I wrote this first chapter back in 2014. I wasn't doing very well at the time, and writing this one-shot helped me heal. After rediscovering this piece of writing yesterday evening, my imagination ran wild and the muse took off. And suddenly, this story is no longer a one-shot. Enjoy!
I do not claim ownership of Harry Potter or any of these characters.
Chapter 1
It was seven o'clock in the evening and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated at a table in the Gryffindor common room, working on a Defense Against the Dark Arts essay for Professor Snape. It had been a long week; Harry was even further behind in his work than Ron and Hermione were. He had recently completed the task Dumbledore had assigned him and obtained the memory from Slughorn with the aid of Felix Felicis. Upon viewing the memory and learning of the existence of the horcruxes, Dumbledore had promised Harry that he could accompany him should he find another.
Harry hadn't been able to sleep that night, despite his exhaustion and the lateness of the hour. Horror at what Voldemort had done to his soul kept his mind alert. Images continued to swirl through his head like a roulette- the cup, the snake, the diary, the locket…. An endless mantra playing, over and over….
The objects would all have to be found and destroyed. And if they weren't, Voldemort would remain immortal.
And that wasn't something Harry liked to think about.
So this evening, two days after Harry had taken the Felix Felicis and after the topic of the horcruxes had been thoroughly exhausted by the trio, he and Ron and Hermione had thrown themselves into the growing pile of homework with the determination of finishing at least two essays by midnight. Snape's essay really wasn't that bad, Harry thought, as he scribbled away on his parchment. The topic was a discussion of the best way to tackle dementors. He wasn't sure he'd receive a good grade, as he had disagreed with Snape's opinion on the best way to fight the soul sucking creatures, but perhaps if he argued his point well enough he'd have a chance of scraping an Acceptable….
It was quiet but for the scratching of quills on parchment.
"If there was more than one dementor," Ron said suddenly, scratching at his nose and splattering ink across his cheek, "should you cast more than one Patronus?"
"Depends," muttered Harry, frowning at his own parchment. "Sometimes one Patronus can fight off the first dementor, then move on to the next. That's what mine did, when I was attacked last summer…."
"Yes, but say there were fifty dementors-?"
"Then you might be able to get away with casting only one Patronus if the charm was strong enough."
Ron was nodding his head, and sucking on the end of his quill.
"And it depends on the proximity of the dementors as well," added Hermione. "If there was more than one dementor coming straight at you from opposite sides, I wouldn't think that one Patronus could protect you from both."
"Fair point," said Ron, and he continued to chew his quill thoughtfully before jotting down a few more sentences.
Harry was just starting on the conclusion when a throat cleared behind him.
"Excuse me…. I have a message for H-Harry Potter?"
A little second year boy had just climbed in through the portrait hole, looked around, and approached their table. He was holding out a scroll of parchment. Harry accepted it and with a quick 'thank you' to the boy, he and Ron and Hermione pulled their heads together curiously to read the message.
"It's from Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed quietly. "He says he wants me to go to his office as soon as I can."
They looked at each other.
"He can't have found one? A horcrux?" asked Ron excitedly.
"I'd better go and see, haven't I?" said Harry. His stomach suddenly leaping with excitement and nerves, he quickly began piling his books into his school bag.
"We'll take care of it, Harry, go and see Dumbledore!" said Hermione, giving him a little shove toward the portrait hole. "And be careful, in case it really is a- a- you-know-what!"
Harry shot them a grin over his shoulder and hurried from the common room.
The sun was just beginning to set as he jogged down the seventh floor corridor, his heart racing with excitement. Before long he had reached the ugly stone gargoyle standing guard before Dumbledore's office and uttered the password. It sprang aside and Harry quickly stepped onto the revolving spiral staircase, which transported him upward through the ceiling; the great oak office door was closed, so Harry raised his fist to knock, only to pause when he heard voices.
Confused, he hesitated, fist still poised. Harry had been under the impression that Dumbledore hadn't told anyone else about the horcruxes… so why were there so many people in there? He leaned closer to the door, straining to hear what they were saying, but it was all just a big a jumble. Hoping with all his might that it was not the Minister of Magic here to demand an interview, Harry knocked.
The voices immediately silenced. Footsteps muffled by carpet walked steadily to the door, and when it swung open, Dumbledore was there, positively beaming.
"Harry, my dear boy! Do come in. We have splendid news!"
Utterly confused, Harry inched into the room around Dumbledore. He was immediately taken aback at the number of people in the circular office- there was Tonks was standing behind the door, next to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dedalus Diggle. Professor McGonagall stood by the window. Her eyes were bright and- Harry was shocked to see- seemed to be shining with unshed tears. But she was smiling at him, an utterly joyous smile that he'd never seen upon her features before. And in front of the desk was Remus Lupin, grinning so broadly that Harry was afraid his face would crack down the middle, and next to him, with Lupin's arm draped across his shoulders, was-
No. It couldn't be.
Harry forgot how to breathe.
The man's face was gaunt, his long black hair fell to his shoulders, his eyes were dancing, he was looking at Harry and he laughed joyfully, an achingly familiar, barking laugh-
Sirius. It was Sirius.
Harry's mind couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He stared, shocked and white faced, and then the ground rushed up to swallow him, and arms were catching him before he hit his head, and there was a ringing in his ears, and voices all around-
Sirius- here. Sirius here!
"Harry! Harry, breathe!"
Someone was tapping his face. He opened his eyes, blinking, and saw white.
"Someone get him a calming draught," a woman's voice demanded from somewhere above him. He frowned, wondering why he couldn't see anything. Then the white thing moved, and he realized it was Dumbledore's beard obscuring most of his vision.
"Harry, are you alright?" Dumbledore's face came into his line of vision. His eyebrows were scrunched with concern but his blue eyes were twinkling madly. He was holding Harry's shoulders, and Harry suddenly realized that he was flat on his back on the floor.
"Y-yeah…" Faces were peering over Dumbledore's shoulder at him, but he couldn't focus his eyes enough to see who they belonged to.
Dumbledore snaked an arm beneath his shoulder blades to help him sit up and McGonagall appeared at his elbow with a cup of steaming tea.
"Here, Potter, drink this." She was holding it to his lips, encouraging him to sip. But Harry shook his head, turning away, searching the small crowd for Sirius's face-
Sirius. Sirius is here!
Tea was dribbling down his chin onto his robes. He automatically opened his mouth to accept the drink, and then sputtered and choked when he inhaled and it went down the wrong tube. He was gasping for breath, there were more confused words exchanged in the air above him, and then hands were on his shoulders once more, and a man had crouched down in front of him, a man with dark hair and a gaunt face-
"Sirius," Harry gasped in disbelief, his entire body shaking.
Sirius was grinning. "It's me, Harry. It's really me."
His voice. Harry hadn't heard that voice in almost a year. Sirius. It was really Sirius.
Harry's throat closed up. His arms, trembling violently, reached out to touch his godfather to see if he was solid. He was. His skin was warm- he was real.
Sirius was laughing at his actions. "Did you miss me?" he asked Harry softly, eyeing his godson with concern.
Harry's voice shook as he answered. "H-how… Sirius- You d-died-" He choked, tears threatening his voice.
"Shhh, it's alright. I'm here now," Sirius said, and he gathered Harry into his arms in an embrace.
Harry allowed himself to be held. He was still shaking. He gripped Sirius's back like it was a lifeline and Sirius continued to make soothing noises, rocking him, as tears slipped silently down Harry's cheeks and wetted the shoulder of Sirius's robes. But he made no effort to hide them or wipe them away. There wasn't enough room left inside him to feel embarrassed…. Distantly he heard Dumbledore's office door close, and he knew that the others had exited to give him and Sirius some privacy. His tears gradually increased to sobs that wracked and shook his entire frame. But Sirius never let go, and continued to rock and hold his godson, and Harry cried his heart out onto the shoulder of the godfather he thought he had lost forever.