Disclaimer: Obviously, I didn't write the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rowling is responsible for those masterpieces, and I will always worship her for it. Please don't sue me. I'm already poor and my mom would yell at me.
Author's Note: Hey everybody. I just got really frustrated with schoolwork, so I decided to do what I do best: procrastinate. Who say's its such a bad thing? If it weren't for procrastination, this chapter wouldn't have been out so soon. I hope you like; it's a bit longer than the rest. Thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter. Mooncinder: one of your questions is answered in this chapter, the other will be addressed later on. Jeff: Offhand, I'd say no to Potions. I don't see it as vital training for combat (which Harry's focus will be), but let me know if you disagree. Sarily: I for one don't believe Harry has ever thought very hard about his future. I think being an Auror was just one of those things Harry thought sounded cool at the time, and it was the first thing that came to mind. IMHO, I think Harry would want to be free from the Ministry and fighting dark wizards if he lives to see the prophecy through. What we are good at and what we enjoy doing are sometimes very separate things. I could picture Harry as a professional Quidditch player much more easily than as an Auror. Also, thanks csferosha and tansy1354 for your nice reviews.
Chapter 7: I've Seen Better Days
Until the will arrived, Harry had been doing a stellar job of pretending Sirius Black had never died—well, consciously, at least. Most of the time he tried to wipe his godfather out of his mind completely, and if anybody mentioned him he could pretend that Sirius was just M.I.A. or on vacation. The will was an unwanted reality check. It brought a flurry of memories and thoughts through Harry's mind that he had been trying to repress ever since the end of the school year. The images and sounds bombarded his senses so furiously that he sat down on the edge of the pavement and cradled his head in his arms, waiting for them to pass.
Sirius falling Bellatrix you have to mean it crucio your fault you loved him
Behind closed eyes, the mysterious veil flapped soundlessly.
seventh month dies marked equal not your father power he knows not
The archway was closer now, curtains fluttering serenely.
curse Hermione hurt did you love him did you did he love
It was so close now, he could almost touch it. Just a little closer, maybe he could hear the whispers again…
kill the spare avada darkness please alone not Harry end kedavra
"Harry!"
So close, maybe he could hear Sirius…
"Harry! What's wrong?!"
shaking stop it let go
"HARRY! Snap out of it!"
If he could hear Sirius there was still hope…
"Harry, please look at me…"
know that voice holding back dead he's dead
blink
"R-Remus?"
Remus Lupin was staring urgently into Harry's eyes, looking fit to have a nervous breakdown.
"Oh thank Merlin! God, Harry, what happened?"
"What? Nothing…he's dead, I got a will…" Harry shook his head. He felt incoherent and muddled. What did happen?
In one giant rush of noise, the eerie silence of the Department of Mysteries was drowned in the sound of birds chirping, leaves rustling, and people talking off in the distance. Suddenly Harry became aware of a surprisingly strong hand gripping his shoulder, and another grasping his forearm. He was looking directly into the light brown and worried eyes of Remus Lupin. The man looked even shabbier and more exhausted than Harry could ever remember, and that was saying something.
"Harry, you just scared me out of my wits. Where were you just now? Was it Voldemort?"
Harry tried to concentrate. "I…I don't think so…my scar doesn't hurt. I just, well—Sirius' will came in my owl post today, and I just…"
He couldn't think of anything to say. Trying to explain it now, he felt very foolish. After all, Remus had just lost the last of his old friends, and Harry didn't see him cracking up. Maybe it would be better just to blame it on Voldemort…the connection might actually do him a favor this once.
Remus was still scrutinizing him when he met his eyes again. He looked very sad and worried.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I should have come to see you sooner—I meant to, but I've been away on a sort of business that no one else in the Order could take care of," Remus explained.
Harry was surprised his former professor had felt so obligated to visit him in the first place. "It's alright, Pro—Remus, you shouldn't feel like you have to come visit me. Actually, I'm surprised you came at all, considering..." Harry's mind helpfully supplied another replay of Sirius falling into the fluttering arms of the veil. "Anyway, the Order's been keeping an eye out for me, and the Dursleys—well, for the most part they're ignoring me, which is the best I can hope for from them…"
Remus' eyes darkened, and his expression turned grim. The Dursleys were lucky Dumbledore had sent the healing potion with Fawkes, because Remus may just have come after them if he had seen the scratch Petunia's ring had left on his face. "I wish you wouldn't act like nothing is wrong. You lost Sirius just as much as I did. And contrary to what you've experienced, it is not acceptable guardian behavior to ignore one's charge. Besides, from what Mundungus Fletcher tells me, they did a bit more than ignore you up until several days ago," he growled.
Harry just shrugged and stared at an ant crawling by on the pavement.
"Harry, there is something in particular I came here to speak with you about today, but after what I just saw, I'm not sure now is the right time…" Remus said cautiously. "You see, it directly involves Sirius' will."
Normally, Harry would have argued himself blue in the face to get answers out of Remus. However, he was still only barely coming to terms with Sirius'…passing.
Remus looked crestfallen when Harry didn't immediately pipe up and demand to know what he was talking about. "Well, I suppose it can wait," he said, unsuccessfully trying to hide his disappointment.
What are you waiting for, are you a Gryffindor or not? Sirius is dead, partially because of you. You have to accept that; Remus has. You practically killed his best friend, the least you can do is hear him out.
"Harry? You're getting that look in your eyes again, are you sure you're alright?" Remus asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. And you don't have to wait; please tell me what the will said," Harry replied, although he would have rather gone on pretending there was no will and that he'd see Sirius later at Grimmauld Place.
"Alright, if you're sure," Remus said tentatively.
Harry nodded, not willing to vocalize the lie.
"Well, copies of Sirius' will went out to everyone who was named in it. However, they are charmed so that the only part the recipient can read is that which concerns them. For the most part, it deals with divvying up the Black family inheritance, which includes properties, money, and certain effects. You won't know what you've inherited until you read the will," Remus cast a furtive glance Harry's way before continuing, "but most likely it will include a large sum of money and a property or two, like mine."
Aside from the fact that he didn't want any of those things, especially not when they should belong to a living, free Sirius, Harry didn't find that very strange. After all, the Black family was very old, and "toujours pur", so it was practically a given that they would be very rich as well. Harry would have found that out by reading his own copy of the will; it hardly warranted Remus' house call.
"Okay, not too surprising," Harry said, trying to prod Remus into getting to the point.
"Yes, well, the next part is. Harry, galleons and properties aren't all I inherited from Sirius, and they certainly aren't the most important…to put it bluntly, Harry, I inherited you."
Harry stared at Remus for a long moment. He hadn't really thought about his guardianship and who would take it over in Sirius' absence, but then again, he hadn't really acknowledged before that Sirius was never coming back. Still, Remus? Harry was very fond of the man, and he did appear to be kindest and most gentle-mannered of the Marauders from his peak into Snape's Pensieve, but he really didn't know Remus too well. Besides, who said the man even wanted to have custody of him?
"Do you have anything to say, Harry? I'd like to hear your thoughts before I tell you what I have in mind," Lupin asked apprehensively.
"Er, well, do you even want to be my guardian? Because I'm sure you don't really have to, you could just name someone else…"
"Of course I want to, Harry! That's not even a question; I would have taken you in all those years ago, had Dumbledore not insisted you go to the Dursleys." An almost imperceptible flash of anger passed over the man's eyes. "Of course, the Ministry never would have allowed it, either."
"Do you think they would now?" Harry asked, before realizing how it sounded. "No offense; I mean, what's changed since then?"
"Harry, because Sirius had legal guardianship over you, he has—he had—the legal right to give custody to whoever he wanted in his place. The Ministry cannot interfere. It couldn't be more solid unless it was written in stone."
"Okay…well, how does this change things? I'm assuming I'd still be living with the Dursleys most of the summer; I can't imagine Professor Dumbledore willingly letting me leave—"
"This is not Dumbledore's choice, Harry. It's yours. That's another thing we have to talk about. How safe do you feel on Privet Drive now that Voldemort knows you're here?" Remus inquired.
"Well, I figure if a Death Eater knocked on the door and demanded Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hand me over for a ritual sacrifice, they'd do it, and throw in a nice pudding as well," Harry joked darkly. "Seriously though, they haven't been that bad the past few days. Dumbledore gave them a letter, and ever since they read it they've been shockingly civilized."
"The reason I ask, Harry, is because I don't feel it's safe for you to be here any longer. I believe that all it would take is one more incident like the one between you and your relatives a few days ago for the wards to become weak enough for Voldemort to penetrate."
Privately, Harry agreed. It didn't seem like the simple fact that Petunia took him into her house when he was one was sufficient anymore. Dumbledore had admitted that the wards were now weaker than ever before, and by now the Death Eaters were probably checking for weakness all around the perimeter. Staying at Number Four any longer was beginning to look downright nutters.
Still, a few things bothered Harry about leaving, too. If Privet Drive and blood magic couldn't guarantee his safety, who or what could? And although he couldn't stand his relatives, Harry couldn't very well abandon them by taking away what little defense they had due to the blood magic.
"I didn't tell you before, but the 'business' I've been taking care of since you left school is preparing one of the properties I inherited for you and I to live at. It's very well warded, like Grimmauld Place, right down to the Fidelius to keep it hidden. If you want to, we can even leave tonight," Remus asked hopefully.
Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He knew what he had to say. It went against everything he had always wanted growing up, and everything he wanted now, but he had to keep in mind that his happiness and safety weren't all that was at stake.
Harry slumped and put his head in his hands. "Remus, I can't. Not yet, at least. If I leave now, the Dursleys will be completely defenseless and Voldemort won't hesitate to send his cronies in to kill them. I have to stay until the protection is renewed."
Remus looked dejected. "I understand your reasoning, Harry. What I'm afraid of is that they'll lose their tempers again and bring the wards down all on their own. I swear, Harry, if those muggles do something stupid and let Voldemort get to you, I'll rip them apart before the Death Eaters get the chance."
Harry was touched to see how much Remus cared, and wanted to put the man at ease. "It's really going to be fine, Remus. Just a few more weeks and I should be able to leave. The Dursleys really have been a lot…different since they read Dumbledore's letter."
The expression on Remus' face spoke volumes about his feelings for the headmaster at the moment. Harry sympathized; he couldn't say that Dumbledore's decisions concerning his life had brought him a lot of happiness, either. He did the best he could given the situation, though, interrupted the voice in the back of his mind.
"If you are sure, Harry, then I'll plan on moving you in early August. In the meantime, you can expect to see me around here a lot."
"Oh, you're going to take shifts with the rest of the Order now?" Harry asked, pleased that he would be able to speak with Remus more often now.
"No. I'll be here in addition to the guard. I'm not leaving you here surrounded by Death Eaters no matter how safe Dumbledore says it is. I plan on keeping an eye out at the edge of the wards to make sure they don't even get the opportunity to discover exactly what protections there are."
Harry wasn't sure he wanted Remus wandering around in close proximity to Death Eaters on his behalf. He knew that nothing he said would change the man's mind, however, so he just nodded absently. Then he remembered something he had wanted to ask Remus…
"Have there been any attacks yet?"
Remus was caught off guard by the change of subject, and Harry could tell from the expression he let slip that the answer wasn't good. Instead of trying to deny it, however, Remus looked Harry straight in the eye.
"Yes. There have been several attacks on muggles recently, but not enough yet to raise suspicion. However, I'm sure it won't be long before the situation escalates. He will probably take more lives, both muggle and wizard, the more followers he gains," Remus stated solemnly.
"But he doesn't have that many followers, yet, does he? He'll probably have trouble getting more," Harry pleaded desperately.
Remus shook his head sadly. "You underestimate the power of fear, Harry. In the first war, who do you think half of Voldemort's followers were? They were people who were so petrified their own families would be next that they were willing to follow a murderer. Perhaps they were weak and the decision they made was wrong, but the point is they still joined Voldemort."
The war was becoming more and more real right before Harry's eyes. Last year, Harry had been so overwhelmed with actually warning people of the coming war that he never really got the chance to prepare himself for it. Sure, he had been in battles before, but then he had always known who his enemies were. In battle, the end was never far off, whether that end looked to be in Harry's favor or not. War was uncertain; it could last for weeks, months, years…Harry had a sense of foreboding that this war would not be over quickly.
"Harry, the world is going to be facing some very hard times in the coming months. You have already been through a lot in your life, but war is going to be different. You are going to have to accept that people will die, probably even many people you know. Also, I know your propensity for taking the blame, Harry, and I'll tell you now you have to learn to get past that. If you place guilt on yourself for every casualty, you'll do Voldemort's job for him," Remus warned.
Harry nodded, but knew he'd have to take some time to think about it in private to get what Remus just said to sink in.
"I'm sorry for sounding so tragic, Harry, but I think you're old enough to be spoken to truthfully concerning this. In fact, I think it's absolutely necessary that you are prepared for the war as best you can be," he added.
"Please don't ever apologize for being honest, Remus. I wish people had been more honest with me in the past…Anyway, I agree. I'd rather plan for the worst and have a chance to prepare for it rather than be fed the sugar-coated version and be completely out of my league when the time comes to fight," Harry stated, more sure of his words now than he had been of anything else he had said to Remus that day.
Harry was surprised when Remus smiled broadly, taking years off his aged-looking face. "Harry, no matter what anybody tells you, you are not your father. You are definitely your own man."
Harry smiled back, just as brightly. Little did Remus know the effect that comment had on Harry. It was just what he wanted—no, needed—to hear. Harry had never truly gotten over seeing his father in the role of tormentor that day in Snape's Pensieve. Although he had accepted the fact that people changed, and James Potter was one of them, he had also acknowledged that he and his father were definitely quite different. However, when Sirius had pointed that out, it had been with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"You're not as much like your father as I thought."
Coming from Remus, it was neither a compliment nor an insult. It was simply an acknowledgement; one that Harry had been waiting for someone else to make.
"Alright, Harry, I must be off soon. I have a few more things to finish up with at the house before I get ready to stake out Privet Drive. Before I go though, I have something for you. You actually have your friend Hermione to thank for it…Ah, here it is." Remus pressed a soft, lumpy object into Harry's hand.
Harry rolled it around on his palm. It looked like a miniature backpack.
"Best set it down for a moment, that's it," Remus glanced around to make sure no muggles were looking their way. Then, he stealthily drew his wand and aimed it at the tiny pouch. "Engorgio."
Harry marveled at the now nearly bursting backpack. Predictably, it was jam-packed with books. As Harry scanned the titles, he noted that there were several on defense, a few he couldn't identify at a glance, and, just as he had asked, one on Occlumency. Hermione was as dependable as always, even while in…China?
"If these are from Hermione, how did you get them?" Harry asked, baffled.
"I paid a visit to her and her parents the day summer break began. She was worried that with Voldemort back, her parents would not want her coming back to Hogwarts next year, so she requested my assistance in persuading them. Before you ask, she will be returning for sixth year, but if you want anymore information on the subject you'll need to speak to her about it. Anyway, Hermione had already gathered up the books she already owned for me to bring to you, and had compiled a list of the others she thought would be helpful. Your friends care a great deal for you, Harry."
"I know," Harry replied affectionately, "it goes both ways."
"Of course," Remus was smiling nostalgically, probably remembering his days as a Marauder. "Well, I'll be off then. Get started on those books, especially the Occlumency. Learning from a book should be easy after dealing with Sniv—I mean, Professor Snape," Remus grinned.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, a breeze, I'm sure. Goodbye, Remus!"
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It was nearly sunset when Harry picked up the heavy bag of books and began to walk back to Number Four. The backpack weighed so much that Harry had to stop several times to catch his breath, and he wondered why Remus hadn't had the good sense to cast a lightening charm on it. He was nearly to the yard when something very large knocked into him from behind.
"Billeeee…why'd you go so soon?" slurred an unfamiliar female voice. Harry dropped the bag and spun around…only to feel a cold hand wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him close.
The hand belonged to a girl a little older than Harry, and one who was quite pissed, at that. She was wearing jeans and a skimpy tank top, and for some reason looked very familiar. Harry gently removed her hand from his neck and took a step back.
That was it, she was the girl he had seen climbing into that house the night he almost ran away! Unfortunately, the revelation didn't help him much with the situation at hand. What did one normally do with a drunk girl found wandering the streets in the evening? Aunt Petunia wouldn't let him bring her inside, and he couldn't just leave her stumbling around helplessly in the dark.
Harry sighed and decided he'd just have to drop his books off and walk the girl home; that was assuming the house she had climbed into a week ago was, in fact, her home. Keeping an eye on the girl (who, at the moment, was examining her fingernails with a goofy grin on her face), Harry left his bag in the Dursleys' front hall then jogged back.
"Right then, my name's Harry, and I'm going to walk you home now, okay?" he said, as patiently as he could.
The girl just looked confused, cloudy blue eyes regarding him droopily. "'Kay," she answered, but before Harry could grab her hand and lead her down the pavement, she collapsed. He rolled his eyes and bent down to pick her up, but jumped back when she began to retch right in the Dursley's manicured front lawn.
Harry just stood by in shock until the girl finished. She must have been through this before, because even in her state, she remembered to hold her long, light brown hair out of the way. As soon as the disgusting choking sounds ceased, a soft sob filled the quiet night air in its stead. If Harry had been stumped as to what to do with a wandering pissed girl, he was even more at a loss when it came to pissed, crying girls. He settled on kneeling in the clean grass by her side and awkwardly patting her shoulder.
"Er, ready to go home now?" he asked.
The girl turned red, teary eyes to him and nodded pathetically. Harry helped her up, and she settled her arm around his shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn't notice the perplexed look he gave her, as she was too busy sniffing noisily and trying to determine where she was.
Luckily for Harry, the walk over to her house went smoothly and quietly. It wasn't until they reached the doorstep that the girl spoke again.
"Thank you," she muttered softly, her head hanging in embarrassment. "'M sorry, I didn't catch your name…"
Harry almost reminded her that he had given it earlier, but remembered her condition and simply answered, "It's Harry. Harry Potter."
"You're a good guy, Harry," she sniffled, before opening the door without knocking and stumbling inside. The last thing Harry saw before turning to leave was a frightened and angry looking woman charging across the room to receive her. As he walked back to the Dursleys', Harry pretended that his parents were there, worried and waiting for him to return.