Harry Potter and his entire world belong to J.K Rowling. I am borrowing her world and writing what I hope will happen in future books.

Wishes and Dreams

Somebody raised a wand. Harry couldn't see his face, but he knew who it must be.

"Crucio," the man said softly, almost lazily. Sirius screamed and twisted on the ground, unable to control his movements. Harry screamed too, for the man to stop, but it was apparent that nobody heard him.

The person holding the wand lowered it. Harry could see him looking down at Sirius. Sirius was shaking and sweating. His hands were over his face.

"Now will you tell me?" There was amusement in the voice. Harry hated that voice, although he had no idea who it was.

"Go to hell," Sirius growled. The man flicked his wand lazily and Sirius was once more screaming with pain.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, sitting up in bed. He, too, was sweating and shaking. He was halfway across his room to write a letter to Sirius when he remembered.

Sirius was dead. He'd been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange several weeks before.

Harry sat on his floor where he was standing, his face in his hands. The grief was always close to the surface, but at three in the morning, it took all he had to keep the tears at bay.

"Damn," he muttered, wiping his face on his sleeve, standing back up. "Damn it, Sirius."

He'd been having dreams about Sirius being tortured for several days, and he couldn't figure out what they were about. Voldemort could no longer penetrate his thoughts; Dumbledore had made sure of that with the Occlumency lessons. Harry didn't know if it was Sirius trying to reach him though, in his dreams. Trying to tell him that he needed Harry's help.

Harry groaned as he sat in the chair at his desk. He could see Hedwig's amber eye glaring at him. He supposed he'd been making a racket.

"Sorry," he said to her. She glared at him again and closed her eye once more.

With Sirius gone, Harry didn't know who to talk to. Ron and Hermione, Harry's two best friends, wouldn't know what to tell him. Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mum, was great but Harry knew that she'd fuss over him and then tell him to not worry too much.

Harry sighed, his eyes burning with exhaustion and unshed tears. He'd barely slept in three days, because he kept having the nightmare.

It came to him so suddenly that Harry sat up straight in his chair. He could talk to Sirius, if he truly wanted to. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before, the answer was so obvious. He just needed the second mirror, is all.

He yanked the lid of his trunk open and reached down to the bottom, searching. He sighed when his hands came in contact with a shard of glass. He'd forgotten. When he'd tried to use the mirror at Hogwarts, it hadn't worked, and in his frustration he'd thrown it into his trunk. The mirror, of course, had shattered. No matter, he could fix it. Harry picked up his wand from the table beside his bed and had started to say "Repa-" when his brain woke up a little more. He couldn't fix it, not right now. He was still only sixteen; it would be another year before he could legally use magic outside of Hogwarts. Last year, when he'd used his Patronus against the Dementors, he hadn't been expelled because it was a life or death situation. Now, there was absolutely no reason why he needed to use magic. At least, not one that the Ministry would allow. The need to speak to his godfather wasn't a very good excuse.

Harry sat on his bed once more, cursing under his breath. He could feel frustration welling up inside him once more and he forced it down. All he needed to do was think.

"Professor Lupin," he whispered. Of course. His former teacher and one of Sirius' closest friends.

Harry bolted out of his room, down the hall to where the telephone was kept. He grabbed it up and returned to his room. He'd dialled the number already when he realized that it was still only 3:30 in the morning. Well, it had already ringed, so he couldn't hang up now.

"Hello?" a voice answered anxiously.

"Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked. "What are you doing there?"

"Harry! What are you doing, fellytoning here this late? Are you okay? Has something happened?" she sounded terrified, and Harry felt a surge of guilt.

"No, Mrs Weasley," he said sheepishly. "I wanted to talk to Professor Lupin, and I forgot that it was so early. I can call back later. I'm so sor-"
"Don't be silly, Harry," Mrs Weasley said. "He's here, probably awake anyway." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I don't think he's been sleeping well. Nightmares, I think."

Harry felt another surge of guilt. He hadn't even thought of how Lupin was feeling. He knew that Lupin was probably hurting as much as he was.

"Harry?" He started at the masculine voice in his ear. Professor Lupin sounded sleepy and anxious. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm okay, Professor Lupin, but I need to talk to you about something. Can I come and stay there now? Am I allowed to?"

The other end was silent. Harry could picture his former teacher, trying to work out a way for Harry to get there safely.

It was lucky, perhaps, that Arthur Weasley had a fascination for Muggles. The addition of a telephone to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been a blessing. Harry was able to phone and ask all the questions he wanted, for most wizards didn't use anything like a telephone.

"Okay, Harry," said Lupin, jolting Harry back to the present. "When do you wish to come? I'll meet you in the garden and we'll take the Knight Bus back here."

"Would now be okay?" Harry asked softly. "If you can't, it's okay."

"Now would be fine, Harry. Just give me a few minutes to wake up and get properly dressed. Get your things together; I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't wait for me outside."

The line went dead. Harry put the phone back on the table in the hall and hurried back to his room to get his things together. He dragged everything down the front hall, where he would wait. Then, after eight minutes, he thought that he'd better at least tell somebody he was leaving. Hurrying to the kitchen, he scribbled a hasty note to the Dursleys, telling them that he was going to his godfather's, and that they'd see him next summer.

I wish you were still there, Sirius, Harry thought sadly. I wish you hadn't died. I miss you so much.

There was a soft knock at the door. Harry opened it quickly to find Professor Lupin standing there, anxious and alert. He gave Harry a searching look before pulling him into a quick, one armed hug. Without a word, they set out toward the sidewalk.

I suppose having your best friend here is almost as good.