A Space Between Worlds

Chapter Five:

Count Your Losses

"And I'm walking wounded!

All alone,

All alone!"

--"Walking Wounded" by Tea Party

Sirius was quite proud of the fact that he was the first one awake the following morning considering his late evening, only to find that he was indeed second to rise. Leo was already up, sitting at the kitchen table looking decidedly bored.

Sirius ruffled Leo's dark red hair. The boy scowled and forced it back into place. It was much easier to manage than his father's own fuzzy head.

"What're you up to, Leo my lad?" Sirius asked, taking a seat across the table from him.

"Waiting for mum to get up."

Sirius cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

Leo sighed and laid his head in his hands. "So that she can make me breakfast."

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh. "Don't you think you're old enough to make it for yourself?"

"I don't know how," Leo said, not wanting to admit that he was too young for the task, yet not wanting to have to do any cooking either.

"Well, I think it's time you learned."

Sirius stood and walked over to the cauldron that hung in the fireplace. Leo immediately became apprehensive.

"Er--Sirius? You aren't going to make me...throw up...like last time, are you?"

Sirius sighed and put on a face that told they had had this conversation before. "How many times must I tell you, Leo? It was your dear old dad who decided that eggshells add a--how did he put it...oh yes--a bit of 'a delightful crunch' to omelets, not me."

"Still," Leo said, wishing that his mother would wake up and come save him, "you didn't exactly stop him..."

Sirius looked sadly at the boy, covering his heart with one hand. "I'm afraid that there is no force alive that can deter James Potter from adding eggshells to an omelet."

Leo laughed appreciatively, though his hazel eyes continued to dart hopefully towards the door. Suddenly, the creaking of the stairs announced that someone else was also awake. Leo just hoped it wasn't his dad--he could only make the breakfast situation worse.

But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Potter came into the kitchen then. Instead, a sleepy-eyes Apollo walked in, still in the clothes he had worn the previous day. Leo wondered if he was any good at cooking.

"Listen, Leo," Sirius was saying. "I make breakfast for myself all the time...and for you when you come over..."

"Yeah, toast," Leo replied, as Apollo sat down beside him.

Without so much as a "good morning" to him, Sirius looked over at Apollo and said: "Tell Leo that I make more than toast for breakfast."

"Well, there was the time we had oranges, but it's not exactly as though you made them..."

"I was asking Apollo, Leo," Sirius said indignantly. "Well, isn't it true, Apollo?"

But Apollo apparently did not hear him. He was sitting quite still, staring at his hands so intently you would have thought that they were the most fascinating things in the entire cosmos.

"Apollo?" Leo asked.

Sirius frowned. "Hello, Apollo!"

Apollo looked up, startled, as if he had just realized that he was not alone in the kitchen. "Er--you said something...?" He looked dazed, rather like a dear in headlights.

"Get much sleep last night, Apollo?" Sirius asked.

"Ah...yeah..." Apollo said distractedly, shaking his head as if to fix his brain back into place.

Leo watched him closely for a few moments. He had a feeling that there was something more than sleep deprivation that was wrong with Apollo. He wondered if something had happened to him last night after he had fallen asleep in that chair. Maybe Ron or Neville had said something that they shouldn't have said to him. The two of them could be so careless sometimes.

"All right there, Apollo?" Leo asked.

Apollo looked down at him and gave a weak smile that did not quite reach his green eyes. "I'm fine." He sighed heavily and looked around the kitchen. With what looked like a great effort, he sat up straighter and said: "So...what's for breakfast?"

"Toast," Leo said darkly, glancing at Sirius. "That is, if he's cooking."

Sirius pushed his dark hair back, clearly frustrated. "I don't just make toast, Leo."

Leo ignored him. "Can you cook, Apollo?"

"A bit," Apollo said. "I used to make breakfast for my aunt and uncle--" He stopped abruptly, clearly having not meant to have said what he did.

"Your aunt and uncle?" Sirius questioned, claiming once more a seat across the table from the two boys.

"Er...yeah...they...erm...they were...uh...sick a lot and couldn't do much on their own..."

"Did they live with you and your parents?" Leo asked quietly. The subject of Apollo's family had never really been discussed before, at least not while Leo had been present. The boy guessed that it was probably still a very sensitive issue.

"Uh...yes..." Apollo said, once more looking at his hands. Leo noted vaguely that there was a rather strange scar on the back of Apollo's right hand.

An awkward silence descended, but was broken quickly as Lily entered the kitchen, her bright morning smile quite infectious.

"Mum!" gasped Leo in relief. He would be spared Sirius's toast.

Lily looked over at her son, amused. "Leo!" she mimicked, before kissing the top of his head and making him grimace.

"What about me?" Sirius asked, pouting and giving her sad puppy-eyes.

"Well, I suppose you get a kiss, too," Lily laughed, and pecked him on the cheek. Now it was her turn to grimace. "Argh...stubble...go shave and then you can have breakfast."

"What? I can't shave on an empty stomach! In my weakened state, I may cut my beautiful face."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Now that would be a tragedy. I can see it now...front page of the Daily Prophet: Half-Starved Sirius Black Cuts Ego with Razor..."

"Don't even joke about such things!" Sirius said, sitting back in his chair and feigning a great loss of pride.

"What are we joking about?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Lily looked over at her husband. "Your partner in crime here--" she jabbed a thumb at Sirius, who put on an innocent who, me? face--"thinks it would be a crime to mar that overrated façade of his."

"And so it would be," James agreed with mock sincerity, and Lily, who had expected this answer, threw her hands up in the air in defeat.

"You people are mad...the lot of you...nutters!" She looked apologetically at Apollo. "I'm so sorry that you have to put up with Sirius-ly Deranged Black for the rest of the summer."

Apollo laughed. "I don't mind. I think it's rather funny, actually."

Sirius beamed at Apollo. "Ah, a man after my own heart. Apollo doesn't mind my toast either," he added.

"Speaking of which," Leo interrupted, trying to make himself look as though he were an inch from death, "I'm starving." He paused, the said: "Er...please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Lily said. She walked over to the large fireplace and ignited it with her wand. "Porridge for breakfast?" she asked the others.

"Mmm...yes please," Sirius said. "But Leo wants toast, he told me so--"

Leo threw a fork at the older wizard's head. "How's that for marring your face?"

"Enough," Lily said mildly, milling about the hearth.

James took the opportunity then to say good morning to his wife properly. He walked up behind her and began laying kisses upon her neck affectionately.

"Urgh...dad...stop it..." Leo said, watching the loving display with undisguised disgust.

Lily smiled at her son's remark and turned around, pressing James's lips onto her own.

Leo covered his eyes with his hands. "Mum! Now I'm going to have that image in my head while I'm eating!"

Sirius and Apollo laughed at the boy's distress. James broke free from his wife, grinning. "Someday you might not mind as much."

Leo grumbled and poured himself some pumpkin juice from a pitcher on the table.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair, or as pleasant as it can be with Sirius telling jokes and saying random words whenever Leo tried to drink from his goblet. But instead of causing juice to spurt out of Leo's nose, James began to choke on his porridge, half coughing, half laughing.

"All right, Sirius," Lily said loudly, patting her husband's back.

"What?" Sirius said innocently, taking a sip of coffee.

Lily shook her head. "Never mind, just don't talk." She turned her attention then to Apollo, who was sitting quietly, picking at his breakfast. "Everything all right?" she asked him.

Apollo looked up at her apologetically. "Yes, I'm just not that hungry, I guess."

"Apollo," Lily said, careful to keep her tone light and casual, "may I ask you something?"

Apollo looked up at her once more. "Of course."

She paused, not knowing exactly how to proceed. To just come out and say what she wanted to say would be awkward, and she wished she had thought about this before she decided to ask, but there was nothing for it now. She was going to have to be straightforward.

"I noticed that you have a very interesting scar on your forehead. How did you get it?"

"Yeah, I noticed it, too," Leo said, obviously thinking that since his mother asked, it must be an appropriate subject to breach.

Apollo looked down at his porridge with renewed interest.

"I got it the night my parents died."

Once more, an uncomfortable silence fell, and Lily wished that had asked. What was she thinking?

"It's all right, really," he said quickly, seeing their uneasy glances.

Lily's heart went out to him then. She had been his age when her own parents had died; she knew how hard it could be. But at least she had been in familiar settings then--Apollo had been thrust into the homes of strangers, far from friends and familiarity.

"It's all right," he said again, but looking at his face, Lily had the feeling that all was not right with Apollo Hero.

* * *

Remus Lupin had now fallen into the habit of measuring his life not by years, but by periods of altering loneliness and friendship.

There was his early childhood, before Hogwarts, when he lived alone with his mother and father, learning to deal with the monster within himself. Next there was his time at Hogwarts and the short years that followed during the First War where, for the first time, he had friends, people who loved and respected him (people other than his parents) for who he was, not what he was. Then there came the twelve terrible long years where he was once again alone, walking wounded in a world that hated him. And then came his return to Hogwarts, his getting to know Harry Potter, and the redemption of Sirius Black. Once more, he had friends, once more he no longer felt ostracized and exiled. And though his renewed friendship with Padfoot was short-lived, Remus found that he still had others who cared for him and helped him through that dark time.

And then Harry left.

And everything changed. Again.

The disappearance of Harry, so closely following the death of Albus Dumbledore, marked a dark hour in the history of the Wizarding World. Although no one, not even the Order of the Phoenix, knew what the Prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort said, it did not take a genius to figure out that Harry was to play an important figure in the War. Probably the most important figure save the Dark Lord himself, Remus often reflected.

Now that Harry was gone, a sense of loss and uncertainty had fallen upon the lives of all those opposed to Lord Voldemort. Even the Dark Lord's own forces seemed wary of Harry's sudden and unannounced absence; they seemed to think of it as a bad sign for the Dark Forces, that perhaps Harry had indeed found a way to destroy Voldemort, as he had said he had...

Remus looked down once more at the letter Harry had sent him, though it would not be for the last time. He had read it a million times over, memorized it, could even give it to you backwards, but still he continued to pour over it, as if it would speak words of comfort and assurance to him.

He felt so useless, just sitting there in Grimmauld Place's kitchen, but there was nothing in the world that he could do. Harry was gone, and though the Order had searched high and low for any sign of him, that fact still remained.

He was gone--vanished into thin air, as though he had never existed at all.

Remus was the only one who hadn't searched, and though he felt terrible because of it, he knew that there was no use in doing so. Harry had told them not to search for him, and Remus knew that there would be no finding him if he didn't want to be.

That didn't stop him from feeling useless however. He wished he could find Harry, if only he knew where to look. Yet at the same time, somewhere deep down, past all the fatherly cares and worries that Remus had learned to feel for the boy, he knew that this was for the best. Harry had said he would return someday, and when he did, he would be ready to destroy Voldemort. But when and how that happened was anyone's guess.

Tonks came into the room then, walking carefully so as not to drop the massive amount of paperwork she was cradling in her arms. Remus looked up at her and managed a wan smile. "Hello, Nympha--"

"Remus," Tonks warned, setting the papers down onto the long table.

"I think it's a nice name," Remus defended.

"Well you would with a name like 'Remus'," she muttered.

"I don't know why you don't like it," Remus said, ignoring her last remark.

She sighed, changing the subject. "I've got these papers here that need sorting through..." She gestured to the pile.

"What are they of?" Remus asked, picking up one of the papers.

Tonks shuffled her rather large feet and said: "Possible places that Harry could have gone off to--"

"Tonks," Remus said, a sharp edge to his voice that she had never heard there before, "we are not going to find him, no matter what we do."

"You're right," she said, suddenly angry, snatching the paper from his hand. "We'll never find him because some people refuse to get off their lazy asses and look!"

"It's not that simple, Tonks," Remus said, angry in his own turn. "He doesn't want to be found!"

"How do you know that?" Tonks countered, pushing her face up close to Remus's. "How do you know that those letters weren't forgeries? He could be out there right now, hoping that we have the sense to go and find him!"

"Forgeries sent by Hedwig?" Remus said, disbelievingly. "Moody's beginning to rub off, Tonks..."

"Well, he could have written them while under the Imperius Curse then!"

"Harry can throw off that Curse as though it were a fly buzzing about his ear! You know that!"

"Why are you so against finding him?" Tonks screamed in frustration, her face the same colour as her hair.

"Because he has to do this!"

"And to think, I thought you cared about him!"

Remus stood so quickly that the chair fell over. He stood nose to nose with her, staring into those steely grey eyes...Sirius's eyes.

"I care very much for Harry," Remus said, his voice full of forced calm that covered a rage bubbling beneath the surface, "more than you'll ever know. Perhaps more than I'll ever know."

"So how can you just let him go...without even trying to get him back?" Tonks was relenting now, backing slowly away from him.

"Look at this letter, Tonks! Look at what it says! He has to do this! If we stop him, even if we could, he would never forgive us!"

"We won't stop him then," Tonks said, trying to sound reasoning. "We'll find him and help him..."

"Obviously if he needed or wanted our help, he would have asked for it," Remus said, fixing the upturned chair and sitting back down onto it. "He has to do this alone, and we have to let him." He looked back up at the young woman before him, a desperate light shining in his amber eyes. "We have to trust him, Tonks! If not him, who else do we have?"

"I don't know," Tonks said heavily, sinking into a chair beside Remus. "I don't know much of anything anymore. This War is far beyond Aurors and the Ministry...far beyond the Order even. Everything's happening so fast...Dumbledore and Harry..." She met Remus's eyes. "We're fighting a losing battle, aren't we?"

"And we'll go on fighting," Remus said nodding.

"I know we will. We have to. It's the only thing left to do besides lay down and die."

"We mustn't keep counting our losses," Remus said, trying to sound comforting. "We have to think positively. Harry won't let us down. He'll find a way to stop this War. He'll come through for us, I know he will."

"Why do you have to be such an optimist?" Tonks said, shuffling the papers before her needlessly. "It's bothersome. Why can't you be normal and despair like the rest of us?"

Remus smiled weakly and touched her shoulder. "Someone has to keep their head above the ground and hope that the rain stops. It always does, in the end," he said, even if he himself didn't even believe it. It sounded like the right thing to say, though. That's how I'll survive this War, he thought darkly, by saying nice-sounding things while the world crashes down around me.

"End..." Tonks whispered, and Remus was unsure if she meant to speak aloud. "When will it end?"

"Someday," Remus answered. "I'll let you know when it does."

Tonks looked over at him, smiling softly. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Hope to die.

* * *

Harry sat down upon his bed tiredly. He had just spent the most emotionally and mentally draining twenty-four hours of his seventeen years of life, and was now back at Sirius's house, alone in his room, to mull it all over in his head.

He had known what it was he was getting himself into when he arrived. Both Dumbledores had told him a lot about this world, and he had been well prepared with disguises and false identities and the like.

He knew that his parents would be there, well and alive. He knew that.

But he never truly understood it until he saw them.

Why did he think that dealing with living parents would be easy? Why did he think that the only difficult parts of his mission would be to find the Object and destroy Voldemort? How could he have believed for an instant that seeing Lily and James Potter would do nothing but make him happy? How could he have been so blind? So stupid?

Harry threw himself onto his back, staring at the ceiling and picking out the different shapes in the plaster. A portrait of an old man on a nearby wall was snoring. The clock beside his bed was ticking in an off-rhythm way. The wind outside was beating against the window. The August rain was beating lightly on the roof.

But Harry Potter heard none of it because his mind was screaming.

He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow, arms lying straight at his sides, fingers digging into the comforter. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that it hurt, but still the screaming in his head continued. He couldn't make out what it was saying, but he knew. It just wished it would stop. Was he going mad?

He brought his hands up to his ears and tried to shut out the screams. He tried not to think, not to hear, not to feel...

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside, and for a moment he wondered where he was. And then he remembered. There was no going back.

His eyes hurt. Stupid contacts, he thought bitterly, and got up to take them out. He noticed that the clock read two in the morning as he passed it.

Having relieved himself of the contacts that plagued his eyes daily, he stumbled half blind back into his room and fell onto his bed, the mattress giving him a welcoming creak.

He shut his eyes again, but for whatever reason it was, it seemed as though practicing Occlumency in this world just didn't work, and he was tormented with dreams of eyes just like his, of hair just like his, of being so close to the one thing he desired more than anything and being unable to have it.

He wasn't sure when or how it was that the realization of what was happening to him hit home, but when it did, it came with such a powerful force that he felt as though he couldn't breathe...that he was drowning in his own grief and emotional complexity. All he knew was that he'd be glad when this whole ordeal was over, and he could get back to living a normal life...or as normal as life ever was for Harry Potter.