A/N I promised it'd be up today, and here it is. Enjoy, and review, please.


Old Friends Past

It was before dawn when Harry Potter woke up the day of September the first. For a moment, he just lay in bed, his mind pounding with the excitement of a new school year. The guttural snores of his best friend, Ron Weasley, filled the small room in which they slept; the attic of a newly-occupied Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. The new headquarters was established on the outskirts of London after the previous Headquarters, Number 12, Grimmauld Place, had sealed itself following the death of the Black Family's only heir, and in so doing, had sealed a ragged old house-elf in with it.

Harry was brought to the new headquarters only a couple of weeks into the summer when he refused to speak to anyone through owl post concerning his late godfather. His stubbornness had not improved since his arrival. If someone were to mention Sirius' death in front of him, Harry would leave the room and refuse to answer to any pleads the others might have for him to talk.

If the pleads weren't for mere conversation, then they were for him to eat, a luxury Harry had begun to refuse. But it was impossible for any of them to understand the turmoil boiling beneath his skin. Their words of comfort rarely helped. Their words of wisdom went unheard.

On July 31 they had celebrated his sweet sixteen. The house had been strung with long red and gold ribbons over the heads of many people all there to wish him a Happy Birthday. Harry had sat somewhere in the vicinity of the birthday cake, his face void of emotion and his posture slumped, clearly expressing the desire to disappear into thin air. When Harry had refused to eat any cake, many people stopped trying to converse with him and ignored him. But Hermione and Ron had remained unwavering in their quest to rediscover the Harry they used to know, and had made feeble conversation about school, Quidditch, and the OWL results that had arrived a week before. Once again, Ron had expressed his amazement at Harry's OWL in Potions and wondered, for about the millionth time, how he himself had managed an OWL in Divination. Harry's grunt responses discouraged them somewhat, but they did not leave his side throughout the party. They even helped him unwrap his gifts.

As Harry lay in bed, that early morning in September, he realized how unfair he had been to his two greatest comrades, but at the same time he knew that if he wanted to get through this year with a clean conscience, he needed to distance himself from his friends. Even the slightest connection to him would present a target to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and Harry would never want what happened to Sirius to happen to anyone else he loved.

By the time Harry finally toppled out of bed 20 minutes after he first woke up, his mind was working as though he had been awake for hours. He silently changed out of his pajamas and packed the rest of his things into the trunk open at the foot of his bed. He then slipped out of the room and went downstairs. He went to the front door and carefully unlocked it, opening it slightly to reveal a small, tawny owl on the doormat, a newspaper in its beak.

Harry pulled a couple of knuts out of his pocket and placed them in the pouch attached to the bird's leg. He took the paper from its beak, and the owl hopped slightly then spread its wings and flew off.

Harry closed the door just as quietly as he had opened it, and, with the paper under his arm, he stole into the kitchen, taking his usual seat on the corner of the table and spreading the paper out in front of him. The news was the same as it was everyday. A missing person here, a mysterious death there, all were subtle signs of Voldemort's return. His closest circle of Death Eaters were still detained in the dark cells of Azkaban, yet the dementors were still at large. Earlier in the summer, pamphlets had arrived at every Wizarding household detailing various spells to repel the enemy. Harry had scoffed at how simple they had made the Patronus Charm appear.

Harry carefully scanned the articles, his eyes lingering for a moment on the moving picture of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, standing in front of a crowd speaking about Voldemort's return and what the Ministry was doing to ensure the safety of the people. Even in photo-form he looked flustered.

Harry heard a noise from behind him and turned his head around so quickly that he cricked his neck. When he saw that it was just Remus Lupin, he returned to his paper, massaging his neck.

Lupin gave Harry a weak smile as he sat down across from him, a smile that Harry did not bother to return.

As they lapsed into silence, Lupin searched for some sort of conversation that would bring Harry out of this reverie of depression.

"So I hear Fudge is considering resigning," he said, leaning forward slightly.

Harry's reply was nothing more that a soft noise from his throat.

Lupin nodded, as though he had understood Harry's wordless response, and leaned back slightly in his seat.

Harry turned the page, completely ignoring Lupin.

"So today's the big day," Lupin said enthusiastically, taking another stab at conversation.

Harry looked up at him.

"Are you excited for school, Harry?" Lupin asked.

How old am I? Five? Harry thought. But he gave Lupin a small, crooked smile, hoping to subdue the questions.

But Lupin was relentless. Finally, he slammed his palms down on the table so forcefully that Harry jumped a little in his seat. "Tell me what to say, Harry," Lupin said pleadingly. "Tell me what to say to get the old Harry back. What I see in front of me is a mere shell of your former self. I understand the pain you went through when you lost Sirius, but I lost my best friend as well. Don't do this to yourself, don't torture yourself like this. It's not your fault that Sirius went to the Department of Mysteries, and it's not your fault that he died."

Harry looked at the man in front of him, and he felt like he was seeing his ex-professor for really the first time in his life. Gone was the wisdom and calmness. Instead Harry saw raw emotion, rawer than the werewolf inside him. This man had lost so much in his life; his three best friends, his freedom once a month, his jobs; and Harry saw the pain in him for the first time, when all shields and façades were down.

Harry kept eye-contact with him for a long time, and it began to feel a bit like a staring contest. Finally, Harry blinked and looked down. "There's nothing you can say," he said, his voice soft.

Lupin turned his head away, closing his eyes in the direction of the floor next to his feet. When he looked up again, Harry saw that the shield was back up and it was the calm and collected professor sitting across from him once more.

Done with the paper, Harry folded it up and offered it to Lupin who muttered a soft "thanks" as he took it from his hand. Harry meanwhile went to the parlor where he found his NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts book. He took it with him to the big armchair in the corner where he sat down and opened the book in his lap, his mind still with Lupin in the kitchen.

-

Six hours later found Harry aboard the Hogwarts Express, settled next to the window, sitting across from Neville Longbottom. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had yet to return from the Prefects carriage.

The other two companions in the compartment with him were carrying on a friendly conversation as Harry watched the countryside pass by his window. They had gotten to the station in cars provided by the Ministry of Magic, accompanied by four Ministry officials who had not left him alone until he was through the barrier. Whispers had followed Harry across Platform 9 ¾ and all the way into the compartment where Harry had planted himself.

Twenty minutes into the ride, Neville and Luna finally took it upon themselves to take notice of Harry.

"Did you have a nice summer, Harry?" Neville asked tentatively.

"It could have been worse," Harry replied, not bothering to look at Neville and instead gazing out the window. Yeah, sure it could have been worse, he thought bitterly. I could have been holed up in a dungeon and been tortured by the Cruciatus Curse every waking moment.

"That's good," Neville replied. "Luna, didn't you say you were going to go to Sweden this summer?"

"I went," Luna replied. "Daddy and I went to look for the Crumple-Horned Snorkak. No one seemed to know what we were talking about. They really are odd people over there, you know."

Neville nodded to Luna, at the same time fighting the urge to smile.

At that moment the compartment door slid open and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny collapsed into seats, Hermione sliding in next to Harry with Ron on her other side, and Ginny landing heavily in the seat next to Luna.

"So what'd we miss?" Ron asked, slapping his palms together and rubbing vigorously.

Neville and Luna glanced at each other. "Nothing," Neville replied, shrugging. "Luna and I were just talking about Sweden. Meanwhile Harry's been over there doing his best impersonation of a mime."

Harry shot him an angry glance but resumed looking out the window again. For a moment, he felt everyone's eyes on him and the back of his neck tingled. The next moment they had redirected their attention to the compartment door which had just slid open again.

This time, Harry moved his focus from the window to the three Slytherins framed in the doorway.

Instinctively, his hand plunged into his pocket and violently ripped his wand from its hiding place, training it on the scrawny blonde boy in the center of the trio. Everyone else in the compartment had done the same.

Unfortunately, Crabbe and Goyle both had their wands on Harry. Harry inwardly thought that maybe the situation wasn't so unfair. Crabbe and Goyle couldn't hit the ocean with a rock while standing on the beach.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said fiercely.

"I'm just. . . checking in," Malfoy returned, his eyes flickering over everyone in the compartment. "Doing my Prefect duties, you know. Not doing anything naughty, are you? I just might have to dock you points. . . ."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Ron growled. "Prefects can't dock points."

"Ah, Weasel King, you seem to have caught up to everyone's train of thought. You must have been practicing over the summer," Malfoy sneered. His eyes snapped to Neville in an instant. "Longbottom over here, on the other hand, might need a bit more help. Maybe Loony should explain it to him. She seems to be on his level." Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly.

"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione said warningly.

Malfoy smiled evilly. "And that leaves me with Mudblood, Potty head, and the Weasel King's sister," he began.

"Get OUT!" Harry roared so intensely that sparks shot out of the end of his wand. He had leaped to his feet and was now enjoying the hint of fear in Malfoy's eyes.

"Are you going to curse me, Potter?" Malfoy spat, eyeing the wand tip aimed at his head.

"Not if you leave right now," Harry said. "And believe me, you want to leave right now."

"You don't scare me, Potter," Malfoy sneered, closing the gap between himself and Harry so that Harry's wand was mere inches from the fabric of Malfoy's robes.

"Yeah? Well I'd better start scaring you," Harry warned. His fingers were itching to ram the wand into the side of Malfoy's head and utter the most foul curse he could think of.

"Remember what I said last June, Potter," Malfoy said, backing up to rejoin his friends at the compartment entrance. "Your head is mine." And after shooting a malicious glare at everyone else, he swept from the compartment and beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to follow.

Angrily, Ron slammed the door shut as everyone replaced their wands. Harry fell back in to his seat.

"What did Malfoy say to you last June, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing important," Harry replied, returning to his non-talkative demeanor.

"Harry, if he's been giving you death threats, that is important," Hermione said seriously.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said sharply, "it was just Malfoy being an idiot again."

Even though he wasn't looking, he knew that Hermione and Ron had shared a look. Thankfully they left him alone after that. That is, they left him alone until the witch pushing the snack trolley arrived.

Everyone got something except for Harry. When the door slid shut, Hermione turned to Harry and shoved a handful of food into his lap.

"Eat," she insisted.

"Not hungry," he replied, shoving the food back.

"Harry, don't be stupid," Hermione said, pushing the food back at him. "Look at yourself. You're as thin as a broomstick."

"I'm not hungry," Harry repeated.

"Leave him 'lone, Hermione," Ron said through a mouthful of pumpkin pasty.

"Don't tell me you support him starving himself," Hermione said, rounding on Ron.

"Of course I don't," Ron said, brushing some crumbs from his shirt. "But Harry's nearly an adult in the Wizard World. He can handle himself."

Harry felt a surge of gratitude towards Ron, but found he was unable to express it to the red head. Instead, he turned to Hermione and almost dared her to contradict Ron's last statement.

Hermione fell silent and left her food untouched in her lap.

An hour later, they all changed into their robes. Harry tried not to notice how Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were carefully placing their Prefect Badges on the right side of their cloaks. Even though he had agreed with Dumbledore's choice not to appoint him prefect, he still felt a pang of jealousy whenever he thought of Hermione and Ron doing something that didn't include him.

The train finally skidded to a stop, and they gathered at the exit to the train. Hermione and Ron didn't need to do anything to organize the other students, but Ginny did and so she rushed off to join Colin Creevey in their duty to sort out the first years.

The rest of them went to find a carriage, Harry keeping his head low in an attempt to skirt the stares and whispers that were expected to follow him everywhere. It angered him that not a single whisper contained the fate of Sirius. No one knew what had happened to Sirius aside from the people in the Ministry that night. No one knew that Sirius was an innocent man besides the Order and Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry clenched his hand around his wand in his pocket, fighting the need to scream at the top of his lungs.

He made it to the carriage with no problems, and climbed in first, closely followed by Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna. Ginny showed up not too long later. Harry hadn't even flinched this time at the sight of the thestrals. He actually felt comfortable around them this time. A bit like seeing an old friend.

The cart rumbled up the walk to Hogwarts, and no one inside the carriage spoke, listening instead to the rhythmic thump of cobblestones beneath the wheels. It was odd, but Harry had a feeling in his chest of anticipation of something bad. Knocking it aside as nerves, he ignored it and looked across the carriage from him, to where Hermione was sitting. She was looking right back at him, the moonlight streaming through the window and glinting off of her cinnamon brown eyes, giving her skin a delicate glow that imitated porcelain. Harry's stomach gave a little jolt at the fierceness in her eyes, and immediately drew his eyes away from her and out the pitch black window. The prickling on the back of his neck let him know Hermione had not dropped her gaze.

He ignored her and continued to stare out the window.

Thankfully, the carriage slowed to a stop and they leaped out and began climbing the steps to the Entrance Hall. Harry saw the huge oak doors looming over them, and with each step upwards, he thought of how soon, he would be too absorbed by his studies to think about the stupid Prophecy or Voldemort or Sirius. . . .

But fate was against him as he met Argus Filch at the top of the stairs. The caretaker violently reached out and seized a clump of Harry's robes. Instinctively, Harry reached for his wand, but Filch slapped his hand away.

"Don't be stupid, boy," he growled. "Dumbledore wants to speak to you in private."

"What?" Harry said.

"You heard me," Filch said, pulling Harry into the Entrance hall.

Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of his friends over his shoulder standing framed in the doors before he was dragged into a room opposite the Great Hall.

"Stay," Filch said as though he were speaking to a dog. He hobbled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry looked after him for a few moments before realizing that he wasn't coming back in. Instead, Harry looked around him and found himself in a large room packed with books, tables, and ending with a large fireplace on the far wall. He imagined that it might have been a small library long ago, but since then it has gathered dust and been outdated.

Unsure of what to do, he pulled out a chair at the nearest table and flopped down into it. On the table was a pile of old, yellowing and water-stained rolls of parchment. He tugged a random one towards him and carefully unrolled it. He saw the title first.

This hereby marks the account of Thomas Conway and his attempts to destroy the Dark Lord Grindewald.

It continued in spindly handwriting, filling up the entire parchment. He saw with a bite of distaste that it ended abruptly with a stain that rather looked like dried blood.

He let the parchment snap back into the roll and put it back on the table, marveling at his luck at choosing what appeared to be a rather gruesome bit of information.

He decided to not test his already queasy stomach with another parchment roll, and instead sat with his hands on his knees, staring blankly at the wall opposite him, deep in thought about why Dumbledore would want to talk to him. He had not seen the headmaster since June when Harry had smashed up his office and witnessed his weak side. Harry did not want to come face to face with the man again. Not yet.

He waited in silence for a long time, vaguely calculating in his mind how long it would take to sort the new year of students and for Dumbledore to beckon them all to eat. Harry was glad that he wasn't at the feast. It was one less opportunity for Hermione to nag him about his eating.

What felt like a long time later, the door opened and Albus Dumbledore, in all his glory, stood in the doorway. He wore dark crimson robes that flowed about him as though he were suspended in water, as well as a matching hat. His clear blue eyes glinted out at Harry from behind half-moon spectacles, and Harry felt that usual feeling that Dumbledore could see right through him.

"I will not delay you from the feast any longer than I must," he said, closing the door swiftly and striding to the chair next to Harry, pulling it out and sitting down. He fixed Harry with his unwavering gaze. "You know now my reasons for the actions I have taken concerning your life in the past. You will therefore understand my reasons for the actions I am taking now."

Dumbledore paused and heaved a great sigh.

"But before that, let's get our formalities aside. How was your summer, Harry?"

Harry suspected that a simple "It could have been worse" reply would not satisfy Dumbledore, and instead realized the full magnitude of the question. The only way Harry could describe his summer was to say it had been like he had been tossed down the garbage disposal and ground to a bloody pulp. Somehow he knew that Dumbledore might not like that graphic comparison. Harry also knew that Dumbledore saw through his lies. So Harry was left with the non-graphic truth. "Bad," he said finally.

"As expected," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry to say that this year won't be much better."

Harry nodded and lowered his head. Looking at his knees was easier than looking the old man in the face. In his mind's eye he could still see the glistening tears that man's eyes had held two months earlier.

"You're pained by the loss of your godfather," Dumbledore said, not as a question, but as fact. "You're feeling guilt you have no business feeling. You feel a loneliness inside of yourself that you feel is threatening to consume your being, but you welcome it as punishment for the guilt."

Harry shifted his eyes to the ground. He noticed that Dumbledore hadn't said Sirius' name, and remembered how he had yelled at his headmaster to not speak it. He had obeyed.

"You feel that you should have died instead of your godfather," Dumbledore said finally.

Harry stiffened his jaw defiantly. So what?

"Harry, look at me," Dumbledore said. Reluctantly, Harry looked up. "Is this true?"

Harry blinked hard. "Yes," he said stiffly. He chose to ignore the flash of sadness in Dumbledore's eyes.

Dumbledore stiffened in his seat and his voice became very business-like. "Very well. What I was speaking of earlier is your schedule this year. It will be different from the other students. Mondays through Wednesdays you will have your normal N.E.W.T. courses. Thursday you will have Advanced Defense and Occlumency. You will have Friday through Sunday free to do your homework. For your Thursday classes you will come to this room. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said. Dumbledore had never addressed him like this, like a teacher.

"Good."

Harry looked off to the side, letting the awkward silence engulf them.

When Dumbledore spoke again, his tone was fatherly again. "You're not a child, Harry. Don't make me treat you like one. I need to see that you can take care of yourself, like you have so wanted to prove. You are the most important part of this war, and I need you to be as strong as you are able. War is death, Harry. It's grief. It's losing someone one night and then waking up the next morning to fight for your own life. I need you to understand that. There will be many casualties in this war, and we have to stay strong and keep those numbers as low as possible. Do you hear what I'm saying, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said bitterly.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "You know if you want to talk, my door is always open."

Harry nodded, still looking at the ground.

Dumbledore stood up. "Well, I won't waste anymore of your time," he said, taking a step towards Harry. He took hold of Harry's hand and held it for a moment. "Don't torture yourself, Harry. No one blames you for anything. The password to the Gryffindor Common Room is 'snitch.'" He moved his hand to gently squeeze Harry's shoulder, and then turned and strode out of the room.

It wasn't until the door had clicked shut that Harry realized that Dumbledore had put something in Harry's hand. Carefully turning his hand over and unfolding his fingers, he saw a shiny gold and scarlet Quidditch Captain Badge resting on his palm.


Shawn Pickett - I'm very interested to see where this story goes also, lol.

Loony Loony Lovegood - Will do! ; )

Evenstar Elanor - Don't worry, Solus isn't gone. Sorry for my short attention-span, though, lol.

JeanieBeanie33 - Why thank you very much! I know that you review to my fics more than anyone, so thanks for that, I really appreciate it.

Thom Verdace - Ah, yes, sorry about that. But see, when I wrote that I was picturing "My Little Pony" type unicorns with the rainbow horns and fluffy white tails and big blue eyes. I know that's a bit unfair seeing as most mythological unicorns aren't anything like that, but I was just referring to the modern-day stereotype. My bad.