A/N: This is my first story. It picks up the day after the Ministry fiasco at the end of Book 5. Tell me what you think!

I do not own Harry Potter. Anything in italics is quoted directly from The Order of the Phoenix.

Chapter 1: Determination

Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was—he always had been—a marked man. It was just that he had never really understood what that meant... (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pg. 940)

And now here he was, sitting on the edge of the lake, gazing out at the water. Harry couldn't help remembering that directly across from here, on the opposite bank, he had once repelled over a hundred Dementors, trying to protect his godfather. He hardly had to try to remember the terror of that night. Sirius's moans beside him, Remus's distant howls, his mother's dying screams echoing in his ears. Harry had lost too much already. It wasn't fair that he had to lose his godfather, too. And all because he had been so convinced that his vision was real. All because of his own foolishness.

Harry scrubbed furiously at the tears that filled his eyes. He was tired of feeling sorry for himself. At least he had been able to spend two years with Sirius. There were others who hadn't even had that long. There were others who had lost a lot more than a near-stranger to the war. Harry's first thought was of Remus Lupin, who had now lost all three of his best friends to Voldemort, two to his wand and one to his service. And Remus's life had been difficult ever since he'd been bitten.

Then Harry remembered Neville, whose parents were even worse than dead, tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange—who was now once again free to repeat the act. And then Harry remembered Susan Bones, who lived with her aunt because Death Eaters had murdered her parents. And countless others who had their entire lives destroyed by Voldemort. The faces and crimes of the recent Azkaban escapees flashed through Harry's mind. And suddenly, in place of self-pity, a determination that no one else would ever have to suffer like he had filled Harry's breast like a fire. Neither can live while the other survives…He would do everything it took to ensure that he, Harry, would be the only one walking away from that final confrontation.

Filled with new energy, Harry jogged back to the castle. Dinner had only just begun, but all his friends were in the hospital wing. So he swung by the kitchens to grab a quick pick-me-up before heading to the dormitory. He took the steps two and three at a time up all seven floors, anxious to be away from the others. Their lives continued as if nothing had happened while something huge had been taken from Harry's—despite his new goal, the weight of Sirius's death still tore at him.

By the time Harry reached the portrait hole, his heart pounded in his chest and he gasped for breath from the speed of his flight. While he caught his breath, Harry began a mental list of how he would prepare to defeat Voldemort. Step one was: get in shape. Once he could breathe properly, Harry ascended to the dormitory and settled himself on his bed with a roll of parchment and a quill. Closing the hangings to prevent interruptions, he set quill to parchment and began his list. After some time, it looked something like this:

1-Get in shape

2-Learn Occlumency!

3-Learn more—potions, transfiguration, charms, DADA, arithmancy, ancient runes

4-Leave the Dursleys—muggle London?

5-Learn healing

6-Change appearance—new clothes, contacts?

7-Find a way to practice magic without the Ministry knowing.

Satisfied, Harry nodded to himself. He rose and put the list away in his trunk. Casting a tempus charm, he discovered it was past curfew. Glancing around, he saw that Seamus and Dean had already gone to bed. The other two beds were empty as Neville was being kept overnight in the hospital wing for observation. Ron had not fully recovered from the brain attack and would also be spending the night in the infirmary. Without them the dorm room was rather lonely.

The last day of term arrived almost without warning. Most other students used the day to pack and revisit old memories of the past year. Harry did nothing of the sort. He made a half-hearted attempt to put his things in order, but in truth he didn't want to leave. Harry knew that, however unhappy he was now, returning to the Dursleys would double and quadruple it. Finally the time came for the Leaving Feast. The last thing Harry wanted was to celebrate, but Ron and Hermione convinced him and so he reluctantly followed them down.

The Great Hall was as grand as ever, warm and full of happy chatter. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats at the Gryffindor table across from Ginny and Neville. Hermione instantly began a conversation with them (predictably centered on exam results, which they had received the day previous). Harry just listened inattentively while Ron stared longingly at the empty platters that would soon fill with food.

Suddenly a hush fell over the hall. Harry pulled himself from his musings and looked toward the head table. Dumbledore had stood, and as soon as silence fell, he spoke. The headmaster began with the typical end of year announcements as always, and announced the winner of the House Cup (Slytherin, predictably). Then he proceeded to clarify the rumors already spreading from a Prophet article issued a week previous about the incident at the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore's announcement concerning Voldemort's return came as a sudden, unwanted, and forceful reminder of the burden Harry now carried under the prophecy, in addition to the harsh reality of Sirius's fate. And it was too much for him. Harry stiffened in his seat, ignoring the looks from Hermione and Ron. The moment the platters filled with food and the hall filled with chatter, he took his leave. Aside from his friends, Harry's exit went unnoticed.

Unwilling to retire to bed quite yet, Harry simply started wandering. He allowed his feet to take him where they would.

He had turned the corner towards the Fat Lady's corridor when he saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby,, she was bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

"Hello," said Luna rather vaguely, glancing around at him as she stepped back from the notice.

"How come you're not at the feast?" Harry asked.

"Wel, I've lost most of my possessions," said Luna serenely. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs.

She gestured toward the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the grief that had filled him since Siruis's death. It was a few moments before he realized that he was feeling sorry for Luna.

"How come people hide your stuff?" he asked her, frowning.

"Oh…well…" she shrugged. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually."

Harry looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully. "That's no reason for them to take your things," he said flatly. "D'you want help finding them?"

"Oh, no" she said, smiling at him. "They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway…why aren't you at the feast?"

Harry shrugged. "Just didn't feel like it."

"No," said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me."

Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Siruis. He had just remembered that she, too, could see Thestrals.

"Have you…" he began. "I mean, who…has anyone you've known ever died?"

"Yes," said Luna simply, "my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"

"Er—it isn't?" said Harry uncertainly.

She shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?"

"You mean…"

"In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them."

They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Harry didn not know what to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things…yet he had been sure he had heard voices behind the veil, too.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?" he said.

"Oh, no," said Luna. "No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up…it always does in the end…well, have a nice holiday, Harry."

"Yeah…yeah, you too."

She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly. (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pg. 947-949)

The train ride back to London was relatively uneventful, save for Malfoy and his cronies attempting to ambush Harry and having the misfortune of staging the attack outside several compartments of D.A. members. When everyone was finished with them, they resembled little more than slugs in Hogwarts uniforms.

When they arrived at the platform, Harry never wanted to get off less. But he followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny off the train and through the barrier. To Harry's surprise, there was an entourage to greet them. Accompanying Ron's parents were Fred and George, wearing the spoils of their booming business at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. With them, Harry was surprised to see Mad-Eye Moody, looking as sinister as ever with his wooden leg and scarred face. A bowler hat was pulled down to hide his magical eye, but Harry was sure he could see just as clearly as without it. What added more to Harry's surprise were the last two members of the party—Tonks, dressed in patched jeans and her purple t-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters complimented by her bubble-gum pink, spiky hair, and Remus Lupin. He looked just as weary and threadbare as usual, but Harry felt an unexpected warmth at seeing him there which eased the ache of grief ever so slightly.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said with a light smile once he was released from Mrs. Weasley's suffocating hug.

"Hi. I didn't expect…what are you all doing here?" Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

Remus smiled again. "Well, we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harry said doubtfully.

"Oh, I think it is," growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"

Harry looked toward where Moody was pointing with one gnarled finger, and sure enough, the three Dursleys stood just beyond the entry point. They seemed utterly scandalized at Harry's reception committee, and understandably so. The group surrounding Harry was entirely abnormal.

Harry nodded, still unsure what was going on, but he followed as Mad-Eye took the lead toward where the Dursleys stood.

"Good afternoon," said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."

As Mr. Weasley had singlehandedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because they Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

"Yeah," growled Moody. "About how he's treated when he's at your place."

Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.

"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house—"

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody.

"Anyway, that's not the point," interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry—"

"—And make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Remus pleasantly.

"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," said Moody.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs. "Are you threatening me, sir?" he said, so loudly that passers-by actually turned to stare.

"Yes, I am," said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" barked Uncle Vernon.

"Well…" said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leaped backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."

He turned from Uncle Vernon to Harry. "So, Potter…give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along…" (all italics, Order of the Phoenix, pg. 954-55)

Harry nodded. He could find no words to express how much their support meant to him, so he contented himself with that promise. Then Mad-Eye and Tonks took their leave, needing to return to work. The Weasleys and Hermione also said their goodbyes, promising to get Harry away from his relatives as quickly as possible. Once they had all gone, only Remus remained.

"Take care, Harry. Keep in touch," he said, about to leave.

"Wait," Harry said, receiving a sudden spark of inspiration. Remus stopped and looked back, curious. Uncle Vernon huffed impatiently beside Harry, and he knew the conversation would have to wait. "Now isn't a good time, but…I have a favor to ask, one that requires…some explanation," Harry said, now hesitant. "Would it be possible…I mean, could you…"

"Speak, Harry. No one here is going to hurt you," Remus said, his eyes flashing dangerously toward the Dursleys as a warning.

"Right. Could…could you meet me tomorrow sometime, so we can talk?"

"Of course, Harry," Remus answered, smiling softly. "I'll send you an owl to tell you what time I can, and you can specify the location."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Remus."

"Not a problem," the other responded. Remus touched Harry's shoulder in farewell and gave one last warning look to the Dursleys before departing.

"About time," Uncle Vernon growled, sounding quite a lot like Moody. Harry ignored him and simply followed, pushing his trolley as Uncle Vernon led the way to the car.

Harry awoke early the following morning. He had decided that there was no better time to start on his plans than now, so his first order of business was to start getting into shape. He did a few warm-up stretches, then tip-toed down the stairs and stepped outside into the cool morning air. His relatives may have been sufficiently warned, but Harry still wouldn't put it past Uncle Vernon to find something to shout at him about, even this early in the morning.

Once outside, Harry set off at a light jog around the neighborhood. He quickly realized it would take much more effort than he'd thought to get into any kind of decent shape. Quiddich, Harry realized, really wasn't exercise except for the beaters. But he was determined to make his efforts count.

Just before Harry headed to the shower, Hedwig flew through the open window with a scrap of parchment in her talons—Harry had let her free the previous evening to stretch after a day being confined in her cage. She landed on Harry's shoulder and held out her leg. Absentmindedly scratching her neck, Harry took the parchment and read the short note: I'm available any time after 10am. Just tell me where –Remus. Harry grabbed a quill and scratched: At the park on Magnolia Crescent, 10am. He then rolled it up and attached it to Hedwig's leg. She hooted and nipped affectionately at Harry's ear then took off through the window.

Once she had gone, Harry took a quick shower and started breakfast for the Dursleys. He cooked a dozen eggs and half a package of bacon and poured a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice for each Dursley, making sure to drain the pulp from Uncle Vernon's. The leftovers Harry ate quickly, finishing just as the Dursleys entered the kitchen. The cooking Harry didn't mind; it was the fact that it was never enjoyed that got on his nerves.

As they ate, Harry began the dishes and his relatives completely ignored him. This didn't bother Harry at all. They must have been sufficiently intimidated by Moody at the train station, as well, because Harry didn't get a chore list from any of them, not even Aunt Petunia. Of course, this only made Harry happier. He intended to use the time well.

It was only 8 o'clock when Harry finished cleaning up breakfast. So he decided to start clearing out his trunk and making a shopping list for whenever he got a chance to get to Diagon Alley. When he finished, there was a pile of things to be tossed or burned, which included all of Dudley's hand-me-downs but the ones Harry wore at the moment. Also included were scraps of parchment, broken quills, dried-up potions ingredients, and other detritus of five years' schooling and never cleaning out the trunk. He also included in this pile his Lockhart books and the Slinkhard book from Umbridge.

The other two piles were mostly spellbooks, either to keep or to sell secondhand—even if he didn't need them, Harry could see no point in just throwing them out; they could go to help future students. In the resell pile Harry placed his Divination books and The Monster Book of Monsters, as well as all his other DADA books from every year but third and fourth year. He kept his books for all the other subjects—Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms. To his shopping list Harry added the course books for Arithmancy as well as Ancient Runes, plus a book or two on Occlumency. All Harry's other belongings were sorted into the keep or sell pile as well.

While sorting through his personal belongings, Harry happened upon the brown paper bag his godfather had given him before he got on the train at the beginning of fifth year. Ignoring the unexpected prickling behind his eyes, Harry removed the gift. Sirius had said it was a two-way mirror, that he had the other one. He doubted it would work now, but Harry kept it. Perhaps Sirius had left it at Grimmauld Place and now Remus had it. For the time being, Harry replaced it in its paper wrappings and put it carefully back in his trunk. Even if it didn't work, it was still one of his only gifts from his godfather and Harry would treasure it.

Harry glanced at his clock. It read 9:37am. Time to head to the park. Harry slipped out the front door, taking his time and enjoying his freedom. As his feet brought him nearer, he began to wonder how exactly he would explain everything to Remus. It would not be an easy task.

Harry spotted Remus from a distance, sitting on a park bench. He looked even more worn and threadbare than Harry had ever seen him, and suddenly Harry realized that he would be grieving, too, for his friend who was lost, found, and then lost all over again and this time never to return. Hedwig, who had been perched in a tree near the same bench Remus sat on, hooted at Harry's approach and flew down to meet him. She alighted on his shoulder and nipped affectionately at his ear. Remus looked up at the sound of her flight and smiled when he spotted Harry. Harry smiled back and sat in the empty space beside him on the bench.

"What's this about, Harry?" Remus asked curiously.

Harry hesitated a moment. "It's a little difficult to explain. But…I'll do my best. I hope you can keep up with me," he said with a slight smile. Remus nodded for him to continue. "After…what happened at the ministry, I realized a few things. First, the whole thing could have been avoided if I'd been better informed. Also, that…the outcome of this war rests on my shoulders," he said quietly. Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder but otherwise said nothing. "Dumbledore told me of a prophecy…I don't know if you know…"

Remus nodded. "The headmaster told all of us shortly after it was made. It's the reason your parents went into hiding."

"Have you heard all of it?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Only the first half, as much as Voldemort knows. Dumbledore said it was safer that way. But I assume you've heard it all?"

Harry nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and recited in an undertone: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" (Order of the Phoenix, pg 924)

Harry trailed off, afraid of what Remus's reaction might be. A heavy silence descended, and Harry wouldn't look at his former professor's face, not knowing what it might show. At the same time, though, telling someone else the prophecy, telling them what he now faced, was a huge weight off Harry's shoulders.

"'Neither can live while the other survives'?" Remus broke the silence, his tone neutral. Harry only nodded. After another moment, Remus spoke again. "Well, I understand the situation now. So, what's your plan?"

Harry couldn't help a relieved smile. He knew when he told Ron and Hermione—because he couldn't keep this a secret from his best friends—they would both possibly go mental. Remus was more level-headed.

"Several things. In no particular order, this is what I want to do: get in shape so I can duel more effectively. I need to learn Occlumency, now that I know just how important it is. And Snape was a horrible teacher. I also want to review and expand my studies so I'll be more prepared for the final confrontation, and that includes my normal subjects as well as healing, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. And since I can't do any of that at the Dursleys, I need somewhere else to stay, and stay inconspicuous. For that, I want to change my appearance so I'm not instantly recognized anywhere I go. And I need a way to practice magic without the Ministry knowing."

"Those are some good plans," Remus said when Harry paused for breath. "But I have to ask—why do you need me?"

"Because I can only do so much on my own. I need a teacher, a guide. And I know you'll support me and help me, even if you don't completely agree. Everyone else would worry too much or try to stop me. Plus…" Harry hesitated. "You're my last tie to my parents now," he finished quietly.

Remus smiled gently. "In that case, I'd be honored to help, cub."

Harry was about to say thank you when Remus's words registered. "What…what did you call me?"

Remus seemed confused, but then his face cleared. "What, 'cub'? My wolf recognizes you as his cub and part of the pack, and I? I've always loved you as my own son, and always will."

"Do you mean that?" Harry asked intently, his voice catching but he didn't care.

"Of course I do, cub. I love you, Harry," Remus said sincerely though he was clearly confused.

No one had ever told him they loved him before, let alone given him a nickname. He'd never had a real father figure. He'd never known what it was like to be truly cared for. And suddenly it was all too much for Harry. He was no longer Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World. He was just Harry, a neglected and love-starved boy who had just lost the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. Tears came, and he couldn't stop them. Remus immediately drew the trembling teen into his arms, murmuring soothing words as his fingers carded through the boy's messy black hair.

Some minutes later the trembling stopped and Harry pulled away embarrassedly, scrubbing away the evidence of his tears. Remus gripped his shoulder, gently but firmly.

"There's no need to be ashamed of tears, Harry," he said gently. Harry turned involuntarily at the sound of his name. Remus smiled softly. "No reason at all, cub."

Harry's lips twitched at the endearment. "Thank you, Remus," he said sincerely.

"No problem at all. So, how do you plan to get started on this grand plan of yours?"

"Can you take me to Diagon Alley? I've got a vault full of gold to spend…"