Title: Slipped Away
Author: Ex-Professor Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Action/Adventure/Alternate Universe/Romance
Era: OotP – HBP
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius (subtext based at the moment) and various others.
Summary: In a world where Sirius never fell through the veil, things will take a different sort of turn.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I am trying for now, to keep most of this story in Harry's point of view as it is in the books. Eventually though, I plan to move beyond Harry's limited point of view to others and possibly to a more omnipresent point of view. Maybe. This was originally going to be one chapter, but when I reached eight pages, I decided to split it up into two chapters.
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Chapter Two
Explanations
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Harry's feet hit solid ground again, his knees buckled a little, and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office. Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the Headmaster's absence, the delicate silver instruments stood again on the spindle legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures.

Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon. Dawn was approaching. The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of the sleeping portrait, calmed him to an extent.

He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think, but he had to think. It was his fault that his friends were hurt. If he – Harry – had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was – as Hermione has said – banking on Harry's love of playing the hero. Hermione had been unconscious – or she could not have been. What if one of them died? It would be his fault.

A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting snore and a cool voice said, "Ah, Harry Potter."

Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he surveyed Harry out of shrewd narrowed eyes.

"And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?" said Phineas. "The Headmaster's office is supposed to be barred except to all but the rightful Headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here. Oh don't tell me," he gave another shuddering yawn. "Another message from my worthless great-great grandson?"

Harry gazed at him. No message from Sirius, but of course, this reminded Harry that Sirius was still at the Ministry. He could be arrested again. Would he have to be held at the Ministry? Would they give him the Kiss? No – the Dementors were not under Ministry control.

"I hope this means," said the corpulent, red nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk, "that Dumbledore will soon be back with us."

Harry turned. The wizard was surveying him with great interest. Harry nodded and returned to his pacing about the office.

"Oh good!" said the wizard. "It has been very dull without him. Very dull indeed."

He settled himself on the throne-like chair on which he had been painted and smiled benignly upon Harry.

"Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know," he said comfortably. "Oh yes, holds you in great esteem."

The guilt, filling Harry's chest like some monstrous weighty parasite, writhed and squirmed. He could not stand this. Could not stand waiting for Dumbledore to appear so that he would not be forced to wonder if his friends were all right. If Sirius was proven innocent than he – Harry – could leave the Dursley's. It was eating him up and he paced, ignoring the portraits as they awoke, talking to themselves when they realized that Harry would not answer them.

The fireplace burst into emerald green flames, making Harry jump, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls gave cries of welcome.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore softly.

He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door, and withdrew from the inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, and placed him gently on the tray of ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, finally turning from the baby bird. "You will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events. Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up now. Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems she will make a full recovery."

"What about Sirius?" asked Harry, a wave of relief bursting from his chest.

"There is a hearing scheduled for next week and Sirius and Remus have returned to Grimmauld Place for the time being," Dumbledore replied, looking at him directly. Harry though, could barely meet his eyes.

Harry was sure that the portraits were all leaning in close, wondering where they had been and why there had been injuries.

"So – so I'll be able to live with Sirius now?" asked Harry, hopefully.

Dumbledore's smile disappeared and he shook his head.

"I am afraid that even if Sirius is proven innocent of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and given the freedom he deserves, that you will be unable to live with him. I am also afraid that you must remain at the Dursley's, if only for a little while longer," answered Dumbledore.

"Why?" demanded Harry.

"Sit down please," Dumbledore requested, and he crossed the room, sitting down behind his desk. Harry followed him, puzzled and angry as he lowered himself into the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.

"Harry, I feel that I must blame myself for what happened tonight, and that I must offer you an explanation."

"An explanation?" asked Harry, puzzled as to why Dumbledore wasn't answering his question. He didn't want an explanation.

"An explanation of an old man's mistakes. I see now that what I have done and not done with regard to you, bares all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth can not know how old age thinks and feels but old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young and I seem to have forgotten lately."

The sun was rising properly now. There was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colorless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"I guessed fifteen years ago," said Dumbledore, "when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort."

"You've told me this before, Professor," said Harry softly, not wanting to be rude.

"Yes," said Dumbledore apologetically. "Yes, but you see, it is necessary to start with your scar for it became apparent shortly after you rejoined the magical world that I was correct and that your scar was giving you warnings whenever Voldemort was close to you or else feelings powerful emotion."

"I know," said Harry wearily.

"And this ability of yours to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions arouse has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers."

Harry nodded dully. He knew all of this all ready.

"More recently," said Dumbledore, "I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking of course of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley."

"Yeah, Snape told me," Harry muttered.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "But did you not wonder why it was not I who explain this to you? Why I did not teach your Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?"

Harry looked up. Dumbledore looked sad and tired.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "I wondered."

"You see," continued Dumbledore heavily, "I believed it would not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind. To manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was, or had ever been, closer that that of Headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me.

"I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to believe that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes. I was trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you. An old man's mistake."

Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, on the occasions when he and Dumbledore made eye contact.

"Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction, it would have been yours. He hoped when he possessed you, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him," he sighed deeply.

Harry was letting the words sink in. He should have felt angry that Dumbledore had not told him this months ago, but it was clear to see that Dumbledore had not thought to do so and Harry could hardly grudge him that.

"Sirius told me that you said you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct. Voldemort from that point had realized that he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arrange Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape," he paused.

Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk; illuminate a silver inkpot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation. He could hear the occasional rustled of robes, the slight clearing of a throat.

"Professor Snape discovered," Dumbledore resumed, "that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant and then you saw Rookwood, who worked for the Department of Mysteries, telling Voldemort what we had known all along; that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected; only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness. In this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic and risk revealing himself at last, or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of greater urgency that you should master Occlumency."

"But I didn't," muttered Harry. "I didn't practice. I didn't bother. I could have stopped myself having those dreams. Hermione kept telling me to do it. If I had, he'd never have been able to show me where to go and – and my friends," he felt the need to explain. "I tried to check though. I went to Umbridge's office; I spoke to Kreacher in the fire. He said Sirius wasn't there. He said he'd gone."

"Kreacher lied," said Dumbledore, calmly. "You are not his master. He could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic."

"He sent me on purpose?"

"Oh yes. Kreacher, I'm afraid, has been serving more than one master for months."

"How?" asked Harry, blankly. "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years."

"Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas," said Dumbledore. "When Sirius apparently shouted at him to "Get out!" he took Sirus at his word and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left. Sirius' cousin, Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, his heart beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas. He remembered him turning up again in the attic.

"Kreacher told me last night," said Dumbledore. "You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable ways of communicating then the fires in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place. When, however, you did not return from your trip into the forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort. He alerted certain Order members at once."

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and then said; "Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were at headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at headquarters to tell me what had happened for I was due there at any moment.

"In the mean time, he – Professor Snape – intended to search the forest for you, but Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened and so it was, that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place, shortly after they had all left for the ministry, it was the elf who told me, laughing, fit to burst, where Sirius had gone."

"He was laughing," said Harry angrily.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore. "You see Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order; he could not give the Malfoy's our whereabouts or tell them any of the Orders confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius, but he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort yet must seem much too trivial for Sirius to have banned him from repeating it."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Like the fact that the person Sirius cares most about in the world is you," Dumbledore said quietly. "Like the fact that you regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knows of course that Sirius is in the Order, that you know where he is, but Kreacher's information made him realize that the one person whom you would go to any lengths to rescue, was and still is Sirius Black."

Harry's lips were cold and numb.

"So when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night–"

"The Malfoy's undoubtedly on Voldemort's instructions had told him that he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured, then if you decided to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday and at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs trying to tend to him," Harry nodded faintly.

"And Kreacher told you all this, and laughed?" he said slowly, was this why he could not live with Sirius?

"He did not wish to tell me," said Dumbledore, "but I am a sufficiently accomplish Legilimence myself to know when I am being lied to and I persuaded him to tell me the full story before I left for the Department of Mysteries."

"And," spat Harry, "and Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him."

"She was quite right, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I warned Sirius when we adopted Twelve Grimmauld Place as our headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us. I do not think that Sirius took me very seriously or that he sees Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's. I think that I may have to speak with him and Remus this time in the hopes of getting the message through."

"Don't blame Sirius for that," Harry said sharply. "Kreacher's a lying, foul little thing."

"Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable as your friend Dobby's. He is forced to do Sirius' bidding because Sirius is the last of the family to which he is enslaved, but he feels no real loyalty to him. Whatever Kreacher's faults, it must be admitted that Sirius has done nothing to make Kreacher's lot easier."

Harry's eyes narrowed a bit.

"I don't think being locked in that wretched house made Sirius' lot any easier either," he spat.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes and I take full responsibility for that, but I am positive that Sirius will no longer be locked in that wretched house, as you so put it, much longer. Of course, that still does not explain all that happened last night and I have only begun to explain everything to you. You contacted Kreacher and then told Severus–"

"I told him Voldemort had Sirius, he just sneered at me, as usual," said Harry violently.

"Harry, you know that Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge," said Dumbledore steadily, not at all put off by Harry's interruption. "As I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who had deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the forest and it was he too who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell of Sirius' whereabouts."

"Oh," said Harry, looking at his hands. "Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons. He threw me out of his office."

"I am aware of it," said Dumbledore heavily. "I have all ready said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure at the time that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence."

"Snape made it worse. My scar always hurt worse after lessons with him," Harry remembered Ron's thoughts on the subject. "How do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my–"

"I trust Severus Snape," said Dumbledore simply, "but I forgot, another old man's mistake, that some old wounds run too deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father. I was wrong."

"But that's okay," Harry said angrily. "It's okay for Snape to hate my dad but it's not okay for Sirius to hate Kreacher?"

"Sirius does not hate Kreacher," said Dumbledore. "He regards him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike. The fountain we destroyed tonight told a lie. We wizards have mistreated and abused our fellows for too long and we are now reaping our reward."

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"Sirius is a kind man, but he had no love for Kreacher because Kreacher is a living reminder of the home Sirius hated. I am sure, Harry, that you would feel the same were you in his shoes."

"Yeah," said Harry, standing up and walking toward the window. The sun was bright inside the room and the eyes of all the portraits followed him as he walked. "You're making him stay shut up in that house and he hates it. That's why he wanted to get out last night."

"I was trying to keep Sirius from being found. As you can see, had I not been there, he would have been arrested and brought back to Azkaban," said Dumbledore quietly.

"People don't like being locked up," Harry said, rounding on him. "You did it to me all last summer."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long fingered hands. Harry watched him, the uncharacterized sign of exhaustion or sadness or whatever it was from Dumbledore softening his irritation with him. After all, Sirius would be free soon and he would be able to leave that wretched house as much as he'd like.

"I want to live with Sirius," Harry announced. "Why can't I?"

Dumbledore lowered his hands and looked at Harry through his half-moon glasses.

"It is time," he said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I'm going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience."

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Author's Note: I'm quite pleased with this chapter actually and the little differences in Harry's attitude and all of that.