Author's Notes:

One of the fundamental things about Harry is that he is an orphan, of course. It's part of who he is, part of what helps form his character. But just as Rowling takes away his parents, she gives him other wonderful people in his life. Right off the bat during his school days, he is able to make some life-long friends, and they are probably his greatest source of support and joy. The Weasleys become an entire surrogate family to him, and I've often thought that he falls in love with Ginny at least part because she is a Weasley. Rowling gives him mentors and teachers: the strict but scrupulously fair Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, who is larger than life in both size and emotions, the mischievous Tonks, the somewhat terrifying Mad-Eye Moody. And then, we have the father figures. Dumbledore, of course, the first to be introduced. Sirius, generous, impulsive, reckless, and definitely someone I want to write about at some point. And then my favorite: Remus Lupin. Brilliant, articulate, troubled, lonely… and most importantly, extremely fond of Harry. He's the last father/uncle figure that Harry loses, but by then, it's all over, and Harry is really an adult.

Lupin only gets to teach for a year, but of course continues to be involved in Harry's life. The way Rowling has written him, supported by the brilliant performance that David Thewlis gave in the movies, makes me think of him as one of the wisest characters in the series. He's got that elbow-patch, pipe-smoking, slightly dry and dusty English professor feel to him. Perhaps due to a life of rejection, he understands pain and suffering like no one else. And while he can't show Molly Weasley's instinctive, unconditional motherliness, and lacks Sirius Black's impetuous charm, he shows us in Prisoner of Azkaban that he's got what it takes to handle a moody, proud, sensitive adolescent. Really, he reminds me of all of the best teachers and mentors I had during school (and since I'm a pediatrician, that's a lot of school to choose from).

While I love Lupin's character, I can see why Rowling killed him off. It's the sight of the dead Lupin and Tonks, along with Fred, that helps push Harry to go off into the forest to meet Voldemort alone. And at the end of the tale, it seems fitting that Harry must make his way without any remaining mentors, with only his age-mates to stand by his side. Although he still gets to keep the Weasleys as back-up parents, especially since he is destined to marry their only daughter.

Enough of that. This is a one-shot, a missing scene at the end of Order of the Phoenix. It's the night following the day after. Harry has had his debriefing from Dumbledore, which has helped a little, and he's checked on his injured friends, but he is still packing around a lot of emotional baggage. He slips out and goes on a late-night prowl…

This is longer than I thought it would be; once I had these two talking I just couldn't put them back down. I've tried to keep it as canon as possible and mostly succeeded, I think. Enjoy, and send reviews so that I know what parts you like. Also always glad to hear requests for specific 'missing scenes' from other fans of Remus and his mentoring relationship with Harry.

Two Very Mistaken Notions*************

He finally ended up at the Astronomy Tower. With exams at an end, no one was particularly interested in star-gazing, although he scouted carefully around for evidence of snogging couples before coming to rest against the rail. He gazed out, over the water, not truly seeing the lake or the fading evening light. Despite the silence, despite not seeing or sensing anyone nearby, he remained hidden under the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry hadn't slept after the previous night's ordeal at the Department of Mysteries, preferring the daze of exhaustion to what his dreams might bring him. He supposed he'd have to sleep eventually, but perhaps the more tired he was, the less he would dream. He'd spent much of the day walking the more remote parts of the grounds, then skipped the evening meal in order to avoid all of those prying, curious eyes… even the well-meaning and sympathetic gazes of his friends. More than anything, he wanted to be alone.

Alone, to process what had happened. Alone, to vent his shock, guilt and grief, without being overheard or observed. So he'd finally grabbed his magic cloak and slipped away, donning the cloak once he was sure he was no longer being observed, and made his way almost blindly through the hallways and staircases in search of solitude.

Now, as he stared out over the rail, he allowed himself to begin to think again.

Sirius. His sudden appearance in the battle, unlooked-for. His final few words to Harry, urging him to get the young people moving to safety. The rebellious, triumphant gleam in his eyes, as he'd battled with the Death Eaters. Harry stopped there, unwilling to move on to the events that had followed.

He'd been winning, hadn't he? Sirius was strong, clever, recklessly brave. He had been fighting with all of his pent-up fury, to defend his godson and the other students. He'd looked immortal, indestructible, like nothing on earth could touch him…

Until Bellatrix had hit him with the death curse. And he'd staggered backward and fallen through the veil, into nothingness. Going somewhere no one could follow, leaving Harry alone. Alone, and screaming out his anguish as Lupin clutched him, holding him back from going after Bellatrix.

He closed his eyes as the tears, held back all day, finally began to leak out. He wanted to yell, rage, shout his anger to the skies, but knew that even here he could be overheard. Instead he stood still as a stone and wept as silently as he could. For Sirius, with all of his passion and all of his promise, snuffed out. For himself, left orphaned once again.

Then…. the unmistakable sound of a soft tread behind him. "Harry?" A familiar voice, hushed and hoarse.

Harry whirled around. Remus Lupin stood in the shadows, just a few feet away. He was looking around as if trying to spot something, and then glanced down at a familiar-looking creased parchment in his hands. "Harry," he said, looking almost directly at him, "you are a hard man to find."

"How…" Harry whispered. "How did you find me?" He rubbed the cloak across his face, trying to mop up the tears.

Lupin lifted the parchment slightly, and Harry could see that it was indeed his own Marauder's Map of the castle. "Forgive me for rummaging through your belongings, Harry, but it was on your bed in plain sight, and your friends didn't know where you were." He spoke more sternly. "Even now, after all that has happened… especially now, you ought not to be wandering around by yourself at night."

There was no more point in concealment, but Harry stubbornly remained under the cloak. "Did Dumbledore send you to talk with me?" he asked roughly.

Lupin winced. Harry looked closer at him, and saw the bandaged hand, the face grey and lined with fatigue, and the way he held himself as if he was in pain. "No… I spoke with him, but he gave me no instructions regarding you." He sighed. "Harry, I wanted to make sure you were safe, that you hadn't done… that you weren't in danger. If you want me to leave, I will. But I think we have some things to discuss. And it would be much easier if you took off that damned cloak." He cleared his throat. "If you won't talk to me, then at least go back to your dormitory room, where you will be safe."

Harry's mind flashed back, momentarily, to the time when Lupin had simultaneously rescued him from Snape and discovered the fate of the Marauder's Map. Lupin had lied to Snape to save Harry from punishment, then proceeded to give him a very tight-lipped, very painful dressing-down about the childish risks he was taking. While Snape's allegations had merely made Harry angry and resentful, Lupin's quiet but forceful lecture had made him feel terrible. Because I respected him. Still respect him.

Slowly, he drew off the Cloak, conscious of his tearstained face. "I'm sorry… Remus." The name felt strange upon his tongue, for Lupin had been his teacher for his entire third year at Hogwarts. But everyone he knew – even Hermione, who seldom addressed adults so familiarly – called him that. "I didn't mean to worry anyone. I just wanted some time alone."

Lupin nodded. "If you truly want to be alone… and if you promise me you won't do anything foolish," he said fiercely, nodding at the rail, "then I will go back down below to the stairwell, and guard your safety from there. Or we can sit and talk. Your choice, Harry."

Harry looked again at the weary, troubled face in front of him. He didn't want to talk about Sirius. But he knew that Sirius had been Lupin's close friend as well. With a mental pang, he remember those moments after Sirius had fallen, how Lupin had grabbed him and held him tightly to keep him from going after Bellatrix, and how his voice had broken when he spoke of Sirius' fate. Harry had only seen that protective grip as a barrier, at the time… a barrier that kept him from carrying out his revenge or dying in the process. He'd hated Lupin just a little, then, for holding him back. But he remembered, now, the gentle words and the attempts at comfort that had accompanied the unyielding grasp.

"I'll come sit down," he answered. "But … talking about it won't change anything. He's dead, and it's because of me." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded plaintive and childish, as he walked away from the rail.

Lupin stood with his arms folded, his face now expressionless. "I see. So instead you'll take the easier way out by wallowing in your guilt."

Harry stared. Lupin went on, his quiet voice belying the force of his words. "I think you've discovered, Harry, that it's less frightening to you to be angry. Angry at yourself, and at others. It's a nice distraction from your real grief, your true feelings, isn't it?"

"Get out of here," Harry spoke in a low, shaking voice. His tears seem to have vanished. The urge to shed more had evaporated, replaced by fury.

Lupin ignored the comment. "It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, of course. You're telling yourself that it was all your fault and that you're a terrible person, a failure. Then you lash out at those around you when they try to convince you otherwise. If you behave badly enough, they will leave you alone, and then you are proven right in your belief."

"I don't have to listen to this!" shouted Harry. "You haven't any authority over me. You aren't my teacher anymore!" Even as the words left him, he was appalled at the way they sounded.

Lupin's face went white. "I see." When he spoke again, his voice was bleak. "No. I have no formal authority over you, Harry. But I am sworn to protect you, as a member of the Order and as someone who was a good friend of your parents, and I risked my own personal safety last night to come to your aid." He unfolded his arms and took a step back. "Sirius knew better how to handle you, I think. Apparently, I don't have his touch." He turned away. "I will notify Professor McGonagall of your whereabouts, and she can decide whether to leave you up here or have you hauled back to your dormitory." He walked toward the stairwell and began to descend.

Harry watched him, dumbfounded. Lupin's accusation, that he, Harry, was somehow using his guilt over Sirius' death to avoid dealing with his own feelings, had caught him completely off guard, and he'd responded with reflexive anger. "Wait!"

Lupin turned back around. Hary gulped. "Wait… I'm sorry." He rubbed his hands across his face. "I don't… I shouldn't have said those things." He gulped. "You're right, I suppose. I don't understand any of this. Everyone… well, almost everyone, is being very kind, and telling me that it wasn't my fault and it just makes me feel worse and worse." The last words came out in a rush.

He saw Lupin walk back toward him with an unreadable expression. Harry half expected his former teacher to grab him by the arms and give him a good shaking, or perhaps march him down the stairs straight to Dumbledore's office. Instead, he found himself being hugged. Strong, thin arms wrapped themselves tightly about him while one hand briefly stroked the unruly black hair. "Harry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. None of that came out quite the way I intended." There was a slight catch in Lupin's voice. "But we so very nearly lost you last night." The arms tightened around him even more. "On top of losing Sirius… it was too much. I'm sorry," he repeated.

Harry hugged him back. His face was smashed into Lupin's chest so hard that his glasses were pinching his face, but he didn't really care. He swallowed. "Every time I try to talk about Sirius, about what happened, I start crying," he whispered, his voice muffled against Lupin's robes. "I don't want to cry anymore."

Lupin released him – reluctantly, it felt - but left a warm hand on his shoulder. "Then I'll talk, Harry, and you can listen. Until you are ready." He guided Harry toward the low couch just inside the observation area.

Harry's eyes swam again with uninvited tears, and he fiercely blinked them back. He stumbled in the dim light and almost fell as they stepped into the sunken seating area. Lupin caught his elbow until he got his balance again, then guided him to the couch. "As you see, Harry," he said, with an obvious attempt at lightness, "we werewolves have excellent night vision. Here, sit." From a low table, he handed Harry a small glass. "And drink this. And don't tell your Head of House that I am giving firewhisky –even a small amount – to someone your age. But after what happened last night, I think it is justified." He smiled sadly. "And I think that Sirius would have approved, you know."

"Thanks." Harry answered hoarsely, and sipped at the drink. True to its name, it burned a path down to his stomach. He realized suddenly that he hadn't eaten anything for at least a day, perhaps two.

"So." Lupin leaned back, and Harry saw that he had his own small glass of drink. "You're an insightful young man, Harry, but I think that there are at least two very mistaken notions in that bright head of yours. Why are you blaming yourself?" This time, the words were gentle.

"Isn't it pretty clear?" Harry answered, still with a touch of defiance. "It's my fault. I fell for Voldemort's trap, and Sirius died because of it."

Lupin lowered his gaze, toyed with his glass. "Harry," he said slowly, "certainly, the events last night at the Ministry occurred as a direct result of Voldemort successfully luring you into his trap. He sent you a dream, a vision. You believed it, especially after you thought you had verified its truth after trying to contact Sirius at his house, and you responded in a manner consistent with your character. You were caught in the trap, and the Order came to rescue you."

Harry nodded without speaking, feeling the misery well up inside him again.

"As Dumbledore has told you, Sirius was instructed to stay behind… but he chose to … well, perhaps it is best to say that he, too, responded in a manner consistent with his character." He drummed his fingers on the edge of his glass. "He fought magnificently, but… even a strong wizard can be killed by a single spell, if the timing is right. And Sirius had more courage and raw nerve than actual experience, especially recently."

He met Harry's eyes again. "So out of that entire string of events, only one small part of it was truly under your control. You are probably telling yourself that you should have gone to Dumbledore with your vision. Or that you should have known it for what it was, and not answered Voldemort's challenge."

"Yes, that's exactly—"

Lupin held up a hand. "Hear me out, Harry. I am not here to be your judge… but I was once your teacher. If I were to give you a grade on this experience - a far more stringent final exam than I ever set for you - I would only fault you on one thing. You are young, and more confident than you realize, and you simply find it hard to remember how very much you still do not know." He smiled slightly. "This will correct itself with time, and experience, and also by your elders finally deeming fit to enlighten you with details that you need to know for your own protection." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Harry, Sirius wanted to tell you everything, everything that the Order knows about you and about Voldemort. He was overruled, repeatedly. I am not so certain, now, that he was not correct. And then there was the matter of the vision itself."

"My lessons in Occlumency –"

"Came to an abrupt end, I understand, without the Order knowing about it." He looked hard at Harry. "You should have told Dumbledore. I'm not certain if he would have found you another instructor, or convinced Severus to continue, but I think you knew that you should have told one of us."

Harry nodded. This honest assessment of his mistakes, while not as comforting as being assured that he had done nothing wrong, rang more true to his ears and was indeed beginning to make him feel a tiny bit better.

"So, the vision came. And because of his link with you, Harry, Voldermort had an excellent idea of what bait he needed to use for his trap, and as it happened, he did succeed in luring you out. But had he not succeeded, had that first dream somehow failed to convince you… he would not have hesitated to try again. With a different bait, perhaps someone that he had actually kidnapped in earnest. He would have tried again, and again, until he had you where he wanted you."

"If that's true, sir," Harry remarked bitterly, unconsciously reverting to the old form of address, schoolboy to teacher, "then is there any hope? If he can fool me anytime with a vision…"

Lupin shook his head. "He'll not catch you that way again. I'm not certain how to explain it to you, but I believe you will now be able to discern what thoughts are truly spilling over from Voldemort's mind, and what is sent purposely to confuse you, to dishearten you. You won't be fooled again."

He leaned forward. "More importantly… Harry, you berate yourself now because you know the truth of the matter. Based only on what you knew before last night… how would you now be feeling if the vision had been a true one, and Sirius was Voldemort's prisoner… and you had been too frightened to act upon it? If we were sitting here because I was telling you of his untimely death at Voldemort's hands, and you had been safely here at Hogwarts the entire time?"

Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Lupin was suggesting. He pictured himself being more frightened of the vision, less desperately anxious to rescue Sirius. That didn't work; his own genuine emotions that he had experienced kept drowning out the artificial feelings he was trying to substitute. He then tried to visualized Hermione successfully persuading him to go to Dumbledore… but that didn't work, either, because that was what really he ought to have done, and Dumbledore would have known the truth. One way or another, the headmaster would have advised the correct action, and Sirius would have lived. Finally, he settled for imagining that he simply hadn't been able to get away from Hogwarts in time, that all of the delays caused by Umbridge and the centaurs had truly mattered, and that he and his friends had arrived at the Ministry in time to see only Sirius' dead body being liberated from his Death Eater torturers.

The scene was only in his imagination, he knew, but a fresh wave of despair swept over him. Sirius, miserable in the house by himself, prowling like a caged animal, slipping out and being caught. Sirius, dying alone, with no one to rescue him. The others in the Order, perhaps, blaming him for not getting word to them sooner. The grief was unbearably acute, as if he was watching his godfather die in front of him all over again. He felt his throat tighten, and abruptly turned his face away to hide the tears beginning to slide down his cheeks again. He felt Lupin's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Harry, it's all right. It didn't happen that way." Harry kept his face turned away. "You must know… Sirius hated being trapped in that house. Sooner or later, he would have left it again, and been caught, and either killed or imprisoned. Instead, he died as a hero. In a way, you gave him that chance to die as a hero. Is that such a terrible thing?"

He shook his head, and wiped futilely at his face. "No," he finally said, raggedly. "But I miss him so much."

Harry could feel Lupin's sympathetic gaze on him. "You gave him his life back, Harry, two years ago when you and Hermione helped him to escape. You were just children, really, but you saved his life and gave him two years of freedom. Two years to be his own man again, and a chance to get to know the young man that you are becoming." He stroked Harry's shoulder. "That meant the world to him, you know… having you write to him with questions, being there to give you advice, even being able to argue with the rest of us about how much you should be told. He loved you so much, Harry. I think that he would have thought that dying for you was his finest moment."

The bittersweet thought swept over Harry like a breaking wave. He wasn't sure he had ever been told that anyone loved him, except for his dead parents. Why is it that everyone who loves me, ends up dead? He felt that he was drowning in his grief, in his realization that Sirius had loved him. He put his hands over his face, and knew that he was sobbing quietly, but couldn't seem to stop.

He was dimly aware of arms wrapping around him, of his head coming to rest on Lupin's shoulder, of the forgotten glass of firewhisky tipping over and crashing to the floor. He clung to Lupin like a child, his grief – years of it, a lifetime of it – exploding from him. He had never, ever wept like this even when by himself, let alone with someone holding him and comforting him. He mourned for Sirius, for Cedric, for his parents, for all of those he had known who had lost their lives or their innocence in this struggle against Voldemort that had begun to consume his life.

As if from a distance, he could hear Lupin murmur to him. "Harry, it's all right, It's all right. Take all the time you need." He cried until his eyes were sore, until his voice had vanished to a whisper, until he thought he would never stop, until he was at last exhausted and quiet. Then Lupin begin to speak again, and Harry heard his voice as if from a great distance.

"Sirius wasn't the only one who loved you, Harry. All of us who have watched you – and watched over you – during your years at Hogwarts have come to care for you. Not just for what you are, not just because of our hopes for what you might be able to accomplish, but for who you are and who you are becoming. Never, never doubt that, Harry." The arms about him tightened a little.

They sat there for a while longer. Harry slowly began to feel a little better, although terrifically embarrassed. Finally, he pulled away a little. Instantly, the arms around him relaxed as well, and Harry drew back, rubbing his sleeve across his face.

Lupin reached into a pocket and casually handed Harry a clean handkerchief. Harry stared at it for a second, then self-consciously dabbed at his eyes. He took his glasses off and wiped them clean of the film of tears, and, after a moment's hesitation, blew his nose noisily.

"Something I learned during the year I was teaching here… always carry extra pocket handkerchiefs." Lupin said lightly. "You were not the only student who came to me for assistance and advice in those days, though you were perhaps the bravest." He smiled ruefully. "I was the arbiter in any number of minor dramas, and the witness to a fair share of adolescent heartbreak. I was always a bit puzzled that the students came to me, relative newcomer, rather than to their Heads of House."

Harry nodded, not yet trusting his voice to answer. After the last little while, he could certainly understand why troubled students might have sought Lupin out for reassurance. He slid his glasses back on, and took a deep breath.

"How do you feel, now, Harry?"

"Tired," Harry said, his voice croaking. "Numb, I suppose."

"I think you've been bottling up your distress for a very long time," Lupin said quietly. "You are one of the bravest young men I have ever met, and show every promise of being an accomplished wizard such as we've never seen before… but Harry, you still have much to learn about matters of the heart." Lupin shook his head. "I would never have survived my years at school without my companions, without your parents and Sirius. You have friends, friends who love you with all of their being. Let them help you."

"Let them, help me? How?"

Lupin smiled at him, a little wistfully. "For now, go back to your dormitory room. If anyone is awake, and asks you how you are feeling, answer them honestly. It's a start." He rose from the couch, and Harry stood with him. "Then first thing in the morning, go to the hospital wing. Spend the day with your friends who are there. Talk with them. Laugh with them, if you are able. Cry with them, if necessary. Love them, with all your heart, while you have them." A shadow of pain crossed Lupin's face.

Harry took another deep breath. "I'll try to do that." He realized with a pang of guilt that he had only paid Ron and Hermione the briefest of visits in their hospital beds before wandering away to brood by himself. He suddenly felt a sharp desire to see them again, and wondered if perhaps Madam Pomfrey might bend her usually rigid rules about visiting hours. If not, he could go first thing in the morning.

"I'll walk you back, Harry, at least most of the way. I did promise Dumbledore that I would make sure you returned safely back to your common room, at least." He slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders again. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I think so." He stood there for a moment, his desire to try to see his friends – and his growing yearning for his soft, warm bed – warring briefly with his reluctance to part company with Lupin. Then a thought occurred to him. "Remus? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Harry. Anything. I don't suppose that even the Order has any secrets from you now."

"You said, earlier tonight," Harry screwed up his face in concentration, trying to remember the exact words, "you said something about my having two very mistaken notions in my head. I guess you were talking about blaming myself, that was one, but you never explained what the other one was."

"Ah, yes." Lupin smiled at him again, but sadly, and Harry thought he could see the glitter of tears. "I am glad that you reminded me. I meant to convince you of a truth of which I also had a very poor understanding at your age." he paused. "There is never any shame in weeping for someone you have loved, and whom you have lost." He touched Harry's face briefly. "I think, perhaps, that maybe you have learned that now."

Harry smiled back, though it made his face ache. "I think that maybe I have."