A/N: Written for the HP Fairytales challenge at LiveJournal. Sirius as a version of the Hans Christian Andersen story Ole Luk Oie, The Dream God. Mostly Gen Sirius and Harry, but a very teensy and chaste mention of R/S. This is your warning, for anyone who disapproves of that sort of thing. The song Lily sings is a traditional Irish lullaby with some words changed about.
No one could tell a story like Sirius Black. Before the first war he could spin a yarn so eloquent and full of snags and pitfalls that the whole of Hogwarts would be caught up in it. When he escaped from Azkaban, though his audience had shrunk drastically, Sirius found that he could still catch attention with ease.
Now that Sirius had died, he had an audience to rival that of the greatest wizarding entertainers the world had ever known. And now that he was dead, Sirius could speak to each of them one by one, for the rest of eternity. Death, it seemed, had done wonders for his patience.
But this story is not about just any old fellow that Sirius was able to corner as he lay in his bed, trying to sleep, trying desperately to keep his eyes shut tight and not see the specters who come in the night to tell their tales. This story is about Sirius' favorite audience, one Mr. Harry Potter, and the things that Sirius had to teach him, even in death.
MONDAY
Sirius stood in the dark in his old room at Grimmauld Place, hands on his hips and looked around in disgust. Of all the places he had always wanted to go when he died, this was at the bottom of his list. It was sandwiched between the toilet Moaning Myrtle haunted and Snape's pants. If pressed, he wouldn't tell you which he would have preferred.
"Bugger and shite," he muttered, and kicked the leg of the chair nearest to him. The chair kicked him back. "Ow!" He reached down and grabbed the offended shin. As he hopped around on his good foot, an ottoman scooted forward into his path, sending him crashing to the floor. He lay there, patting himself down and making sure he hadn't lost anything. "And somehow," he said to the ottoman, "I thought being dead, I'd be less substantial."
"Lumos!" Sirius sat up and looked into the wand that was casting light about the room. Harry's bright green eyes and disheveled hair were visible above the white spot of light. Sirius caught his breath as he saw Harry for the first time since he'd died.
"S-Sirius?" Harry leaned forward onto his knees. With the covers bunched around him he reminded Sirius of happier times that were finished and a small child that was his godson. Sirius closed his eyes against the light and tried to focus. Time slid in and out of frame when you were dead, he was still learning how to control it. He opened his eyes.
"Er, hey there, Harry. How's it been? How's wossname?" Harry stared back at him, not moving. "I do apologize. I had wanted to make a more graceful entrance, but the furniture seems to still hate me." He stuck his tongue out at the wardrobe, which shuffled on its feet in the dark corner.
"Sirius," Harry said slowly, "you're dead."
"So I am," he said. Sirius got to his feet and tried to brush the wrinkles out of his clothes. If he'd known he was going to be stuck in the same bloody trousers for eternity he would have worn the leather ones every time he left the house.
"Sirius," Harry sat back, pulling the sheets around his waist. "Are you haunting me?"
"Oh? No. There was something I wanted to show you. I can't quite remember what it was though; I'll have to go find it. Listen, another time then?" Harry blinked and Sirius was gone.
Harry couldn't remember going to sleep, but when he woke up his furniture was just as he'd left it. He shook his head and sighed. What a strange dream he'd had.
TUESDAY
The next night Sirius was careful to avoid any furniture that might still be loyal to his mother. He stood by the side of Harry's bed and looked down on him, feeling as proud as the first time he'd saw him. James and Lily would have been proud too, if they could see. Sirius hadn't found them yet, but he didn't know why Harry shouldn't know something of them. He reached over with his wand and tapped Harry on the forehead.
Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Sirius. He squinted against the moon light and sat up to reach for his glasses. When he'd adjusted them on his face, he choked. "S-Sirius, you came back!" Sirius smiled.
"I wouldn't be able to leave you behind Harry. I've got something for you, here." He held out his hand and pulled Harry out of bed. The boy stood, barefoot and shirtless in his pyjama bottoms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Sirius walked across the room to the picture of his Great-Great Grandfather and tapped on it with the wand. Phineas came into the frame, yawning.
"So, my no good Grandson has returned. Why do you wake an old man from his sleep, spirit?"
"I need you to take Harry to the Pensieve." Phineas nodded, though his face held some disapproval. Sirius helped Harry climb into the picture. He turned to ask Sirius why he wasn't coming, but Sirius had gone.
Phineas prodded him in the back. "Let's go, I'd like to get back to sleep."
Harry had only taken 15 steps into the darkness between portraits before he was looking down at Dumbledore's office. It was late, and the room was dark accept for the soft, blue glow coming from the Pensieve, which sat halfway out of it's cabinet where Dumbledore had last used it and forgotten to put it away.
Harry let out a slow breath. "Can I?" Phineas nodded and Harry jumped down out of the portrait. As he approached the Pensieve he was frightened of what he might see this time. He was confident though, that Sirius wouldn't ask him to do anything that would hurt him.
He peered into the Pensieve and saw what looked to be a about 15 people crowded into a small living area. He leaned in closer to see if he recognized any of the faces, and as his fringe dipped into the liquid he tipped into the memory.
He landed with a small bump on the sofa near to where Sirius was sitting next to Professor Lupin. They were deep in conversation about some sort of flying apparatus, and their knees kept touching. Harry smiled. He had never seen either of them so happy.
Sirius leaned in and kissed the side Professor Lupin's neck and Harry felt his cheeks go hot. He stood up and walked through the living area. In the kitchen, Harry saw his dad talking to Peter Pettigrew and Dumbledore in hushed tones. His fists clinched at his side, and he wanted to strangle Peter, but he had to settle for cutting into his palms with his fingernails. He wouldn't have been able to touch him. Harry followed Dumbledore as he broke off and left the kitchen. He watched Peter over his shoulder until he turned the corner.
Dumbledore lead him down a tight hallway, following the sound of singing. He stopped just outside of the doorway, hidden by the jamb so he wouldn't interrupt. Harry stepped around him and into the room.
His mother was alive and standing at the center of the clean white and blue room. She was holding a baby and rocking it back and forth. As she sang softly Harry closed his eyes, trying to hold in the tears. He remembered the words. Harry crossed the room and sat down in a rocking chair near the crib. He laid his head back and rocked gently back and forth as he sang along.
Here I sit on
Buttermilk Hill
who could blame me cry
my fill
every tear could turn a
mill
Prongsie's gone for a
soldier
Shoo shoo, shoo la roo
Shoo la rack shack
Shoo la baba boo
When I find my sally
bally bill
Come dibb-a-lin a boo
shy lor-ee
Oh my baby, oh my love
Gone the rainbow, gone
the dove
Your fateher was my own
true love
Prongsie's gone for a
soldier.
As Harry listened he felt himself drift off to sleep. He grasped the arms of the chair tight and tried to hold on. He never wanted to leave that place and those happy people. When he woke up, his hands were cramped from holding tight to the sheets.
WEDNESDAY
There were shouts and screams and loud noises. Harry slept fitfully because he could hear them in his dreams. Bones were cracking and spells were being cast in deep, guttural voices. When Sirius appeared at his bedside, looking haggard and broken, Harry didn't have to ask why.
"Come with me, Harry," Sirius said. He crawled out of bed and slipped on his shoes, having gone to sleep in a tee and trousers so he would be prepared. Sirius opened the window and they stepped out onto a windswept ledge. The sounds of war turned into the sounds of pounding waves as Harry followed after him, and the mist sprayed his face and bare arms. He wrapped his arms around his body, trying to keep warm.
"Sirius, aren't you cold?" he asked.
Sirius looked at him and managed a small smile. "This is what I always feel like," he said, and shrugged. He turned toward the cave in the rock face.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, as he darted into the cave's mouth to hide from the wind.
"We're somewhere you're going to come later, Harry." Sirius pulled out his wand and lit the tip and then plunged deeper into the darkness of the cave.
"If I'm going to be here later, why are we here now?"
"Because I don't want you to be afraid," he said. Harry followed Sirius down into the cave, past the green fungus and the invisible doors, right up to the banks of a lake.
"Sirius, why are we here?" he asked again. In reply Sirius merely pointed to the center of the lake where a pedestal stood, giving off a green light that leaked into the darkness.
"Come on Harry," he grabbed the boy's hand and walked out onto the water and crossed the lake. The glow from Sirius' wand highlighted the faces of the dead below. Harry hesitated, staring down into the black water. Sirius tugged his hand. "They're the guardians Harry, but they can't hurt you right now." Harry took a deep breath and continued on.
When they reached the center island where the pedestal stood Harry walked up and stared into the green liquid. Sirius produced a chalice from the air and dipped it into the liquid, then he offered it to Harry over the pedestal. The green light from the liquid cast a death pallor on Sirius' face. Harry stepped away from him. Sirius turned into one of the closed eyed beings in the water. It took a shambling step forward with the cup and sloshed the liquid onto the ground.
"I'm not afraid of you!" Harry shouted, taking another step back. "When I come here I shall not be afraid of you!"
He awoke to the darkness of his room and Phineas' soft snoring. It had been a terrible journey Sirius had taken him on that night.
THURSDAY
Sirius held out a red envelope to Harry, who accepted it and turned it over. The corners were a little tattered and it resembled a howler, but there didn't seem to be any fight in it. He slipped his fingers under the flap and pulled out the card, which immediately popped out of his hand and flopped open, tossing confetti into his face and hair. The card inside was blank.
"What is this?"
"It's a wedding invitation Harry, to your parents wedding. There were people looking for us, so it had to be small and held in secret. Only a few people could read that card."
"Why do you still have it?"
Sirius ran his hand through his hair, his hand was shaking. "Because we're going"
"Sirius, we can't go. That happened before I was born."
"Tonight, we're going." Sirius pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped the window. As they looked through it, a green field appeared outside under the moonlight. There was a small white cottage off to the side. Harry recognized it from his fall into the Pensieve.
The guests were all sitting quietly, but their faces shone with moonlight and excitement. There were more than a few tears, and Harry looked back at Sirius to see that he too was wiping at the corner of his eye.
At the front of the group stood Harry's parents, along with Dumbledore, the young Sirius, and a woman Harry didn't know. "Tonk's mum," Sirius whispered, and Harry nodded. He watched his parents kiss and everyone in the crowd started clapping. The sound drifted off into the night, carrying its good news away with it. His dad turned to shake Sirius' hand and his mom turned around to hug Andromeda.
Afterward everyone trickled into the cottage to start the reception. Harry moved towards the windows so he could look through them.
"We can go in," Sirius said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shook his head. It wasn't right for the already dead and not yet born to impose on such an occasion.
"Can we go home now?" he said. It had certainly been a joyous occasion, but the cost of entering would have been too much for him at the time.
FRIDAY
When Harry awoke in the middle of the night, Sirius was sitting on the foot of his bed, holding his head in his hands. "There are so many people, Harry. So many people I need to find. I haven't even looked for them." Harry sat quietly, waiting for Sirius to get to the part where they would do something interesting. Sirius sighed. "And think of what I could be doing to other living folk, if you can see me. I could be tormenting that rat, I-"
"What are we doing tonight?" asked Harry.
Sirius looked around the room and then at Harry, as if he'd just noticed he was there. "Oh, I though you might like to see another joining of sorts Harry."
Harry nodded and Sirius stood up and walked to the window. He tapped on the glass with his wand, like he had the nights before. This time it was not a charming yard or windblown cliff, but a dark room that appeared on the other side. There were candles on the walls and a large group of people in black robes was standing in a circle in the middle of the room, the shifting lights and shadows created monsters on cloth and skin.
A man was standing in the middle of the circle. He wasn't wearing a hood, and when he turned to look behind him Harry saw that it was Peter.
"Peter Pettigrew," one of the cloaked figures said, "Can you pledge allegiance of thought and action to Lord Voldemort in times of war and peace?"
"Yes," Peter replied. Harry wondered how he could be so calm about something like this.
"Can you," said another one of the figures, "swear your life to Lord Voldemort regardless of case or cause?"
"Yes," said Peter again. His voice was hollow and the sound of it made Harry's chest pull tight.
"Peter Pettigrew," said the voice from before. "Please roll up your sleeve."
The people in the circle bowed their heads as Peter uncovered his forearm. They began chanting. Another figure entered the circle, carrying a large silver blade.
"Pure of blood, pure of mind."
"Peter Pettigrew, you have pledged your allegiance to me and my cause."
"Pure of blood, pure of mind."
"I will now mix our blood. You will forever have a part of me with you and I will be forever connected to you."
"Pure of blood, pure of mind."
The figure produced his own white arm and slid the blade across it, six inches below the wrist. The blood began to drip down his arm and pool in his fingers. Then he grabbed Peter's arm and cut him in the same way. Peter didn't flinch or make a sound. As Harry watched he felt something like pity well in the base of his throat.
"Pure of blood, pure of mind."
Another cloaked figure entered the circle carrying a brand. It wasn't smoking, but as the circle chanted it began to glow and spark. Blood mingled on the floor as Voldemort pulled Peter's arm out and the other person brought the brand down, singing the skin with magic.
Harry turned to Sirius and choked against the rage that was growing in him. "Sirius, why show me this? It's terrible!"
"Terrible yes, but you have to know them Harry. You have to understand them better than we did if you're to win once and for all.
Harry nodded, because he knew it was so.
SATURDAY
Harry sat in his bed with his sheet covered knees pulled to his chest. He was resting his chin on them and watching Sirius as he paced the room.
"Where are we going tonight Sirius?"
"Nowhere tonight, Harry. I only have a short amount of time left before I must return to the veil. I've spent lots of time with you, but now I must see some others."
"Will you see Dumbledore?"
"Probably, yes."
There was a cough from the empty frame and Harry looked towards it as Phineas Nigellus came into view. "Why did you come back at all if you're not going to stay? What good can you be doing?"
Sirius threw up his hands. "What good have you every thought I've done?"
"Some, I suppose, when you were younger."
"And I'm not younger now, I'm dead." Sirius smiled and his face was pulled and dark like Harry hadn't seen since he was alive in Grimmauld Place. "So what is it you want?"
"Just some consideration for the boy, Sirius. Those you leave behind are impacted by your actions even when you're not." Sirius huffed and stormed out of the. "Don't mind him," said the portrait, "runs in the family." Then Phineas yawned loudly, which was the thing that woke Harry up.
SUNDAY
"This is the last night that I can see you Harry." Sirius' clothing was straight, and he was happier than he had the last two nights. "I'd hug you, but I'm afraid that has odd effects on the soul."
Harry nodded. If Sirius said it, it must be true. "Where are you going Sirius?"
"Back beyond the veil. I have to go back to where I belong, you know." He sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.
"Aren't you afraid?" said Harry. "Don't terrible things happen there?"
Sirius scratched his chin as he thought. "Yes and no," he said. "Bad things will happen, but if you're not afraid, you'll always be able to handle them. And bad spirits only have as much control over you as you let them, remember that."
"I will, but isn't it cold and lonely?" Harry scooted closer, letting his knees graze the place where Sirius was.
"Cold, and lonely are relative terms Harry, and I don't feel either. Its life you have to worry about. Life is less predictable than death."
"Now you're telling the truth Sirius," said Phineas from his portrait.
And that is what happened between Sirius Black and Harry Potter after Sirius died. If you're lucky, maybe someday someone will do the same for you.