- Remus -

I don't quite no what to make of Harry's new friends. The strange man, the one who claims to be so old, is rather frightening. He seems to be very gentle with the girl, not that she looks like she needs it, but it comes across the kind of love that reminds me of...reminds me of Sirius.

God, thinking about him hurts.

And there's something in the girls eyes, something gentle and knowing that scares the hell out of me. Her...husband, companion, whatever he is, doesn't seem to be watching anything but her, but I have a feeling he's the kind of person who lets nothing get by him. And there's so much magic in the two of them it makes my nose itch.

Goddamn werewolf sense. I don't know what to make of them. The senses or Harry's new friends.

Sirius would know. I wince at the expected stab of pain and try, once again, to not think about him. Ever again. Except the only way to not think about him is that I end up not thinking about him into a bottle, and Harry deserves better than to have the only real family he has left buried up to his eyeballs in a firewhiskey bottle and drunk off his ass again.

Harry peers at me intently. "Are you all right, Remus?"

I manage to nod. "I'm ok."

The blond man - Elf - guy, whatever he is - turns and peers at me, rather intently.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks. "You're rather pale."

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to explode. The full moon is only in two days, and I can't afford to lose my temper. Losing my temper, this close, and when I'm in this much pain and turmoil, might finally be the catalyst that brings out the wolf without the moon. And no Wolfsbane Potion in sight. I just shake my head. "I'm fine."

Harry and Charlie exchange a disbeleiving look, the pale-haired one remains absolutely expressionless, and the girl, Kayli, her expression is rather gentle. Like she sees inside me, and she knows everything, and she pities me.

I despise pity. I do not need pity.

I meet her eyes for a second. She returns the gaze with calm, jaded eyes, like she's seen it all and nothing I could possibly do would be any worse. I doubt she's seen anything like I could do, however. I wonder how someone so young - only 22 - has such jaded eyes. I did, at her age. Harry does, and he's even younger, but he's not quite so...again the word I fall to is jaded. Like nothing can shake her up. No matter how horrible people are, she's seen it before, perhaps even seen worse.

But what still surprises me is the way she relaxes into his arms, like it's the closest she's ever been to home. It's so surprising to see that in someone with eyes like hers.

Whoever said the eyes are the windows to the soul was right. However, with someone with eyes like that, it scares me. It means her soul is as scarred as her eyes.

I shake my head and turn away, but I can still feel her eyes following me. Pity. It's always pity.

We head for Dumbledore's office, and I snap out the password. Candy, the Headmaster has some sort of odd obsession with candy. Even blood lollipops, apparently. Harry screws up his face. "That's disgusting," he mutters.

"Blood lollipops?" Kayli asks. "Must be some kind of vampire treat. Do you have vampires?"

Behind her, her husband tenses. I really should learn his name. It's undoubtedly something I can't pronounce.

"Yes," I tell her shortly. "We have vampires."

"Huh," she says, completely unsurprised.

"Don't you have vampires where you're from?" Charlie asks as we head up the stairs.

Kayli shrugs.

"Yes," her husband answers shortly. "But very few."

Kayli glances back over her shoulder at him. Then she just shrugs again.

"Why only a few?" Harry asks curiously.

He sighs almost inaudibly. "They were spawned by the darkness from Mordor," he says. "Most dwelled in Mirkwood when the Shadow fell. We kill them whenever we come across them."

Both Charlie and Harry gape at him. "Vampires really aren't THAT bad," Charlie says.

Kayli just shrugs. "There are a lot of difference between Middle-Earth and your world, Charlie," she says drily. "The vampires in Middle-Earth are probably a lot worse. Stands to reason, anyway."

Charlie just shakes his head and goes to knock on the Headmasters door, and ends up knocking on the Headmaster's hat.

Kayli giggles. Charlie looks mortified. Dumbledore straightens his hat and beams at us. "Come in, come in. Ah, Kayli, Legolas! Welcome!"

The two of them exchange glances and shrug. We hurry into the Headmaster's office, and he gestures us into chairs. We're one chair short, but that doesn't seem to bother Kayli. She just slips into Legolas's lap, lays her head on his shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Dumbledore looks at them for a moment. MacGonall, standing behind him, looks like she's about to burst into a lecture about public displays of affection in front of the students. I can see Harry cringing out of the corner of my eye.

Dumbledore launches into the tale of the escaped Death Eaters, and how Bellatrix Lestrange had something to do with it. I tune him out. If I hear that ...that bitch's name one more time, I am not going to be held responsible for my own actions.

It's not the fact that she's a Death Eater. It's the fact that she took Sirius away from me. But I can't say anything about that, not in front of these people. Charlie might know, I don't know, but Harry doesn't, because Sirius didn't want to tell him, because he already had so much on his mind, and I don't want to tell him, because Sirius is dead now, and well, it really doesn't matter anymore, does it?

Nothing matters anymore. Nothing but Harry. Sometimes I even wonder if he would be better off if I were gone too. But then, I did promise Sirius, didn't I?

I come out of my morbid thoughts as Dumbledore is finishing off his explanation. "We are preparing to dispatch Aurors to your aunt and uncle, Harry," he says gently.

Harry is very pale. I don't think I've ever seen someone not a ghost that exact shade of white. He shakes his head. "They won't listen to wizards."

"Would they listen to a Muggle?" Kayli asks, finally opening her eyes.

Harry stares at her, then points in disbelief at Legolas. "Him? My uncle would call him a hippy and threaten to call the police."

Kayli laughs. "No, not him. Me."

"Do I even want to know what a hippy is?" Legolas asks, sounding resigned.

Kayli shakes her head. "I'll explain it later, love. But would they listen to me?" she asks again. "I can dress up like a respectable person." She glances down at her slit jeans. "And hide my blades better."

Harry seems to think about it for a moment. "Maybe," he says thoughtfully. "You look like a Muggle, so they won't be so insulted that a bunch of people in weird clothes showed up at their house." He pauses again at that, then nods. "Yeah. No offense, Professor, but she looks like somebody they'd be used to." He looks at her again, more thoughtfully. "But, um...no offense...but is there something you could do about the..." He makes a vague gesture down the left side of his face.

"The scar?" she asks, then traces it. Then she grins. "I kinda like it."

Harry grins back at her. "Wasn't that at the battle at Pelennor?" he asks curiously. Apparently, he's heard their tale.

She nods. "Yeah," she answers. "The one with the goofy eyes. Does anybody have some respectable clothes for me?"

Everyone starts bustling around. Professor MacGonagall rushes off to find Kayli something slightly less...guerilla warfare. Harry is sent back to his Common Room, under orders, since it's getting late. Legolas gives Kayli a quick kiss and heads out. Kayli goes with Dumbledore, and I head outside, by the lake, under the tree. The same tree I sat under on countless afternoons in school, with James and Sirius and Peter. Before Peter betrayed us, and James died, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. Before everything went to hell, in other words.

After a few minutes, I hear footsteps behind me. Werewolf hearing is good for something, at least. After a moment, Kayli crouches down next to me, staring out over the lake. "Harry's worried about you, you know."

I nod. "I know."

There's another long moment of silence. "Who did you lose?" she asks.

I stare at her. "What?" I am angry. I recognize this feeling, I remember it. It's been a long time since I felt anything but grief and worry. And pain. It feels good to be angry.

She returns my gaze calmly. "Who was she?"

I glare at her. "What gives you the right to ask me that question? And what the HELL makes you think I lost someone?"

She shrugs, settling down on the grass and looking back out over the lake. I'm not used to someone being so calm when I was so angry. James and Sirius were at least a little cowed by my rage, and Peter usually scurried away and hid. "You have a look in your eyes," she explains. "I've seen it before, more times than I can count. I know you've lost friends in this war, but you don't look like you're grieving for a friend. You look like you're grieving for a lover."

This isn't anger. This is rage. "That is none of your business," I say, as coldly as I can manage.

Kayli nods agreeably. "True," she says. "It's none of my business. But you're so wrapped up in your grief that you're not going to be any help to Harry when he really needs it. You're all he has left but his friends, you know. He needs you."

I jump to my feet, growling low in my throat. There's fear under the anger now, fear that she knows everything about me, everything that I"ve tried for so long to keep hidden. And the constant fear of the wolf. She looks up at me with infuriatingly calm eyes. "You don't know anything about what I've lost!" I'm yelling now, and I can't stop. "I've lost EVERYTHING! Everything's that's ever meant any thing to me has been TAKEN from me! You have no idea what that kind of pain does, do you?"

She laughs, suddenly. It's not humorous laughter, more like she has to laugh or she's going to cry. She doesn't strike me as the kind of person who likes to cry. The words I was going to say - yell - stick in my throat, and I can't say anything.

She laughs so hard she falls backwards. "Oh, absolutely," she says, still laughing. "What can I POSSIBLY know of pain? What could a child like me know about pain?" She rolls back into a crouching position. "I have to see that kind of pain everytime I look in my husband's eyes. I have to see the KNOWLEDGE that he is going to have to go on when I'm dead. I've seen it in the eyes of wives and children and parents when I have to go and tell them that their husband or father or son is DEAD. And I have to live with the knowledge that I am at least partly responsible for that pain because I led my Men into the battle that cost them their LIVES, and caused their families that pain. Do you know how much THAT hurts?"

I stare at her for a long moment, completely stunned. She sighs and bows her head, her hair hanging down. "Do you know what it feels like to be torn away from your family, your friends, everything you've ever known, to be dumped into some sort of strange fantasy-land, where the biggest thing on the minds of at least two people is how you're going to die?"

I sit down next to her, hard. "I'm sorry. I guess...I've lost everything, you know."

Kayli shakes her head slowly. "No, you haven't. You still have Harry."

I stare at her. "I haven't lost a lover," I tell her.

She tilts her head to look at me. "You're a terrible liar."

I laugh again. Sirius told me that, often. My laughter is more like hers now, broken and jagged, like you might cut yourself if you get to close to it. "All right, I lost a lover. They - they were the most important thing in my life. We...we were everything to each other, I guess."

Kayli just gazes at me for a long moment, smiling slightly, then shakes her head and starts digging through her pockets.

"What?" I demand, irritably.

She shrugs. "I guess that's just what I get for not keeping an open mind. I haven't heard anybody play the Pronoun Game for a long time."

"Pronoun Game?" I echo. I'd pretend I don't have any idea what she's talking about, but I do know.

"We. They. So I guess, earlier, I should've asked who HE was." Then she stops, in the act of pulling something out of her pocket. "Oh. VALAR. Sirius. Harry's godfather."

I smile. God, it hurts. "I loved him. We had to hide it, especially in front of the Weasley children. Molly didn't want her children exposed to perverts and shirt-lifters."

"Perverts and shirt-lifters," she muses aloud. Then she snorts laughter and falls over. "Oh, my Vala, that's perfect." She positively crows laughter, just laying there on the grass. "Oh, wow. She sounds like a bloody fundamentalist."

I shake my head at her. "I don't know why I told you that."

Kayli sits back up, shaking the grass out of her hair. "Because you can't tell Harry, and you can't tell any of the Weasley, 'cause Ron's mum would flip, and who the hell am I gonna tell anyways?"

I smile and touch her shoulder. "Thank you."

She shrugs and sprawls back on the grass. "I've seen it before," she says.

"Where?" I ask, before I can stop myself. Then I realize she's pried into my business, why the hell can't I pry into hers?

Kayli smiles. It's a very sad smile. "In Legolas's eyes," she says sadly after a while. "He's going to outlive me, by thousands of years." She shifts back into a sitting position. Honestly, she is one of the most restless people I have ever met. "Elves are immortal," and she says this like she's reciting something she's read that she doesn't like. "They can be slain in battle or they can die of grief." She shrugs. "At least I know I won't have to watch him die. Everyone else will die around me, but he'll outlive me." She shrugs again, and pulls a tie out of her pocket. "It's a small comfort, at least." She quickly twists her hair up and stands. "I'm going upstairs. Legolas will be wondering where I am." She bends down and kisses my cheek. "You should get some rest. Harry'll need you."

And she walks away.

- Kayli -

They get me all spiffed up in time to head to the Dursleys. Harry's been telling me pretty horrible stories about his family. I want to hurt them and I've never even met them.

And I am all spiffed up, and it's horrible. I'm wearing a long skirt, which is actually pretty cool. It's made out of patchwork denim, all different shades of blue. Professor MacGonagall objected to the white halter top, but I like it. I wore it in front of Legolas, and his eyes kind of glazed over. It was pretty awesome.

Um. Anyways. I guess the outfit isn't that bad. Hermione got me a nice coat, and I'm all set.

"We're taking a Portkey," Harry tells me a few minutes later. "I'm going to be outside. They won't want to see me."

Legolas is pacing. He got over the halter top thing fast, let me tell you. I wish it worked AFTER I put the coat on. But it kind of a relief to know that guys are guys, no matter what species they are. I nod to what Harry's saying, even though I don't know what the hell a Portkey is. Some kind of fast, magickal transportation, I assume. Legolas is just crabby because he's not coming with.

Hermione is doing my hair, which kind of worries me, considering what her hair usually looks like. No offense to Hermione, but she usually looks like she's wearing an animate shrub on her head. Sometimes it doesn't look like that, but if she's been really into her studying - which is most of the time - you get the feeling she has more important things on her mind than her hair.

I know the feeling.

She ties off the last braid, and says, "Wow, that actually doesn't look too bad."

Well, that's a load off my mind, believe me. I hate it when people sound that surprised about something that's attached to my head. Hermione hands me a mirror, and I look. She's tied my hair into two long, loose pigtails, tied off with blue ribbons. It actually looks kinda cute. Yes, I am surprised.

I stand up and toss my braids back. Legolas is trying not to laugh at me. I stick my tongue out at him and smooth my skirt. "OK, where do I catch this Portkey thing?"

"In my office," Dumbledore says, and beams at me. He smiels too much. Nobody is naturally that jolly. Me and Harry follow him back up to his office, and waiting there are two of the weirdest people I've seen since Hobbits and Elves. One of them is a young woman with bright blue hair and more peircings in her ears than me. She's wearing a T-shirt advertising some wizarding band, the Weird Sisters. The other one looks like a pirate. He's wearing a long coat, a funky hat, and he has a peg leg and one eye is way bigger than the other. One is black and beady, the other one is huge and bright blue. I look at his feet, expecting a peg leg.

He has one.

I look at him. "Avast, ye scurvy knave," I say, and salute.

Harry and the chick with the blue hair look at each other and break down laughing.

This is gonna be a great day.

TBC...