A scruffy-looking teenage boy with untidy black hair sticking up every direction, his angular face thin and pale, lay staring unseeing at the ceiling above his bed. Wearily, he struggled to keep his thoughts from straying and his burning eyes from closing. It was so difficult to concentrate; the gnawing emptiness inside him was a constant companion, the scar that branded him an incessant throb.

The past three and a half weeks had been the longest of his young life. With no energy to spare, Harry Potter had become just what the Dursleys had always wanted him to be, silent and hidden, pretending not to exist. What little food he managed to eat seemed to lodge in his throat, choking him. When failed to respond to Dudley’s taunts or Uncle Vernon’s threats, both had lost interest in Harry, and they no longer required he come downstairs for meals. Aunt Petunia had seemed strangely quiet and pensive, her dark eyes following Harry’s every move furtively.

Day and night, for the past 24 days, Harry had practiced every exercise that Severus Snape had tried to teach him during their ill-fated Occlumency lessons. With the knowledge that, at least in this place, he was safe from Voldemort’s reach, Harry tried to make up for the time he had wasted. He was convinced that had he done as he had been instructed to months ago, Sirius would still be alive. Scared that another of his friends might be endangered, Harry had managed to avoid all but the briefest of naps, not willing to allow Voldemort access to his sleeping, vulnerable mind.

Every third day, Uncle Vernon hammered on the bedroom door, and demanded to know whether Harry had sent a message to “those people.” Harry always replied through the door with a simple yes; he actually wrote daily to one or another of his friends in response to their concerned queries, his answers usually brief and vague.

Slowly, Harry’s eyelids sank, each weightier than he could fathom, and finally, he just gave up struggling. Blackness engulfed him, and he sank deeper and deeper beneath the waves of sleep. He was aware of neither the tap at his door, nor Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Figg peering in at him, as he was bathed softly in the early morning sunlight. He did not hear Mrs. Figg cooing to Hedwig nor the great snow-white owl taking off with a scroll in her grasp.

Harry turned slowly and surveyed the room in which he found himself. Stone benches sloped down into a pit and surrounded the raised dais where he stood. On the far side of the ancient dais stood an archway, its tattered black veil swaying gently in a nearly non-existent breeze. Moving hesitantly towards it, Harry’s throat tightened and threatened to close up. A wave of loneliness and quiet desperation pressed against his chest painfully.

“Harry.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting the moisture to seep out. Sirius’ whispered voice seemed warm and alive, yet he knew that it could not be real, as he had drawn his godfather to his death weeks ago in this very room. He knew he must be dreaming again and he should fight to wake up.

“Harry, I know you are there, can you hear me?”

Harry opened his eyes and moved to stand in front of the fluttering veil, his trembling fingers outstretched as though to yank it back.

“Sirius?”

“Yes, Harry, I am here, just behind the veil.”

“How…why…”

“I am not sure of how, but I just couldn’t leave you, couldn’t abandon you…”

Harry stiffened, unsure what to do. Was this another trick of Voldemort’s, did he again have control of what Harry was seeing and hearing in his dreams? In giving Harry what he most wanted in the entire world, what did Voldemort hope to gain from him? He could not bear to even think that this was truly Sirius.

“Why should I believe that this isn’t a trick, like the trick that brought me here the last time? What if this is Voldemort playing in my mind again?”

“It’s good to be cautious, Harry, and I am not sure how to reassure you, other than to ask you if your scar hurts?”

Harry paused, every other time that Voldemort had been close to him or possessed him, his scar had seared with pain. It merely throbbed, as was normal since Voldemort’s return.

“Not anymore than normal...Sirius? Is it really you…”

Harry’s voice choked off and his hand barely brushed the veil. The bitter cold he felt from the ancient archway and veil caused him to step back.

“Don’t get too close, Harry. If it helps you to decide, I know what the Prophecy is.”

Harry heard the words, but barely comprehended them. The warm voice surrounded him, that beloved voice that he had never thought to hear again. Harry could care less if this was indeed a trick, or just a mirage produced by an exhausted, devastated mind. He sank to his knees on the stone floor, the great wracking sobs that he had held in for weeks bursting through the stoic facade that had held them in place.

“Sirius…I’m sorry…tricked me…I’m responsible…killed you…and…and…”

“Harry, stop. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know! Bellatrix did this!” Sirius sounded anxious but emphatic. “I stayed…I knew how you would take this. You have to understand, it was not your fault! Voldemort is responsible, Harry.”

Harry seemed beyond anything for several moments, but continued to listen to the low, soothing tones of his godfather’s voice, reassuring and comforting him. Although a tiny voice in his mind told him that this could not be Sirius, the rest of him rejoiced.

“Harry, you have enough to concern yourself without letting this drag you down. You have already been burdened with problems beyond your years; please don’t blame Dumbledore for not wanting to disclose the Prophecy to you, and add to all that. He knew that your mum and dad would have agreed not to tell you yet, too. You will have to be strong, Harry, and steadfast. In the end, it will come down to you.”

Harry sat huddled on the stone floor, chilly, yet warmed by Sirius’ voice. “But what will I do, Sirius, what can I do?”

“You will do what you need to do, as you have always done, Harry. And keep practicing your Occlumency, so you can come back to visit me here. Now sleep Harry, sleep…”

-0-

A gentle darkness enveloped him as Harry opened his eyes, disoriented from the long, deep sleep. Something shifted near him, bringing Harry instantly awake. He tensed as he tried to locate the source of the noise, and his hand crept surreptitiously toward the wand under his pillow. The soft rustling of clothing came from the direction of his window, and Harry could make out a figure turning toward him.

“Lumos.” A soft, familiar voice spoke, and instantly the pale, drawn face of Remus Lupin was illuminated. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry sat up and scooted back on his bed and Lupin, resplendent in a new jumper, trousers, and matching jacket, sat beside him.

“Professor Lupin? What are you doing here?” Harry adjusted his glasses up on his nose as he peered at Lupin in confusion. Never had he seen this man in anything but patched and worn clothing. “Is everything okay?”

Lupin studied him intently for a moment, “I don’t think so, Harry. People are worried about you. And to tell you the truth, you aren’t looking very good. You don’t appear to have been eating too well and your eyes have terrible bags.”

Unable to meet Lupin’s eyes, Harry studied his hands, not quite knowing what to say. He felt different somehow since he had awoken. The scar on his forehead still throbbed dully, but otherwise he felt all right. “I…think I’m okay, Professor, guess I just haven’t been very hungry since I got here. And I’ve been trying hard to study my Occlumency…”

“Harry, look at me.” Harry met the eyes of his former teacher, and saw both sadness and compassion. “Be honest with me, you haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, and you have been tearing yourself up with guilt. Am I right?”

Harry nodded slowly, suddenly realizing that the gnawing ache inside him had shrunk since his dream about Sirius. “Professor? I had this dream, about Sirius, and he was talking to me from the archway! Do you think it was…real?”

“I’m not sure Harry, maybe…I know that you have been suffering, and I don’t know if it helps, but I do understand.” Lupin broke eye contact and studied his own long fingers. “I lost a friend who was closer than a brother that night, Harry, someone who I trusted with my life and for whom I would have given my life. Sirius was the last of those who, along with your mum and dad, made themselves my family when no one else would have me. And while I am not sure how to ease your pain, know that, at the least, I share it.”

Lupin looked at Harry, a small smile played across his lips. “Did you know that your Aunt borrowed Hedwig and sent Dumbledore an owl post this morning?”

“No!” Harry was stunned. “How did she do that? Why did she do that?”

“Arabella Figg ‘befriended’ Petunia after the dementor attack last year and has been gently guiding her. Both became very worried about you since you came back from school, and since Petunia has learned about the protection her family enjoys by providing you with a home, she decided Dumbledore needed to know you were up here wasting away.”

Harry could not fathom his aunt caring in the slightest about his welfare, let alone feeling the need to tell someone he wasn’t doing well. As he struggled to find a reply, he watched Lupin fish a thick envelope out of his pocket.

“Harry, I have a letter here for you that Sirius wrote several months ago, when it became apparent that Voldemort was attempting to steal the Prophecy, which the Order was protecting. At the same time, Sirius asked me if I would take over his duties as your godfather and guardian should anything happened to him.” Lupin’s voice broke slightly, and he looked at Harry with over bright eyes. “I told him that I would be honored, if you would have me, and would do everything I could to help guide you and protect you.”

He handed the parchment envelope to Harry, who cautiously opened it. He gently unfolded the paper, smoothing the folds flat, running his fingers over the bold writing. Tears welled in his eyes as he saw the familiar script.

Dear Harry,

Remus has instructions to give this to you if anything happens to me. Please realize that this war will have casualties, and it is possible that I will be one of them. I don’t want you blaming yourself, as I am sure you are doing. I will do my best to stay close to you in spirit, if I can, no matter what. I also want you to know that I am very proud of you, and know that Lily and James would be too.

I have asked Remus to step in and do what he knows I would want as your godfather, and have asked Albus Dumbledore to make him your guardian in our world, and they have both agreed. I hope that you will come to trust Remus as I have, and as your mum and dad did.

I want you to know that I have made you my primary heir, but the Black fortune is so vast that I was able to also make sure that Remus and the Weasley family won’t ever have to worry.

Harry, I don’t have the words or the wisdom to express what I feel, but I know that you have the strength to do what you have been destined to do. Carry always in your heart the knowledge of how much you were loved from the moment you entered this world, and use that love and power to overcome whatever evil Voldemort throws at you. Always know that you can trust Dumbledore with your life and follow what he tells you, as he more than anyone else knows what you are facing. Seek Remus when you need guidance, a shoulder to cry on, or just need to rage at the unfairness of life.

I remain, always, your loving godfather.

Sirius

Harry felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, and raised his tear-stained face to Remus Lupin. “All right, Harry? In the letter Sirius left to me, he told me to stop being stubborn, that he was sick of seeing me in shabby clothing, and to go buy something decent!”

Harry managed a weak smile, his fingers still stroking the parchment. “He says that he’d try to stay close, Professor, do you…do you think that means my dream was real? “

“I think, Harry, that we need to ask Professor Dumbledore for his opinion. In the meantime, what do you think about just calling me Remus, if that’s okay?”

Nodding his head, Harry was overtaken by a great yawn, and his stomach rumbled at the same time. Lupin laughed, and reached to the bedside table where he picked up a plate of sandwiches. Harry took one and began to eat.

“Your Aunt and Uncle know that I am here, Harry. After we get a bit more sleep, I am going to teach you how to Apparate.”

Eyes growing wide, Harry spoke around a bite of sandwich, “But I can’t, R…Remus, I’m not old enough!”

“Dumbledore got a special decree from the Minister of Magic, based on the need to keep your movements quiet and keep you safe. You can only use it when one of the Order is with you or in an emergency, but we need to know that you can move distances quickly and safely.”

Harry grinned for the first time in a long time. “Cool! Wait until I tell Ron and Hermione!”

“You need to eat another sandwich and then sleep some more first, Harry. You’ve worn yourself down way too far to be safe.”

“I’ve been afraid to sleep, Prof…Remus. Afraid of what will happen if I let down my guard.” Harry looked up somberly. “I figured that if I stayed awake, then no one else would get hurt.”

“You are safe here, Harry, and I will make sure of that. Let’s sleep, and in the morning we will start on Apparation.” Lupin conjured a cot out of the air and fit it in the small space under Harry’s window. “Nox.” And the light went out.