Coping

(started July 8, 2003)

"Sirius is dead."

Sometimes he felt that he needed to say these words aloud, in an effort to make it seem more real. But it never did. It was such a foreign concept to him.

When he had learned in third year that he had a godfather, it had taken him several months for that idea to penetrate his mind, the idea that he had some sort of family out there. And now, just as he had finally realized that he had an actual place he could call home, a place where he was wanted and loved, a place where there was a genuine link to his parents, that had been taken away from him. It just wasn't fair.

"Sirius is dead," he repeated dully to the empty room.

Harry Potter was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, knees up, elbows propped on them, hands dangling. He had full run of the house since the Dursleys had left Little Whinging that morning to visit Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, and they would be gone for the next three weeks. It must have finally occurred to them that Harry wouldn't blow up the house if they left him alone in it.

But that victory felt very empty to Harry. Since he had lost Sirius, it just didn't matter. He would have given any amount of gold to have Sirius alive again, but he knew that gold couldn't bring his godfather back. Nothing could.

Suddenly, the gaunt, skull-like face of Bellatrix Lestrange entered Harry's mind, and he clenched his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. The triumphant glow that had appeared on her face just Sirius had fallen through the veil was burning in Harry's mind.

"Aaaaaah . . . did you love him, little baby Potter?"

In an attempt to banish the memory, Harry closed his eyes tightly, causing little stars to erupt in them. But the image just burned on the back of his eyelids instead.

Furious, he stood, picked up the object closest to himself -- Flying with the Cannons, one of the stack of books he had attempted reading to get his mind off of Sirius -- and hurled it across the room. It collided with the door of his wardrobe and clattered to the floor, its pages scattering over the floor. Sighing heavily, he walked over and placed the pages back into their respective places. He would fix it later; he didn't want to risk another trial before the Wizengamot for illegal magic by charming the book together.

Sinking back onto the floor, Harry felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids. Burying his face in his arms, he allowed the tears to fall, for only the third time since that night in the Department of Mysteries.

About five minutes later, he heard the doorbell tinkling through the house. Jerking his head up, he quickly dried his eyes, as though Draco Malfoy had just entered his room and was laughing at his tears. Waiting until the redness around his eyes abated, Harry went downstairs to see who on earth could be calling. He was sure that the Dursleys had told everyone who would listen that they were going out of town, and surely no one would be visiting Harry. . . .

Looking through the peephole in the front door, Harry was shocked to see the kind, care-worn, prematurely aged face of Remus Lupin. Jumping back, he quickly undid the locks and opened the door. Remus smiled.

"Hello, Harry." He looked immensely tired, and his eyes held the telltale redness of a recent cry. Yet strangely, Harry also thought he saw some kind of inner peace coming from deep within those eyes.

"Hello, Remus."

Harry extended his hand, feeling as if that was the proper thing to do, but Remus ignored it and pulled him into an embrace.

"Come in," Harry said a few moments later, pulling away from Remus and gesturing into the house.

Remus nodded and entered. Harry followed, closed the door behind himself, and led the way to the dining room.

"Would you like some tea?" Harry asked, holding the kitchen door open for Remus.

"Oh, yes, thank you," Remus replied, pulling out his wand and conjuring two steaming cups of tea onto the dining table.

Harry smiled despite himself and sat down across from his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Picking up his cup, he was almost surprised to find that the cup wasn't hot, as one would expect, but pleasantly warm. Then he reminded himself that wizards had ways of avoiding burning themselves on tea cups. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a large sip, not minding that the tea itself scalded his mouth.

After he set the cup back down, he saw Remus looking at him, his own cup held between his hands on the table, a strange twinkle in his tired eyes. Harry cast him a bemused expression, which caused Remus to actually let out a short laugh.

"How have you been, Harry?" he asked finally, setting his eyes squarely on Harry.

Looking away, Harry muttered, "Fine," but he knew that Remus wouldn't be convinced. And indeed he wasn't, for when Harry looked back at him, his expression had turned serious.

Perhaps feeling that Harry didn't yet wish to discuss the obvious issue at hand, Remus simply nodded and took another sip of tea. Harry followed his lead and kept quiet, allowing a heavy silence to fall between them.

After several minutes, Remus again broke the silence. "Listen, Harry, I know that this cannot have been easy for you, but there's no need for you to try to hide it from me. Believe it or not, I loved him as much, if not more than, you did. Sirius would not -- "

The mention of Sirius' name caused Harry's face to harden, his eyes staring determinedly into his tea cup. But Remus would not be deterred.

"Harry, look at me." He waited until Harry did so, though reluctantly, before he continued. "I know that this is hard for you, but I won't pretend to know how you're feeling. I can relate, of course, having lost my own parents in the last war, but I was an adult then and better prepared to handle it. Being a teenager is difficult enough, and adding all of the extra responsibility that you personally carry is bound to make things seem nearly impossible. But you must understand that we must continue to fight. If we give in to his wishes and stop living because of the loss of one person, Voldemort has already won. Sirius sacrificed himself for you; your parents sacrificed themselves for you; many others have sacrificed things for you. Are you going to let all that sacrifice go to waste by giving up? I cannot believe that you will."

Remus paused, as if waiting for Harry to respond, but Harry could think of nothing to say. It was true. When it had first happened, Harry hadn't wanted to go on; he had wanted to follow Sirius into that veil, if it meant being with him again. If Remus hadn't restrained him, he would have. But Remus was right; if he, Harry, gave up just because he had lost the most important thing in the world to him, Voldemort had already won. Harry would not, could not let that happen. If not for himself, then for Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, the Order, the whole Wizarding world. He would fight; he would avenge Sirius, his parents, and everyone else who had fallen at the hands of the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Having decided all this, Harry simply nodded, staring into his tea, which by now had grown lukewarm and was not very appetizing. Remus must have been satisfied, for he smiled gently and took a sip of his own tea.

After several more minutes, during which Harry finished his tea, Remus cleared his throat and removed a package and two parchment envelopes from his robes. He placed them on the table and looked at Harry.

"I know you will think me mad for what I'm about to say," Remus started, fiddling with the loose paper on the package, but keeping his gaze firmly on Harry, "but I must say it, for I do not believe that it was anything short of genuine. Last night, at the headquarters, I saw Sirius. That is to say, " he continued, seeing Harry's disbelieving expression, "he appeared to me in my bedroom, in a dream. He told me where to find these" -- he gestured to the package and the envelopes -- "though I formerly had no knowledge of them.

"He also asked me to tell you several things, so here goes. He said not to blame yourself for his death; he knows you do, like you do with Cedric Diggory. He said he knows it must be tearing you apart, first losing your parents, then him. But, he said to know that they are always with you and looking out for you. He said" -- Remus raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if fighting back tears, then brought them back to Harry, and when he continued, hs voice was almost a whisper -- "he said that he loved you like his own son, a best friend, a brother. And he said that your parents say that they are so very proud of you."

Harry sat stunned at all this, not sure whether or not to believe it. A part of his brain told him, quite firmly, that dead people did not appear to the living and converse with them, as easily as though they were still living, even in dreams. But another part of his brain reminded him that Remus Lupin wasn't one to make up things, especially something like this, so it had to be true. The latter part of his brain won out, and he felt the tears burning.

"Why -- why didn't he come and tell me these things himself?" Harry asked finally, after forcing himself not to cry.

"Perhaps it's like Muggle prison, and you only get one phone call." Remus' attempt at a joke fell heavily, and he knew it. He continued, more seriously. "I don't know, Harry, but you mustn't be angry with him. Here," he said, pushing an envelope toward him across the table.

Harry pulled it to himself and saw Sirius' handwriting on the front, spelling his name. He looked up and saw that Remus had a similar envelope, with his own name across the front. With shaking hands, he turned the envelope over, opened it, and removed the pieces of parchment inside. Unfolding them, he read:

Harry,

If you are reading this, something has happened to me, and I won't be here very much longer, if I am still here. This is just my way of telling you all the things I have been thinking over these fifteen years, since you first entered my life. I could never quite bring myself to say these things to you directly; I'm not a very outwardly emotional person, as I'm sure you've gathered. So, here goes.

When James first told me that Lily was pregnant, I had a mixture of feelings: James, my best friend, was having a child! Ever since they had started going out in seventh year, James was always telling me that he would marry Lily Evans one day, and they would have a son who would be just like him. And when you were born, Harry, I realized that he was right; you had his untidy black hair and his defiant attitude, even at that early age, but, as many people have told you, you have your mother's eyes. However, I also felt that I was going to be cheated out of my best friend, that he wouldn't have as much time for me now that he was to be a father. That feeling quickly fled as the months went on.

James was a wreck the day you were born. Mrs. Potter, your grandmother, and the healer delivering you would not allow him into the room where Lily was in labor, saying that he would just make her more tense. So, he was stuck out in the den with Remus, Peter, and me. I admit, I was almost as much of a wreck as he was, though I wouldn't show it. James was pacing the room, checking his wristwatch every ten seconds, muttering " -- don't know how long it takes -- surely she's had him by now -- just don't want me to see him -- one huge damn conspiracy -- " and many other things I couldn't decipher. Remus and Peter seemed quite relaxed, playing a nice, soothing game of wizard chess.

Finally, after several hours, Mrs. Potter opened the door and smiled, motioning James inside. He jumped when he first saw her and dashed past her into the room. She calmly told us that you were a big, healthy boy, and that we could see you shortly. After about five minutes, James emerged, carrying a bundle of blankets that was snoring quite loudly. Beaming, he reverently walked over to where the three of us sat, bent down, and pushed back some of the blankets. When I saw you for the first time, I melted, and I must say that not many things cause me to melt. I held out my arms, asking to hold you, and James carefully placed you in my arms. That feeling was indescribable, so I won't even attempt to put it into words.

James asked me into the room where Lily lay, exhausted, and they asked me to be your godfather. I felt so honored, but unworthy, and I told them that Remus would be the better choice, since he is much more stable. They insisted, and I agreed, firmly stating that I didn't do dirty diapers.

Over the next year, Voldemort steadily grew stronger and gathered more followers. Finally, in October, the threat became so great that Dumbledore insisted that your parents go under the protection of the Fidelius Charm, because it was the best way to keep themselves and you safe. As you know, James came to me to be the Secret-Keeper, and I agreed at first. Things were all set up, the charm was ready to be performed, but I backed out at the last moment, feeling that I would be the first person that the Death Eaters would go after. I convinced James to use Peter in the end, believing that Voldemort wouldn't think that James would use him. And, well, you know the rest.

When Crouch sent me to Azkaban without a trial, I vowed to myself not to go mad or die before you and Remus knew the truth about what had happened. That vow played a large part in helping me resist the dementors. Finally, I devised the plan to escape and executed it. As soon as I hit the waters surrounding the prison, my happiest thought burst into my mind -- you -- and that thought gave me the motivation to cross the water. I kept chanting "I'm going to see Harry, I'm going to see Harry."

I found my way to Little Whinging as Padfoot and saw you on Magnolia Crescent. When you spotted me, I fled, fearing that you might be frightened of my appearance. I watched you play Quidditch once, and I kept thinking to myself how much you looked just like James up there; flying came so natural to him, too.

Finally, in the Shrieking Shack, I was so afraid that you would do something rash and ruin everything. I needed so much to make you believe me, and when Remus came, I felt surely we had won at last. Peter would be put to justice, my name would be cleared, and you could come live with me. But, that rat -- pun intended? -- escaped, and I had to go into hiding again. I felt so useless to you. What kind of godfather was I if I couldn't even visit my godson, check up on him, make sure he was perfectly content?

Your fourth year started out pretty well, and I felt very confident that it would continue that way. Then the whole Goblet of Fire incident occurred, and I just knew that something horrible was going happen. I knew we wouldn't get away from it unscathed. I didn't know who, what, or when, but I knew something was coming.

My worst fears were realized when Voldemort returned. I was devastated to hear of the Diggory boy's death, of course, but I was so worried that Voldemort had taken you, too, at first. When I saw you in Dumbledore's office, a great burden was lifted from my chest. He hadn't taken you yet. I just knew that if he took you, I would find it very hard to keep fighting. It would almost be like losing James again, and I couldn't handle that.

Now, the threat is even more real, which is why I'm writing you this letter. Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and several others have gone to collect you from the Muggles, and they're going to bring you back here, my old house, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. But all of this will be explained to you in due time. When you arrive, this grim old place will finally feel somewhat like a home again. Without trying to offend Remus, Molly, Arthur, Tonks, or anyone else, I feel as if you are the last bit of family I have, and you're not even my family really. Well, you are, in all the important ways.

I just want to leave you with this: when I'm gone, remember that I'm always with you. I will always be inside you, watching over you, listening to you. Though you might not feel, see, or hear me, I am here. You are the most important thing to me, Harry, and I would sacrifice anything for you.

Be strong, Harry. I know it will be hard, being only a teenager, but you've lived through and accomplished so much already. Whatever is dealt to you, keep strong. Don't ever give up. This war that's coming is going to be a terrifying experience, there's no doubt about that. Many lives will be lost, and that is a certainty.

I'm sure you know this by now, so I'll go ahead and reveal it: in the end, it'll be between you and Voldemort, no one else. All the rest of what's coming will be for naught, for it doesn't really matter how many Death Eaters Voldemort has, if the Ministry believes that he is indeed back, or what have you. In the end, 'neither can live while the other survives.' Think of me when that moment comes; think of your parents; think of Cedric; think of the Weasleys and Hermione; think of Moony, the Order, and Dumbledore; think of the Wizarding world; think of the entire world.

I know it will be hard, as I said before, but keep strong. You are such an extraordinary person, Harry. I know you will succeed.

With much love,

Sirius

When Harry put down the letter, his eyes were blurred with tears that he had barely contained while reading. He wiped at them and glanced over the letter again. Then he looked up and saw Remus just finishing his own letter, tears in his eyes as well. The man folded up his letter, placed it back into the envelope, and smiled at Harry.

"So," Remus said. "Now to the package, I suppose."

Harry nodded as Remus reached over and picked up the small brown package. He unwrapped it and removed a small, square mirror that was quite old-looking and dirty. Remus looked up quizzically at Harry.

"He said you would be able to explain," he said, wiping the mirror with the sleeve of his robes.

Harry glared looked at it and remained quiet. When Remus prompted him for an answer, he gave a curt nod and said, "Yeah, I know all about it. I have the other one upstairs, only it's in pieces."

Remus raised an eyebrow, then his wand, saying, "Accio mirror!" Harry looked over and saw the mirror frame and its pieces fly down the stairs, through the hallway, and into the dining room. They landed upon the table, and Remus again pointed his wand and said, "Reparo." The pieces flew back together. Then, looking at Harry, he said gently, "Please explain."

Harry reached across the table and turned his mirror over, pointing to Sirius' handwriting on the back. Remus read, then looked up and nodded in understanding. "You feel guilty," he said simply, shocking Harry with his accuracy. "You feel that if you had used this instead of Professor Umbridge's fire, Sirius would still be alive. Am I even close?"

Harry nodded, glaring at the mirrors.

Remus continued. "You mustn't do this, Harry. The only person who is at fault is Voldemort. Everything leads back to Voldemort, somehow. It won't do for you to blame yourself for something so out of your control." Remus reached over and took Harry's hand, locking him with an intense look. "Promise me something, Harry. Promise me that you won't stop fighting. That would be the absolute worst thing you could do. If you gave up, the sacrifices of Sirius and your parents would be in vain, and I know you don't want that. The best way to honor their memory is to keep fighting, as they would have done. Will you do that, Harry?" Tears were shining in Remus' eyes, but he did not let them fall. He squeezed Harry's hand.

Harry's voice caught in his throat, so he merely nodded, his jaw squared defiantly. How could I have even thought of giving up on everything? he asked himself. I know that Sirius would never have done that. It would be a real insult to him if I showed such cowardice. I won't let you down, Sirius. I'll make you proud of me.

Remus smiled and released Harry's hand. Picking up the mirror, he asked, "Is it all right if I take this? It would be a much more efficient way of communicating. Owls could be intercepted, and fires aren't always dependable. . . . "

"Yeah, sure. That'd be the best thing. It's obviously what he wanted."

Gathering his letter and the mirror, Remus stood and Harry followed his lead. Coming around the table, Harry pulled Remus into an embrace. Remus was taken slightly by surprise, but he recovered quickly, patting Harry's back. He felt a warm moisture on his chest, which ceased immediately. When Harry pulled back, his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Thank you, Remus. Thank you for everything."

"I made a promise to Lily, James, and Sirius to watch after you, should anything happen to them. So, I guess you could call me a sort of back-up godfather. Well, I'll be off. Just call anytime you need me. I'll be here."

Harry nodded and backed away so Remus could Disapparate.

When the man disappeared, Harry sat back down at the table and picked up the mirror. He ran his fingertips absent-mindedly over his reflection. As he gazed into the foggy depths, he could have sworn that he saw his image shift ever so slightly, and he saw Sirius staring back at him. Harry smiled.

"I won't let you down, Sirius."

Somewhere in the distance, after weeks of howling in grief, a large black dog was laughing. Then he turned around, faced the waxing moon, and began to run, soon fading from sight.