After a lot of time and a lot of thought, I have decided to officially end my involvement with this story.

My reasons for coming to this decision are varied. Some of them are deeply personal, and I will not be sharing those online. As for the rest, though I don't think that I "owe" anything to anyone, I would still like to give an explanation. Most of my reasons come down to the fact that I simply wasn't enjoying writing it anymore.

The first reason is that I've outgrown this story, and I've outgrown this fandom. This being my first multi-chapter fanfic, I was on a very steep learning curve when I started, and it shows in the writing. I made some decisions that downright make me cringe when I look at them now. Could it be salvaged? Maybe. The point is, though, that I'm no longer invested enough to salvage it.

The second major reason is the abusive reviewers. Please understand that I'm not speaking as a whiny, entitled brat who can't take critique, and I'm not trying to disparage the people who gave me real, helpful constructive criticism. Even when they were couched in less-than-polite language, those critiques have helped me to learn and grow as a writer, and I'm grateful to everyone who took the time and effort to tell me when they thought that my characterization was off, or that a plot point didn't make sense. When I say "abusive reviewers," I mean people who thought I should throw all characterization and cause and effect out the window to punish the characters they didn't like, or who thought that my assessments of "this is what these characters would realistically do in this situation" amounted to me endorsing said characters' bad behavior. I didn't realize how bad it was getting until I started writing for DBZ fandom and realized that I was actually looking forward to receiving reviews again, even—no, especially—the sorts of reviews that consisted of literally several paragraphs telling me what was wrong with the story. To this day, when I see a new on Divergence, my first thought is not a sense of happiness or anticipation—it's "Damn it, not another one!" And that right there is a sign that something ain't right.

That said, I'm going to do my best to tie off this story, by posting everything that I had prewritten prior to my hiatus, which effectively covers the summer between fifth and sixth year (though be warned, I only got through the first draft so it's not nearly as polished as most of the earlier chapters). In addition, I'll add on my notes and the key plot points that I had outlined for the finale.

Year 6 Chapter 1: Coming Home

It was summer.

Outside the rain fell with a gentle rhythm, making a soft drumming sound against the roof. In the landscape that was visible through the window, the grass was a near-perfect shade of green, and every one of the widely-spaced trees wore a magnificent crown of leaves.

Sirius, however, was not looking out the window. Instead, he lay on his back, his one working eye was staring sightlessly at the ceiling. There was nothing to see there. Nothing at all.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

"Has he talked to you at all?"

Harry, though he had his back turned, felt his shoulders sag at the question, and he knew that Remus had seen. He was standing at the stove; after three full days of eating the same thing for every meal he had finally managed to convince Remus to let him do some of the cooking.

"No," he answered, not looking away from the stove. Sirius had not spoken a word to either of them since he had first woken up three days ago.

"I see." Though Harry did not turn to look, he knew that Remus was also slumped in defeat.

"Is he eating?"

"A little." The answer was accompanied by a dull scratching sound. Harry recognized it as Remus's fingernails digging into the soft wood of the table.

Instead of turning to face the wearing pain that he knew was laid out before him for the rest of the summer, Harry let his gaze wander to the kitchen window. The rain had stopped. The sun was now shining over the grounds, illuminating the sparkling dew that had gathered over the grass and trees.

The very weather seemed to be mocking them. In his mind, Harry remembered the echo of a high, cruel laugh.

Harry was in his room again when it happened. He had sat with Sirius for hours, talking, trying to get a response, a word, even a look. He had had no luck, and Remus had finally convinced him that he needed a break.

Now, he was lying on his bed. A sliver of sunlight crept slowly across his floor and he watched it apathetically, an aching feeling of emptiness gnawing away in his chest. In spite of the fact that it wasn't even a week into summer, there were already several letters from Ron and Hermione sitting on his desk.

He hadn't even opened them.

His window was open, and a cool breeze swirled through the room, briefly lifting his fringe from his forehead before it died down again. Harry was just trying to decide whether it would be worth it to even attempt to motivate himself to get up and do something, when he was promptly jarred from his lethargy by the distinctive crack! of Apparition from outside.

He sat up on his bed, looking out the window. Someone must have just arrived, but who? He couldn't see anything from his current vantage point.

Harry got up from his bed and moved, slowly, toward his bedroom door. He was just reaching out to grasp the doorknob when it burst open of its own accord, to reveal Remus standing in the hallway, white-faced and panting for breath.

"I'm sorry," he gasped; he looked to be in shock. "I only left him for a minute…"

Harry's stomach plunged. Before Remus could say anything more Harry had pushed past him and rushed down the hallway into Sirius's room. His window was also open, and the bed was indeed empty.

For a minute Harry could only stand in the doorway, shocked. Eventually, however, he realized that Remus had come to stand behind him.

"How?" he finally managed to ask. "Apparition is impossible inside of the house and he can't have walked, his knee…"

"Walking is a lot easier when one has four legs," Remus said darkly. "But don't worry, Harry; I have a guess at where he's gone. Just wait here, and I'll—"

"I'm coming with you!"

"No you're not!" Suddenly, Remus looked as stern as Harry had ever seen him. "Harry, the whole of wizarding England is now swarming with Death Eaters who'd like nothing better than to see you in Voldemort's hands, and this is one of the only places that's safe—"

"I don't care, I'm coming!" Harry was now shouting.

"I am not going to be responsible for you getting hurt too!" Remus's voice had now risen to match Harry's.

"What, you think I can't be responsible for myself?"

"You're fifteen!"

"I'm not a child!"

"You're not an adult, either! Harry, this isn't your responsibility!"

"I don't care, I'm going to help!"

"You're going to do what I say right now, or else—"

"Or else what?" Harry shouted. "You'll put me in a Body-Bind until you return?"

"Don't tempt me!" Remus snarled. He was now breathing heavily. "Nothing matters more than your safety, Harry, nothing!"

"So Sirius's safety doesn't matter?"

"Sirius would kill me if I put you in danger coming after him. If he didn't kill himself first, that is. Is that what you want?"

"I'm coming!" Harry yelled again. "If you leave me behind, I'll go out and look for him anyway!"

"Harry, for—" Remus closed his eyes, as if praying for patience. "All right. I'll take you. We're wasting time standing here arguing. But—" he continued as Harry opened his mouth, "—you are going to get your Invisibility Cloak first, you are to wear it at all times, and you are to do as I say, no matter what. If I tell you to run, or to hide, to leave me behind and save yourself, to leave Sirius and save yourself, you are to do it. Is that clear?"

"I—"

"Harry?"

"Yes." Harry closed his mouth; regardless of whether he intended to obey or not, there was no point in arguing further. "I'll just go and get the Cloak now."

Remus nodded, curtly; he was still angry. "Meet me at the front door as soon as you're ready."

It was the work of seconds to rush back to his room and grab the Cloak. When he dashed back down the hallway and into the living room it was to find Remus already waiting for him by the door.

They left the house in silence. As soon as they were outside, Remus turned to him.

"Grasp my forearm," he instructed. "Make sure you've got a tight hold, and don't let go. I'm going to take you via Side-Along Apparition."

With a nod, Harry did as instructed. As soon as he had a good grip Remus nodded decisively and pulled out his wand. Immediately they seemed to turn on the spot, and the world around them was swallowed by a crushing black tunnel.

Harry had not been prepared for the sensation of Apparition. He immediately fell back from Remus, gasping; he had no idea where they were or what was going on around them. Suddenly all he could see was the dark of a cemetery, a flash of lightning, the feeling of Nagini's fangs in his side…

"Harry! Harry!" Remus leaned forward, placing both hands on Harry's shoulders. "Are you all—"

"Don't touch me!" Harry swatted Remus's hands away. The motion set him off-balance and he fell backwards, landing hard on dirt.

Remus's eyes widened in shock. "I— All right." He knelt in front of Harry, close but not touching. "But I need to know you're okay."

"I—" Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He could smell grass and the rich scent of freshly turned earth. A cool breeze played over his skin. Gradually, he managed to push the graveyard and Nagini out of his mind.

"I'm fine." He opened his eyes, to find Remus still looking at him with concern. "Let's go find Sirius." He stood up, slowly, not trusting his legs, and brushed dirt from his trousers. Remus was still watching him. "What?"

Remus stood too, shaking his head. "Harry, I owe you an apology. I should have warned you. I forgot that the last time you Apparated—"

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

Remus sighed but didn't try to continue the conversation. "Put your Cloak on," he said instead. Once he had satisfied himself that Harry was concealed, he peeked out from the stand of trees in which they seemed to have arrived. There didn't seem to be anyone else close by.

"Where are we?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Godric's Hollow." Remus didn't look at Harry as he said it, and he was barely moving his mouth. A jolt went through Harry's stomach.

"Remus—wait."

He had been about to step out of the trees, but halted at the sound of Harry's voice. "You mean—this is where my parents lived? This is where—"

Remus gave a barely perceptible nod. Harry did not respond, but he began to understand why Sirius would come here.

They continued to stand still for a few more minutes, but then Remus shook himself. "Come on, Harry, we need to get going." He pushed his way out of the thicket; Harry, invisible, followed.

The sun beat down on them cheerfully as they made their way down the road. All around them there were people, talking, smiling, going about their business; some of them called out friendly greetings to Remus, and Harry heard snatches of conversation about the glorious weather they were having. All of it seemed to be a part of another world, a world in which the three of them no longer existed, which they could watch distantly but never touch.

Remus halted so suddenly that Harry nearly ran into him. Following his gaze, Harry saw that there was a Muggle wedding not far from where they were standing. They watched as the couple kissed, watched as the bride turned around to throw the bouquet.

She had red hair.

Looking at Remus again, Harry saw more clearly than ever the drawn, haggard look on his face, the expression which Harry had been too miserable himself to notice until now. Suddenly he knew, without having to be told, that his parents had also been married on this very spot, that Sirius had once stood where the best man stood now, that Remus had been among the smiling spectators, none of them dreaming that in a few short years their lives would be shattered.

With a sudden, jerky movement, Remus turned away. As Harry followed, striving to keep up, he could see Remus biting back the pain, forcing himself to do what needed to be done.

"How much farther?" Harry whispered.

"We're almost there."

Harry was about to ask where "there" was when they turned a corner and saw it, and his heart nearly stopped.

The house was ruined, the roof falling in on one side, but not for one second did Harry harbour any doubt as to its identity. All else briefly vanished from his mind as he stepped up to the fence to get a good look. His parents had lived and died here, and he had very nearly gone with them. That caved-in spot on the roof must have been where the curse had backfired. Harry laid a hand on the gate.

A sign rose out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds. In golden letters upon the wood it said:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,

Lily and James Potter lost their lives.

Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard

ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters

and as a reminder of the violence

that tore apart their family.

All around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these all said similar things.

Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.

If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!

Long live Harry Potter.

Harry looked over at Remus. He, too, was leaning on the fence, staring at the sign.

"Did you ever…?"

"No." Remus shook his head. "I just couldn't bear…" He turned away from the house with a sharp intake of breath.

"Anyway," said Harry, "it was a waste of time. Sirius didn't come here."

"Not necessarily." Looking where Remus indicated, Harry suddenly noticed the bloody pawprints that led away from the house.

Harry felt his heart rising. Sirius had come here, he might still be nearby. "Let's go."

They followed the prints. Remus had picked up the pace so much that Harry had trouble keeping up with him, but he didn't even think of asking him to slow down.

Soon, but not nearly soon enough, they reached the graveyard. "Ah," Remus muttered under his breath. "I thought this might be it." Once again, Harry did not have to ask what he meant. Remus pushed open the kissing gate.

As soon as the large black form came into sight, they both broke into a run. The black dog was lying in front of a white marble headstone, but as they came into sight suddenly Sirius was sitting in the dog's place, his head hanging, his injured leg sticking straight out from his body.

"Sirius." Remus spoke softly, quietly, exhaustion coming through in every syllable. "Sirius, it's time to come home."

Sirius looked up then, and the deadness in his eye rivaled that when he had first broken out of Azkaban.

"He's gone, Moony." His voice had gone flat and dead. "He's really gone. James…" He buried his face in his hands, the last word coming out as almost a sob.

"Yes, Sirius, he's gone." Remus knelt down beside him, putting an arm gently around Sirius's shoulders.

"Sirius, I'm here." Harry let the Cloak fall slightly, just enough for his face to be visible. "I need you to come home."

Sirius looked up at him, and seemed to really see him for the first time since he had woken up on that terrible day. His eye widened. "Harry?"

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. "Yes, Sirius, it's me. Please, come home."

Sirius struggled to rise, but Remus placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Don't injure yourself more than you already have. I'll Apparate us all back. Harry?"

Harry had not moved. He was looking at the headstone of white marble, reading the words that were engraved upon it.

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

"I've never—" Harry's voice failed on those two words, which came out sounding choked and strangled.

"I see," Remus said gently. "Yes, of course." And before Harry could say anything more he had raised his wand, and a bouquet of flowers had appeared out of thin air. Harry took it, still feeling numb, and laid it, gently, atop his parents' grave.

"I'm ready now," he said. "Let's all go home."

Year 6 Chapter 2: An Unexpected Visit

The next morning, it was raining again. Harry had just got out of bed and was staring at the fat droplets coursing down his window when he heard it. A crack.

For a second, he froze. Then he was sprinting from the room, still in his pyjamas, thinking please no not again I'll do anything just not this again…

He threw open the door to Sirius's room so hard that it banged against the opposite wall. His eyes flew wildly all around the room, only to land on Sirius, who was looking at him in surprise, and Remus, who was applying something thick and white to one of Sirius's hands. When the door flew open they both jumped violently, and Sirius bit back a yelp of pain at the sudden jarring.

"I'm sorry!" Harry gasped. "It's just—I thought…"

"'S fine," Sirius said, though he was talking through clenched teeth and breathing in short, painful gasps. "No harm done."

"I heard it too," Remus added. "Someone's just arrived." He gently set Sirius's hand down with an apologetic look. "Harry, you stay here while I go see who it is."

Harry nodded, and stood aside for Remus to leave the room. Once his footsteps had retreated down the hallway, he took Remus's vacated chair.

"Hey," Sirius said. Though his face was still blank and it sounded as if there was hardly any emotion in his voice, just hearing his godfather speak that one word made Harry smile in relief.

"Hey," he replied. "Here, I'll finish that." He picked up the jar of salve and began to apply it, as gently as he could, to Sirius's hand. At least it was starting to resemble a hand again.

"Thanks." Sirius winced slightly, though Harry was being as careful as he could. "I'm sorry about the scare I gave you yesterday," he blurted out.

"Don't," Harry said forcefully. "It's—" But just what it was, Harry couldn't think; he certainly couldn't say that it was okay, or that it was nothing. He settled for shaking his head. "Just don't do it again. Please?"

Sirius sighed. "Don't worry, Harry. I won't."

Hearing his godfather call him by his name made a small bubble of happiness burst in his stomach, a happiness that he sorely needed after the days of tension and worry. "Here," he said, grabbing the roll of gauze, feeling suddenly more cheerful than he thought he had a right to.

Harry had never done this on his own before, but he had assisted Remus enough times that by now he was an expert. He had just finished wrapping up Sirius's hand when he heard two sets of footsteps coming back down the hall. He opened his mouth to greet Remus, but whatever Harry had been about to say died in his throat when Dumbledore stepped into the room behind him.

"Ah, Harry," he said pleasantly. "And Sirius, I am glad to see that you are recovering."

Sirius gave a jerky nod, but didn't otherwise answer. Harry, for his part, was suddenly intensely conscious that he was still in his pyjamas, and that the last time he had seen Dumbledore was shortly after he had sicked up and fainted on the floor of Professor Kinder's quarters.

"I would like, if you don't mind, a word with all three of you," Dumbledore continued serenely, apparently undisturbed by any of this. "I apologise for the earliness of the hour, but there are some things that I thought better to address sooner rather than later."

"I—er—I'll just go get dressed, then, sir." Harry stood up hurriedly, making his way quickly back to his own room.

When he returned to Sirius's room fully dressed, it was to find Sirius lying on his side staring at the wall and Remus and Dumbledore sharing a cup of tea, though without conversing at all. Upon Harry's entrance Dumbledore waved his wand, and a steaming cup of tea appeared in front of him as well.

"Er… thank you." He plucked the cup out of the air and took a sip.

"Now, to business." Dumbledore set his saucer gently on the bedside table. "There are several matters I wanted to discuss with you today, Harry. The first of these is that I have arranged for your return to 4 Privet Drive."

A bolt of dread shot through Harry's body, but before he could even open his mouth to protest Remus had jumped in.

"Absolutely not, Dumbledore!" he said, setting down his tea so hard that it sloshed out of the cup.

"I have already explained to you why it is necessary for him to return there—"

"And I thought I had explained to you why he mustn't!" Remus had leaped to his feet, and Harry could actually see the wolf in his eyes.

"Given the incident of yesterday morning, I hardly think that it would be wise—"

"That is not going to happen again." Sirius was easing his way slowly into a sitting position, wincing at every movement. "He's staying here."

"Sirius, given the condition you are currently in—"

"I'm here too!" Remus snarled.

"Dumbledore, you're making excuses again," Sirius said softly. "Remus can look after things just as well as I could."

"Even during the full moon?" At that, both were silent. "Now Harry, if you'd come with me…"

"I'm not going."

Everyone else in the room went completely still. Dumbledore, however, was giving him a look of understanding. "Harry," he said gently, "you have had a very bad shock. I would like to remind you, however, of what I told you concerning the blood wards—"

"If the blood wards keep me so safe, sir, why I am allowed to leave the house at all?" Harry was surprised by how quietly he spoke, and by the complete lack of emotion in his own voice. "Why did you even let me come to Hogwarts? This house has to be just as safe as the Dursleys', and I think that at this point moving somewhere else would only increase the chances that the Death Eaters could get to me."

"Harry, I will have to insist. The protections on your house—"

"I'm staying here!" Before Harry had even realised what he was going to do, his wand was in his hand and pointed at Dumbledore.

Had the situation been any less serious, Harry would have burst out laughing at the look of shock on Dumbledore's face. Time seemed to stand still, and Harry didn't know whether a few seconds or a few minutes had passed before Dumbledore spoke again, his voice soft and low and somehow very weary.

"This, then, is your decision, Harry?"

"Yes." Though he was now shaking all over, he somehow managed to hold his wand hand steady.

"You understand the risks?"

"Yes."

"And why, might I ask, do you insist so vehemently upon remaining here?" Sirius and Remus both opened their mouths with looks of fury, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "I would like to hear it from Harry, if you would."

"I'm not leaving Sirius now." The words, Harry realised, were coming out of his mouth before he could even think about what to say. "We nearly lost him once, Professor." His voice had dropped nearly to a whisper. "I know what I stand to lose."

"You choose, then, to stay for the same reason that Lily gave up her life in exchange for yours." Dumbledore let out a small sigh. "Very well, then. I will respect your decision."

Harry was so startled that he nearly dropped his wand. "Y-you will?"

"Yes, Harry, I will." Dumbledore looked at him again, and for the first time that day there was a ghost of a smile on his face. When he next spoke, however, his expression had turned grim. "That does, however, introduce several other complications, including," and his gaze turned to Remus, "that of the next full moon."

Remus frowned. "Surely you can spare a member of the Order for one night, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore nodded, heavily. "I shall make inquiries, and see whether anyone is willing and able. I am quite sure that at least one person will be." He paused, drumming his long fingers on his knee. "I will also see whether I can persuade Severus to brew you Wolfsbane for the remainder of the summer."

Sirius snarled at that, but Remus hung his head with a small sigh. "I—would appreciate that," he admitted softly.

Dumbledore nodded, and turned back to Harry. "Unfortunately, you are not the only one whose safety will be in jeopardy if you fail to return to your aunt and uncle's house. Knowing how Voldemort operates, it is very nearly certain that he will send his Death Eaters to 4 Privet Drive as soon as it becomes known that the protective charm has broken. He will kidnap your relatives, and likely torture them in the hopes that you will come to their rescue."

"I don't want that," Harry admitted. He shot a look at Sirius. "Not even for the Dursleys."

Dumbledore nodded. "The Order can and will protect them. It might, however, prove a problem if they are unwilling, in which case you will need to help me persuade them."

"Dumbledore, Harry shouldn't even have to talk to those relatives of his again—"

"Remus, please." Harry shot a pleading look at Remus, begging him to understand. "I—I have to do this. I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't."

"You have a good heart, Harry." Dumbledore surveyed him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "You are also correct in that moving you again would present an unnecessary danger if the wards have indeed fallen. Might I suggest writing a letter to your relatives, in which you explain the situation?"

"I dunno if that'll persuade them," Harry admitted. "But I'll do it."

"Good man." Dumbledore nodded his approval. "As a matter of fact, I think that now would be the best time to do it, as I would like a word with these two in private."

Harry, disappointed at being left out but not entirely surprised, nodded as he got up and went to his room to write a very difficult letter.

About an hour and a half later the floor around Harry's desk was littered with crumpled pieces of parchment, but he had finally managed to produce a letter that he thought was written with sufficient urgency and in terms that were understandable to Muggles. He was just reading it through one last time when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he called without looking up.

The door swung open. "Harry, Dumbledore would like another word with you before he leaves," Remus's voice said from behind him.

"Just a minute." Harry finished reading the letter, gave a nod of satisfaction, and folded it carefully.

When they returned to Sirius's room there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before, and Harry guessed that it had to do with whatever meeting they'd had while he was in his room. Sirius was looking especially grim-faced, and Remus frowned slightly as he sat down.

"I've finished the letter, sir."

"Ah, excellent." Dumbledore took the parchment from Harry and skimmed it, his eyes moving so rapidly down the page that it was a wonder he could take in a single word. "Yes, I think that will do." Dumbledore folded the parchment again and tucked it neatly into a pocket of his robes. He gestured for Harry to sit down.

"Now Harry," he began as soon as Harry had settled himself comfortably, "I have discussed the matter with your guardians, and it is my wish—and they quite agree—that you study Occlumency this summer."

Harry frowned. "Occlu— Occlu-what, sir?"

A faint smile appeared on Dumbledore's face. "Occlumency, Harry. It will allow you to close your mind to Voldemort."

"The vision that you saw at the end of the year need never happen again," Remus added.

For a moment Harry was filled with relief—he'd be able to block out Voldemort, his mind need never again be subjected to Voldemort's happiness or Voldemort's sick desires—but then that relief faded, like a popping bubble, as he thought of something else.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" His thoughts must have shown on his face, for now Dumbledore was looking at him with concern.

"It's just…" He took a deep breath, struggling to find a way to put his thoughts into words. "I know it was horrible, sir, but if I hadn't had that vision—"

"…then the Order would have found out what had happened by other means," Dumbledore said.

"Harry," Remus said gently, "I was there when Sirius disappeared, and I contacted the rest of the Order right away. Even if you hadn't seen what happened, we would have found out through other means."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "but what if next time—"

"There won't be a next time," Remus said firmly. "The Order is taking every possible measure to ensure that no one else is slipped a Portkey." He took another look at Harry's face and sighed. "Even if something like this does happen again, what do you think you could do?"

"I dunno, something—"

"No." This time it was Sirius who spoke. "Harry, the only thing worse than what happened to me was knowing that you were forced to watch." He was looking at Harry intently, cradling his mangled hands against his chest. "Even if you think otherwise," he added softly, "there was nothing you could have done." His expression was much the same as when he had met Harry's eyes in the two-way mirror, when he had realised that Harry was going to have to watch his torment…

"Harry," Remus added, pressing his advantage, "it's not down to you to find out what Voldemort's up to. That's Snape's job."

"And he does it, I might add, exceedingly well." Dumbledore surveyed Harry over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "Well, Harry?" he asked. "Are we in agreement as to your study of Occlumency?"

"I—"

The adults must have seen that he still looked mutinous, for there was a look that passed among them that Harry did not miss. Then Sirius and Remus had given each other an almost imperceptible nod, and Sirius had looked at Dumbledore and said, simply, "Tell him."

"Very well, then." Dumbledore sighed. "You are aware, of course, of the mental connection that you share with Voldemort. Voldemort, however, has been unaware of this connection—until very recently. When you witnessed what he did to Sirius at the end of the year, you delved so deeply into his mind that he cannot have failed to realise that you were there, and that you have been gaining access to his thoughts and feelings.

"More importantly, he will have deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse. Voldemort knows now that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return. Knowing this, he could very well attempt to make you do his bidding, manipulate you by planting false images in your head…"

Harry's blood ran cold.

"You mean, then," he said, quite slowly, "that Voldemort could make me see something like that again? And it might not even be real?"

"Yes."

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Harry lowered his head. "I'll study Occlumency, sir," he said quietly. "And I'll make sure that I learn it."

"Excellent." Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "I shall inform Severus right away."

"S-Snape?" Harry stammered. "You mean Snape is going to be teaching me Occlumency?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. And yes, he shall. I assure you that he is a master Occlumens, and that you will be able to learn much from him if only you put your mind to it."

Harry could only sit there feeling stunned. This was easily shaping up to be the worst summer he had ever had, and that was including the one he had spent locked in his bedroom with bars on the window and only the occasional can of soup to eat.

He was, however, trapped. He had already given his promise to Dumbledore, and now there was no going back on it. He nodded.

"I know this is difficult," Remus said gently, "but you have to study hard, Harry."

"Remus and I will both be here," Sirius added. "We'll make sure that Snape isn't horrible to you."

Harry felt a surge of gratitude well up inside of him. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "But I think I can deal with Snape now. After all," he added, "I've seen much worse."

Year 6 Chapter 3: Clear Your Mind

Snape came a week later.

At first Harry was unaware of this fact. He had needed some time alone, so after telling Remus where he was going and agreeing to stay within the boundaries of the Fidelus, he had grabbed his Firebolt and began a long flight over the property. For the first half-hour or so he had engaged in the wildest acrobatics he could devise, but now he was simply drifting aimlessly over the grass and trees.

He floated, ever so slowly, over the roof of the house. Water from the most recent rainfall glittered atop the roof. A warm breeze fluttered over his clothes and teased his hair, carrying the scents of grass and dew into his nostrils.

Finally, though, his stomach began to rumble. Harry grimaced – he still didn't want company, and getting a meal would mean either enduring more of Remus's cooking or spending some time in the kitchen himself – but his body didn't care where he got food just as long as he got it, and it wasn't long before his stomach had made up his mind for him. Sighing, Harry stashed his Firebolt in the shed alongside Sirius's motorbike and made his way back to the house.

Fortunately, he did not have to cook. When he got inside Remus was nowhere in sight, but there was a package on the kitchen table bearing a note from Mrs. Weasley. Harry picked it up.

Dear Harry, Remus and Sirius, it read,

Here's a little something to help you through the summer. It isn't much, but I hope it helps. I know you are all going through a difficult time right now and if there's anything else I can do to help, anything at all, just write and I'll do whatever I can. I'll be sure to send more later this week.

Love,

Molly

Inside of the package was a an assortment of apples, a loaf of home-baked bread, more biscuits than Harry could count, and what looked like half a kitchen's worth of other foods.

Reading the note again Harry felt his eyes fill, unbidden, with tears of gratitude. He hastily wiped them away before Remus had a chance to walk into the room, and tore a hunk off the loaf of bread.

He had just finished eating when the door to Sirius's room opened and Remus came out, followed – Harry suppressed a groan – by Snape.

"Ah, Harry." Remus made an attempt at a smile, but he looked – and sounded – very tired. "Perfect timing."

"Occlumency lessons begin today, Potter," said Snape, his mouth curling into a sneer.

"Yes, sir," Harry added wearily. He didn't even have the energy to fight with Snape right now.

After Harry had hastily cleaned up his dishes, Snape indicated that they should go into the living room. Remus was already sitting on the sofa with an open book, but his eyes were not moving and Harry knew that he was there primarily to make sure they didn't kill each other. Snape drew his wand.

"Take out your wand, Potter."

Harry did so, feeling nervous.

"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of."

Harry looked back and forth between Snape and Remus. "But won't the Ministry know if I—"

"In detecting underage magic," Remus said, speaking before Snape could, "the Ministry can only register location. As you're in a house with adult wizards, any underage magic you perform here should go undetected."

Harry, not entirely reassured, nodded before returning to Snape.

"As I was saying, Potter, I am about to attempt to break into your mind. We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse… You will find that similar powers are needed for this… Brace yourself, now… Legilimens!"

An hour later, Harry found himself on the floor, having once again failed to keep Snape out of his mind. He felt angry, and dirty, and right now he hated Snape for doing this to him, for making him relive some of his worst memories and coming close to others that Harry dreaded him seeing even more…

"Let's call it a day, Severus." Remus, who had not even pretended to read since the session had started, was looking concerned. "That's enough for the first time, don't you think?"

"Very well then, Lupin." Snape pocketed his wand. "Potter, you are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep – empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry through clenched teeth, putting as much contempt as he could muster into the last word.

"And be warned, Potter… I shall know if you have not practised…"

"Right," Harry mumbled. Snape was already at the door. It closed swiftly behind him with a resounding thud.

For the moment neither of them spoke. Harry picked himself up off the floor and brushed off his clothes as if he had merely fallen, but his knees didn't seem to want to hold him and his hands were trembling.

"Harry—"

"Don't," Harry snapped. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Remus said it quietly, but with conviction. "You're shaking all over."

Harry looked down at his hands. Their shaking was even more pronounced than he had thought. Hastily, he shoved them into his pockets.

Remus didn't take the hint. "Harry, what is the matter?"

Harry let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "What's the matter?" His voice was getting progressively higher with every word he spoke. "Snape's just been trying to violate my mind for an hour and you ask me what the matter is?"

Remus's face paled. "It's Voldemort, isn't it? You saw into his mind and… oh God…"

"No!" Harry shouted. "Just leave me alone!" And he had run out the door before Remus could respond.

"What happened?" Sirius asked as soon as he walked in the door. Sighing, Remus sat down by his bed.

"The first lesson didn't go well," he said without preamble.

Sirius frowned. "Not just because it's Snivellus?"

"No. It's… Harry's reaction. He was really upset afterwards, so much so that he ran out of the room."

Sirius's face paled. "He ran out, Moony, and you—"

"Don't worry, I went after him," Remus said quickly, holding up a hand. "He's in his room now, I'll hear it if he leaves."

Sirius relaxed visibly, allowing the tension that must have been very painful to ease from his body. "So what happened?"

"Well, you know Occlumency is never easy to learn. The mind doesn't take well to an outside intrusion. But even considering that, Harry's reaction was extreme. Before he ran out, he said something about Snape trying to violate his mind; you might have heard that bit." Sirius nodded. "He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but judging by his reaction I think I hit a bit too close to the mark when I asked about his mental connection with Voldemort."

Sirius groaned, covering his face with his heavily bandaged hands. "What else, Moony? There's something else that happened, I can tell."

Remus sighed. "This might be unrelated. It might mean nothing. But… something tells me otherwise." Sirius was silent, waiting for Remus to continue. "When we went to get you from Godric's Hollow, Harry had a bad reaction to Apparition. I took hold of his shoulder to see if he was okay." He swallowed. "But Harry, he… human contact just seemed to make it worse. He very violently did not want to be touched."

The room was dead silent as all of the possible implications of this slowly sank in. A breeze fluttered through the leaves outside of the open window. Outside, a bird chirped merrily. The half of Sirius's face that Remus could see had gone very pale, his eye wide with horror.

"And…" he whispered, "Moony, you think…?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. But I do know that Harry is hurting." He looked out the window. A pair of birds were chasing each other through the branches of a tree. "I've tried to talk to him, but he just doesn't trust me like he does you." Finally, he turned away from the window to look back at his last living friend. "Sirius, I know it's hard, but I think… I think you have to talk to him. I think you're the only one who can get through to him right now."

"Yes, I—I'll do it. Meanwhile, Moony, could you write a letter to Dumbledore? Tell him to hold off on Occlumency lessons until we get to the bottom of this."

"Of course I will, Padfoot. Of course I will."

Harry only grunted when there was a knock at his door, but the door opened anyway. He didn't move from his bed, or even look around. There was only one person it could have been.

"Go away, Remus," he said, but he couldn't muster up the energy to be angry.

"Don't take that tone with me," Remus responded warningly, but his voice, like Harry's, was too exhausted to hold any hint of anger. "Sirius wants to talk to you."

"What about?" he asked, pushing himself up on his elbow. The question was a challenge.

"You'll have to ask him." Though Remus didn't rise to the bait, his tone, Harry thought, was a little too casual. Sighing, he pushed himself up from the bed.

"Come in," Sirius called when he knocked on the door. Harry pushed it open to find his godfather sitting up in bed, looking at him with a worried expression.

"Go ahead and close the door, Harry," he said. Harry did so, feeling nervous. When Sirius gestured for him to sit in one of the bedside chairs he did so, but he sat on the very edge of the chair and did not look at Sirius, but rather at his hands, which were gripping his knees.

For a few minutes, there was silence. Harry was the first to break it. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asked.

"I just wanted to know," Sirius said slowly, "whether there was anything you wanted to talk about."

"You and Remus been having a nice little chat about me behind my back, have you?" he asked coldly.

Sirius cringed but his voice remained steady. "Remus is worried about you." He looked at Harry intently. "As am I."

Harry shrugged.

"You've barely spoken to anyone in days," Sirius continued, pressing his advantage. "Ron and Hermione say you haven't been responding when they write you – yes, I do know about that. That, and your first Occlumency lesson—"

"Remus should learn to stop blabbing to other people about my personal life!"

"Actually, I could hear you yelling from in here." He paused, seeming to be unsure whether he should go on. Finally, though, he did. "What was that you said about Snape trying to violate your mind?"

"Why do you think I said it?" Agitated, Harry got up and began to pace. "How much would you enjoy it if Snape started going through all of your worst memories?"

Sirius laughed then, bitterly. "Harry, I've already had twelve years' worth of dementors picking through all of my worst memories. I don't think there's much Snape could do to hurt me at this point."

Harry, suddenly realising what he had said, cringed inwardly. He stopped pacing, returned to the bedside, and slowly sat down, not looking at Sirius. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

"Apology accepted." Harry remained silent. Sirius sighed. "Harry, we're bound to hurt each other once in a while; it's what families do." When the silence continued Sirius reached out a hand, as if to gently force Harry's chin up so that he would look at him.

Harry's reaction was instantaneous. Pushing his chair back so hard he nearly toppled over, he swatted Sirius's hand away without even thinking.

Sirius's jaw clenched, his teeth slamming together with an audible click; pulling the hand back to his chest, he made a strangled noise of pain deep in his throat that was all the worse for being held in. His eyes were shut tight, and he was gasping in pain.

For a moment, Harry was completely frozen as he realised what he had done. "I'm sorry," he gasped once again, before he got up and ran from the room.

Remus found him again that night, and this time Harry felt too guilty to tell him to leave him alone. "How's Sirius?" he asked instead.

"No worse than before," Remus replied, which Harry understood to mean, "you haven't done any lasting damage." Harry nodded, guiltily, but relieved nonetheless, and continued to pretend to read his History of Magic textbook.

"I've contacted Dumbledore," Remus continued, "and we've agreed that it would be best if we held off on the actual Occlumency lessons for the time being." He paused as if waiting for Harry's reaction.

Harry was torn between relief and horror. Not having Occlumency lessons meant that Snape would no longer be able to see into his private memories, but it also meant that he, Harry, might very well be forced to look into Voldemort's mind once again.

"This doesn't mean that you won't learn Occlumency," Remus said, with that uncanny ability he had of knowing exactly what Harry was thinking, and exactly what to say in turn. "But we talked it over and I think—and Dumbledore agrees—that you have a much better chance of learning if you first master the basic skills necessary to becoming an Occlumens."

"Like clearing my mind?" Harry asked.

"Exactly." He then sat, rather surprisingly, on the floor, and gestured for Harry to join him.

"Er… Remus?" Harry asked, sitting across from him.

"A lot of people talk about the body and mind as if they're completely separate," Remus explained. "But the truth is that they're not, not really. If you want to discipline your mind, the first step is to discipline your body."

Harry nodded to show that he understood and imitated Remus's posture, legs crossed, back straight, his wrists resting lightly on his knees. Remus nodded in approval.

"Good," he said. "Now control your breathing. Try to breathe as deeply and slowly as you can. When you inhale, fill your lungs from the bottom up."

For the next few minutes Harry simply practised breathing like that. It was surprisingly relaxing.

"You're halfway there," Remus said encouragingly a few minutes later, when Harry had mastered the breathing exercise to his satisfaction. "The focus required to get to this point is in and of itself enough to get into the right mindset. But there's one more step.

"You still need to empty your mind of emotion. It may take a bit of practise and experimentation to find a technique that works for you, but this is a good place to start. When you breathe out, visualise your emotions – fear, anger, nervousness – flowing out of your body as well."

Closing his eyes, Harry did as instructed. As he breathed he pictured his emotions flowing out of his body like water, carried away on his breath. He didn't even realise how hard he was concentrating until he heard someone gently calling his name.

"Harry? Harry."

Opening his eyes, he saw Remus standing over him.

"Remus? When did you get up?"

"Actually, I only just came in." Remus looked amused.

"Came in?" Harry tried to stand up, and found to his surprise that he was stiff. "How long have I been sitting here?"

"I'd say it's been about an hour." Reaching out a hand, Remus pulled him to his feet. "How do you feel?"

"Better, I guess. Calmer." Harry looked down. "I guess… I guess I really needed that."

"You've had a lot of stress to work off. I'm not surprised." He smiled gently. "Now that you've got it down, I want you to do that every night before bed, and any other time you're feeling angry or stressed. Once you get in the habit, we'll pick up Occlumency again. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does." To his surprise, Harry found that he was speaking around a yawn.

"You'd better get to bed. It's a little early, but you've had a busy day and there's nothing else needs doing tonight."

"Yeah, I will." He was already climbing into bed, still fully clothed. Sighing, Remus waved his wand and Harry's shoes slid off of his feet.

"Hey, Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Where did you learn that, anyway?"

Remus sighed. "After I lost all of my friends, I started practising before every full moon. If one is in a calm state of mind beforehand, the transformation becomes more bearable."

"Oh." Harry wished he could think of something better to say. "G'night, Remus."

"Good night, Harry."

That night, he didn't have a single dream.

Year 6 Chapter 4: Full Moon Confessions

"So what do you want to do for your birthday?"

"Huh?" Harry realised with a shock that he would be sixteen in a week's time. For the first time in his life, he had forgotten his own birthday.

"There'll be a full moon the night before," Remus said, picking up from where Sirius had left off, "so I won't be up to doing anything extravagant, I'm afraid. Still, there's no reason you shouldn't have your friends over for the afternoon."

"Er… yeah," Harry said. "That sounds good, I guess."

Sirius looked at him oddly, but said, "Why don't you go ahead and write them some invitations, then? I'm sure Ron and Hermione would appreciate hearing from you, and you can't just stay locked up with us all summer."

"Yeah, I'll do that later today, I guess."

The actual writing turned out to be tough – much more difficult than Harry would ever have expected from a birthday invitation. What, exactly, was he supposed to say? I know I haven't written you all summer, but would you like to come over for my birthday next week? I know a lot of awful things have been happening, but I'm going to pretend that everything is normal for a day? Even in his head, the words sounded stupid.

Eventually he settled for writing out the invitations as if everything were all right, with a brief apology at the end for not having written earlier. He was just tying them to Hedwig's leg when another owl flew in through the window. The envelope it was carrying was addressed to him, and when he opened it a jolt went through his body: it was his O.W.L. results.

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy A

Care of Magical Creatures E

Charms E

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Divination P

Herbology E

History of Magic A

Potions O

Transfiguration E

After reading it through once Harry tossed it back onto the dining table, not feeling much of anything about it. He finished tying the envelopes to Hedwig's leg and sent her on her way with a brief stroke of her feathers.

Ron and Hermione wrote back quickly, Hermione saying of course she could come and she understood completely and was he quite sure he was okay? Ron, on the other hand, followed Harry's lead and sent him a cheerful response in which he made it sound like nothing whatsoever was out of the ordinary. Harry wasn't sure which one made him feel worse.

Still, he put on a cheerful front for Sirius, to whom this seemed to mean so much, and who had insisted, the one time that Harry had suggested that his birthday didn't matter all that much right now, that Harry had never had a proper birthday in his life and that he was going to get one if it was the last thing Sirius did. So he tried to look forward to it, and sent replies to Ron and Hermione telling them to be there in the afternoon since Remus would need the morning to rest.

Sirius had not tried to have that talk with him again, and Harry didn't know whether it was because the last time had ended so disastrously, or if he was only planning it out more carefully this time. Though Harry was not sorry for the lack of conversation on that particular topic, he felt guilty enough about the last time that it was important to him to make it up to Sirius in other ways. So he pretended to look forward to his own birthday.

Snape came by with a dose of Wolfsbane twice in the week that proceeded the full moon, and Harry made sure to be out of the house on both occasions. Remus had also informed him that Dumbledore would be sending someone over the day before, though he had so far had no word on who it would be. Harry tried not to make guesses; he couldn't think of a single Order member he could stand to look in the face right now, not even Mrs. Weasley.

He could not, however, put off knowing forever, and before he knew it the day before the full moon had arrived. Harry and Remus were just finishing up breakfast when there was a loud popping noise outside, followed by a knock at the door.

Note: I didn't actually write out anything past this point, because on the first draft I still didn't know which Order member it was I wanted to show up. Later on in the story, however, it turned out to be Cedric.

Moonlight streamed into the hallway as Harry made his way down to Sirius's room. He knocked on the door, and was unsurprised to hear Sirius call, "Come in."

Sirius smiled upon seeing him. He was sitting up in bed, and seemed to have been looking out the window before Harry had arrived.

"Mind if I stay in here tonight?" he asked. "Since Remus is staying in the living room and I told Cedric that he could take my bed…"

"Of course you can," said Sirius, gesturing toward Remus's bed. "Remus won't be coming back in here until morning at any rate, so feel free."

Harry, who had already changed into his pyjamas, nodded gratefully as he climbed into Remus's bed. He laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, but after a few minutes he had not managed to fall asleep. Sighing, he sat up again, only to realise that Sirius had not moved.

"Er… Sirius? Are you going to stay awake all night?"

"Not much else I can do right now, is there?" Sirius said bitterly.

Frowning, Harry pushed his covers back and got out of bed, sitting instead in one of the chairs. "You're not going to keep doing that, are you? Not after it nearly got you killed last time?"

"No, Kreacher nearly got me killed last time." Apparently seeing the look on Harry's face, he continued, "Well, it'll be a long time before I'm up for it again. And by that time we might have managed to brew a decent batch of Wolfsbane…"

"Sirius." Harry's voice was quiet, but Sirius shut up right away. "Stop." Suddenly Harry's face was in his hands and for what felt like the fiftieth time that summer he was struggling, desperately, not to burst into tears.

"Harry?" Sirius's voice was coming from somewhere near him but he had, apparently, learned that making physical contact was a bad idea. "Harry, whatever it is I said I—"

"Don't!" Harry shouted into his hands. "Just—God, you always do this!" Removing his hands to glare at Sirius he found, to his embarrassment, that in spite of his best efforts his face was streaked with wet spots. Angrily, he wiped them away. "You go on and on doing stupid things and you never listen to anyone's advice and you never think about yourself and you never think about what it'll do to me! What it is doing to me," he finished, then gulped and fell silent.

Sirius was also silent; for several very long minutes he stared out the window. "I never knew you felt that way," he admitted finally, still not looking at Harry. "Though I must admit," he added a few minutes later, "that sounds a lot like someone else I could mention."

"Are you saying you think I have some sort of hero complex?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Maybe you do." Sirius was looking at him intently now, as if studying him, as if he had never seen Harry properly before. "You seemed to think that it was somehow your duty to keep Voldemort from going after the Philosopher's Stone."

"We tried to tell Dumbledore—"

"You also took it upon yourself to go after the Weasley girl when she was dragged into the Chamber of Secrets."

"I was the only one who could have got in there! What was I supposed to do, let her die?"

"You didn't even think of letting a teacher handle it after you'd opened the Chamber?"

"We told Lockhart what was going on…"

"All the people you could have gone to, and you enlisted the help of the most inept teacher in the school? What were you thinking, Harry?"

"He was supposed to be getting in there anyway, and besides, we didn't have time to think!"

"You and Hermione also came after me, alone, when you still thought I was trying to kill you."

"I don't recall you complaining at the time," Harry shot back. "Now I think about it, you said you were grateful we hadn't gone for a teacher!"

Now it was Sirius who buried his face in his hands. "I've messed up," he admitted, his voice muffled. "I keep messing up again and again when it comes to you." Lowering his hands, he shook his head. "You're right, I've set a lousy example. But that doesn't mean," he continued, turning back to Harry, "that you get let off for doing stupid things yourself."

"Oh, so you're saying I'm stupid now?"

"I am not saying that, nor will I ever. I did see your O.W.L. scores after all. I just think you need to start exercising a bit more common sense." Again he paused, and when he next spoke his voice was very quiet. "Harry, your life means a lot more than you seem to think."

"It's not just a matter of common sense," Harry said, equally quietly. "Like I told you before, I don't go out looking for trouble. Everything just seems to happen to me."

"I'm inclined to disagree with you on the whole 'looking for trouble' bit. But that's neither here nor there. And a lot of things do just seem to happen to you that really shouldn't." For a long moment he paused, as if considering whether he should continue. He looked at Harry, questioningly, but Harry did not speak; he was ready, finally, to answer the question that he knew Sirius must ask.

"Harry… what happened back then?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Voldemort was… enjoying it."

"I don't doubt that he was. We already knew that Voldemort was a sadistic bastard."

"No, it… it wasn't just that. Sirius, listen…" And Harry, taking a deep breath, forced himself to tell Sirius just what kind of pleasure Voldemort had got from watching him be tortured. Every word that he spoke seemed to cost him a physical effort, and by the time he had finished Sirius had turned white.

"…and I felt it, Sirius, I felt everything that Voldemort was feeling, and I— I—"

But the resolve that had brought him this far now crumbled, and Harry found himself unable to say another word. So he turned away, face burning, and wished desperately that the floor would open up and swallow him. He did not feel better for having spoken. He felt as if he had revealed something indecent, and that's what it was, wasn't it?

"Harry, listen to me. That was not your fault."

"I know that!"

"You know it intellectually. But knowing something and believing it are two different things."

Harry looked down. "I understand, I really do. It's just… I mean, that's not how it feels." He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the floor.

For a second, Sirius was silent. Then he called Voldemort something that just about made Harry's ears burn.

Harry's head shot up. "Did you just—"

"Yes! Yes I did! And what's more, I meant it! If I ever get near to Voldemort again—"

"I think you should probably think about getting better before you go on any rampages of revenge."

To his surprise, Sirius gave a watery chuckle. "Yes, I suppose I'd better wait until I can walk again to go after Voldemort." Though he was visibly better than before and had an easier time moving around, Sirius was still fairly battered. He looked ruefully down at his hands, which were still tightly wrapped in bandages, and sighed.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" Harry asked quietly. "About my O.W.L. scores?"

"Of course I did." Sirius looked puzzled. "Is there something that you were unhappy about?"

"No, it's just…" He shook his head. "I bet Hermoine got Outstanding in everything, she's brilliant—"

"I'm not Hermione's guardian," Sirius countered. "I'm yours. Don't sell yourself short because you have to work at school." He paused. "You got into all of the classes you need to be an Auror, right?"

"Yeah," Harry answered softly. "Yeah, I did." That dream now seemed to be part of another world.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you this before, but Harry, I am so proud of you right now. Not just for your O.W.L. scores either. The way you've handled yourself this past month, when you've been through more than any fifteen-year-old… Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head; his expression must have shown on his face. "Nothing's wrong." Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Okay, everything's wrong. Not with what you said, though." He paused, and Sirius did not interrupt, but simply waited. "It's just… that's the first time anyone's ever said that to me."

"Well, I am," Sirius said fiercely. "Your aunt and uncle should have been, and they should have told you so." There was a long pause, and when Sirius next spoke his voice was very soft. "I bet they never told you they loved you, either."

Harry shook his head. In any other circumstances he would have laughed at the absurdity of that thought, but right now he just felt too tired.

"Well, I'm going to say that, too. I love you, Harry. Like my own son. And I'll keep saying it, as many times as you need to hear it."

"You don't happen to remember what I said to you, before you woke up?"

"Not consciously, no." Sirius shook his head. "But whatever it is you said, I'm sure that on some level, I understood it."

"I said that I needed you to be okay," Harry said quietly. "I said that I've never had parents in my life, for as long as I can remember, and that you can't go now either." Sirius smiled slightly, and more than a little sadly. "And I should have said then, but I didn't, but I—I love you too."

"I know, Harry," Sirius responded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Believe me, I know."

They talked long into the night, and morning found them both fast asleep, Harry with his head on Sirius's bed and Sirius with his hand resting on Harry's shoulder.

Year 6 Chapter 5: Happy Sixteenth

The three of them woke around noon the next day. Harry was up first; though he still felt sleepy and fuzzy-headed, he still managed to drag himself out of bed with the intention of starting breakfast. When he staggered into the kitchen, however, it was to find Cedric already at the stove.

"Morning, Harry," he said with a small smile. "Or should I say, afternoon?"

"Morning," Harry replied automatically. He had not been expecting Cedric to still be here; as a matter of fact, Harry had rather been hoping that he would have left by the time he got up.

"Lupin asked me to stay until he was up," Cedric said as if reading Harry's mind. "Breakfast?"

Glad for the excuse not to talk, Harry sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat. Cedric, thankfully, did not try to make conversation, but sat thoughtfully drinking his cup of tea. As Harry was finishing his breakfast, however, something occurred to him.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.

"I took the day off," he replied casually. "I told Fudge I wanted to visit some relatives in the country."

"Why do you work for him?" Harry was surprised by the bitterness in his own voice. "You know full well that he's—"

"—a pompous idiot who's in the throes of denial?" Cedric grimaced and set down his teacup. "Yes, of course I know. But the Order needs eyes and ears in the Ministry, and it's especially necessary to have people close to Fudge."

Harry winced, realising how he must have sounded. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Cedric stood. "Don't worry about the dishes. I'll get them."

Harry gladly took the excuse to make his escape, retreating to Sirius's room. His godfather was not yet awake; neither was Remus, who had woken Harry briefly when he returned to his own bed at sunrise. Well aware that they both needed their sleep, he didn't try to wake them, but was nevertheless glad for their company as he settled into Sirius's desk and started his summer homework.

Roughly an hour later Remus was up and staggering down the hallway. Harry, who had used his homework as an excuse not to leave the room, heard him thank Cedric, though he couldn't make out all of the words. Finally, the front door closed, followed by the popping sound of Apparition.

Harry set his quill down with a sigh. A minute later Remus stuck his head back into the room.

"Harry?" he asked. "Your friends are going to be here in an hour, so would you mind helping me tidy up a bit?"

He could have asked why Remus didn't just do it all by magic, but already knew that Remus just wanted to keep him busy. Stifling a sigh, Harry got up and followed Remus from the room.

Roughly an hour later, there was a popping sound from the front of the house. Harry's heart started beating faster as Ron's voice drifted to him through the open window of his room.

"Mum, you didn't have to bring the whole kitchen…"

"Oh, hush!" Mrs. Weasley said in reply, though she sounded rather more affectionate and less exasperated than usual. "Oh the poor dear, I hope he's okay…"

"He'll be fine, Mum." Ron's voice dropped in volume, becoming so low that Harry had to lean in close to the window in order to hear it. "I… I think he needs his space right now. So maybe it would be best if you just let me get this." In spite of his admitted reluctance to see his friends, Harry felt a sudden upsurge of gratitude for Ron.

So, apparently, did Mrs. Weasley. After a beat of silence there was the sound of sniffling cries, followed by some surprised grunting from Ron.

"Mum—geroff me, the food—!"

"Oh Ronnie, when did you get so sensitive, I'm so proud of you…"

Harry had to duck his head and stifle a laugh at Ron's undignified squack. It was a laugh that he'd sorely needed, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to go outside and show Ron in.

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley was gone by the time he arrived. Right as he was opening the door, however, Mr. Weasley Apparated into the yard with Hermione in tow.

"I never, ever want to do that again," Hermione admitted, swaying on her feet as Mr. Weasley gripped one of her elbows to steady her. "That was—Harry!"

Ron, who had been looking Hermione's way, turned rather abruptly at the sound of her shriek, causing several of the pots and boxes he was holding to topple from his arms. Thankfully, Mr. Weasley waved his wand in time to avert disaster.

Hermione, meanwhile, was running toward Harry, and he sidestepped with a look of panic before she could hug him. The look of hurt and confusion she gave him made Harry want to immediately put his arms around her and apologise, but then she gave him an understanding smile that made him feel, somehow, even worse.

"Shall we all get inside, then?" Remus was standing in the doorway now, looking faintly amused at the sight of Ron staggering under the mountain of food he had brought. "Ron, your mother did get the message I sent her saying that this was going to be a small party?"

"This is her idea of small," Ron grumbled as the adults laughed and waved their wands, taking most of the burden off of him.

"Molly's been worried about all three of you," Mr. Weasley added as they settled the food onto the table, which Harry and Remus had moved outside earlier that afternoon. "She wants to help out in whatever way she can."

"Tell her… I appreciate it," Harry said heavily.

"Yes, well," said Remus as Mr. Weasley shot Harry a look of concern, "I'm not much of a cook, so I also appreciate whatever help I can get." Harry shot Remus a look of gratitude, and could have sworn he got a small smile in return.

"Well, I'd best be going. I managed to pop out of the office for a few minutes but Fudge will have my head if I'm not back soon." Mr. Weasley gave one final wave before vanishing with a pop.

"How about you three get set up out here? I'm going to go see if Sirius is awake." Remus disappeared back into the house before Harry could answer, leaving him and his two best friends staring at each other without any idea what to say.

"So, er, Ron," Harry started. "Hope I haven't stolen your whole kitchen."

"Oh, this?" Ron laughed, artificially, but at least it was a laugh. "You should have seen Mum putting it all together. Muttering 'poor dear' and crying half the time…"

"Ron!" Hermione looked at him reproachfully. "I'm sure she was trying to help—"

"She was! I mean, there is such a thing as too much…"

Harry couldn't even muster up the energy to tell them to stop bickering. Instead, he started setting the table with a sigh. Hermione rushed to help him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she said, all in a rush. "I forgot, I— How are you holding up?" she finished quietly.

"I'm fine." He didn't miss the look of disbelief she gave him.

"Harry—nobody could be fine after what you've been through. You—"

"It could have been a lot worse." Sirius was still alive, and had escaped with his sanity intact. That, at least, was something that he could hold onto.

"But—"

"Let it go, Hermione," said Ron delicately, unpacking a cake that looked to be nearly half as big as Harry was. He didn't say the next part out loud, but Harry could read it in the look he gave Hermione: Can't you see he doesn't want to talk about it? Though still decidedly uncomfortable in the presence of his friends, Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for Ron.

Hermione had just finished putting the silverware into place when the door to the house opened again and Remus emerged, with Sirius.

They had all looked up at the sound of the door opening, and Hermione couldn't quite stifle her gasp of horror. Sirius was still in bad enough shape that Remus was half-carrying him, and the damage to his hands and face had barely faded since the beginning of summer.

"What?" Sirius spoke lightly, but Harry could hear the pain etched into his voice and wondered whether he was the only one who could. "Captivated by my dashing good looks?"

Hermione looked appalled for a second, but then her face softened considerably. "Oh, Sirius…" At the same time, Remus said, "Not funny," with a hint of a growl.

Somehow, they managed to get the party underway. For the first time in his life, Harry would gladly have sacrificed a limb to be given a coathanger or a pair of old socks, and have the day otherwise ignored completely. As it was, even though he was in the company of friends, opening presents, and feasting on Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, this particular birthday didn't feel like a party.

It felt like a chore.

Throughout the afternoon he caught Ron or Hermione sneaking worried glances in his direction. Once in a while he would give a reassuring smile in return, but most of the time he pretended he hadn't seen. Sirius was just as depressed as he was, Harry could tell. Though he acted excited for Harry and made light conversation with his friends, his shoulders were slumped with more than physical pain. From the worried looks that Remus was giving him, Harry could tell that he had noticed too.

Finally, though, the day came to an end. The sun was just beginning to set when Mrs. Weasley Apparated into the yard to get Ron, explaining that Mr. Weasley would be by to collect Hermione as soon as work let out. Ron shot Harry a worried look, but didn't protest as he and his mother disappeared with a pop.

Mr. Weasley came by for Hermione about a quarter of an hour later, which gave Hermione enough time to wring her hands, ask Harry several times whether he was sure he was holding up okay, and make him promise to write at least once a week. When she and Mr. Weasley finally disappeared from the yard, Harry felt an emotion wash over him, one that he had never before associated with saying goodbye to his friends.

Relief.

He was glad that they were gone.

"Harry?" Remus was at his side, and Harry could tell by the look in his eyes that he, too, was questioning whether the party had been a good idea.

Harry sighed, trying his best to hide what he was feeling and, he thought, failing miserably.

"Let's just… let's just go inside."

Remus only nodded at him, once, helped Sirius again to his feet, and Harry accompanied them back into the house.

Year 6 Chapter 6: Going Back

"Harry, could you help me out with this?"

"Just a minute!" Harry set Hedwig's cage gently on top of his trunk, making sure before he let go that it wouldn't overbalance and topple to the floor. Hedwig raised her head out from under her wing just long enough to hoot at him sleepily.

"I know, girl," Harry murmured. "We'll be on our way soon, I promise."

Never before had he started the school year so well-organised. Two days before the end of August, Remus had pulled him aside and explained that Dumbledore had made arrangements for transportation to King's Cross, but that they were on a very tight schedule and wouldn't be able to afford any delays. Harry, not wanting to make things any harder on him or Sirius, had packed his trunk a full two days before they were to leave for King's Cross, and had spent the night before rigorously double-checking the house for anything he might have missed.

Satisfied that Hedwig's cage was secure, Harry headed back down the hall to his godfather's room. He found Sirius sitting on the edge of his bed, still half-dressed, trying to secure a brace around his bad knee with fingers that were still painfully stiff.

Without a word, Harry knelt beside the bed and did up the brace himself. Sirius let out a sigh, and Harry knew him well enough to tell that it was half in thanks, and half in frustration at his own inability to carry out such a simple task.

"Do you… need help with anything else?" Harry asked, carefully not looking at Sirius's rumpled clothes. Though he felt as though he had to make the offer, he didn't know whether he could stand contact this close, not yet.

Fortunately, Sirius shook his head. "No," he said, grasping his wand from the bedside table with a hint of his old rakish smile, "this I've got covered." Though his stiff fingers gave him some obvious difficulty, he still managed to close his fingers around the wood. Then, to Harry's surprise, he pointed his wand at his reflection in the mirror across the room, and instantly all of the buttons and laces did themselves up.

"How… how did you do that?" Harry asked. He was quite certain that only a few months ago, Sirius would have burst out laughing at the look that must currently be gracing his face.

As it was, his godfather did manage to give him a small smile. "Spell rebound," he explained. "When most spells hit a reflective surface, they'll ricochet the same way a beam of light would."

"So that's why Remus hauled that mirror in here last week."

"That it is. It's a lot easier to aim at my reflection than myself."

"So how did you know about it?" Harry asked as Sirius climbed stiffly to his feet. He offered his shoulder, which Sirius grasped with a look of thanks as he hauled himself from the bed. He let go extremely quickly, probably noticing how much Harry had stiffened under his touch.

"James found out by accident." Sirius actually managed to smile at the memory, though he still looked a little wistful. "He was making a fool out of himself as usual because Lily was around, and she said something to the effect of telling him to go hex himself. Well, there happened to be a large mirror nearby, so James decided to oblige her by pointing his wand at his reflection…"

Harry burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking violently. "So, he actually hexed himself?" he asked as soon as he got his breath back. "Without meaning to?"

"It was the one time I can ever remember seeing Lily completely speechless," Sirius added with a small chuckle of his own. "She stood there for a few seconds with her mouth hanging open, then she just shook her head and walked away. We had a bit of trouble explaining to McGonagall where James's nose had gone—"

Harry burst out laughing once again, clapping both hands over his mouth in an effort to contain himself.

"—but after a few minutes of listening to me stammer she rolled her eyes and said, 'I don't even want to know anymore. Potter, Hospital Wing. The rest of you get back to Gryffindor Tower.'" He sighed and took one last look in the mirror, leaning heavily on the cane that had aided him in walking for the past couple of weeks. "Do you have everything packed?"

Harry nodded. "It's all out by the door."

"Good." Sirius began making his way, slowly, out into the hall. "Remus ought to be arriving any minute now. There'll be a few other Order members with him, as well."

Harry only nodded again; this was not unexpected. He had long ago given up on fighting having a guard everywhere he went. He just hoped that none of his escort would fawn over him too much; he didn't think he could stand their looks of pity.

No sooner had they finished breakfast (cooked by Harry) than Sirius lifted his head, looking as if he were focussing on something beyond their immediate surroundings. "They're here."

Harry didn't ask how he knew; it probably had something to do with the wards surrounding the property. Waving at Sirius to stay seated, he opened the front door and looked out to greet his escort.

There were two cars parked in the long lane leading up to the house. Remus was getting out of the leading car, but there were other people standing around as well: Mr. Weasley, peering excitedly under the hood of the second car; Cedric, with his hands casually in his pockets; Tonks, her hair a brilliant shade of bubblegum pink; Kingsley Shacklebolt, calm and collected; and, dominating the entire scene, Hagrid, leaning on his flowery pink umbrella. He broke into a huge grin on seeing Harry's face, waving enthusiastically. Harry had barely raised his own arm to return the wave when he found himself enveloped in one of Hagrid's bone-crushing hugs.

He stiffened; he somehow doubted that Hagrid had noticed, but thankfully Remus came to his rescue.

"Let him breathe, Hagrid." Outwardly Remus wore an expression of amusement, but Harry could see the flash of concern in his eyes. "We don't want to send him back to Hogwarts with broken ribs."

"Oh… er, sorry, Harry." He set Harry down and backed away a few steps, looking sheepish. "Forgot me own strength."

"It's fine," said Harry. Casting around for a safe topic, he asked, "How are the Thestrals?"

Hagrid eagerly took the bait, and soon he was chattering away eagerly about his Thestral herd while Remus, Cedric, and Mr. Weasley went inside for Harry's things. Soon his trunk, cauldron and broomstick had been loaded into one of the cars, and Hedwig's cage was sitting safely on the backseat. Sirius followed shortly thereafter.

A brief hush fell over those gathered as he emerged from the house, leaning heavily on his cane, but Remus quickly smoothed it over with the topic of seating arrangements. Apparently Harry's car was to be riding between two escort vehicles. The lead car would carry Tonks and Mr. Weasley, with Cedric driving; the car in which Harry rode would be driven by Remus, with Sirius and Kingsley also riding along.

"I didn't know you knew how to drive," Harry commented as Remus secured the boot.

"It's difficult for me to find paid work in the wizarding world," Remus responded neutrally. "Often I've had to take Muggle jobs to survive. Many of them require a driver's license."

Meanwhile, Hagrid was talking to Sirius.

"Yeh don' mind if I borrow the motorbike again?" he asked, a furtive look of guilt on his face.

"No, please do." Sirius waved his free hand absently, though he looked pained. "I certainly won't be getting back on it anytime soon." If ever, the wistful look on his face seemed to add.

In less time than Harry would have thought possible, the cars were packed and on their way to King's Cross, with the motorbike rumbling loudly behind them. Harry sat in the back with Sirius, who had his bad leg propped up between the front seats. Neither Remus, who had all of his attention on driving, nor Kingsley, who was eyeing the traffic and held his wand surreptitiously clenched out of sight, paid this any mind.

"I'm going to miss you this year," Sirius confided, quietly, as the countryside gave way to the busy streets of London.

"Yeah," Harry replied, willing his voice not to shake, "me too."

"Harry—are you sure you're ready to go back to Hogwarts?"

The question took him completely by surprise. Suddenly, Harry realised that he'd been facing the upcoming school year with more dread than anticipation, and the thought frightened him. Before Sirius had taken him in, Hogwarts had been the closest thing he'd ever had to a home—until now.

"I—I'm not sure," he confessed. He clenched his fists in his lap. "But I have to, don't I?"

"You don't have to do anything." The look Sirius was giving him was intense.

"Yes, but I—I meant that it's the right thing to do." Harry looked away from Sirius, and out the window. "We're in the middle of a war, now, and like it or not, I'm the Boy Who Lived. Even if I can't join the Order yet, at least I can help by getting the truth out there and by—by not hiding my face."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end he only let out a sigh and said, quietly, "That's your decision, then."

They pulled into King's Cross without further conversation. It was just as busy as always, but somehow the bustling crowds didn't seem quite as real as they had before. Harry kept his head down as they were escorted into the station, avoiding eye contact with any witches or wizards who seemed to be looking his way. However, he couldn't quite avoid seeing the look of shock that was evident on Neville's face when he first laid eyes on Sirius as they entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, nor that Ginny had separated from the rest of the Weasleys to give him a hasty explanation.

He didn't have further opportunity to brood, however, as Ron and Hermione came running up to him almost as soon as he stepped through the barrier. They made the usual exchange of greetings, Ron offered to help him with his trunk, and before he knew it Harry was on the train, waving bleakly at Sirius out the window.

"W-well, Harry," Hermione said as soon as they were out of the station, "we've got to go to the prefects' carriage now. I guess we'll be seeing you around…"

"Yeah," Harry replied dully, "I'll save you seats. See you at the feast, I guess…"

They both left, with one last look back. In truth, Harry still wasn't sure whether he would have liked their company or wanted to be left alone.

Sighing, he dragged his luggage into the last compartment along with Pigwidgeon's cage and Crookshanks's basket. He had just finished stowing his trunk when there was a knock at the door. Turning, Harry saw Neville standing outside and waved at the other boy to come in.

"Ron and Hermione here?" Neville asked as soon as he shut the door.

"No," Harry said dully, "they have a meeting in the prefects' carriage."

"Good." Before Harry could ask what he meant, Neville had turned around and tapped the door with his wand. The lock clicked audibly.

"Neville, what—?"

He turned away from the door and back to Harry. He looked terrified, but there was a determined set to his jaw all the same.

"When I was a little over a year old," he began, "some of You-Know—" He took a deep breath. "Some of Voldemort's followers broke into our house. My parents were Aurors, and—well, why they did it isn't important. Bellatrix Lestrange was there, with a couple of others, and they… they tortured my parents."

Harry could only stare, with a lump of bile and sympathy welling up in his throat. He had, of course, heard hints of the story before, but never had Neville volunteered the information.

"It went on for hours," Neville continued quietly. "By the time they were stopped, it was too late. My parents' minds are gone; they'll never be the same again. I visit them in St. Mungo's, once in a while. They don't recognise me."

"Neville—"

"I'm not saying you have to, and I'm not going to try to force you to talk if you don't want to," Neville said quietly. "I just wanted to tell you – I do know. And I'm glad… I'm glad your godfather is still himself."

All at once Harry felt himself overcome with emotion, and for the first time since the beginning of summer it was not anger, or depression, or fear. It took a moment for Harry to realise that he was feeling gratitude.

"So am I," he responded, not caring that his voice was coming out choked. "I—thank you."

Neville nodded. "If you ever want to talk, just ask. I guess I'll be seeing you around then, Harry." He turned around and tapped his wand on the door, unlocking it.

"Neville—wait." Neville paused, one foot in and one foot out of the compartment, with a look of such characteristic awkwardness that Harry felt a huge grin spread over his face. "Would—would you like to stay? Maybe play a bit of Exploding Snap?"

Hearing this, Neville turned around fully and closed the door again. "I would like that," he said quietly, giving Harry a tentative smile of his own. "I would like that very much."

And somehow, Harry felt as they settled down across from each other and Neville dealt out cards, somehow everything was going to be all right.

And that is the end of what I have written.

I didn't have any real definite plans or overarching plot points for sixth year. Voldemort still wanted the prophecy, but how he was going to go about trying to get it was still up in the air. At first he tried sending Harry visions like he did in canon, but this time Harry was not only aware of the fact that Voldemort could plant false images in his mind, he had actually worked at Occlumency, so he was able to actively resist. I had some vague idea that Bellatrix (who was on pretty thin ice with the Dark Lord right now, due to "letting" Sirius escape) would be tasked with retrieving it, but her options for doing this would also be severely limited. Eventually, most likely at the end of the year, Voldemort would have come to the realization that if he wanted the thing, he was going to have to go in there and get it himself. This time, he is going to get it successfully, and he is going to hear the whole thing. What he would have done with this information was something that I had yet to decide.

Meanwhile, Harry and Neville have been in the process of developing a close friendship, born of that moment of empathy that they shared on the train on their way back to Hogwarts. While Ron and Hermione are and always will be Harry's dearest, most trusted friends, they simply don't share the same horrific experiences that would make it possible for them to understand what he's going through. Neville does have some of that understanding, and throughout sixth year and beyond he's there to offer quiet support whenever it's needed. In particular, I had this one scene in mind where Harry is woken in the week hours of the morning by PTSD induced nightmares...

Harry thrashed his way back to consciousness, taking a few minutes to remember where he was. He was soaked with sweat from his skin straight through his pyjamas, his arms and legs tangled so thoroughly in the sheets that every wild thrash of his limbs only served to wrap him up tighter.

"Harry? HARRY!" Ron was awake - as were all of the other boys in Gryffindor Tower - and standing over him, though he seemed reluctant to touch him. Seamus and Dean didn't even seem to want to get near him.

"I'm fine." He had come back to himself now, and already he was struggling out of his sheets, shoving his feet into his slippers, his invisibility cloak slipping into his hands with the ease of old habit. "I just need some air."

Ron was still looking at him with concern. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry, however, shook his head forcefully. "No. I just - not now, okay?" Thankfully, Ron nodded agreement without arguing the point.

Nobody tried to stop him as he made his way from the dorm. All of a sudden the air of Gryffindor Tower seemed to be so stifling, and Harry wanted nothing more than to get out. Thankfully the common room was dark, the fire banked down to embers, and nobody was around to see him leave. He'd barely slipped out the portrait hole, however, than he was surprised by the sight of someone outside, waiting for him.

"You don't want to go outside without this." Neville held out his cloak.

"Thanks." Harry didn't bother to say anything more, and Neville didn't seem to expect him to. Instead, he stepped up close in a silent inquiry, and Harry gave a curt nod before throwing the cloak over them both.

They did not speak as they made their way from the castle, the hallways deserted and the torchlight dancing eerily on the walls. Thankfully they did not run into any poltergeists or professors, and were able to make it outside unmolested. Harry felt relief wash over him as he gasped in a lungful of the cold morning air.

Though at first he did not know where he was going - did not know that he had a destination at all - Neville stayed silently by his side, not trying to get him to talk, and eventually Harry found that his feet had led him around to the lake.

He stared. His breath misted on the air with every exhale. The sun was just beginning to rise now, tinging the horizon with the palest shade of gray. Out on the water, the giant squid basked in a lazy swirl of tentacles.

Harry found himself breathing heavily, every labored gasp a painful stab into his side, and all at once he was filled with a red rage he could not explain. Suddenly needing to do something violent, he knelt, picked up a stone, and flung it with all his might into the water.

The impact created a massive splash, and the giant squid flailed a few times before retreating down into safer depths. His anger spent, Harry sank down to the shore of the lake, wrapping his arms around himself, barely even noticing how much he was shivering. "Why?" The word came out in a whisper.

"I don't know." Neville was sitting beside him now, and the sky above them was streaked with pink and gold: true dawn had come at last.

Sirius spends a good part of the first half of the year simply recovering. He's still walking with a cane until well after Halloween, and his eye is gone for good. (Fun fact: I wore an eyepatch all day to get an idea of what his experience would be like. Yep, I dressed as a pirate for Halloween.) Though he mostly manages to adapt, the loss of depth perception sometimes causes him problems, especially when it comes to flying. After a series of only-sometimes-harmless crashes with trees, he makes the painful decision to give it up for good. He does, however, start teaching Harry to fly the motorbike at one point.

Who would have been the sixth year DADA professor? That was something I honestly hadn't decided on yet, but I was actually beginning to lean toward Rufus Scrimgeour. He's a retired Auror, competent, and in this continuity he's honestly beginning to get a bit worried about the direction the Ministry's been going. I think he'd take the opportunity to teach the next generation to defend themselves.

Seventh year is when Voldemort's return becomes public. Harry and his friends would have stayed in school this time; a lot of things are happening later in this continuity (including Dumbledore's death), plus I wanted the opportunity to get a glimpse of what seventh year is like. On the first day of classes, Professor McGonagall holds Hermione back after Transfiguration.

"Run along, you two," she said when Harry and Ron moved to wait by the door rather than exiting the classroom with the rest of the students. "Whatever your impressions, I assure you I will return Miss Granger to you in one piece."

They took a moment to exchange a sheepish glance before moving to wait outside in the hallway instead. They had a bit of time before their next class, and Harry was reasonably sure that Professor McGonagall wouldn't keep Hermione that late. Indeed, he and Ron had barely got bored with their discussion of the lesson when there was an excited shriek from inside of the classroom and Hermione burst out into the hallway.

"Hermione, what-?"

"Don't wait up for me, I've got to go to the library right now! I'll see you at lunch!" And then she was off, with one final wave.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "What d'you reckon that was about?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

They found out eventually, at lunch. Hermione was a good fifteen minutes late and they were just starting to get worried when she burst into the Great Hall, arms loaded with so many books that it was impossible to see her face. Harry hastily cleared a place at the table so she could sit down.

"What did McGonagall ask you to do, start your own library?"

"Don't be silly, Ron." Her bag made an audible thump when she dropped it on the floor. Grabbing a book seemingly at random, she cracked it open; Harry barely glimpsed an illustration of a man turning into a bear. "Professor McGonagall asked if I'd like to study the Animagus transformation!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, Harry felt a deep, cold pit sink down into the middle of his stomach, for no rational reason. What was wrong with him? Hermione was so excited and this was bound to be useful in the fight against Voldemort. Plus she was brilliant; Harry had no idea why he hadn't seen this coming. Harry ought to be happy for her. There was no reason for him to be getting jealous of all things, just because his father had been an Animagus, and Sirius too...

Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushed his plate away.

When they all get together for the holidays, Sirius finds out about this as well - though by this point the shine has worn off and Hermione is getting rather frustrated at her lack of progress.

"Hermione, it's Christmas!" Ron was already halfway through opening his presents, though Harry couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept flicking back to the sloppily wrapped box that had Hermione's name written on it in Ron's distinct scrawl. "I know you're serious about this, but would it kill you to relax once in a while?"

Harry didn't think that Hermione had even heard him. Her brow furrowed as she studied the pages in front of her. A few minutes later, however, she slammed the book closed in frustration.

"It's no use, I'm never going to get this!"

Sirius chose that moment to enter the room, levitating a tray of eggnog. He raised an eyebrow at her outburst, and reached out with his free hand to pluck the book from her unresisting fingers. His eyebrow raised as he scanned the cover, before dropping it unceremoniously back into her pile.

"What is this rot McGonagall's got you reading? This wasn't in any seventh-year curriculum when we were at Hogwarts!"

"Professor McGonagall said that she'd teach me the Animagus transformation. But I'm never going to learn it at this rate!"

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Sirius's face immediately brightened. "Wait right there." Leaving the eggnog on the table he turned and limped back out of the room. The three of them looked at each other before Ron gave a shrug and helped himself.

Only a few more minutes passed before Sirius re-entered the room, now levitating a stack of books. They gently lowered themselves to the floor in front of Hermione as he sat down with a groan.

"There," he stated, with an air of accomplishment. "Try reading these and you might actually learn something."

Hermione was sorting through the books he had brought her, moving the ones on top so that she could see the titles of those below. "These were all on my reading list!" she wailed. "But they weren't in the library! Not even Madam Pince could find them, so I had to make do."

"Padfoot." Remus, who had been passing the time quietly reading the paper, now lowered it with a suspicious expression. "When you and James sneaked all those books out of the Restricted Section to study the Animagus transformation, did you by any chance bother to return them?"

"Er..." Sirius suddenly looked sheepish, and Hermione's eyes flashed from gratitude to rage.

Harry smiled slightly as she sputtered in indignation. That pit in his stomach was back, though, and he soon excused himself under the guise of putting his presents away. He didn't know he'd been so obvious about it until there was a knock at his door.

Somehow, he wasn't too surprised to see Sirius standing on his threshold. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Well, nothing, really." Sirius only crossed his arms, and Harry let out a sigh, sitting down on the bed. Without waiting for invitation, Sirius joined him. "It's so stupid, really. I mean, Voldemort is back. We're in the middle of a war. One of us is going to have to kill the other." He buried his face in his hands. "So why do I keep thinking about the stupid Animagus transformation!"

"Ah." Sirius's voice was soft. "I thought that might be it." Looking up, Harry saw that he was running a finger lightly over his eyepatch; when he saw Harry looking, he lowered his hand with a sigh. "Harry, if you really want to be an Animagus that badly, I'll teach you myself. But I promise you, I won't think less of you for not learning it... and I'm sure that James wouldn't have either."

Harry eventually decides not to pursue it, at least not for the time being—he already has enough on his plate what with N.E.W.T.s coming up. He does, however, keep the possibility in mind for the future.

In this continuity, the Horcrux Hunt starts after seventh year, at which point Hermione still has yet to successfully transform, even though McGonagall has said that she's very, very close. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione go on the run this time, Sirius and Remus come with them, and they somehow end up having a run-in with Voldemort and/or his henchmen - including the snake Krait, which somehow ends up attacking Hermione.

Ron cried out as the snake struck out at Hermione...

Hermione was gone. In her place was a small, bushy-furred creature with rather prominent front teeth. Even as Krait struck, it leaped into the air, almost faster than the eye could follow, and latched on to the snake's neck.

She manages to dodge both the snake's attack and the curses that are now flying at her, get hold of Krait, and kill it for good, at which point she leaps into Harry's bag and they somehow manage to escape. Eventually, they make it to a safe spot and set up camp.

"Um, Hermione? You can change back now."

Harry hadn't thought it was possible for a mongoose to look panicked, but when Hermione looked at him, he was quickly proved wrong. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized that she didn't know how to change back.

"Okay." While Remus walked around the perimeter of their campsite to set up the wards, Sirius lowered himself onto the nearest rock with a grimace. "Hermione, can you understand me?" Tentatively, she bobbed her head. "Good; that's one obstacle out of the way. Now, I want you to..."

Harry couldn't understand one word in three. Ron didn't even seem to be trying, but was instead keeping his eyes fixed on Hermione with a singular intensity. The sun rose high over the treetops as Sirius talked, periodically asking "Do you understand?" and repeating himself in more detail if Hermione shook her head. Dimly, Harry registered Remus coming to sit beside them: their camp was secure.

Finally, though, Sirius asked "Are you ready to try it?" and Hermione nodded in response. There was a brief moment of tension as nothing happened, but then Hermione was sitting in front of them, pale and visibly shaken, but unquestionably Hermione.

Ron started forward with a strangled cry, but Sirius held up a hand before he could move; his eyes had never left Hermione. "Are you feeling dizzy or faint?"

She shook her head.

"Having any trouble breathing?"

Experimentally, Hermione took a few deep breaths before shaking her head. "N-no."

"All of your limbs on where they're supposed to be?"

"I-I think so." She looked herself over, just to be sure, before giving a decisive nod.

"Not having any strange urges that you can't explain?"

"No."

"Well." Sirius stood, with a grin that carried more than a hint of relief, and clapped Hermione on the shoulder. "Congratulations. You're an Animagus."

It took a bit for the words to sink in. After about a minute, however, a slow grin spread over Hermione's face, her hands coming to cover her mouth. "I'm an Animagus. Oh my God, I'm an Animagus!" Then, she had launched herself at Sirius, who actually lifted her off her feet and spun her around in a circle.

"Thank you, Sirius," she said as he set her back down.

"You're quite welcome, Hermione."

That's pretty much the extent of what I have with regards to the plot: bits and pieces. I was going to include the Horcruxes in the finale but not the Hallows. They would have found out about the locket much earlier, while it was still in Grimmauld Place, because Sirius would have recognized his brother's handwriting. I also planned on having Sirius be the one to destroy the locket, via use of a basilisk fang, while the other Horcruxes were distributed among the other members of the group.

Harry's self-sacrifice would have had to remain in place, because unlike the Deathly Hallows that was essential to destroying Voldemort. I didn't have any real plans as to how this would have happened - I didn't have any definite plans at all that went beyond what I've already written.

Anyway, that's pretty much what I have. While I'm no longer at the point where I'm willing to finish this story, I hope that I've at least managed to give it some closure.