Harry Potter and the Path of War

Harry Potter and the path of war

Chapter 1: The Programme

Harry Potter lay face down on the cold, freshly-cut grass of number four Privet Drive's front lawn and questioned himself for what felt like the millionth time that summer why the hell he was doing what he was doing. He could have still been in bed, like the rest of Privet Drive's occupants were, enjoying his summer by sleeping in and taking pleasure in the fact that he could get up whenever he wanted to, something he hadn't been able to do for a long time.

But oh no, not Harry Potter. Harry Potter was up with the sun every day, and had been every day since he had returned to Surrey from the boarding school he attended in the highlands of northern Scotland, where he had just finished his fifth year there as a student. And why was he up with the sun every day you ask? Because Harry Potter was a total nutcase.

At least that's what he thought of himself, as he breathed in deep, shuddering gasps on the grass of his front garden, outside his so-called home. But even though he was not a total nutcase, Harry Potter was far from being an ordinary boy, as he was a wizard.

Yes, Harry Potter was a wizard, a wizard who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school in the highlands of northern Scotland that taught students how to make things fly instead of how to solve algerbra equations, and how to defy the laws of physics instead of learning them. And as if being a wizard was not strange enough, Harry Potter had to go one step further and not even be considered a normal wizard.

And why was he not considered a normal wizard? Well, there were many reasons for that, and the main reason was because of the thin, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, that he had carried since Halloween night of 1981 when, aged one, he had somehow survived a killing curse sent at him from the greatest, most powerful dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort. When the killing curse had come into contact with Harry, he had somehow repelled it, left only with the scar, instead of dying like he was supposed to. However, Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter, had died in Voldemort's attack, which was why Harry had been left on his Aunt Petunia's (his dead mother's sister) and her husband's doorstep at number four, Privet Drive. While Harry had escaped with only the scar, Lord Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry, and he had been reduced to less than a spirit and consequently he had fled. Nobody understood why this had happened, or why such a powerful dark wizard as Lord Voldemort could not kill a defenceless one-year old baby, and thus Harry Potter became both an enigma and a hero to the wizarding world, an enigma for surviving the killing curse, and a hero for defeating the Dark Lord, which he was credited for.

But at the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts Lord Voldemort had returned from the brink of death where he had been residing ever since his killing curse on Harry had backfired and, with the help of one of his faithful servants, was restored to his body. Harry had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth personally, and it had been Voldemort's plan to kill Harry when he was restored to his body, stronger than before because of using Harry's blood in the ritual required to transfer his essence from his lower-than-a-spirit being into his new body. But, thanks to his luck and determination, Harry escaped before Voldemort could kill him and alerted the Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbeldore to the fact that the Dark Lord had returned, and with this information, Dumbledore was able to instantly recall the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group that had fought against Lord Voldemort the last time he was in power.

The Ministry of Magic however refused to acknowledge that Voldemort had returned, thus giving him more freedom to carry out his plans, as the only opposition he would face would be from the Order of the Phoenix, who could only do so much. However, after a battle in the Ministry of Magic itself, where Harry had seen his godfather Sirius Black killed, several Death Eaters were caught and the Minister of Magic himself saw Voldemort with his own two eyes in the Ministry of Magic's Atrium, and was thus forced to accept that Voldemort, or you-know-who as most of the wizarding world called him, had indeed returned. A statement was printed in the Daily Prophet, the main newspaper of the wizarding world, that confirmed that this was the truth, and which also confirmed that the Dementors, the guards of the wizard prison Azkaban, had left their posts and were now under Voldemort's control. After this battle, Harry was finally told by Albus Dumbledore the reason Voldemort had tried to kill him as a baby: because of a prophecy that said that Harry was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, that he had power the Dark Lord knows not, and that he was the only one who could vanquish the Dark Lord: in other words, everything depended on him.

And thus Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts ended in war and grief, Harry leaving the school consumed by overbearing thoughts of the meaning of the words of the prophecy, and feelings of death, anger and injustice over Sirius Black's death, but also with a new resolve in his mind, telling him that he was the one that so much depended on, and that he had better make sure he was up to it.

* * * * * * * *

Harry lifted himself up onto weak, weary legs, took a few shaky steps towards the front door, and promptly fell back to earth again. He groaned inwardly and lay back down on the cool grass, trying to control his breathing, but snapped his head up almost immediately, his eyes quickly scanning all of his surroundings and his right hand reaching towards his midriff where he had his wand concealed, before he regained his senses and drew back his hand.

He had heard a sound from a point to the left of him that gave away the fact that a man was standing there, in front of his Aunt Petunia's large hydrangea bush next to Harry, but oddly enough, all that was in that direction was thin air. And even more oddly, the sound that gave the man away sounded like muffled laughter......

Harry scowled in the direction of the hydrangea bush, where he now knew a man named Remus Lupin was standing, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, struggling to contain his laughter at the sight of Harry Potter returning from his morning run, dead on his feet. Lupin always escorted Harry on his early morning runs, as Harry had to be with a member of the Order at all times when he ventured outside of number four Privet Drive during the summer, and Lupin was the best choice to escort Harry as, being a werewolf which made him naturally strong and fit, he hardly even broke a sweat no matter how far Harry ran. This annoyed Harry to no end.

"You know, you could at least pretend you were worn out, it'd make me feel a whole lot better," Harry said between breaths, looking in the general area he believed Lupin to be standing. "I tell you, one day I'm going to run so fast you're going to have to get a broomstick to keep up with me, and then we'll see whose fitter, werewolf or not."

"With all due respect Harry," Remus Lupin's voice said, seemingly out of thin air, "that day is a long way off if you continue to be exhausted by running such short distances. Why, we only ran to the shops and back!"

"Only!" squeaked Harry incredulously. "Those shops are three miles away!"

"Still, a run of six miles is hardly what I'd call hard," Lupin went on, sounding serious, but Harry could hear the laughter in his voice now, and he bit back a disbelieving remark about how much of a mental case Lupin was. Even though they left him exhausted and praying for his nice warm bed, Harry's morning runs with Remus Lupin were the best part of his day by far, and he looked forward to them every morning almost as much as he dreaded them. The runs had been awkward and uncomfortable at first, as Harry had not really known Lupin too well when they had started, but now, after two and a half weeks running every morning, they were able to talk and joke freely together, even about things such as Lupin being a werewolf, and Harry felt that he had gained a valuable friend and mentor in Remus Lupin.

But no matter how close Harry had got to Lupin, he knew in his heart that no-one could ever replace Sirius, no matter who it was. Lupin knew it too. Harry still felt as he had in June when he had left Hogwarts, that there was a huge, gaping hole inside of him where Sirius's presence had once resided, telling him that he was there for him and that he wasn't alone. Harry had not spoken to anyone about Sirius since his death, not even Lupin, although he had listened to him speak about Sirius, as he had clearly needed to. Lupin had apologised profusely afterwards, saying that he shouldn't be burdening Harry with his own feelings, but hearing him talk about Sirius the way he had had nearly broken down his own defences, and Lupin had encouraged him to open up and talk about his feelings to him, but he had mastered himself and controlled his emotions, and what a tremendous effort that had been. Harry had not done very well at keeping his emotions in check in the last year, as Ron, Hermione and Albus Dumbledore had found out to their cost, as well as Dolores Umbridge, albeit to Harry's cost.

He knew that it probaly wasn't healthy to ignore the fact that Sirius was dead and gone and wasn't ever coming back, and he knew it was even worse to bottle up all his emotions like he was doing, but he also knew that if he started talking about Sirius, or even thinking about him more than he already was, he would become a total wreck and would probaly sink into depression. No, this blissful ignorance was much nicer, he had decided. He had nearly convinced himself that Sirius was alive and well, stuck inside number twelve, Grimmauld Place, possibly shouting at the portrait of his Mum....

Shaking himself, he hoisted himself off the ground again and found that he could now actually walk, even if he was still a bit wobbly on his feet. Relieved that his morning run to hell was over, he began to hobble towards the front door, beckoning with his hand for Lupin to follow him, when he heard Lupin clear his throat pointedly behind him.

Harry frowned. What was wrong? But then Harry remembered; he had to stretch after going for a run, so he didn't injure his leg muscles in any way. He had found out how to stretch by watching one of his Aunt Petunia's many exercise videos (she had bought a whole box-set of exercise and fitness videos, and had given it up on the first week). After he had stretched, Lupin usually came inside and waited in Harry's room while Harry made breakfast for the Dursleys, himself and, unknown to them, Lupin, whose breakfast he would sneak up to him when the Dursley's backs were turned. His uncle would blow his lid if he ever found out that Harry had been feeding a wizard, a werewolf wizard in fact, breakfast from his house every morning for over two and a half weeks now. Harry was extremely glad that his uncle was oblivious to this, as he couldn't imagine what it would be like if he ever found out. On the other hand, it would be hiliarious to see his face if he ever did tell him. . . .

But then again, perhaps he would merely grit his teeth and say nothing. The Dursleys, following the Order's threat at King's Cross, had not said more than ten words in total to Harry all summer so far, and this was fine by Harry. He continued to cook breakfast for everyone however, so they would not see that five breakfasts were being eaten every morning instead of four.

Harry quickly stretched out, and then pulled out a house key that he had hidden under the door mat, and pushed open the front door, holding it open while he felt Lupin brush past him, faintly hearing him moments later creeping stealthily up the stairs. Harry however walked down the hallway and through the glass pane door into the spotless kitchen, where he made breakfast for Lupin, himself and the Dursley's, who would be down at seven o'clock for their breakfast, ignoring Harry steadily all the while.

After he and Lupin had finished their breakfast and had flicked through the Prophet (which was full of anti-Fudge propaganda and articles on what the Ministry should have done when Voldemort had returned over a year earlier), Harry had a quick shower while Lupin waited, all the while under the Invisibility Cloak, and then together, after a hiliarious distraction by the name of The Quibbler which Lupin had brought over, they set off out the front door for Mrs Figg's house, where Harry was to be spending the day. Lupin had stated this yesterday morning, but had given no indication of why he was spending the day there, just that he was, and that he would find out why when he got there. Harry did not miss the knowing grin on Lupin's face when they were talking about this.

* * * * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Lupin were walking up the driveway to Mrs Figg's cat-ridden home in Wisteria Walk, Harry anxiously wanting to know why he was here for the day. He had questioned Lupin all the way over, but to no avail. He hoped that this trip was going to be better than his visits here as a small child, and now Harry knew Mrs Figg was a Squib and therefore connected to the magical world, he had some hope that he would be treated better by her, as she no longer had to carry on with her dotty old lady act in front of Harry. Then again, by what Harry had seen of her even after finding out she was a Squib, maybe she genuinely was just a dotty old lady.

Lupin quickly took off his Invisibility Cloak and rapped smartly on the front door, which was immediately opened by Mrs Figg, who ushered them in quickly and slammed the door behind them as soon as Harry's legs were through the opening. She looked flustered and angry.

"About time you two showed up!" she said, starting to shriek at them as she locked numerous bolts and locks on her front door; Muggle locks, Harry noticed, remembering her status as a Squib. "You were supposed to be here TWENTY MINUTES AGO, and no wonder you were late with the pace I saw you walking with, strolling up here like you don't have a care in the world, well news flash kids, you do! I've got enough on my plate without babysitting you two, you were supposed to be here at eight o'clock, is it that hard to get here on time? I have to tell Mundungus Fletcher this every day, now I have to start telling you two as well? And secondly. . . ."

"Arabella! Calm down my dear, sit down, sit down, it's okay now, we're here aren't we? I apologise for our lateness, we were, er, momentarily sidetracked at Harry's home as we ate breakfast," Lupin said, glancing over at Harry for confirmation. Harry nodded his agreement to Lupin's statement, while at the same time trying not to laugh or smile. Their momentary distraction had been a particular funny letter in The Quibbler, from a reader who had decided that Fudge was "about as useful as a broomstick in a coffin", and had come up with an idea to assassinate him while making it look like an accident, which was to transfigure his desk into a half-pig half-lion, and while he fought with the creature, unleash killer bunnies into his office and hoped they did the job. There was no way they could have made this type of death look in any way like an accident, which made the thought of it even more hilarious.

Harry was broken out of his Cornelius Fudge being nibbled to death thoughts by Mrs Figg's deep breathing, whch was coming in gasps, and glancing at her Harry saw that she looked like she had just run a marathon. But she still looked angry with them, and this was confirmed when she started ranting at them again, telling them what terrible people they were and how if she could she'd hex them into the next century. . . .

* * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later, with the help of Lupin's soothing words and a cup of very strong tea laced with Firewhisky, Mrs Figg had eventually calmed down and they were all sat in her rather messy kitchen, which still smelt terribly of cabbage just as Harry remembered it had when he was young. In fact, the house looked exactly the same to Harry as it had when he'd come here as a child. There was a very awkward and uncomfortable silence between the three, until Mrs Figg finished her alcohol-laced tea and turned to Harry, giving him a penetrating look. Harry looked back uncertainly.

"Well, I suppose the important thing is that you're safe. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you at any rate, quite suprising actually, considering. . . ." she trailed off. Harry blushed at the compliment, and blocked out the end comment, then looked down. It was true though, he reasoned. The last time Mrs Figg had seen him he had been a short, skinny little thing. Since then he had grown a few inches, and could no longer be called skinny, due to the amount of food he had been eating lately. Evidently running every morning gave you a healthy appetite, and he was thankful that the Dursley's had taken the Order's threat at Kings Cross seriously, as they no longer even batted an eyelid no matter how much he ate.

"Now now Arabella, you're making the poor boy blush," Lupin declared laughingly, clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort. Then his expression turned serious, and he turned to Harry.

"I take it you'd like to know why you're here today then?" he said, pausing for a moment. Harry nodded quickly and motioned for him to continue. "Well, there are a few reasons for this: firstly, the Order believe that having you lounging around that house all day is very unhealthy, both physically and mentally, although your morning runs are helping to compensate for the physical part. Secondly, given the recent situation, the Order feel that you need to learn to defend yourself much more effectively than you can at the moment, particularly in defending your mind. Thirdly, I know from personal experience that being frequently alone while grieving is not wise, and that keeping your mind on something and being around friends and associates helps a great deal. That is why myself, the rest of the Order and Professor Dumbledore have come up with a programme that we wish for you to follow over the duration of the summer, that will consist of you coming here everyday to meet with one of several Order members, who will act as your tutors and teach you a number of various things, including duelling, defence techniques, physical combat, Occlumency of course, and possibly Apparition, if we can arrange it. I'm not making any promises though.

"You are probaly wondering of course how you can be taught all this while not being able to do magic away from Hogwarts? Well that's precisely why this whole programme is going to be situated here at Arabella's house, as she has extremely powerful charms around the house that hide any type of magical activity, so the Ministry will not be able to detect a thing. You must remember however that whenever you leave this house the usual rules apply, and you cannot go around doing magic.

"This programme will only commence however if you agree to it. Professor Dumbledore tells me he has learned from his past mistakes and will never manipulate you again, and will ask you your opinion on every matter that concerns you. So, all that's left to decide is do you agree?"

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and leaned back in his chair, trying to process everything he'd just been told. The programme seemed like a good idea, and looked like it would require a lot of hard work, but Harry was ready for it. He wouldn't be able to spend so much time on the weights though. While Lupin and the Order thought that Harry had just been "lounging around" number four all summer, he had in fact been taking advantage of Dudley's highly expensive exercise machines, and had been spending a lot of the days performing various exercises, such as sit- ups, press-ups, and on the weights themselves. He spent the most time however on the punchbag, where he could punch out all his anger and frustation, about the prophecy, about the unfairness of it all, about how useless he felt, and of course about Voldemort and his Death Eaters themselves. He was also trying to imagine the punchbag as someone he hated and visualizing beating them to a pulp, most of the time either Draco Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestragne. He usually objected to using physical force on females, but it was not an issue to Harry when dealing with his godfather's murderer. He never visualized beating up Voldemort though; for some reason it did not seem fiitting to fight physically with him.

The exercise had begun to have a positive effect on his body, but not enough yet to have developed into a well-toned torso, so at the moment he looked like a slightly-toned boy whose arm muscles were too big for the rest of his body, and made his arms look stupid as well, as he still had very skinny wrists. I may not be able to do as much working out as I have been doing, but I can still do some. Besides, it would be great to learn all this, and I may get to learn Apparition! Harry thought excitedly. He turned back to the table and to Lupin.

"When do I start?" he asked. Lupin grinned.

"I thought that would be your answer. Well, what's wrong with right now? I'll be one of your tutors anyway, so we can start straight away. I'll be teaching you advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, the same kind of things they teach you if you take it at the highly-advanced level in seventh year, which I believe nobody has qualified for in the last nine years. You will also be learning spells and curses that individuals usually only learn in Auror training, so I warn you now that this is going to be very difficult, and you may not be able to get the hang of every single spell or curse straight away, some may take all summer for you to master, some most of the year, and some you may never master. But knowing you Harry, I'm sure you'll suprise us all. Still want to do it? Sure? Okay, let's go.

"Now, we'll start you off on a easy one first. The first curse you're going to learn is the Durus curse, which will knock the reciever of the curse flying backwards, much like the disarming charm, which often knocks the reciever flying. If performed correctly, you can knock the reciever back more than ten feet, and can actually control approximately how far back the reciever goes (up to ten feet of course) but this requires much practice and skill, along with a large amount of control over the spell, which takes time to perfect.

"For now you'll just be practicing cursing this box." He waved his wand and conjured a small cardboard box on the table in front of them. "The incantation is Durus Pulsus. You don't have to worry about no fancy wand-waving with this curse, just point your wand at the box and keep it as steady as you can. This curse dosen't vary between the size and weight of things, so if you perfect the curse on this box you could just as easily perform it effectively on a human. Remember when you're doing it to really want the box to be struck, to want it to go flying backwards. Feeling up to it?"

Harry nodded weakly, and shakily got up. This was all happening so fast, he'd barely had time to register what was going on, such as the programme and what it meant, the fact that he could now do magic outside of Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's apology to him, before he was already learning his first curse of the programme. He turned sheepishly to Lupin.

"What's the incantation again?" He asked.

"Durus Pulsus. Remember Harry, I don't expect you to get it perfect first time. Many people have trouble with this one, even though it seems relatively simple. The difficulty in it is the amount of will power it requires; most spells simply require skill, power or knowledge over will. However, this shouldn't be too hard for you, as you seem to have a strong will already, if your past experiences with Imperius are anything to go by."

Harry nodded and turned to the box, standing about a foot from the table. He withdrew his wand from the waistband of his very baggy trousers and leveled it at the box, eyes narrowed in concentration. Remembering Lupin's words, he concentrated on wanting the box to fly backwards, seeing it fly backwards in his mind over and over again, and keeping his wand steady he cried "Durus Pulsus!"

A ray of blue light shot out the tip of his wand and hit the box square on. The box seemed to absorb the curse for a split second before it was shot into the air backwards off the table and went flying through the kitchen door to the sitting room, where the sound of terrified meowing could now be heard. Mrs Figg glared at Harry, and he looked up from the box to Lupin, who was staring at him with his mouth open, an amazed expression on his face.

"Er, brilliant, Harry! That was an amazing effort for a first go, much better than what I expected. We're going to have to work on your control though. . . ."

* * * * * * * *

Several hours later, Harry and Lupin stepped out of Mrs Figg's house and on to Wisteria Walk, which was bathed in yellow and red light from the sun's setting rays. Harry blinked into the bright sunshine, not accustomed to it having spent the day in Mrs Figg's dimly-lit house learning curses. As they reached the end of Mrs Figg's driveway, Lupin turned to Harry with a knowing smile on his face.

"Feeling pleased with yourself Harry?" He questioned, knowing full well the answer. Try as he might, Harry hadn't been able to get rid of the feeling of smugness and self-satisfaction he had gained from his first day of "the programme," and he was sure these feelings were showing clearly on his face. Looking back on the day Harry did feel rather pleased with himself and the progress he had made, even if he did feel drained now, which Lupin had explained was because of the amount of magic he had performed during the day, which had sapped lots of his energy. He turned to grin at his friend and mentor.

"Yeah, I am Profess... sorry, Remus, it was a great first day, I thought I was going to do really terrible, if my school work is anything to go by." Harry could not understand how he had done so well at this when at Hogwarts it usually took him a couple of weeks or more to perfect a relatively hard spell. Harry looked at Lupin for an explanation, and found one.

"Ah, yes Harry, but you must remember that the vast majority of spells you learn at school are not based on your will, but more on your skill and knowledge." Harry nodded: that was true. After Harry had broken several wall-mounted photographs and nearly scared Mr Paws to death with the Durus curse, Lupin had concluded that Harry had a talent for will-based spells, and that it would be very easy for him to learn these kind of spells. Indeed, by the time Lupin had called an end to the day's session, Harry had perfected the Durus curse (he could control exactly how far the reciever of the curse flew back, and had left Lupin astounded by being able to knock the reciever back more than ten feet) and had also learned and perfected the Dolens curse, which was very similar to the Durus curse but instead of just knocking the reciever of the curse backwards, it knocked them backwards with the sensation of being punched very hard in the stomach. This curse needed a human target to practice on; needless to say, Lupin had been very happy when Harry had perfected this curse and no longer needed to be used as a target.

Harry fought hard with himself to keep the grin off his face at the memory of perfecting these curses, but failed miserably. To distract himself, he turned to Lupin.

"So what am I going to be doing tomorrow? Are you teaching me again?" He questioned.

"No Harry, you'll be with Tonks tomorrow, doing Concealment and Disguise, but that reminds me, here you go." Lupin reached inside of his shabby trenchcoat and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. "This is your timetable. It says when your lessons are, what you'll be learning and who'll be teaching you. This parchment has been highly charmed, so when you read the timetable through once, the information will be absorbed into your memory and you can then dispose of the parchment. It is crucial that you dispose of it quickly and efficiently, by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I suggest you read it as soon as you get home. Now, any more questions?" Lupin enquired. Harry nodded.

"Yes, one; does this programme mean that I can't see Ron and Hermione this summer?" Harry said. When he had agreed to it he hadn't realised what the implications would be, and now he was unsure of doing it if it meant he would be unable to leave Privet Drive all summer. Lupin sighed quietly, and answered his question.

"I'm afraid that no, you will not be able to see Ron and Hermione this summer, or go to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. It is crucial that this programme commences here, as no other place in Britain has the same kind of magic-disguising wards as Arabella's house does, except for Hogwarts, which is completely out of the question. It is an immensely difficult set of charms and wards to put up, and can take up to three months to set up, so there really is no time to do it somewhere else. I'm sorry you won't be able to see them, I'll try and arrange something for your birthday, but don't hold your breath. Do you still want to continue the programme?"

Harry reluctantly nodded and cast his eyes to the ground. It would be hard not to see his friends all summer, but it was for the best. After all, if this programme kept him alive, it was a sacrifice worth making. It still didn't make it easier to handle though. Suddenly, he realized with a start that he had seen his friends every summer since he had started at Hogwarts. Even though every summer he moaned and moaned about being stuck in Privet Drive, he had always seen his friends in the end. But not this time though, I'm here until September. . . .

He was broken out of his melancholy thoughts by Lupin's hand clapping down on his shoulder. He raised his eyes and saw Lupin looking at him with understanding in his face.

"I know this situation isn't great Harry, but in the long run it is best. I remember how hard it was for me in the summer when I had to go. . . somewhere and I couldn't see your father, Peter, and Si. . . Sirus. Are you ready to talk about that yet Harry?" Lupin enquired hesitantly, his voice going strangely soft. Harry bowed his head and spoke to the ground.

"What's there to talk about Remus?" He said softly, forcing down the emotions and memories that were already fighting their way to the surface. "There's nothing to talk about," he stated shakily.

Harry felt Lupin subtly increase the pressure he had on his shoulder, and when he next spoke it was in more forceful tones.

"You can't keep this inside forever Harry, you're going to have to talk about it eventually."

"There's nothing to talk about," Harry repeated. He was starting to feel angry at Lupin and wished he would just shut up. How could he bring this up now, outside in the middle of the street? He shook his head angrily to get rid of the scene which was playing inside his head, of Sirius singing Christmas carols at Grimmauld Place.

"You're in denial Harry," Lupin's voice said, seemingly from a long way away.

"No, I'm not," Harry responded, becoming angrier by the second. Sirius's head was smiling up at him from the Gryffindor fireplace...

"How do you expect to be able to move on if you won't even accept that Sirius is dead?"

Sirius is dead. Harry lost it.

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO MOVE ON! I DON'T WANT TO ACCEPT THAT HE'S DEAD, AND BESIDES, HOW DO I KNOW THAT HE IS EVEN DEAD? ALL HE DID WAS FALL INTO THAT STUPID VEIL, HE COULD HAVE JUST BEEN TRANSPORTED SOMEWHERE! HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT HE'S DEAD? YOU SEEMED PRETTY SURE AT THE MINISTRY, WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT BLOODY VEIL THAT I DON'T? WHAT IS. ."

"Silencio!"

Harry felt the strange sensation of shouting at the top of his lungs but not hearing any sound come out. He tried talking at a normal volume, but that also had no effect. He eventually settled on crossing his arms and glaring at Lupin, his body language (he hoped) demanding an explanation. He noticed that even though Lupin had put a silencing charm on him, he had not drawn his wand. Lupin looked at Harry with anger and disappointment in his face.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing Harry?" He said in a harsh whisper. "Have you forgotten where we are? In the middle of a Muggle street for heaven's sake! Have some wits about you! I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry if you think I'm being too interfering, but there's no need to tell the world! And have you forgotten the fact that I'm supposed to be invisible?"

Harry cowered back, his anger instantly evaporated, to be replaced by shame and stupidity at himself. At Mrs Figg's house, Lupin had placed a charm on the Invisibility Cloak that he and the Order were using when guarding Harry so that no matter who was wearing it, Harry would be able to see them. He had forgotten this, and now realised that while he was ranting and raving at him in the street, Lupin would not be visible to other people's eyes, so it would have seemed that Harry was screaming at a non-existent person. How could I be so stupid! Harry thought angrily to himself. Good way of drawing attention to yourself, Potter, sneered a voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Draco Malfoy. Real smart. . .

Lupin had never before spoken to Harry like that, and the worst part was the disappointment in his eyes. He had never wanted to see such a look directed at him from this man that he now respected so much. He turned away from Lupin, unable to look him in the eye, and instead looked around at the houses of Wisteria Walk, where many windows were now occupied with curious, nosy faces wondering what all the shouting was about. Indeed, one elderly man a few houses away looked like he had just fallen off of his porch rocking chair, and a middle-aged man across the street who had been watering his front lawn was still staring at them open-mouthed, unaware that the hose he was holding was watering his trousers instead of the grass.

"Finite Incantatem!" Lupin quietly muttered out of the corner of his mouth, with a flick of his hand, glancing around to make sure no-one had noticed. Harry made no comment after the charm had been lifted, just stared morosely at the light grey pavement below his feet. Lupin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right hand.

"Come on," he said quietly to Harry. "We need to get you back to your house." He left it there and carried on walking, saying nothing more about Sirius or about Harry's idiotic outburst. Harry trailed behind, turning his head briefly to see the man who had been watering his own trousers being shouted at by a woman who was presumably his wife. He didn't seem to have noticed her however, as he was still staring at Harry and Lupin with his mouth open, his trousers now soaked through. He did notice her however when she gave up shouting at him and smacked him hard on the back of his balding head.

* * * * * * * *

They did not speak for the rest of the way back to Privet Drive. Harry felt unable to say anything to Lupin after his stupidity, and he was still angry with him for being so insensitive and trying to get him to talk about Sirius in the middle of the street; Lupin himself seemed lost in his thoughts. Finally, when they turned a corner and were confronted by the identical red-bricked houses of Privet Drive, Lupin gestured to Harry to step into a side-alley, where they could not be easily seen. He leant comfortably against the wall, and Harry followed and did likewise. Lupin turned to him with a hard look.

"Harry, you really have to start controlling your emotions more, especially in public. Do you realise what the consequences of your little scene a minute ago could have been? If a Death Eater had been spying on you, he could have caused an obscene amount of danger for us. You could have jeopardized both our lives, and I expect it not to happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry mumbled a "yes" and looked at the floor. He was ashamed enough at his stupidity already, he was certainly not about to go and do the same thing again, and he didn't need to be reminded of it. Harry heard Lupin clear his throat and he looked up at him. He had a pained look in his eyes.

"Look Harry, I know this is hard for you, but you need to accept that Sirius is gone, and isn't coming back. I know you don't want to hear this, but it is vital that you understand if you're ever going to properly mourn him and accept his death."

Harry stared hard at the pavement below his feet. He's not dead, the veil just transported him somewhere. He'll come back, he's just stuck somewhere at the moment. . . .

"You're in denial Harry, I can tell. You've convinced yourself that nothing's wrong, that Sirius is alive, that everything is as it was before the battle at the Ministry. Well it's not. Sirius is dead. He died when he fell into the veil. I can't tell you yet how I know this, but I promise you'll find out someday soon. But this is irrelevant. The main point is that Sirius is dead. You need to mourn him Harry, the longer you stay in denial the harder it will be to accept this. I'm sorry you have to hear this, but you need to accept that Sirius is gone, and he isn't coming back."

Harry nodded, sinking down to the alleyway floor. Unbidden tears were streaming down his face, and had been since Lupin had began talking, but he fought back the sobs that were threatening to break through. He had never for as long as he could remember cried in front of another person, and he was not about to start now. Memories of Sirius came flashing through his mind; laughing last summer as Fred and George made a fiasco of dinner at Grimmauld Place, bounding around platform nine and three-quarters as Snuffles, shouting to him at the Ministry when he'd body-binded Dolohov, the suprised look on his face as he fell backwards through the veil. . . .

And now he's gone, Harry realized. He's not coming back.I'm never going to see him again. . .

And then Harry could no longer contain his sobs and broke down, crying like he had by the lake at Hogwarts in June, when it had first hit him that Sirius was dead. He cried for the loss of his godfather, the man who had become a friend, a mentor, and father figure to him. . .

With energy he did not know he had, Harry pulled himself to his feet and ran out of the alleyway and flat out to number four Privet Drive, not looking back once. Lupin did not call after him, and Harry did not see the tears in Lupin's eyes as he watched him go.