remembered how excited Sirius had been at the prospect of teaching Harry how to ride the bike. He had talked eagerly and often about where he would take him to learn and laughed at the memories of trying to get the other Marauders to ride it. James had flatly refused; taking highly personal offence on the sake of the broomstick. Peter had been terrified and also declined Sirius's offer. Only Lupin had tried it, and he although he never quite had Sirius's skill, he hadn't done too badly.

Lupin tried to shake off the sudden onslaught of memories and focus on the present situation. He watched Harry examine the bike, an expression of avid interest lighting up his face which lightened Lupin's heart. He felt positive enough to try and accomplish his next goal. It would prove to be a costly mistake.

"Unfortunately you can't ride it just yet. Ministry law decrees that you have to be at least sixteen and a half to get a learning permit," he said apologetically. "But nevertheless, the bike is yours."

Harry had climbed into the seat and sat astride the bike. He felt very high, even with the bike still on the ground. He could easily imagine a young Sirius in this same position, the wind whipping back his long black hair and a cocky devil-may-care grin on his face. That was a much happier image of Sirius and he concentrated on that feeling.

"Harry....... I've been talking with Dumbledore and the Weasley's and we seem to all have a similar idea. They asked me to bring it up with you."

"Uh, huh," Harry grunted, not looking in his direction. His attention was focused on the numerous dials and gadgets on the bike.

"Dumbledore believes......and I'm inclined to agree with him.......that considering the present circumstances........... And the fact that you spend most of your time in the wizarding world........."

What's that? Harry poked at a small, spangled gauge. He was so engrossed in the motorcycle that he barely heard what Lupin was saying.

"Not excluding your Muggle family of course........but they're hardly able or knowledgeable in theses areas......"

Oh, it measures star count. Interesting, he thought, moving onto the next unknown device.

"So we decided that it would be in your best interests to have another guardian in the wizarding world. Of course, I immediately offered. The Weasley's would be more than willing as well. And I'm sure if there was someone else you had in mind........Many would love to consider you part of their family."

That last part finally caught Harry's total attention. His head spun around to face Lupin. "WHAT?" he asked incredulously.

Lupin looked slightly caught off guard by Harry's shocked face.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about? Adoption?" he demanded, his voice rising.

"Well.......I mean.........it could be whatever you wanted it to be. We just thought........"

Harry interrupted him. "You want to adopt me?"

"You'd still have to stay at the Dursley's, unfortunately. And during the school year........"

Harry had drawn himself up to his full height on the bike. His face had grown dark and his voice angry.

"What makes you think I need another guardian? What makes you think I WANT another guardian? I don't exactly have the best track record with them, now do I?" he asked bitterly and sarcastically.

Lupin realized this had been a serious mistake. "Harry, please, don't think I......."

"I DON'T WANT A REPLACEMENT FOR SIRIUS!" he roared. "You're not him, the Weasley's aren't him, and Dumbledore is certainly not him!

What gives you all the RIGHT to sit up in Dumbledore's office and discuss my life?! I can take care of myself, thank you very much." He jumped down from the bike and got very close to Lupin's face.

"First of all, I'm never told a thing. Never even WARNED about what Voldemort might try to do to my mind. No one gave a damn enough to give me a good enough reason to deal with Snape's Occlumency lessons." Harry was in a fury now, all the pain and anger exploding. He didn't care if it wasn't fair to blame Lupin.

"For nearly sixteen years! SIXTEEN! I was never even told the truth about what happened to me! No reason to trouble little Harry! He wouldn't understand. Look what happened! Sirius didn't need to die! He wouldn't have if I had been told about what Voldemort could do. But no, it's much easier to whisper in closed meetings in the kitchen.

So what? Now I'm supposed to fulfill this grand prophecy, but can't even be told about what the Order's up to? Well, that really makes sense.

You never even gave me a chance to make my own decisions. My life's been bloody 'arranged' since my parents died," Harry swore bitterly.

"Yes, because all your hasty plans have been successful," Lupin said sharply, and immediately regretted it. Oh God, he had not meant to say anything thing like that.....

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I don't mean to imply—"

Harry looked like he'd been slapped. He raised his hand, as if he was going to strike Remus, who instinctively flinched slightly. Instead, he shook his fist in his face, so furious, he could barely speak. The two men stared the other down; the accusations had been made and nothing could take them back.

"Are......are you.......blaming me........You, you don't know......" He stammered.

"What it's like to lose someone you care about? You might be surprised, Harry," Lupin said darkly. He desperately wished he could have taken back his words. The boy, (the young man, he corrected himself), was deeply grieved. He knew that. His own emotions had taken over as well.

Harry was at a loss for words, what he had wanted to say had been effectively snatched by Lupin. He was shaking with rage. He couldn't muster up a reply. Instead he simply shot the werewolf a furious glare, brushed past him, and stormed back up the cellar stairs.

Lupin knew better than to follow him. He sunk to the cold stone floor, dropping his cane. He hung his head in his hands. He felt like screaming in rage himself. He felt so deeply for Harry; knew his pain all too intimately. But he realized things were forever changed between the two of them. They had both hurled words which were hard to forgive......or forget.

It was so wrong. That was the only way he could describe it. Wrong. So many people, so many families: children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, godparents. Torn apart forever in a cruelly unnatural and horrible way.

Voldemort. It was all Voldemort. He had wrecked, ruined all of their lives. Completely destroyed what took years to build and nurture. And now he was back to do it again. God help them all.

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Harry and Lupin effectively ignored each other the final few weeks of August. If one came into the room, the other silently left. Although Lupin was away most of the time, the tension between the two didn't go unnoticed. Mrs. Weasley looked concerned, and both Hermione and Ron had been trying to goad him into confessing what had happened. But Harry refused. They didn't know about the prophecy; why not this? He supposed keeping things hidden from his best friends was simply part of his new life.

Instead he threw himself into whatever he was doing: homework, housework, devising new marketing strategies with the twins, spying on the Order, or talking about the upcoming school year. He found it helped keep his mind focused.

When the day came to board the train for Hogwart's, Harry realized for the first time he wasn't really excited about or looking forward to the new school year. Each year seemed to bring successively worse tragedies. He dreaded what might happen this year. He simply felt exhausted from it all. He couldn't help wishing he could take a very long, or even permanent break from being himself.

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You already know what I am going to say. Please review! I like input! A big thanks to Carina, T.H., and HogwartsHottie for reviewing!