Scars 1.html Author's Note: This is about Sirius Black, from Sirius's PoV [ gosh, didn't see that one coming, eh? ^_^ ], runs parallel to Goblet of Fire, and has a bit of everything: mystery, romance, healing, playfulness, Harry .. you know. *grins* Right, I think that's everything.

Well, of course I'm not asking for flames ^_^, but *please* give me any suggestions you have to make this better! I know it probably won't get much publicity and whatnot because of the incredible amount of stuff that's pouring into HP, but I just had to write it anyway. Please tell me if you like it. I'm working *extremely* hard -- so of course, it's also *extremely* fun. ^_^
Subtitle Credits go to U2 for their beautiful song "Walk On." I *FINALLY* bought All That You Can't Leave Behind! HAH! Lovely! Kudos to all of them, and go buy their album. You can't count on Napster anymore, it looks like they've signed a deal to become fee-based. *sigh*
Special thanks to concierge.com for all their useful information on Barcelona. ^_^

Please forgive the pun, if it annoys you when you get to it. I couldn't resist. *giggles* And enjoy and review! It's kind. It's courteous. And if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You'll always wonder, "Now what *would* have happened if I had reviewed that story .. ?" Yes folks, I *do* respond to reviews when you give me a way. ^_^ It may take awhile, but give me a break, okay?

Wow, I talk too much. ^_^ I'll stop blabbing and let you get to the good stuff!

A huge black dog weaved between the crowds in the city of Barcelona, Spain. The heat was unbearable, even though the fact that spring was near was comforting, and everybody was paying too much attention to the hot sun to worry about this dog who looked like the Grim. Sirius doubted they were too superstitious about that here, anyway -- they had too many fiestas to have a depressing outlook on life. The lovely mimosa and almond blossoms flourished in the gardens, and suddenly the world seemed to look brighter, despite the sweltering heat. As long as you didn't wear dark colors and enjoyed the shade for all it was worth, the weather could be a serious advantage.
It was not, however, an advantage for Sirius. As he dashed past the gathering, chattering mob in front of the museum on the Plaça dels Angels, his thoughts turned again to his godson. He couldn't get over the fact that just last year, he had been so sure that his name would be cleared, he could have his life back, Crouch would look like a fool in the eyes of the public, and Harry could live with him. Sirius even believed that he could get some happy memories back, and defeat Azkaban's effects as well. Maybe.
Remembering, Sirius grimly thought it was almost as if the Dementors had taught him nothing. The world wasn't a happy place, it wasn't fair, it wasn't just; it wasn't set on auto-heal for victims of unfounded accusations. If somebody said that the Dementors would suck every happy memory out of you, the Dementors would suck every happy memory out of you. There were no loopholes, no pity, no fairy godmothers. Sirius had been stupid: he'd made a fool out of himself from the moment he'd met his godson. What did Harry think of him now?
Sure, Sirius knew that Harry had listened intently, as though he believed in him and Remus, but he also couldn't forget the way Harry had dived at him, clawed at his face, grasped for a handhold, searched for a way to hurt him more deeply than anyone could imagine. James Potter had flashed through Sirius's head then -- he was in the Gryffindor common room in fifth year, having his first real fight with James in three years, James diving at him, Remus yelling for the two to get off each other, Peter looking pale, girls gasping, boys screaming ..
Yes, and for the first time since Azkaban Sirius had recalled James laughing afterward, clapping Sirius on the back with an apology, and Sirius suggesting to plant some Dungbombs in the Slytherin boys' dormitory to seal the order of forgiveness. It was a happy memory. Sirius had been so stunned by Harry, by this boy who could restore a precious memory by just jumping on him, that he couldn't retaliate for one dazed second. He barely even knew what he was doing when he went for his throat, he just knew, knew, that he had to stop this boy, he had to know the truth about his parents, had a right to know, needed to know. There needed to be someone to mourn Sirius's loss when he finally left the world, to understand what had really happened, and Sirius hadn't known then when death would come. It might have been the next day.
It might have been in a few minutes, once Harry had gotten hold of a wand. Sirius wasn't too afraid of death, now that the world held no joy, but there was still Harry Potter, who had to know the truth, and for a few terrifying moments Sirius had been sure that he would never learn the only thing that mattered.
But Remus had come. Remus had come, and Sirius felt something so ancient he almost couldn't discern what it was -- then he realized that he was feeling relief. It was almost alien to him now, that emotion. Remus believed him, and told Harry everything, and Sirius had remembered the Marauder's Map -- another happy memory -- and then, something so amazing had happened that Sirius still breathed hard and fast at the memory.
Harry had saved him from the Dementor's Kiss, him and Remus, saved him from that oily, greasy-haired prick Severus Snape .. and Harry had told him he wanted to move in with him. Respect, love, kindness, friendship .. Sirius's heart was somehow rekindled, and the greatest joy of all was that these weren't memories, this was the present, and if he wanted to keep these feelings in his head forever nobody would stop him, nobody would try to suck them out of him.
Well, after that things hadn't been quite so peachy, but at least Sirius had his memories. He still had them, would always have them, would have his godson, would remember his best friends in the world .. and someday all of his memories would keep him company, and he could forget the world and dissolve himself in them. And then he could quietly die, and the world would forget him scornfully, but he wouldn't care, he'd still be embraced by his memories, and shut himself off in that world forever.
The huge black dog smashed into a sunlit pillar, startling a group of emaciated beggars that reminded him of prisoners at Azkaban, and Sirius shook himself. As nice as it was to have his own thoughts to be lost in, he needed to get where he was going. Back to Hogwarts. Back to Harry.
Lately, Harry had been worrying him. He'd always thought it was good for him to be out and about, breaking rules, getting fresh air, acting like his father. It was refreshing to Sirius. Dumbledore's information, though, and the few Daily Prophets he could get, showed only news of worry and uneasiness. Written between the lines of the news breaks was only a sort of pale horror, a dreaded realization: the Dark Mark at the World Cup, the Goblet of Fire being hoodwinked at Harry's expense, Bertha Jorkins missing in Albania .. the bad news went on and on, and Sirius often wondered what the Ministry was playing at. Was the general public really that unobservant, or were they just too frightened to admit the danger to their own selves?
Whatever it was, Sirius wasn't stupid. Harry wasn't stupid. The boy shouldn't be wandering around the school at night, even, let alone leaving the grounds and going near -- the forest, for example. Sirius shuddered at the thought, and a few people gave the dog odd looks. His "lovable stray" alibi wasn't going to get him much farther. Still thinking hard about his godson, the shaggy black dog raced down an alley, past a few fish sellers, and headed into the darkness of another alley where a gigantic gray hippogriff was waiting for him.
The dog shifted into the shape of a tall, dark man in filthy gray robes, looking unusually thin. Sirius's black hair was a little shorter than it had been, he'd managed to find a blade and clumsily cut it, shaving his face as well. His eyes still held that fathomless, rotted look, but there was a trace of joy where there hadn't been before. Laughter was a long way off, but at least it was closer.
"Hullo, Buckbeak," Sirius croaked respectfully, bowing to the animal who had saved his life and whatever remained of his sanity and freedom. Buckbeak bowed deeply back, orange eyes shining, managing to appear royal even in this dank city atmosphere. Sirius reached over and stroked the hippogriff's feathers affectionately; Buckbeak couldn't talk, of course, but he was an excellent listener, and the two had a special, quiet sort of bond between each other.
"Time to go," the man told him, and mounted his friend with care. Buckbeak took off, flapping his wings with a fascinating grace, although with Sirius's added weight he couldn't quite eliminate the clumsiness. Sirius grinned in spite of his situation and gripped Buckbeak's feathers loosely; this flying helped him remember Quidditch, and how much he had enjoyed watching it. Now and then bits of his favorite matches would come back to him, and he delighted in replaying James's marvelous goals and Remus's excited squeals from next to him. It was the only time, Sirius realized, that Remus really shouted. Usually he would be leafing quietly through books, or being the peacemaker, or brooding about how close the full moon was. Being bitten probably had taken a lot out of him -- just as twelve years in that living hell had taken a lot out of Sirius, he thought gloomily, and the grin left his face as they traveled on towards Harry's second home.

It didn't take long for Sirius to find out where he planned to stay in Hogsmeade. Once he looked at Zonko's, he remembered that one time, late at night, when James-as-Prongs had suggested that they prowl up to the edge of the village and see what they could see. As they all leaped over the stile together, ignoring Peter's whines about being too small to explore and didn't they have any consideration and he was scared of the dark and he wanted to go with them; Sirius had seen the cave, and memorized its location, marking it on the Marauder's Map later. Anything Sirius had drawn, written, or made with that much care was bound to be recalled sometime later with the right amount of prodding, Dementors or no Dementors. Sirius Black was like that.
The only problem, Sirius soon realized, was food. In Barcelona he'd always been able to scrounge up fish or whatnot from the streets, and it was a big enough city that if he stole from a few different sections nobody would notice. There were always starving thieves in that place, anyway, which gave him added protection from discovery. Hogsmeade, however, was a different story; the villagers all knew the store owners, and most everybody was at least acquainted with the other residents. They'd walk the streets calmly, greeting the visiting Hogwarts students cordially when they came, and smiling knowingly whenever someone referred to them as "the townies." If food started to disappear here, the police would be called and the neighborhood watch would be on red alert.
Therefore, Sirius quite disdainfully reached the conclusion that eating rats for a time was the only way to go. Hopefully Harry could send him food, because Sirius definitely didn't relish the thought of living off rodents for an extended period of time. Of course, Sirius figured he could always pretend it was Pettigrew, and then he ripped the thing apart with the fervor of a warrior with the bloodlust.
Hygiene was rather difficult, too; Sirius had never worried that much about it before, but with the definite possibility of speaking with his godson face-to-face left him feeling rather self-conscious -- which was another newly rekindled emotion, and Sirius didn't like this one. With a grudging inner sigh, he resigned himself to swiping a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other small items from a room at Hogs Head Hotel; a hairbrush would be noticed, he decided, and used his fingers. Water wasn't that hard to get, either, he built a roughly shaped basin from random scraps of wood he'd found, and while it leaked a bit, it did the job -- he left it outside the next rainy day, drank his fill, and took a freezing bath. One thing he did have was time.
Sirius couldn't do anything about clothes; the villagers would really notice if he just strolled into Gladrags Wizardwear and picked out some fashionable outfits! He'd never had much taste, anyway .. after awhile, he figured it was enough. Harry loves you no matter what the hell you wear, part of him whispered, although "love" was an emotion which had most likely escaped him, and soon he gave up entirely trying to remember it.
Knowing that he would see Harry and his friends the weekend after next, once he'd received their return owl, kept Sirius in a bright mood -- as bright as it could get these days, anyway. The rats were starting to get very, very old, and Sirius began to just let himself go hungry, leaning against Buckbeak and talking nonsense as fast as he could to keep his mind off the constant, gnawing pain in his abdomen. Even in Azkaban he hadn't been this desperate -- but then, in Azkaban, he was starving for happiness, while here he was just starving for nourishment.
Wanting to have a little fun, Sirius also started taking some walks around his cave; always far enough to escape notice, though. He would follow birds around, mimicking their cries, or transform into the black dog and prowl around, as menacing as Cerberus. It reminded him of his Marauder days, and he enjoyed rekindling his memories so much that he began to take risks and go into the village as the black dog. He would hide behind buildings, and stare hard at people walking in the roads and the square. After a minute or two, they'd begin to sense that somebody was watching them, and twitch nervously, jerking their heads around, trying to hide their fright. It wasn't really harmful, and Sirius found it quite funny, his prankster's nature returning in small bursts. Shame he couldn't risk Zonko's.

And so, one way or another, the time passed until the date of Harry's Hogsmeade visit. Sirius woke and realized he would see his godson for the first time in a year, and hugged his knees for a moment, trying to release the happiness and adrenaline that was now flowing freely through him. Sighing, he got up, bowed to Buckbeak, transformed, and sniffed a hasty goodbye as he set off for the village, hoping a walk would set his mind straight. He'd never been one for extravagant displays of affection, and what he wanted right now, more than anything else, was food; primal instinct was settling in nicely.
With some disgust, he eyed the rats, and forced himself away -- he'd get food at half past one. He didn't know how far off that was, exactly, but he'd learned to mostly tell time by the sun and it looked like it was pretty high. He'd been up late last night, with strange, eerie dreams as usual; the sound of the screams of the rabid Death Eaters in Azkaban had ingrained themselves in his memory forever, so his brain obviously had no trouble with that cozy little recollection. Rolling in the sweet grass like a puppy, and reveling in the fresh coolness of the air, Sirius ambled along the side of the mountain with no set direction. He didn't feel the need to be anywhere, and as long as he kept a watch on the sun he could play all morning. A slow dog-grin spread to his face as another memory of boyhood came speeding back.
James, particularly annoyed by Peter that morning, had suggested that he, Remus, and Sirius should pretend to have some harebrained scheme and drive Peter up to the spare classroom on the third-floor corridor and lock him in. The plan had worked out perfectly, and even Remus had laughed when Peter tried to unlock the door with magic and succeeded only in turning his skin purple.
Sirius-as-Padfoot bared his teeth suddenly, thinking of Peter Pettigrew. How he would tear him from limb to limb when he found that piece of vermin, that stinking, filthy, rat .. he imagined his vengeance with relish, hearing Wormtail's tortured screams only in his head, and then he turned the same torture on Crouch, that's what you get for putting me in Azkaban without a trial, you rotting, soulless demon ..
The shaggy, Grimlike dog didn't even realize what he was doing until the sun had risen very high indeed. Sirius had been tossing around in some kind of frenzy, ripping the grass out of the ground, scratching furiously at tree bark, digging up the ground with an angry fervor. Shaking himself at last, blinking fast to clear his dazed head, Sirius snapped himself out of his revenge dreams and realized it was time to get to the stile and meet his godson. Harry and his friends would have food!
What he didn't realize was that a sharp-eared, curious witch had just appeared in exactly the same place where a bright-eyed robin had been hovering before, watching the dog. She checked her watch, frowned, gazed after the dog once more, and promptly Disapparated.