A/N: Sorry for the delay - I've been busy reading! I won't say anything for those who haven't read HBP but I believe the word "squeeeee!" just about covers it. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and I am not making any money off of this story.

Chapter Three

Harry entered the Burrow's homey kitchen to find it empty save for Mrs. Weasley, who was currently tasting a delicious smelling sauce from a large pot.

"Hmmm. Needs more Toe of Newt," she murmured. She turned to see Harry and he was heartened to see her kind eyes light up. "Oh, Harry, there you are," she said as she came forward and wrapped her arms around him.

He couldn't help but close his eyes at the wonderful sensation of being held safely in a mother's arms. He marveled that he wasn't as uncomfortable to this display of affection as he'd been previously. He inhaled the scents of ginger biscuits, vanilla, and soap. The scents affected him strongly, as if he'd known them before. To his surprise he found himself responding to her embrace, arms tightening around her plump figure and he wondered if maybe his mum had smelled the same.

The embrace had been both too long and too brief when Harry pulled back, a little embarrassed by his emotion. He kept his eyes on the worn but freshly scrubbed wood table.

"Um, thank you for the letters and the pies, Mrs. Weasley. They…helped…a lot." He looked up to see her smiling sadly at him.

"I'm glad to hear it, Harry." She paused. "And, how are you doing?" she asked kindly.

"I'm…" he trailed off, the automatic response of "I'm fine," dying on his lips. He couldn't lie, not to Mrs. Weasley. He looked up at her and for the first time in his life, he consciously let down the walls around his heart and let her see exactly how he was doing; the grief, anger, and numb, numb shock. "I'm," he repeated, as if that was all there was to say.

He didn't even hesitate when she opened her arms to him again. "I know," she said quietly, her small, delicately strong hand rubbing gently along his upper back and shoulders. She held him at arm's length and looked in his eyes. They were strong and sympathetic. "I know."

She released him then and smiled at him. "Now then, why don't you go join the others at the table. We're eating outside this evening as there are so many of us and it's nice and warm out. I'll be along in a minute with dinner."

He forced himself to return her smile, grateful for the change of topic. It had been nice being held by her, but he just couldn't talk about that yet, because talking would make it real, and he just couldn't handle that right now. He cleared his throat. "Okay. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you, Harry. Go on, I'll be out in a minute."

No one paid him any notice, to his surprise and great relief, when he joined the other Weasleys outside at the makeshift table that had been set up. Hermione did send him a concerned glance, though, and he nodded to show he was okay. He was glad for the dim light on that warm summer night that might conceal any evidence to the contrary. He received a slap on the back in welcome by Mr. Weasley who asked Harry how he liked his "disguise."

"I've got a closet full of muggle clothing in my shed that I've been hanging on to for years. Never knew when it would come in handy. Glad to finally get a chance to use it. I must say, though, muggles certainly like their colorful outfits. I guess the bright colors and patterns make up for the lack of magic in the cloth."

"Um, yeah," Harry agreed. He didn't have the heart to tell him that most muggles wouldn't be caught dead in an outfit like the one he'd worn that afternoon. He was spared a further response when Mrs. Weasley entered the yard through the kitchen door, followed by a dozen bowls and platters piled with food, all floating along in the air behind her.

Harry chose a spot beside Ron and the next few minutes were filled with dishing food onto plates and passing them around. By the time his plate had gotten back to him, Harry found that it was piled high with enough food for two people, or one Ron. He caught Mrs. Weasley's eyes from where she sat at one end of the table and guessed that she was the culprit. She simply winked and smiled at him.

"Eat up, Harry. I swear you're thinner every time I see you."

He smiled and set to, noticing with a grin that Ron's plate was already half cleared.

Talk around the table was light and Harry was glad for the chance to forget everything else. Hermione and Ginny were giggling over something – Harry didn't know what – and he was struck by the sight of Hermione with her hair and makeup charms and giggling and being, well, girly. It was an odd sight to be sure, but Harry couldn't help but smile. It seemed that having a girlfriend was good for Hermione. He wondered vaguely when the two girls had become so close.

Ron looked up from shoveling roast beef into his mouth and his eyes followed down Harry's line of sight. "Thick as thieves, those two," he told Harry. "And just as sneaky," he muttered. "All they do is whisper and giggle. 'S 'enough to drive a bloke mad." His ears tinged pink when a particularly raucous peal of laughter escaped the two girls.

But before Harry could question his friend, Ron turned his attention back to his plate. "Nutters, both of them," he stated, and as if that settled the matter, turned his attention back to his dinner.

Conversations floated in the air around him. "You'll have to visit our shop, Harry," Fred was saying.

"Yeah. We really lucked out on that one. The previous owner had died some years back and the widow didn't want to deal with managing the property, so we got the building for a great price, especially since we could pay gold up front."

"It came with a flat above the shop – that's where we live now – but we usually stop in once a day or so for meals."

Further down the table, Mrs. Weasley was talking with Bill and Ginny. "When are you going to bring that lovely Fleur over for dinner?" she asked Bill, causing him to cough into his tea.

"Yeah, Bill," Ginny piped up with an evil grin. "I hear her Eengleesh is greatly improved."

"Which is funny, since it's French that they're studying," Fred joked, making kissy faces that involved a great deal of his tongue. Harry snorted into his napkin while Mrs. Weasley admonished Fred.

"And you wonder why I haven't brought her over," Bill said dryly. He turned to Charlie, who had been enjoying the humor at his brother's expense. "Don't laugh – Mum's going to be all over you too now that you're back. So, Charlie, are there any special young women in your life?" he asked in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Weasley.

"Please. I was getting that even in Romania. Never mind that I was on a secluded dragon reserve with five other blokes, all I ever heard in her letters was, have you met anyone lately, a lovely Romanian witch, perhaps?"

"Oh, now really. I'm not as bad as all that," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "If you two would just settle down and provide me with grandbabies then I would leave you alone."

"Oh! Are you really staying? You're not going back to the Reserve?" Ginny asked Charlie.

"Not for the time being, Gingersnap," Charlie replied, ruffling his sister's long red hair.

"Charlieee," she groaned, "I told you not to call me that!"

"I'm sorry, Giineevrraa," in a manner that suggested that he wasn't sorry at all.

"Hmmph. You're not my favorite brother anymore."

"So what are you going to be doing, if not dragon-keeping?" Ron asked.

"Who says I'm not dragon-keeping?" he answered vaguely. "Seriously though, I wanted to be home now what with everything that's going on, and who knows, maybe you'll be seeing more of me this year?"

Harry had little time to wonder about Charlie's cryptic statement before dinner was over. They shuffled inside and Ron turned to Harry. "Feel like losing to me in chess?"

A few minutes later Harry was looking for some way to get out of the hole he found himself in when he felt someone coming up behind him. He would later marvel that he didn't tense like he might have usually. A large, warm hand landed lightly on his shoulder and he looked up to see Mr. Weasley smiling down on them. Harry was suddenly reminded of the twins by the mischievous twinkle in the older man's eyes.

"Ah, chess," Mr. Weasley said. "You know, I was quite the strategist back in my day.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Sure, Dad."

Mr. Weasley smirked and noticing that it was Harry's move, leant down and whispered in Harry's ear. Harry grinned widely and moved his rook. "Checkmate!" he cried.

Ron gaped at the chessboard, astonished disbelief written across his features. "Dad! No fair!"

Mr. Weasley chuckled and ruffled Ron's hair. "Night, boys. Goodnight, girls," he called to Ginny and Hermione. "Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Dad," the four teenagers chorused cheekily. They could hear Mr. Weasley's laughter floating behind him up the stairs.

Ron turned back to Harry and grinned evilly. "Right, then. Two out of three. And no more cheating."

Harry stuck out his tongue and began setting up the pieces for another game.

After an evening spent losing spectacularly to Ron in chess, and watching Ron watch the girls who were laughing and talking softly over a teen witch magazine, Harry happily trudged up the stairs of the Burrow, listening to them creak their familiar tune, and generally feeling more content than he had in some time. It wasn't until he reached Ron's room and saw his still packed trunk and the Firebolt on his bed that he remembered that he wasn't going to stay in this place that he had come to call home.

Instead, he would be traveling to headquarters soon. He thought of the gloomy old mansion with apprehension. It had been depressing enough last year when HE was alive. How would it be now?

And Professor Lupin was living there now – the last of his father's friends. How would he face him? What would he say?

He was still brooding when Ron came in a few minutes later, somewhat pink faced. He plopped down on his bed and sunk his flaming face into his pillow.

"I don't understand girls," he said forlornly.

Harry thought of Cho. "I don't think we're supposed to."

A long silent moment passed and it looked as if Ron wasn't going to elaborate. Harry decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Hermione certainly seems…different," he said lightly.

Ron snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "You think you know a girl and then suddenly after five years, she goes all Lavender Brown on you."

"I think she looks nice. Don't you?" Harry asked, wondering why Ron's ears were now a telltale pink.

Ron shrugged. "She's okay. But it's her personality that's really changed. Do you know I haven't done a lick of homework this summer and she has yet to nag me! Not once! I'm telling you, Harry, something's up with that girl and it's all Ginny's fault! She wasn't like this before she got here and started staying up late, laughing with Ginny and talking about boys." He sighed, shaking his head. "Girls. They're nutters, the whole lot of them."

As Harry lay back on his bed with thoughts of Cho in various moods from last year running through his head, he couldn't help but think that Ron just might be right.

Mrs. Weasley woke him a few hours later from a dream in which he had visited the Incurable Malady Ward at St. Mungo's. Gilderoy Lockhart was beaming his Witch Weekly award winning smile and declaring in a loud voice, "Nutters! The whole lot of them!" Cho Chang was sitting in the next bed clutching a bouquet of red roses with massive tears streaming from her eyes.

"Michael Corner sent me these!" she cried. "Oh, I'm so happy!" And with that she proceeded to sob into her pillow.

Harry hastily walked past her bed to find Hermione sitting in the next bed with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, shrill giggles erupting from the three girls.

"And then he said, (whisper whisper) and I could have died!" Hermione was saying. "I mean he's just about the nicest boy at school. And I did our star charts and it says we are destined for each other. (sigh)"

Harry was in such a rush to get away from Hermione that he bumped into Luna Lovegood. She looked around the room with unusually focused eyes. "Can you believe it? I'm the sanest girl here. Well, I'm off. Crumpled Horn Snorkacks don't find themselves you know."

But it was the last occupant here in the Incurable Malady Ward that really shocked Harry. A very grown up, very beautiful Ginny Weasley was standing in front of him, and her long red hair seemed to glow and pulse as only colors in dreams can do.

"Don't look at me like that, Harry," she was saying sadly. "I'm over you."

The dream shifted and another woman with long red hair was holding him, shielding him and crying, "Not Harry! Please, not Harry!"

"Mum?" he murmured as his eyes blinked open.

"Wake up, Harry," Mrs. Weasley was saying. "We're leaving for Headquarters now."

She left the boys to get dressed and Harry fumbled for his glasses. "Why do we have to leave in the middle of the night?" he groaned.

Ron stumbled out of bed. "Moody."

Harry nodded and threw on his clothes while trying to gather his things together.

Minutes later he was downstairs, yawning and sitting on his trunk. Ginny and Hermione shuffled down the stairs shortly after, both looking adorably sleepy in their bedraggled state. Harry bit back a grin. Hermione had obviously forgone the hair charms; her brown mane was just as bushy as ever.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked Ron.

"Bu-us,"he yawned.

"Those who can Apparate have gone ahead," Mrs. Weasley said, entering the room from the kitchen. "An Order member will be taking you four by Knight Bus."

"Oh, who is it?" Harry asked.

He was answered by a loud CRASH from the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley groaned. "TONKS!" she yelled.

"My bad!" a disembodied voice yelled from the kitchen. "Sorry, Mrs. W." The kitchen door swung open to reveal the auror and Order member, Nymphadora Tonks, whose hair was currently a fetching shade of puce. She smiled a greeting at Harry and looked around at the four teenagers. "Right, then. All packed and ready to go?" She waved her wand and the school trunks roped themselves together in a line and rose into the air. "We'd best get moving, then. Mad-Eye and some others are on the Knight Bus now pretending to be regular passengers so we'd better not keep them waiting." She smirked evilly. "Moody doesn't travel well, so he's likely to be a bit of a grouch."

"Is he ever not a grouch?" Ron asked.

And indeed the old auror was looking a little green around the gills by the time the group boarded the Knight Bus. "Don't look at me!" he growled as they passed. "You don't know me, you've never seen me before, we're strangers on a bus, got it?"

Harry and Ron walked on and Harry smirked to hear Ron mutter "Constant Vigilance," under his breath. They found beds at the back of the bus and prepared themselves for the leisurely, relaxing ride before them. Ron lay down on his bed. "Gee, I hope I don't fall asleep," he quipped sarcastically. Harry laughed, thinking that he was so tired that he just might do that.

He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when they entered headquarters. It was as dark and quiet as he remembered from his first visit, but Harry could immediately tell something was different. The oppressive air of death and despair that had hung over the Black house was gone. Everything was still; it was almost…peaceful.

"Mum's done a lot of work here fixing the place up," Ron said as if reading Harry's mind.

"We helped," Ginny piped up with a groan. "My back still hurts."

"Yes, well, let's not stand here in the dark hallway," Tonks said. With a wave of her wand, the torches along the wall sprang to life, bathing the foyer in a warm glow. Even from the dim light Harry could see that Ron was right. Headquarters looked a great deal different from how he remembered. It was not only cleaner; it seemed more…cheerful somehow.

"Well come along now. Let's get your things settled in your rooms." Tonks stepped forward and promptly tripped over the umbrella stand, dropping Ginny's trunk with a loud crash.

Harry winced, bracing himself for the loud screams that surprisingly, never came. "I'm surprised that didn't wake up Mrs. Black," he said as they dragged their trunks upstairs.

"Good news there, mate," Ron replied. "Mrs. Black is no longer with us."

"They finally found a way to get her down?"

"Something like that." They entered the boys' room and dropped their trunks at the foot of their beds. Ginny and Hermione joined them on their beds.

"We had just gotten back from the memorial service and Mrs. Black made the mistake of mouthing off to Remus about Sirius. You know, going on about how he was worthless and had gotten what he deserved and that she only wished she could have seen him die."

Harry clenched the blanket in his fists. He had seen him die, had heard Bellatrix's curse, had seen him flying backward through the air to fall through the Veil. Even now he could hear her cruel laughter taunting him.

Ron continued with a sympathetic smile at his friend, breaking Harry out of his reverie. "Anyway, Professor Lupin just…lost it. I've never seen him so…angry doesn't even describe it. And he didn't even say anything; he just stood there, clenching his fists and staring at the portrait with a look of utter hatred. I could almost feel the fury coming off of him. It was so cold," he said with a shudder. "Scary."

Ginny nodded in agreement.

"It was even scarier because it was Professor Lupin, a man who has always epitomized self-control," Hermione said. "He is so calm and peaceful that it's hard to believe he turns into a werewolf every month. But as he stood there glaring at the portrait, I caught a glimpse of the beast within. Anyway, like Ron said, he didn't say a word but just stormed out. We were woken up later that night by piercing screams.

We raced downstairs to find Mrs. Black screaming in apparent pain although I wouldn't think that portraits could actually feel anything, but there she was, screaming while Professor Lupin poured turpentine over the painting, as calm as you please. Finally, she and her screams melted into a muddy little puddle on the floor which was easily taken care of with a scouring charm. He just stood there, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. He whispered something and then went to his room. I didn't hear what he said."

"He said, 'This is for you, Padfoot. Sleep well, old friend.'" Ginny said softly.

Silence fell over the room, each of the teenagers lost in their own memories of the fallen Marauder.

"Good for him," Harry said, his thick voice breaking the silence. "I'll bet Kreacher loved that."

"Good news there, too. Kreacher is, ah, no longer with us."

"Really?" Harry smiled. "Wait, he didn't run to the Malfoys, did he? Like last Christmas? What if he tells them about the Order?"

"Relax, Harry. He's not with the Malfoys, or anyone else for that matter. You know how his life's ambition was to have his head mounted on the wall next to his ancestors? Well, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Mum found the body in the kitchen," Ron explained.

"Along with the head," Ginny said with a disgusted shudder.

Harry blinked in shock. "Kreacher's dead? Wow…all I can say is good riddance."

"It was nice of him to save us the trouble. Nicest thing that rat ever did," Ron spat bitterly.

Harry turned to Hermione, expecting a S.P.E.W. lecture. "You're strangely quiet. Aren't you going to defend him like you always do?"

"Why should I? Sirius is dead because of him. We all almost died because of him," she replied, uncharacteristic anger coloring her voice. "If he hadn't lied to you that day, then we would have known that your vision was false – we wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius would still be…." She trailed off when her chin began to tremble and Harry immediately regretted his burst of anger toward his friend.

Hermione swiped at the tears in her eyes and cleared her throat. "I know I can be very…well, you know," she met Harry's eyes and smiled apologetically, "and I still believe very strongly in elf rights." She lifted her chin at this and looked for a second like the old Crusader-Hermione. "And I still pity Kreacher. It wasn't his fault – the Blacks made him that way. It's just…I guess I've gained a new perspective this summer. Having your ribs cracked in a fight for your life will do that to you. There are just…more important things going on right now."

"Does this mean spew is over?" Ron asked with a helpful smile.

"On hold, is more like. Until after the war, when I'm in more of a position to really make some changes."

"Like Minister of Magic?" Ron teased.

"Maybe. Anyway, there's no point getting upset over something that's already been done. Kreacher chose to take his life, which honestly, saved the Order the trouble. When Sirius died, Kreacher was no longer bound to the Order. There was nothing keeping him from telling all the Order's secrets to the Malfoys. He really did us a favor.

"Well, I'm glad he's gone," Harry said. "I wouldn't have been able to take his insults about Sirius, or Mrs. Black's, for that matter." He smiled at Hermione. "And I wouldn't have been able to take you going on and on about how we should be nice to him, so thank you. Your support on this means a lot to me."

They were still talking later when Mrs. Weasley came by to check on them. "You four should be in bed," she said. Harry noticed that she was still wearing her robes from that day. Apparently she hadn't yet been to bed either.

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny said, "but I don't think we'll be able to sleep just yet. We're all wound up now."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "No, I don't suppose you can sleep, what with Moody and his crazy schedules." She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, come on downstairs then and have some cocoa with us."

Us? Apparently they weren't the only ones unable to sleep that night. The teens followed Mrs. Weasley down to the kitchen.

A fire roared brightly in the hearth, casting a warm glow in the room. Harry paused in the doorway, spotting a lone occupant at the table, a steaming mug wrapped in his long, thin fingers. Remus Lupin looked up, his eyes locking onto Harry's and Harry was taken aback by the raw, naked emotion in the other man's eyes.

Harry faltered. He'd seen Lupin a number of times over the summer, but always for short Just-checking-up-on-you-how-are-you-doing visits during which his name never came up and during which they'd talked about Quidditch, the D.A., and marauding tales from Lupin's school years. But now that he was seeing him, here, in his house meant that eventually they would have to discuss him, the one loss they both had in common as he had been their last link to James and Lily.

Lupin smiled hesitantly at Harry. "Hello, Harry. How was your summer?" he asked with the air of one inquiring of a distant acquaintance.

"Um. Fine." He watched Mrs. Weasley bustle around the kitchen fixing mugs of hot cocoa.

"Oh, Harry, I asked Professor Dumbledore about your self defense idea and he agreed that it was a good idea. How were you thinking about implementing it?"

"Well mainly I've thought of using it in the D.A., but the problem is that I don't really know any of these 'martial arts.' I've read a couple of books on the subject, but reading about something and doing it are two different things. It would be great to bring in a master from one of these disciplines to teach us, but I don't know how common it is in the Wizarding world."

"Not very," Lupin agreed. "At least not in the western Wizarding world. In the East, on the other hand, in parts of Asia and Africa, martial arts and the use of magic are so intrinsically linked that it is believed that magic evolved from martial arts disciplines. And certainly many of the higher level martial arts techniques look just like magic."

"Yeah! The books claim there are legends about kung-fu masters being able to heal, or kill simply by hitting certain parts of the body called pressure points. And some were able to absorb the life-energy from their surroundings and then manipulate the energy, or chi, to use as a weapon, or to heal, or prolong their lives. There are one or two legends of people even reaching immortality – or at least living a very long time."

"Wow. Muggles can do all that?" Ron asked. "Why don't we know about it?"

Remus chuckled. "Well, most muggles can't do that; in fact the whole of martial arts are only practiced or studied by a minority of muggles, and mostly in the areas of the world I mentioned before. And even then the legends represent a scant handful of martial arts masters who had spent their entire lives in dedication to the practice. The various Wizarding governments in those areas are well aware of it and again, many of those legendary masters are actually believed to be wizards, or to have had some form of innate magical ability. In Britain, muggles mainly study it to learn self-defense skills, or for health/exercise reasons, and the ones who do learn the martial art for its own sake, usually only do so to reach a certain level, such as black belt. Rarely do people study it their entire lives as would be necessary to gain the abilities the legends tell about."

"My mum takes yoga classes," Hermione said. "She meets with others in a park near her practice."

"Yoga? That sweet, sour milk stuff that muggles eat?" Ron asked.

"That's yogurt, Ron," Hermione corrected.

"Yoga is a discipline of martial arts that is studied primarily for exercise and health benefits," Remus clarified. "Getting back to your question though, Harry, the trick will be finding someone in the Wizarding world who is also experienced enough in martial arts to provide instruction to students, and possibly even give you special training. But Professor Dumbledore does have a few ideas on that, so don't worry."

The conversation trailed off and everyone busied themselves by sipping their cocoa. Time passed and an awkward silence hung in the kitchen as everyone's minds were on the one person they were afraid to mention. Harry took a sip of his cocoa and cast about for something to talk about. He had to break the silence, or he would just think about him.

"The house looks very different – much nicer, Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, we've certainly done a great deal of cleaning. I don't know if the kids mentioned it, but Kreacher has passed, and so the cleaning effort has actually gone quicker without his interference. However, it's still going to require some effort to keep it this way, so I'm going to need you kids to help me while we're here. Now that it is clean, it won't be such an ordeal though. We just need to finish the rooms we haven't got to, and keep the remaining rooms clean – we should be able to maintain the house we just a couple of hours hard work each day. After the kids go back to Hogwarts, Remus, we should ask Albus about sending a house elf from Hogwarts to maintain the house."

"That's a good idea. We're going to have to do something about it, that's for certain."

"Why does it need so much cleaning?" Ron asked with a grumble. "I mean, yeah, it's a big house, but we've already put in more hours than it should have taken to clean, especially considering that some of us were using magic. Is it something to do with the house? Because it feels like the house is fighting against us."

"That's actually a very accurate supposition," Lupin answered. "Dark emotions like the kind the Blacks were filled with don't die away just because their owners did. This house has seen a lot of negative energy for generation after generation. That energy feeds on itself, growing bigger and bigger until the very house is saturated with anger and hate. In addition, many of the Blacks were practitioners of the darkest magicks, and the force generated by those spells doesn't fade, but weaves itself into the physical fabric of the building. This is, essentially, a Dark house, and such dwellings are hotbeds of infestation, attracting all manner of dark creatures and pests. This isn't something that can be changed overnight. It's going to take years of occupation by Light practitioners to erase the mark left by the Blacks."

"Can this 'dark energy' be good for Buckbeak, or us for that matter?" Harry asked.

"Oh, we're in no danger, we've exorcised the worst of it. It's probably not a good idea to spend a huge amount of time here; I think that's what happened to Kreacher. Spending ten years locked up in a Dark house will do that to anyone, elf or human. As for Buckbeak, he's back at Hogwarts with Hagrid. We've disguised his appearance, and he's being kept in the outer fringes of the Forbidden Forest so he's pretty safe. Besides, the Ministry doesn't have time to track down an escaped hippogriff."

"I'm glad for Buckbeak," Harry said with a watery smile. "Being cooped up here wasn't good for him. It's not good for anyone," he added softly. There was no mistaking that Harry was talking about him and once again a somber silence fell over the kitchen.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley stood to her feet. "Well, we'd better be getting to bed as we've got a lot to do tomorrow. We'll want to get up early if we want to get our cleaning in and still have part of the day for fun."

The teenagers got to their feet and began filtering out the kitchen door. Re us held Harry back as the others left the kitchen. "Harry, there's a matter we need to discuss."

Harry swallowed at the somber tone in the man's voice. "Okay, Prof- um, Remus. What is it?"

Remus slowly sank into a chair at the table and motioned for Harry to do the same. "It's – well, it's Sirius. His will." He paused as if gathering his thoughts. "Last year, shortly after Christmas, Sirius drafted a will, in case anything should happen to him. I think that after Arthur's close call, he realized that something could happen to him and he didn't want to leave you…well…alone. He knew that you had your parents' money and yes, you have the Dursleys, but he wanted you to have a…guardian. Someone to guide you and look after you in the way that he has always tried to."

"Do you mean like another godfather? Is it you?"

A soft smile flicked across Lupin's face. "Yes, so to speak. I will actually be sharing that role with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He knew that they see you as a seventh son and he wanted you to have that parental element in your life. Which isn't to say that they could ever replace James and Lily. But, Molly loves you like one of her own – and everyone should have that in their life.

"Sirius also knew that Molly's, well, 'molly coddling' would drive you mad in short order so he wanted me to provide some balance. I will be the voice of reason and logic, when her emotions get to be too much."

"So, what does this mean for me? How would this work? Are the Weasleys adopting me?"

Remus smiled. "Oh, I dare say they would if you wanted them to – although you would still have to spend the next holiday with the Dursleys – until you turn 17, that is. Officially, though, I am your godfather and legal guardian in the Wizarding world. But there will be times when I won't be able to be there for you; full moons, Order missions. That's where the Weasleys come in. Sometimes, especially in light of the prophecy, it's easy for people to see you as…a savior, a weapon."

"Like Dumbledore?" Harry asked, a trace of resentment coloring his voice.

Remus clasped Harry's shoulder and gave an understanding smile. "Professor Dumbledore is in the unfortunate position of having to weigh the lives of many against the needs of the few. I do not agree with every decision he has made regarding you. But I have the luxury of not being responsible for the welfare of the Wizarding community. People look to him for guidance and security. Parents send their children to Hogwarts – even in the midst of a war – because that's where Dumbledore is. Everyone trusts him to keep them safe. It is a great burden to place on one man's shoulders. For the sake of the Wizarding community, and even the muggle world, Voldemort must be stopped, and you are the only one who can do it. What are the emotional needs of one boy against the lives of so many?"

"So I am just a weapon then," Harry spat bitterly. "And that's why my parents died – to save me so I could save the world from Voldemort."

"Your parents died because they loved you and they wanted you to live, even at the cost of their own lives. Don't ever doubt their love for you. When Lily first heard of the prophecy, she refused to believe it. She fought it at every step. She didn't want that for you – to kill or be killed. It didn't matter that there was finally a chance of stopping Voldemort. All she could think about was you – about what the prophecy would mean for you. And she didn't want you to know about it. She made Professor Dumbledore swear that he wouldn't ever tell you the contents of the prophecy.

"She just wanted you to have a happy, normal life. And that's a mother's job – to consider her own children before others, to put their needs first. And that's where Molly comes in. When everyone else is thinking of you as a secret weapon, she will be looking out for your best interests, in the way that only mothers can. And I will as well. That is, if you want us to."

There was a long moment of thoughtful silence. Harry spoke up. "That – sounds nice. Do Mr. and Mrs. Weasley know?"

"They've already agreed. Sirius had actually approached Molly about it last summer, after seeing how she cared for you."

"But…they fought about me," Harry questioned, remembering the tense argument between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius last summer over how much information Harry should be given.

Remus ruffled Harry's hair as he stood up. "All parents disagree at some point on how to raise their children."

Harry had to smile at the thought, even if Sirius would no longer be playing the role of "father." But the reminder of Sirius's death brought to mind something else. "Professor, you mentioned Sirius's will?"

The easy smile faded from the older man's face. "Yes. The barristers who were handling the estate actually held the reading of the will at the beginning of the summer; we had to be sure that #12 wouldn't go to someone else in the Black family, like the Malfoys. Even though you were named as a beneficiary, it wasn't necessary that you attend because I was there as your legal guardian in the Wizarding world. We just felt that for you to have to attend the reading so soon after… well, that it might be difficult for you, and an unnecessary hardship."

"Yeah, I don't think I could've….So, what do you mean by estate?"

"Well, you know Sirius was the last remaining Black and as such was the heir to the Black family fortune."

"Yeah, but I thought that they had disowned him or something. They removed his name from the Black family tapestry and he said that the only money he'd had was the trust from his uncle. Why didn't the Blacks give the money to the Malfoys or the Lestranges?"

"Well, when they died – Sirius was still in Azkaban and believed to be Voldemort's greatest supporter. Mr. and Mrs. Black believed that Sirius had only pretended to like Muggleborns and that he was actually working as a spy for Voldemort. So, when they made out their will, they named Sirius as their sole heir, provided he ever left Azkaban. Otherwise, upon his death everything would go to the Malfoys. It's a very good thing he escaped when he did. So, everything went to him, including the house."

"But he didn't want it."

Remus chuckled. "Oh no, not a single knut. But he realized that it was better that he have it, than the Malfoys. It's less money going to fund Voldemort's war. Sometimes in a war, money can mean the difference between victory and defeat. Why do you think we're so anxious to make sure the goblins don't join Voldemort? It's also why you should keep what Sirius gave you. I know you don't want the Blacks' money – I don't either. But Sirius, he wanted you to have it."

"So what did the will say, then?"

"Well, basically, you get everything. The house and the possessions housed within, the contents of both the Black Family Vault and Sirius's personal vault at Gringott's, and whatever other holdings the Blacks had with a few exceptions. He gave some gold to Tonks, the Weasleys, and myself and distributed a few other items of sentimental value." Remus chuckled. "He gave Fred and George a book containing all of our notes from school; pranks, cool spells and charms; there's even a section on becoming animagi, and creating the Marauder's Map. I had completely forgotten that book even existed."

"Just what they needed - more ideas. As if they aren't dangerous enough by themselves."

"I know. It's a good thing they've already left Hogwarts, or Minerva would never forgive Sirius. Speaking of, in addition to the actual will, Sirius left behind a few messages, including one for you. I don't know how much you know about Wizarding wills but messages from the deceased are pretty common and the messages are delivered in an…unusual manner. I just want you to be prepared."

And so, Harry wasn't surprised a few minutes later to find Sirius's head floating in the middle of the kitchen table. He avoided looking at the ghostly apparition. It wasn't really Sirius, he knew, but a mere reflection of himself at the time of the will's writing. A mere memory, much like that of Tom Riddle in his diary.

Harry shut his eyes tightly when a familiar voice began speaking from the center of the table.

"Hey, Pup. I always called you Pup when you were a babe, but I guess Pup isn't really an accurate name – probably should be something like Fawn, but that sounds too poofy. Pup, now that's a nice macho name. Lily always called you Bambi, which I never understood – apparently it's a muggle thing."

Harry gradually relaxed and opened his eyes. He looked at the transparent image of his godfather and was startled to find Sirius's eyes locked on his. Remus had told him that Sirius would be unaware of Harry's presence but it still was so shocking. Harry shifted his chair until the ghostly gaze was no longer directly on him.

"Sorry, I'm rambling," the ghost Sirius was saying with a wry twist of his lip. "This is my tenth time doing this message and I vowed that no matter what I said or how idiotic I sounded that I would keep going until it was done. Besides, with any luck, we'll be sitting around when I'm seventy drinking Butterbeer and laughing about this so maybe this is all moot.

However, if you are seeing this, then I have managed to bite the big one, probably as a result of my own stupidity. See, I was always really good at getting myself into to trouble, and not so good at getting out of it. That's what James was for." The ghost Sirius's eyes seem to cloud and lose their focus.

"Since James died it seems like my life has been one big mess of trouble – oh wait, it has! At least until you came along, Pup. It hasn't always been sunshine and roses, but you gave me something I hadn't had in a long time, and that's purpose. A person can live without a lot of things, including love. Twelve years in Azkaban taught me that. But one thing you can't live without is purpose, and that's what kept me going in there; kept me from giving up to the dementia the dementors bring. Peter was still out there, somewhere, and I was the only one who knew that he was a threat to you.

I don't really know what to say except life…has not been good to me. And I don't mean this to sound self-pitying or suicidal or anything, but I have to say that the thought of dying doesn't really bother me. Mainly, I'm worried about leaving you and Remus behind, but you will at least have him there with you, unless he too has kicked it, in which case I'm going to thump him good when I see him again. And I will see him. I'll see James and Lily, and you, when the time is right. And that's what makes this okay. It's not good-bye, it's see you later.

So don't worry about me, Pup. I'm going to be just fine. And hopefully I went out in style, and not because I took a tumble down the stairs because otherwise I will never hear the end of it.

So, in closing, live long, live happy, kiss a pretty girl or two – or boy, if that's your thing, please tell me that is not your thing, but if it is, that's okay because there's nothing wrong with it. I myself have been known to – well, that's a story for another day.

Anyway, take care of yourself and I'll see you on the other side."

And with that the ghostly image faded, leaving Harry alone in the dark with his grief.