A/N: I think Tonks and Lupin are good together, too!

The sun rose pinkish like a blush slowly unfurling. It seeped through the clouds and the fog and gently blew itself in through the windows and cracks of a many-storied house, seeming to encourage the tottering levels to stay up, even for just a second longer. The house squared and steadied itself, daring a certain snowy owl to come perch at its rooftop.

Harry looked uneasily into his cup of pumpkin juice, trying not to think about the horrible situation he was in. Ron rolled an apple under his palm, giving a rhythm that thundered down the aged wood and to the mug Hermione was holding with both hands. She took a slow and careful swig of her tea, taking time to swallow so that someone else would be required to talk.

These were his best friends. They had been with him through the Sorcerer's Stone incident, the Chamber of Secrets, and the Marauders' reappearances. He forced himself not to bring into light the fact that although they had been at his side up until the last minute, it was he who had to face everything. He was not at all resentful; in fact, he was grateful that Ron and Hermione did not have the awful memories that resided in his mind. But Godric's Hollow he would have to do entirely alone.

Ron stopped playing with his apple and coughed loudly. "No arguments, Harry, we're coming with you."

"We told you at Dumbledore's funeral that we would be with you always," Hermione followed quickly.

"You are. I'm not saying you aren't," began Harry.

"Then what are you saying, mate? That wasn't a figure of speech."

"This is something different." Harry stared straight into Hermione's eyes, hoping that she, of all people, would understand. "Alright, I'm worried that it'll be dangerous, but this is something different."

"You already said that several times already." Hermione looked back at him just as forcibly. "What's your point?"

How could he tell his best friends that this was private? How could he tell them that when he went to his parents' house and his parents' grave, he didn't want anyone to be there with him and watch him—he wasn't too sure what he would do—? And there was always the threat of dementors. And/or Death Eaters.

"You know, I'm really sorry to say this, but you've become really—well, almost paranoid," said Hermione softly. She and Ron exchanged a glance, and Harry felt his insides hollow.

"Paranoid?"

"Almost twitchy." Ron smiled sadly at him. "This is no different from other times."

So they thought he was twitchy. He could feel little explosions in his head, conflicting emotions that ran into each other and multiplied, like Fred and George's fireworks. It wasn't as if he could get mad at them. He wasn't annoyed, either. The closest he could get was selfishness, but a small voice from somewhere in the back of his mind told him that it was something else. He—he wasn't—he couldn't be—

"We're not afraid of what's out there," said Ron.

Harry was afraid; he was frightened like no other time in his life that he could remember. He could feel a dementor rearing its shadowed head somewhere.

Another uncomfortable minute sitting in a chair that had a splinter poking uncomfortably in some spot that he could not quite pick out, and Harry suddenly put his cup down. The juice was warm from his touch and from an hour left without being drunk.

"Do you really want to know why?" said Harry. He guarded his words carefully so that his friends would not take offense. He guarded himself carefully so that he would not sound offended. He could not help dragging it out. "Do you really want to know why I want to go to Godric's Hollow alone?"

Ron looked up at the ceiling, exasperated, in response. "What do you think we've been trying to find out for the last hour?" Hermione shot him a look that told plainly of something along the lines of, "You've still got the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Harry cleared his throat and avoided their burning gazes. "I don't know what I'll see, and I don't even know what I'm expecting."

His excuse sounded pitiful even to his ears.

"Does it look like we're convinced at all?" Hermione crossed her arms, and prodded gently with her eyes.

"I'm scared of what I'm going to face." Harry felt Ron and Hermione freeze up in their seats, and cringed as he wondered what they were thinking. He heard footsteps on Ginny's floor, and hoped against hope that she wouldn't feel compelled to come downstairs. They had deliberately met in the kitchen at daybreak to talk amongst themselves, and Ron refused point blank to allow his sister in. "She might be your girlfriend, Harry, but there's no way we're even going to discuss her coming along with us. Mum would kill me if she knew that I was going—and yes, Harry, I am."

There they were in silence, each tensed and prepared to think up some story if Ginny came along. The sounds stopped after they heard a toilet being flushed. Harry could tell they switched to being concentrated at him, but no one moved. The apple rocked slightly when a breeze wafted in from the open window.

"That's why we want to come with you Harry," said Hermione, voice breaking. She squeaked as Harry stood up suddenly and walked to face the window. He heard Ron's chair screeching on the floor as he turned to look at Harry's back.

"You would think differently if you were going to visit your mum's and dad's grave." Harry had put back saying it for a while, but it came in a flood when that wind rushed through his hair and seemed to liberate him. "You would think differently if you weren't about to return to the place where you were once born, loved, and almost killed. You don't know what it's like, wondering if the house is still there, whether there's any trace left of your parents, whether anyone there cares."

He poured this all out calmly, facing the garden outside. A stray lawn gnome crawled out of its hole and scratched its leg, yawning and baring dirty teeth. A flap of wings told him that Hedwig was still out hunting. A stifled sob came from the direction of where Hermione was sitting, but nothing else.

"I'm going to ask Lupin to tell me where Godric's Hollow is," Harry continued. "I can apparate there." He turned around and watched Hermione tap Ron's shoulder's, motioning for him to follow her upstairs. She took Ron's hand in hers very quietly, and glanced back once last time at Harry. They rounded the corner and Harry heard the soft, measured footsteps go up and above him.

Then the pain inside trembled so violently that Harry gasped. Hedwig suddenly flew in the window and clutched her talons tightly on Harry's arm. Her unblinking eyes focused meaningfully at Harry.

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" Harry said to no one in particular. With another penetrating squeeze, Hedwig released him and flew off again. Harry sat at the table for another hour, anticipating the full rise of the sun. More flurried sounds came from upstairs, and he knew that the inhabitants of the Burrow would be down very soon.

Lupin and Tonks faced him on the kitchen table, searching with their eyes. Tonks' cheery grin slid off her face when she saw Harry clutching the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and exchanged another glance similar to Ron's and Hermione's with Lupin. Harry wished that they would not pity him.

"I want to go to Godric's Hollow." Lupin stiffened visibly, and Tonks reached out with her hand at Lupin. "Professor, can you tell me where it is?"

Lupin sighed and shook the hair out of his eyes. "Do you remember that Dumbledore was your parents' Secret Keeper?"

Harry had forgotten that. Oh, no—

"Well, now that he's—gone, he would have taken the secret to his grave."

The small child in Harry cried out loudly, but Harry swallowed hard. "Does that mean that no one can ever know or go to Godric's Hollow?"

"No. There is more to it," said Lupin, smiling encouragingly. "Wizarding law dictates that when both the Secret Keeper and the Secret Givers have passed away, the secret is released into the world. It assumes that there is no use in putting magic to a place that no longer needs it."

Harry closed his eyes for a while, letting a sort of relief fill him. It was not all relief, oh no, because part of him was hoping that he wouldn't have to face it, hoping that the ache would just float away and become part of the history of his family. When he opened his eyes again, Lupin was staring at him with a mixture of pity and understanding, and Tonks was looking away.

"So will you tell me where to go?" A long, pregnant silence met his words, in which Harry prepared for the worst and Lupin inhaled and exhaled shakily.

"But are you sure you want to?" said Lupin. "I am the last of James's true friends, Harry, and I feel as though I should—well, at least try to take the place of your father and Sirius. Impossible shoes to fill, I know, but I'm speaking from their memories."

Lupin's threadbare coat shivered visibly with Lupin's clasped fingers, and Harry remembered that Lupin felt the loss of James and Sirius just as much as he did. "I—I think that I have to, Professor."

"Harry, no one is requiring you to visit Godric's Hollow. In no way will it help bring them back from the grave."

"I'm not trying to find them," said Harry. "Well, not them physically. This is something that I want to do, what I've always wanted to do, before . . . before whatever comes my way and it's too late to bring back the past."

"You're making it sound like you're saying your final goodbyes," spoke Tonks for the first time. "We're not going to let you think that you're going to die soon."

But Lupin was not listening. He watched Harry fidget for a while with a loose piece of string from the hem of his shirt.

"I think I understand." He stood up and walked away, and Tonks looked uncomfortable for a while, and then followed him.

The morning was still for another half hour, and Harry drank the remaining dregs of juice from his cup. He wasn't sure what Lupin was telling him. So is he saying that he'll give me the directions?

The answer came when Hedwig flew back in and dropped a letter onto Harry's lap. It was from Lupin; Harry fumbled with the envelope and pulled out a hastily-written piece of parchment:

Dear Harry,

I think it will be easier for both you and me to communicate this way. There is too much pain involved for both of us, and I don't want to give the impression that I'm being overprotective.

I know that you are no more the adolescent you were before Sirius's death. What you said to me proves that you are old enough to deal with the truth, and the truth is what I'll give you; I won't hide my opinion and filter out things that a teenager wouldn't want to hear.

Dumbledore told me last year about the Horcruxes. He told me that it was a terrible burden to place on your shoulders, even if you were, indeed, the Chosen One. It frightens me—more, I think, than it frightens you, that it is up to you to kill off Voldemort piece by piece. Your other brushes with death had you with the people who cared very much for you. You were extremely lucky, I won't deny that. But now your guardians have been killed off, one by one, and you are alone. Ron and Hermione, intelligent and as well-meaning as they are, cannot follow you to this path.

Loneliness cannot be much of a stranger to you. I think that I am right, however, in saying that the future is not lonely. In the past, you were a child, and not having physical company would have traumatized you. You are not a child anymore, Harry, and this is why you have to go to Godric's Hollow. It is, in a way, a final goodbye. You have to part with what happened before in order to truly set off and do what adults do—that is, fulfill their destiny, as clichéd as this might sound.

As I've said before, it is impressive that your greatest fear is fear itself. You might feel nervous in facing the death of James and Lily, but it is not fear. If you were truly frightened, you would not be so determined to go.

Godric's Hollow is a place that I have visited many times while your parents were still alive. (Here, Harryread Lupin's directions, and saw that many lines were crossed out as if Lupin had taken much care in giving them.)

I wish you the best of luck, Harry, not only in this little adventure, but for whatever you plan to face. Your parents would have been extremely proud to know that you are taking responsibility for yourself—and it is useless for me to say that I am proud of you. Despite what you might think, saving the world is very, very, rare for most boys—but you are not a boy. And despite what people may tell you, you do not have to be superhuman to overcome the greatest evil, perhaps, that the world has even seen. Like Dumbledore is fond of saying, remember that your greatest attribute is love, and that is something Voldemort knows nothing about.

Remus Lupin

P.S. You are doing the right thing by going by yourself. Ron and Hermione will come to understand this.

A/N: It is really difficult to write in Harry's POV, like Ms. Rowling does, because he does not know things about himself. So I tried to make it clear why Harry's visit to Godric's Hollow is such an imperative point of his development and growing up by using Lupin's letter, without going into the corny side of things. This chapter is not something you would see in the real Harry Potter books, but humor cannot edge its way into this territory. For me, this is incredibly sad and poignant. Harry's adulthood is only something we've just been introduced to, and my story is to delve deeper into that. Although the genre may be action/adventure, I'd like it to expand on Harry really understanding himself before finding Voldemort. Really corny and stupidly ambitious, I know, but hey, writer's prerogative.

Oh—(sorry, long A/N) Ginny's OWLs are coming next chapter. I do not really like angst that much, so a chapter like this one will not make an appearance very soon or very often.