A Godfather's Love, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A Godfather's Love

By: ChoCedric

As Sirius Black, in his Animagus form, sat in Hagrid's pumpkin patch, he reflected once again on the events that had brought him here. The entire year, from the first moment his godson Harry had told him his scar was hurting, he'd known something would go terribly, horribly wrong. And the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him tonight would be the night.

The entire time he had been sitting here, he had been fighting a battle of minds. One part of him longed to go to the Quidditch pitch and snatch Harry from whatever he was doing there, get him out of the horrible danger he knew he was facing. But another part of his mind spoke with Remus's infuriatingly calm voice. "If you do that, Sirius, you won't be protecting Harry at all. You'll only succeed in getting caught and thrown back in Azkaban. Do you want that, Sirius?"

And it was that Remuslike part of him that won the fight, although he was furious with himself for it. He was sick of just sitting here doing nothing while his godson could be fighting for his life—No! he thought angrily. Don't think like that! Stop thinking of the worst case scenario!

But he couldn't help it. Every time Harry's face came into his mind's eye, he pictured him with the same look on his face that James had worn at the end of his life: one of shock, defiance, and heartbreak. His hazel eyes had been wide open, staring into nothingness when Sirius had found him. To imagine Harry's emeralds vacant and empty caused the Animagus's heart to rip in two. I won't let it happen! He thought furiously. I just won't, even if I have to die myself!

He waited a few more minutes, thoughts buzzing through his head a mile a minute. It was true that in Azkaban, his thoughts had been less complex as a dog, and it was still true now. But the emotions of fear, sadness, and impatience were still felt in his canine form – and he felt them more than ever.

Suddenly, he heard a huge thump! Come from the Quidditch pitch, followed by what sounded like a million screams. His hackles rose, and his ears pricked up. He was paralyzed with fear, his entire body beginning to tremble. What in the bloody hell was going on out there! Whatever it was, it sounded really, really bad.

And after about a minute more, he heard two words which made his blood run cold. Till the day he died he would swear his heart literally stopped when he heard them.

"He's dead!"

The same words were screeched, over and over again, into the calm summer air. Each repetition of them caused fear so huge to swell up inside Sirius, he felt he couldn't contain it all. Who were the crowd talking about? Could it be ... God ... oh God ... no! The picture of Harry's body, his blank emeralds staring into the abyss, flitted through Sirius's mind again. Oh, sweet Merlin, please, please, please, no!

But then ...

"Cedric Diggory!"

"Dead!"

"He's dead!"

"Diggory's dead!"

"Cedric Diggory!"

And with those words, Sirius's fear was turned into blessed, sweet relief, but that was instantly followed by a wave of crushing, overpowering guilt. How dare he be happy that it was someone else and not Harry!

As if to drive the guilt home further, a horrible, gut-wrenching, high-pitched, drawn-out female scream was heard, a sound as though someone's heart had just been ripped out of their chest. This was followed by more screams, and people running. OH God, oh my God, I just knew something like this ... Sirius thought desperately, and the feeling of wanting to run to his godson intensified tenfold. Somehow, he knew Harry was involved in all this.

The next few minutes were a blur to the Animagus shaking in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Then, he heard what sounded like a wild animal in pain. "That's my son! My boy! My son! Cedric! No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He was all too clearly reminded of himself as he flashed back to Halloween 1981 when he had found Lily and James. He had screamed himself hoarse that night, begging the truth not to be staring him right in the face. The people who he loved more than life itself could not be dead, no, no, no, they couldn't be! He remembered frantically shaking James's lifeless body, staring desperately into his sightless eyes. He remembered crystalline tears pouring all over Lily's pleading face, her emerald depths empty. Now he had to listen to a man who had lost his very own son, and he was almost positive the same monster was involved in the boy's death.

For the next little while, Sirius just lay on the ground, his entire body cold and numb. He started to shiver, even though it was almost the end of June. More than anything, he wanted to see Harry, scoop him up in his arms and take him away from all this, far, far away to a place where no one or nothing would ever harm him again. It would just be the two of them, and Sirius would give Harry all the love he had been robbed of having.

Finally, after what seemed an age, he heard footsteps coming towards him. It was Minerva McGonagall, looking quite grim. She strode over to where Sirius lay and said, "Come with me," in a no-nonsense, businesslike tone. And Sirius obeyed without any hesitation.

McGonagall brought him to the gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office. The spiraling staircase seemed to take an eternity to bring him up, but when he finally entered, he saw...

Harry sat in a chair, a faraway, haunted look in his emerald eyes. And never had he looked more like James than in that moment. But Merlin, he was only fourteen, and he wasn't supposed to look like he had just seen a war crime! Sirius remembered James looking like that after he'd seen Order members brutally killed. His heart sank: he now knew without any semblance of doubt that Voldemort was back. And Harry had just watched someone die, and escaped death himself, God knows how.

Sirius's whole body trembled again as he transformed back into a man and hugged Harry, telling him he'd known something like this was going to happen. From the look in Harry's face, he knew the child wanted to disappear into the floor and never come out. He saw a whole lot of guilt in those emerald depths, along with grief, terror, and helplessness.

What enraged him, though, was when Dumbledore told the boy to tell him all the facts of what had happened. "Can't it wait until morning?" he demanded. "Let him rest, let him sleep!" But Dumbledore proclaimed he knew best, so with an angry sigh, Sirius sat down.

And the whole story then came out. Sirius felt a blinding fury as Harry explained how he and Cedric had grabbed the Triwizard Cup at the same time, had landed in a graveyard, and Cedric had promptly been killed. And the fury grew even more huge, wanting to erupt out of him in a vicious, animallike snarl, when he was told it was Peter who had taken Cedric's precious life. "Kill the spare." Those were the last words the boy had ever heard. How dare Peter consider Cedric a spare, a bug who needed to be eliminated, when the rat himself was nothing but a leech? This made the guilt sink in further, the guilt that he had felt relief when he'd heard Cedric was dead and not Harry. A picture of all the Muggles Peter had killed in his mind-blowing cowardice entered Sirius's mind. It was the same situation all over again. Did Peter care how many people he had to kill to make his damn Master happy? Apparently not!

And Harry had had his innocence ripped away. He wasn't a child anymore. The emotions on his face were ones that middle-aged adults who lived through war had on theirs. Peter had stolen his childhood. And all that guilt he was carrying on him – God, now he was just like Sirius, and it was the worst fate his godfather could ever imagine for him. Peter now had them both believing that certain events were all their fault. How dare he! The next time Sirius saw Peter, he swore he wouldn't even use magic. He'd tear him limb from traitorous limb! An image of the rats Sirius had eaten in the cave all year came into his brain, and he viciously wished that every one of them had been Peter.

And then, Sirius received another piece of news which shocked him to his very core. Harry had survived because of ... because of ... Lily and James. Lily and James had come out of Voldemort's wand through Priori Incantatem, and they'd helped their son in his time of need. He saw Harry blink rapidly to keep the tears back as he told this part of the story, his words choked with grief and heartache. Sirius felt his throat constrict – how he wished he could have been there! He felt the most primal feeling of jealousy rip through him – why couldn't he have interacted with Lily and James too? But he immediately pushed the feeling away, and experienced another wave of guilt. How dare he think about himself and his own wants when Harry was emotionally distraught in front of him!

And that same feeling came over Sirius that had been there when he was lying in the pumpkin patch: a feeling of complete numbness. Everything was a blur as Harry finished his tale with the information that Barty Crouch Jr. had been masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody all year! God, this school wasn't even safe anymore! If only he was free! He would take Harry out of this school, and they would leave the country. Fly to America or Australia or, damn, even Africa! Anything to get Harry away from all this! The rage toward Peter was almost at breaking point.

And then he was walking with Harry toward the hospital wing, where he would finally be able to get some sleep after all he had been through. Even though he didn't say it out loud, he vowed to himself that from this moment on, he would not let anyone harm a hair on Harry's head ever again. I will die for you if it comes down to it, he thought fiercely as his downcast eyes looked at the stricken teenager walking beside him. I promise.

When he was told later by Dumbledore that he had to contact the "old crowd" and help reform the Order, his heart broke. He knew that by doing this, he would need to leave his godson. Taking one last look at him as he slept quietly in a hospital bed under Madame Pomfrey's care, he didn't want to depart from his side. But he also knew that by reforming the Order, he would be protecting him in the best way he knew how – by getting rid of the bastards that had caused this tragedy to happen. "Merlin bless you, Harry," he whispered softly as he tenderly stroked Harry's cheek. "I love you, Pronglet. Always. Take care."