Even the house itself had changed. Instead of being dark and depressing, smelling of money and bigotry (did bigotry even have a scent? He didn't know, but in his mind it did). Now it had a garden full of wildflowers. It wasn't as elegant as his mother's flowers had been, but it was more natural more . . . right, in his mind.
Finding the courage that had held him together while floating in the nowhere space that he'd been trapped in o long, Sirius approached the door as if he knew that it might curse him at any moment.
His knock sounded weak and hollow, even to him. But the door opened shortly, showing a young man with long hair of indistinguishable color, but you could tell he was dark haired, even in the dim light. Sirius looked at the boy, but couldn't place his face, even though it was very familiar looking.
"Um . . . Hi. I used to live here . . . Sirius Black." He said, holding out his hand and feeling more than slightly foolish.
The young man looked at his hand warily, but shook it and shrugged. "One sec." The door nearly took of Sirius's hand, but luckily the now thoroughly confused man had moved it quickly.
The door opened again, this time with no hesitancy. In fact, before the fact had even registered with Sirius, he was being suffocated by something or other. He fought and finally found his freedom, only to find himself staring into a pair of green eyes he'd thought he'd never see again. Neither said a word, but this time Sirius hugged his godson tightly, inwardly thanking any benevolent deity that might have brought him to this moment alive and sane.
Finally the men broke apart and Harry grinned at Sirius. It was then that Sirius saw how much he had changed. His hair wasn't the thick messy black it had formerly been, but was now slightly greying at the temples. His glasses were a lot thicker as well, but his eyes still held that sparkle and amusement they had always held.
However the changes hit him like a prize fighter. How long had he been gone? How much had things changed? Where were the rest of the people he'd loved and fought and struggled for?
"I knew you weren't dead. Deep inside, I knew." Harry said, giving Sirius that look that always made him feel so proud of himself, and so sorry for James that had never ever see it. Sirius hugged him again quickly and smiled wider than he had since . . . before Azkaban, and now he had a very good idea how long it had been. He was surprised his face even remembered how.
Harry led Sirius in and Sirius caught a good glimpse of the younger man that had answered the door when he knocked. Harry followed his gaze and motioned for the young man to come closer. "Sirius, this is my son, James."
Sirius smiled again and looked the boy over. "You've got a kid. Where's your wife?"
Harry's face darkened and James gave Sirius a wary but still evil look. "Mom's dead." The look the young man was shooting him told Sirius enough to keep him quiet on the subject.
Quickly, Sirius hit on a subject he hoped wouldn't hurt Harry too badly. "How're Moony and Tonks and the rest? Fred and George get their joke shop going? How're Ron and Hermione doing?"
Harry asked James to make some tea and motioned for Sirius to sit down in the parlor where his mother's picture had formerly been. He smirked at the tasteful still life of neon lights in some big city that had taken her place. Harry chuckled and adjusted his glasses. "We had her repainted. I think the frame suits the new picture much better." Sirius chuckled and nodded.
"Anyway, Remus and Tonks are doing as well as can be expected. They had a girl, named her Roma, which Remus never got over by the way, and now Roma's going to have a baby, and joking about naming it Culture if it's a girl, and Empire if it's a boy.
"Fred is shacked up with Angel above their Diagon Alley shop, and George is living what he refers to as the 'dignified single life', which seems to include getting embarrassingly drunk whenever he can and calling up his latest ex and inviting her to the joke shop to test their new toys. Which sell well, by the way. None of the Weasleys seem to have any problems with money anymore, but, then again, none of the living ones have children."
James briefly interrupted with tea and scuttled back out again. Harry lazily waved his wand at the tea cups, and soon both men were enjoying their drinks. Finally Sirius had to ask, "What do you mean none of the living ones?"
Harry's demeanor turned serious. "Ron was attacked by death eaters, back before . . . we all knew he was going to die. So I guess he and Hermione decided to . . . give him a way to live after his death. She had twins. We thin she found some way to do it on purpose, but can you blame her?" Sirius saw in Harry what he might have become if he hadn't been framed. A sad, but persevering man, who had lost, but was living as best he could, more than partially for those who couldn't.
"Percy didn't have any children with his wife. Lucia wants kids, but Percy doesn't much like children. So none for her. Let see . . . Bill and Fleur had a kid, three of them, actually, but he died of cancer and Fleur's inconsolable now. Their kids are insane, and quite fun to be around, honestly. Charlie's married to his job, and has a commonwealth marriage to an American wizard. Real nice guy, but it happened right after Bill's being diagnosed with cancer, so Mrs. Weasley never really got the chance to get a good opinion of him. Doesn't help when the first time you meet someone is at a funeral."
During this revelation, Sirius drank his tea and watched his godson. It was how he imagined talking to an Auror about their time in the service was, or like a soldier. They knew what had happened, but they hadn't let it all sink in. He desperately wished he had been around to help with the pain, to offer a shoulder to cry on. He felt like the battles he'd had to wage to remain alive through the looking glass (as he'd always thought of it), were mirrored in Harry's turbulent life.
Harry pressed on. "Dumbledor's dead. Snape killed him, and said that he was dying anyway, and told him to do it. I don't believe it, but he helped us beat Voldemort in the end, so I guess it was just something that had to happen." Sirius could tell from Harry's tone of voice that 'it was something that had to happen' was a mantra that he had repeated on many a sleepless night. In what seemed like a past life to both of them, Sirius might have comforted the troubled boy. Now all he could do was sit by awkwardly and wonder.
"Snape still alive then? Pity, that." Sirius noted, watching Harry's face carefully.
He never saw what he was waiting for. There was no anger, no hatred, just a kind of tired malaise. "Bellatrix Lestrange murdered him when she found out what he'd done. Malfoy, Draco, tried to stop her. He was maimed, and his mother killed Lestrange. Now both of them are in St. Mungo's. His mom went daft, and Draco lost his will to live." Even the pain and torment of someone Harry had hated with a passion didn't seem to elicit even the tiniest of responses. Sirius wondered what else he had given up to have that much emotional control.
Harry shook his head, as if he'd been daydreaming and hadn't realized it. "Terribly depressing, but it's not all bad. Voldemort is dead. The things that kept him immortal are gone. If he's still alive, then he'll never come back. And so I get to work for the ministry and have a semi-normal life for being the person to aid one of the biggest heroes of the century."
Sirius couldn't help but give Harry a curious look. He cleared his throat and clarified. "Ginny. She . . . didn't listen when I told her to stay behind. The credit went to her, because she's the one who stabbed the snake and got poisoned. She deserves it. All I did, all I could do, was watch, and distract Voldemort."
Here was the first time Sirius had seen any real emotion since the last mention of Harry's wife. Sirius realized how much older Harry was than him, to have live through so much, and suffered so greatly.
Harry was no longer telling the story to Sirius, but to himself. Somehow, even after all these years, the pain of telling, and the hurt accompanying any sort of revelation of the truth, was bittersweet. It hurt more than he could bear. Every telling drew some of the sadness out of him, like a poison that had to bleed out through his words. "I wasn't really even in danger. He was so weak and scared. Yes. Weak. After killing the snake, he nearly died on his own. I wish it had taken me longer. I knew Ginny was gone, and that our son wasn't ever going to know his mother. I should have hurt him more."
There was no fire in Harry's eyes, no spark, not a single sign that he regretted not torturing Voldemort or that he felt shame for wanting it. To him it was just a fact. Voldemort should have known more pain. Sirius stood up and set his tea cup down. Harry jumped and stood up as well, not sure why Sirius had taken to his feet.
Sirius hugged Harry again, not sure whether it was the right thing to do. Then he pulled back and looked at Harry one last time. Harry gave him a curious look, all his pain and damage once again hidden by wonderful habit. "I have to get going. Didn't mean to stay long, really. I just . . . had to see you again. I'm going to visit Moony. He still has his old place, right?" Harry nodded, a bit confused. "Ok. I'll come back, I promise. But I have to see everyone else, just to make sure they're still alive."
Harry nodded and smiled at Sirius. "Hell, one of us ought to be. There were enough survivors that someone should be alive." Sirius nodded and hoped that his face was blanker than he thought it was. "I'll be back. Give me a week at the latest." With one last hug, Sirius went back into the night, blending easily with the shadows in his dog form, feeling powerless and dead inside, the way he always had. his last thought before he let his dog body take control for a little bit was that while Harry was the spitting image of his father, the younger-but-older man's soul matched Sirius's own more than anybody else's; or at least so he hoped.
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Peace and Love,
Panther Nesmith