Chapter I

Upside-down World

Harry climbed the stairs of Number 12, Grimmauld Place wearily. His feet seemed to be filled with lead. It was a struggle just to lift them. He felt as if there was some great weight on his shoulders, dragging him down. Even the simplest things nowadays took too much effort.

He finally reached the top of the stairs. Two rooms led off the landing. Harry walked over to the one on the right. A bland plaque hung on the door, sitting just slightly crooked. Harry smiled slightly, his muscles protesting, as if they were unaccustomed to the work. Harry knew Sirius had hung the plaque crookedly purely to annoy his parents.

The wood was solid under his hand as Harry pushed it open, but he could feel the paint crackle, the result of years of neglect. It was strangely right, though, for the door to Sirius' room, his sanctuary, to be failing. No longer would it shelter the oldest Black boy. No longer would it give him a place where he could escape his dark parents and their pureblood mania. That man was gone. Hidden behind the veil. Dead.

A sharp burning stabbed Harry's heart as he surveyed the room of his godfather. It'd been three years, and still the pain was as raw as ever. There was a hole that would never be filled. Harry could feel it, could feel the still bleeding edges of the wound.

Harry walked over to the bed, running a finger lightly over the crimson covers, disturbing the light coating of dust as he went. Sitting down, he looked up, mentally shaking his head at the absurdity of the chandelier. Had Sirius ever used it? If so, for what, he wondered.

Letting his gaze return to ground level, Harry looked around the rest of the room. The walls were covered with posters of motorcycles and (Harry shook his head at Sirius' audacity) bikini-clad Muggle girls. Several Gryffindor banners hung from the walls as well. Harry bet that had really irked Sirius' Slytherin parents as well.

Next he inspected the headboard. It was handsomely carved, made of a fine, dark wood. It was plain and sturdy, sporting none of the ornate tooling the other beds in the house had.

Something caught Harry's eye. Squinting, he leaned in closer to get a better look. Someone (Harry assumed Sirius) had carved miniature wolf on the headboard, far off to the left side. It was so small that, unless you looked carefully, it looked like just another knot in the wood.

Curious, Harry lifted his hand and gently touched the small carving. It immediately began to glow gold, causing Harry to snatch his hand away quickly, looking around in apprehension.

A small crack appeared in the wall above Sirius' bed. It grew until it formed a rectangular section which folded outwards and extended itself towards Harry. On in sat a shallow stone basin filled with a strange, silvery substance.

Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. Pensieves were not easy to come by. He wondered why on earth Sirius would have one, concealed, in his bedroom. Getting up onto his knees, Harry looked hesitantly at the glistening surface of the memories. An internal war raged in his head. Should he look? It was obvious that Sirius went to great lengths not only to keep the memories hidden from his parents, but also from anyone who was skilled at Legilimancy. Therefore they were most likely something secret that Sirius didn't want falling into the wrong hands. Something about the Order, maybe? Secrets that had been entrusted to him, secrets that few others knew?

Or was it more personal than that? A diary of sorts, perhaps? A way for him to record what he had experienced, so that others could one day see the life he had lived. Someone who loved him. Someone like Harry.

Harry sighed. He was talking himself into looking. But why shouldn't he? Sirius was gone. There wasn't even a grave left to mark that he had ever existed. All Harry had were memories. So why shouldn't he collect more? The past was the past. He could not alter it. All he could do was remember.

Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned over the basin, his nose nearly touching the strange, liquid surface, watching the silvery lights as they danced and rippled. Then, steeling himself, he plunged his face into the memories.

Immediately he was falling. Shapes whirled around him in a confusing blur. He landed in a darkened room which was as familiar to him as the nose on his face. It was the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Harry smiled as he took in the familiar four-poster beds, the crimson hangings, and the windows from which, if you waited long enough, you could watch the moon rise and set.

Harry looked around, wondering where Sirius was. He tiptoed (though he knew no one could hear him) over to the nearest bed. His heart jumped into his mouth as he looked down at his teenage father. James Potter looked to be about sixteen years old, and if Harry hadn't known exactly what to look for, he would have thought he was staring at himself.

A noise caused him to jump, whipping around. Someone was getting out of the bed next to James. Harry walked over to get a closer look and felt his heart squeeze. It was Sirius. His long black hair hung down in a straight sheet. His face was less lined, less sunken, then when Harry had seen him last, and there seemed to be a smile always tucked away in the corner of his lips.

Sirius looked around furtively, his eyes roaming over the sleeping forms of his year-mates. When none stirred, he hopped out of bed and crept quietly over to the door that led to the bathroom. Harry followed, puzzled by his behavior. Did his godfather suddenly crave a midnight shower?

Opening the door, Sirius slipped into the room. He could hear the sound of water running in one of the showers. A small smile crept onto his face as he walked softly down to the shower on the farthest end. Peeking in to make sure it was who he thought it was, Sirius untied his robe and let it fall to the floor. Harry quickly focused his eyes on the back of his godfather's head, wondering what the hell was going on.

Sirius stepped into the shower, sliding in behind the man already in there and wrapping his arms around the others waist. He nuzzled the other man's neck, taking in his unique scent.

"Mind if I join you, love?" Sirius asked, cuddling up to the smaller man. The man laughed, turning in his arms and smiling gleefully at him. Harry's jaw dropped. It was Lupin. Remus fucking Lupin, the man who had taught him how to repel dementors, and who had, in many ways, become a surrogate father to him, just as Sirius had been. Harry watched in mystified horror as their lips came together and the two men began to thoroughly snog each other.

It wasn't until Sirius' hand started to wander south that Harry's trance was broken. Realizing that he really didn't want to see this, Harry fled, pulling himself out of the Pensieve as he did so.

With a thump he was back in Sirius' room, staring at the Pensieve with a combination of horror and pure bewilderment. What the hell? Since when did Sirius and Remus snog each other? Harry had thought that Remus was in love with Tonks, for crying out loud!

After several minutes of sitting there, Harry shook himself. He needed to tell someone about this, talk to someone who could help him get his mind wrapped around this insane new development.

His mind made up, Harry jumped to his feet and ran out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Finally getting to the landing where Ron and he slept, he threw open the door to the bedroom, his mouth open to begin explaining everything. The sight that met his eyes made him freeze, completely shocked.

Ron lay on his bed in only his shorts, his shirt and pants in a crumpled mass on the floor. Straddling him, and thankfully still wearing her underwear, was Hermione. The two were locked in a passionate kiss, Hermione running her hands all over Ron's chest while he stroked her breasts, shifting underneath her, grinding his hips into hers.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, his voice returning with vehemence. Hermione let out a shriek, whipping around, while Ron swore, his face turning nearly the same color as his hair.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, quickly placing an arm over her chest as she looked around for her shirt, her face a bright scarlet. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! We thought you were going to be gone longer! I mean, not that we planned this – it just of happened – I was just coming to return a book I borrowed – I mean one he borrowed – I mean -"

"Hermione," Harry said, interrupting, a smile spreading over his face, looking at Ron with intense amusement as the ginger squirmed, clearly very uncomfortable with the entire situation. "It's this little thing called a locking spell." With that he turned to leave.

"Oh yeah," he stopped, turning and looking back at Ron, a wicked gleam in his eye. "I'd do a silencing charm as well. I bet she's a screamer." With that he ran from the room, slamming the door behind him just as a shoe thudded against the door with surprising force.

Hoping fervently that he would be able to erase that mental image soon, Harry climbed the stairs, smirking slightly to himself. It was about time those two got together. Harry had wanted to strangle them both for years now. Shaking his head, he stopped on the next landing and pushed the door open, his mind still occupied by what he had seen in the Pensieve.

You'd really think that he'd have learned by now.

The Weasley twins stood in the center of the room, stark-ass naked. Between them stretched an equally naked woman. One of the twins (Harry was pretty sure it was George) had her mouth captured in a deep, passionate kiss as his hands caressed her chest, while the other (most likely Fred) stood in front of her, his fingers buried deep inside of her.

"Tonks?" Harry asked in shock, recognizing the bright pink hair.

"Harry!" Tonks gasped, pulling away from George, her eyes going wide as a blush crept up on her cheeks. "Bloody hell, what are you doing here? Have you never heard of knocking?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, quickly backing out of the room. "Great Merlin, is that all anyone thinks about these days? I just walked in on Ron and Hermione, now you three…"

"Ron?" Fred asked, turning to look at Harry, his eyes full of pure glee. "What exactly did you walk in on?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry said, careful to keep his eyes fixed on Fred's face, seeing as how Fred's movement had not only bared himself, but Tonks as well. That was a mental image Harry did not need.

"I'll be going now," Harry said, reaching in to shut the door, suddenly extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't go, Harry," George said, a wicked grin spreading over his face.

"Yeah," Fred said, moving closer to Tonks and rubbing himself up against her, causing her to throw her head back and moan slightly. "I'm sure that we could find a spot for you. C'mon, join the fun. It's what everyone else in the house is doing. Well, except Remus, of course."

"I'm quite alright," Harry replied hastily, the thought of stripping down naked in front of these two other men suddenly bringing the images from the Pensieve to the forefront of his mind. "I think I'll go see what Remus is doing."

He shut the door to gales of laughter from the twins. Casting a locking charm on the door, Harry headed down the stairs again, bypassing his room with a slight smirk. Hermione was going to get him for that comment later.

Tiptoeing past the portrait of Mrs. Black, Harry quietly opened the door that led down to the kitchen. With some hesitation (the last thing he wanted to see was Remus, of all people, fucking someone on a table), Harry walked down the stairs and peeked into the room.

Remus was, thankfully, simply sitting at the table, the Daily Prophet in his hands. He looked up as Harry walked down the last of the stairs, a smile lighting up his worn face.

"Harry," he said warmly, setting the Prophet on the table. "I didn't even hear you come down."

"Well, let's just say I've had enough encounters today and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to interrupt something. Again," Harry said, smiling at his former professor as he sat down as the heavy wooden table. Remus raised an eyebrow questionably.

"Let's just say Ron and Hermione have utilized our room," Harry replied in answer to the questioning look, rolling his eyes "while Fred, George, and –" Harry broke off, biting his lip. Tonks and Remus had been keeping each other company a lot ever since the war ended. Harry wondered if Remus knew what was going on upstairs.

"Ah yes," Remus said, smiling knowingly at Harry. "No need to look so guilty, Harry. I am well aware that Dora has been keeping the Weasley twins company. We have decided to part company for the moment. After I told her about – well, let's just say there're some things in my past she wasn't fond of knowing."

"Was it about…Sirius?" Harry asked hesitantly, then bit his lip, wondering if he had just put his foot even further into his mouth. Remus shot him a surprised yet wary look, his face going blank.

"What makes you say that, Harry?" he asked. Harry gulped, wondering if he had just made a very bad blunder. Remus' voice was completely bland. There was no inflection, no emotion. It scared Harry more then if he had yelled.

"I found Sirius' Pensieve," he said quietly, his eyes locked on the burned spot on the table a few inches from Remus' hand, which had clenched into a fist. "I – I just wanted to see him again, even if it were only in memory. I fell into one where you were in the shower with him – I mean he joined you – and you guys – well, you know – I only stayed long enough to see you guys kiss, I swear!"

Remus was quiet for so long that Harry chanced a look up. The other man was studying him with a thoughtful expression, though Harry could see a slight twinkle of mirth in his eye as he watched Harry try to blunder through his explanation.

"I see," Remus said quietly, folding his hands together and watching Harry with intensely measuring eyes. "Well, I supposed you have quite a few questions concerning what you just saw."

"Ummm…" Harry said, heat creeping up his face as he imagined talking to Remus, of all people, about his and Sirius's love life. "I think I'm okay, question wise. I mean, what's done is done, right? So I think I'm just gonna go to the library and attempt to drown myself – in a book I mean, not actually drown myself, of course."

Remus sat there for a moment, his lips twitching as he watched Harry squirm in his chair, eyes fixed on the table with a blush the color of roses mantling his cheeks. Then he threw back his head and began laughing, great rolling peals of laughter, ones that Harry had never heard him make before.

"What?" Harry asked, his discomfort making him extremely defensive. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus said, finally regaining control of himself. "It's just, you remind me so much of your father sometimes. When James found out…Well, let's just say that made for an interesting conversation. He was ready to rip Severus limb from limb, which was funny 'cause –"

"Whoa, hold on," Harry interrupted, raising his hand to stop Remus in midsentence. "What the hell does Snape have to do with this?"

"Um – well, you see – he was kind of – um – Sirius and I – that is to say, we kind of – oh bloody hell, it would be so much easier to just let you see it for yourself!" Remus replied, looking distinctly embarrassed, a blush creeping up his face for the first time.

"Wait," Harry said, a dreadful idea dawning on him. "You don't mean… You and Snape?"

"It wasn't just the two of us," Remus said, his voice defensive. "Sirius was ah – fond of Severus as well."

"Sirius Black, Padfoot, my godfather, the best man at my parents' wedding, had a thing with Severus Snape?" Harry asked, his voice showing the incredulity he felt at that statement. "He hated Snape!"

"It's not as simple as that, Harry," Remus said, his voice bordering on a lecturing tone. "Things aren't that black and white, especially when you're young. I thought that you, of all people, would understand that."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Remus, but I'm having a really hard time wrapping my head around this thing," Harry replied, rubbing his temples in hopes of dispelling the tension that had started to build in his head. He really needed to remember to ask Hermione what that headache relief spell was.

"If you want to understand it, truly understand it, then I would be willing to guide you through Sirius' memories, help you understand the timeline and connotations and such," Remus said, his face softening as he looked at the young man across the table from him who reminded him in many ways of his lost friend James. "Some parts of it will be awkward. But in order to truly understand some of the things that Sirius said and did, I feel that you must see all of it. I think he would have wanted you to know."

Those were the magic words and Remus knew it. He didn't know why he felt it was so imperative for Harry to know, but he knew that Sirius would indeed have wanted his godson, the closet thing he ever had to a child, to know about his past. Indeed, Remus felt the same. He wanted to be able to share his story with someone, especially when the two people he wanted most to talk to were far beyond his reach.

At last Harry sighed and nodded his head. Remus stood and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gratefully, before climbing the stairs up to Sirius's room, noticing that there was far too much silence coming from Harry and Ron's room to be anything else but a Silencing Charm. Smiling to himself, he pressed on.

Pushing open the half-closed door to Sirius's room, Remus felt as if a fist had hit him the stomach. He hadn't been in here since the night that Sirius had died. Striding hastily across the messy floor, Remus picked up the Pensieve and fled, carrying the stone basin carefully but swiftly down the stairs to where Harry, who had not moved an inch, still sat at the kitchen table.

Remus set the Pensieve gently down on the table, then pulled out his wand and pointed it at the basin, muttering a spell too low for Harry to hear.

"What was that?" he asked, gesturing to the Pensieve.

"It was just a small spell to help both of us," Remus replied, tucking his wand back into his robes. "It will allow me to discern exactly when this memory took place and whose memory it is, while for you it will allow to sense the emotions of the people in the memory. It's quite a handy little spell, actually." With that Remus gently shook the basin. A string of gold characters rose off the surface and floated for a moment before sinking back into the silvery liquid.

"This is one of mine," Remus said, smiling a little sadly. "It takes place at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters when I was eleven years old. So, after you, Harry." Taking a deep breath, Harry stood and plunged his face into the Pensieve, wondering what on earth he was going to see now.

A/N: I'm not sure if I want to continue this story. So please comment and tell me what you think.