See Chapter One for full warnings. Sirry Slash. Sirius/Harry, implications of other stuff like maybe Snarry in the future or Remus/Harry but those aren't the aim, but you'll pick up on slashish undertones if you squint.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER
{Chapter Two}
"Next week, we will be dealing with a Boggart, and then we conclude the unit on dark creatures for the term and move back to offensive hexes and advanced duelling," said Professor Bancroft once the lesson was over, Harry found himself smiling in the middle of the craziness of it all – in a strange state of serenity with the childlike representations of his parents, godfather and former professor – though they weren't really his in the technical sense of realities, it was close enough that it was filling some of the void. A void which, for a very long time, Harry liked to pretend didn't exist, because it hurt less that way.
Though there was something startling to his world, which he began to realize when he peered into Snape's penseive – that the Marauders were far from perfect.
Peter notwithstanding, James and Sirius really did seem to enjoy hexing people by way of a prank or joking around and he saw that just on the way to shadow their DaDA lesson, the tamest out of them all by far had to be Remus, who was the only one perceptive enough to catch Harry's face fall. Sixth year was just after they'd already done their exams and the humiliating incident already occurred to Severus Snape, his friendship with Lily had been shattered, but this would also be the year Sirius tries to trick Snape into encountering Remus in wolf form, cementing a life debt with James Potter when he gets saved, and putting their rivalry in the history books.
Harry didn't want that to happen again, it happened in his world, why in this one too? Still, he didn't know how much he could change, or what he could really do, he was sure he was coming across as a stick in the mud, but at least, his pleading looks to Remus Lupin never went unheeded. Remus Lupin had the God given tact to understand how Marauders appeared to an outsider, even moreso with Harry shooting him injured looks and making a point of looking horrified, shocked, or sad by the way they dealt with people in the years bellow them.
And this was only after shadowing three lessons, but needless to say, Harry was not prepared for Charms – with his mother, Lily Pott-, well, Lily Evans.
"Hello! Happy to see you picked my lesson to shadow, which I assure you, is the best," said Flitwick, the tiny little man atop his pile of books in order to be seen over it, and Harry couldn't help but crack a wide grin, the man was friendly in his own world, but in this one he seemed to have upped it, and for that, he couldn't help the warmth practically emanating off of him.
Flitwick chuckled a bit, noticing Harry gain a stare or two as a few heads turned his way, the half-goblin leaned forward in a low tone.
"You might want to reign yourself in a bit though, you're attracting some attention,"
Harry's eyes widened as he finally noticed the happiness he was emanating was quite physically emanating, representing itself outside of his body in the form of a soft, white glow.
"-and that is an effective Glowing Charm my boy – feel free to come to me if you have any more general Charms questions," said Flitwick a little loudly, making the heads that turned to stare turn away in disinterest while Flitwick waved his wand in Harry's general direction as Harry himself did his best to reign in the physical reaction.
He let out an exhale of relief, the tiny teacher had literally covered for him, the glow quickly left, and the sound of an enthused female voice burst through their hushed conversation.
"Oh! What a gorgeous charm professor!" Harry turned to the source of it, and found himself face to face with a woman who shared his green eyes, and possessed flowing red hair, and a gentle disposition to her smile.
The colour would have drained from his face if he wasn't fairly pale to start with, though the healthy flush to his skin immediately left.
"Thank you Ms Evans," said Flitwick warmly "-I was just showing Mr Fey the effectiveness of Glowing Charms over Incendiary Charms to provide controlled warmth, it's so good to have inquisitive students, you should have been one of mine," he continued, grinning at Harry and joking about him being a would-be Ravenclaw.
Harry, for one, couldn't believe the sheer amount of lies that flowed out of his tiny teacher's mouth, and quickly followed along with the story.
"Ah yeah thanks Professor, if I pass my test I'll definitely pick this class,"
"Nerd," whispered James playfully when Harry sat down.
"Well, it's nice to know you take your studies more seriously than some," said Lily dryly, glancing meaningfully at the Marauders, who put on their most offended expressions.
"And you would be…?" Harry enquired politely, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Lily Evans, nice to meet you," she said, taking her seat across from them.
"Likewise, I'm Harry F—"
"Fey, I know. The headmaster's secret protégé that's the secret offspring from his numerous affairs he obviously has between being a headmaster, leader of the ICW and Wizengamot, if the rumours that started between now and the feast are to be believed," snorted Lily.
The Marauders couldn't help it – they laughed, especially at Harry's horrified expression, there was also some irony in his mother questioning his parentage, because fate had a funny sense of humour.
"I like to think I'm far too pretty to be Dumbledore's offspring," said Harry wryly, shaking out of his surreal daze, making Sirius laugh harder, which made a warm feeling spread through his chest.
"Modest too," he snorted, making Harry flush at his own faked arrogance.
"Oh like you're one to talk, you spend more time primping than a woman before a date," snorted James, after recovering from his laughter, while Sirius exaggeratedly flipped his long hair in his best impression of a female.
"As a woman, I take offence to that," mumbled Lily, hushing as Flitwick started his lecture on glamour charms.
Harry was meant to shadow them in Potions too, but then he caught the back of three people he didn't want to see - a young Severus Snape, Avery and Mulciber.
Now, Snape on his own didn't bother Harry much at all, knowing the man he'd become at the end of it all, it was hard to hate him as much as Snape hated Harry, it simply didn't go two-way - not after the war.
Avery and Mulciber he could not forgive, because in a year or two they would be donning black cloaks and silver masks, and they would do unforgivable things, and suddenly, Harry found it much, much harder to be in the presence of future Death Eaters more than his own deceased close-ones, because each of them had murder over their heads, and didn't even know it - not fully. Briefly, Harry tortured himself with thoughts of if anyone in Hogwarts had taken the blasted Dark Mark yet, and felt disgust rising that soon, Voldemort would be branding them soon the way a muggle brands cattle.
"I should go, find Dumbledore, I wasn't supposd to shadow all day I don't think, w-we have stuff to do," and quickly he left, missing Horace Slughorn about to greet him in and leaving some bewildered but nonchalant Marauders in his wake.
"Fey, are you alright? You're looking a bit peaky," said Lily, catching the drained look on the boy's face, which sent Harry into an immediate fluster before he garbled out a mess of a sentence.
"I should - I mean a bit - I'll go to Madame Pomfrey if it persists - I mean - I should really be seeing Dumbledore now so I have to um - I mean I'm not sick or anything I just... I'll see you around, bye!" he said hurriedly, before turning his heel and almost running the opposite direction.
'Smooth Harry, super smooth,' he mentally berated himself, shaking his head the whole way as his feet unconsciously took him to Dumbledore's gargoyle, only to bump into a rather fluorescent figure before he could fire out the same list of candies that permitted him entry last time for whichever was the password.
"Something the matter my boy? I was just about to find you," he looked up into the twinkling eyes of the headmaster and shook his head in a vigorous 'no' - he had no idea how to smoothly paint a shitlist of future Death Eaters to the man, or what he'd do with the knowledge, if anything, that whole thing still needed mulling over, and he had barely been there a night.
"I'm fine, I think," he said after a moment, shaking the paleness out of his features.
"If you're sure, you're looking rather peaky, do promise to pop over to the hospital wing if it persists, wouldn't want you sick during your OWL now would we?" he clucked in concern, before placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing a bit, as though silently telling Harry that he could see he most obviously wasn't fine, but was sparing him the interrogation, and offering dull comfort instead.
"No sir," Harry mumbled.
"Well then, if you're ready, it's time to get your emergency supplies, yes?" Dumbledore gave him a rather toothy grin, which was sort of unnerving, before ushering him to his office, to use the floo.
"Just floo yourself straight after me," the kindly old headmaster took a bundle of powder, and disappearing shortly after, with Harry following behind him, stumbling ungracefully into the fireplace of The Leaky Cauldron.
Shopping with Dumbledore was an experience and a half, wherever he went, people smiled and waved at him, and constantly, they stopped every five or so minutes to talk to someone, before the man cast a very strong Notice-Me-Not charm and walked Harry through to various shops, stopping excitedly at Gladrags to purchase socks that had animated lunar cycles on them.
He was like an excitable child with a gigantic beard, it was a little bit surreal and every now and then, Harry had to pinch himself.
"Take care measuring around his back, for anything a little less than...human, shall we say," Dumbledore had taken Madame Malkin aside once they reached her shop in order to purchase new school clothes, the woman had gone wide-eyed as Dumbledore spoke in hushed tones, before taking Harry to a very dark fitting room, carefully not to touch him at any point with the tape measures.
"A little late in the year isn't it?" was all Madame Malkin said, before ringing up a tailored Hogwarts uniform, eyeing Dumbledore warily as the man stroked his beard in glee and leered at the fine robes on display.
"It's been so long since I've shopped personally, I've forgotten how much fun it was!" Dumbledore smiled serenely, paying for the uniform and gently guiding him along to the second hand shop where they could purchase some undergarments and pyjamas, luckily there was nothing particularly unhygienic about wizarding second hand shops, the only real difference was the cheaper looking materials and outward shabbiness.
"Sorry about this, but we have to make a little stretch a lot," hummed the headmaster, watching Harry pick rather carelessly in the sock department, much to Dumbledore's disapproval but picked a delightful pair of somewhat faded Snitch pyjamas.
"The Sorting Hat reliably informs me you will likely pass your OWLs without much help, if you know what NEWTs you're picking, we could stop for some of your books, or come back another day for those..."
"I know what I'm taking,"
So with that, they picked up a battered Transfiguration text, equally battered and ripped binding DaDa book, a copy of Most Potente Potions with a mouldy looking cover and a bunch of dog-eared pages and a reasonably good Charms text with a page or two missing and the extremely dated - even by 70s standard Care of Magical Creatures book assigned by Kettleburn, and recognisably - Flesh Eating Trees in the World, for Herbology. Most of his money unfortunately, had to be sacrificed for cauldrons and collapsible school potion's kit for NEWT students.
"Herbology? You'll need the dragonhide gloves for that..." trailed off Dumbledore, taking the incurring cost himself when the fund ran dry, much to Harry's embarrassment, as the last of it got spent on a cheap quill set and a second hand trunk.
The name Herbert Heathcliffe was etched on the battered thing, making Dumbledore frown a bit before drawing out his wand and calmly blasting the name clear off the trunk, leaving a smoking stain in it's place.
"Transcribulo Harry James Fey," a few wand movements later, the stain transfigured to look like undamaged wood, and the name Harry J. Fey etched itself in it's place, it was a masterful little bit of transfiguration - Harry forgot for a moment that Dumbledore had a mastery in it for a moment until right then.
"Thank you Sir," Harry mumbled, wondering blithely how on Earth the Weasleys managed to do this, and as though sensing Harry's embarrassment, the old man left to pick a few second hand clothes himself, coming out in cheap faux-dragonhide thigh high boots that he raised his robes to parade, making Harry choke on his own saliva.
"I think these are very me," Dumbledore managed to say it with a straight face, and Harry was sure his urge to laugh was close to cracking his own ribs.
"Yes, very you," he wheezed, before the pair glanced at each other in silence, and the rich laughter filled the shop.
"But he has to know what he's doing, I mean, Remus goes to Pomfrey after every full moon," said Peter, rationalizing as the Marauders all sat on their respective beds, sans Sirius, who was sprawled all over the floor, staring at the ceiling with a pensive expression.
"Peter's right, Dumbledore wouldn't just randomly assign someone to the room when he knows I'm a werewolf, and if it's his ward, I mean, he can't be that bad, right?" said Remus with a little frown.
"Well, I think there's something off about him," said James resolutely, as he flopped back into his pillow.
"I know what you mean, I can't really place my finger on it though," added Sirius, his brow furrowed.
"Well, what are we going to do about Moony's furry little problem anyway? When the full moon rolls around he's going to notice we're all out of beds," James raised a decent point, and even though Dumbledore knew about Remus's problem - the Marauders were pretty sure the headmaster was unaware of their illegal animagus forms, and they wanted to keep it that way.
"Even if I start using my tummy bug excuses from first year, he'll notice if everyone's gone, unless all of you don't come.." trailed off Remus.
"No way Moony, we're in this for the long haul," snapped James, as everyone nodded resolutely.
Remus let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and not for the first time - lamented what being a werewolf did to very simple things like trying to make a new friend and making sure you got treated equally.
"I doubt Dumbledore would have told him what I am anyway, he's not the type to tell other people's secrets for them, but we have to know if he can be trusted with a secret - if not for the sake of our pranks than at least because of your animagus forms," he said softly.
"So what do you propose we do - Moony?" asked Peter, unable to see a solution.
"We don't do anything, not until we scope out the kind of guy he is," said the werewolf wisely, and whilst James couldn't say he was happy with the answer, he agreed to it all the same, they couldn't act brash like they wanted to, especially if he was the headmaster's ward - that could have some serious ramifications.
"I don't like this," James muttered, scowling to himself, sure, Fey didn't seem like a bad guy, but they didn't know anything about him.
"I'll take the personal duty of investigating him," said Sirius suddenly, bolting upright and grinning like a Cheshire cat, with a somewhat hungry look in his eyes, making Remus raise an eyebrow at him.
"Personal duty? Bloody hell you move fast. I don't know if the headmaster would like your dirty dog paws all over his ward," teased Remus, reading into Sirius's motivations instantly. "At least give Marlene some time to nurse her bruised ego before you go off gallivanting with someone else,"
"I'm not getting any younger Moony, besides, I'm intrigued," huffed Sirius.
"Oh is that what they're calling it?" muttered James under his breathe, until he was pelted with a pillow so hard he fell off his bed with a dull thunk.
And right at that moment, the dorm door creaked open, effectively silencing all of the Marauders as Harry Fey shuffled inside, in nicely tailored school robes but still with battered shoes and an equally battered trunk behind him.
"...Hi?" the feeling of four sets of eyes on him at once made him tense, as did the silence, until Sirius broke it by bounding him to him.
"Back in one piece I see, c'mon, your bed is this one," he pointed to the new empty bunk that had spelled itself into the room, taking Harry's trunk for him and leaving Harry rather bewildered for a moment. Sirius was shocked at how light it was, but reasoned it was a featherlight charm, and moved it near the bed.
"Thanks Black," he said, nervously remembering to use his last name, making Sirius wave it off.
"Sirius. I'm not the only Black in Hogwarts after all, and if we're rooming we might as well be on a first name basis, right guys?" he turned to the others, who just nodded quietly - too quietly - what had they been talking about before Harry entered?
"How was shopping with Dumbledore?" offered Peter, throwing a bone to Harry if only to break the awkward silence, and if Harry didn't possess an automatic vitriol for Pettigrew, he would have been more thankful for it.
"Nothing can quite prepare a man for the sight of Dumbledore in faux-dragonhide thigh high boots," he said after a moment of silence and deliberation, watching with thinly veiled amusement as James's eyes bugged out at the statement.
"Thank you for that Fe-Harry, I'll see you all in Mind Healing Therapy," said Remus dryly.
Sirius was silent, absorbing the statement with mild horror and amusement, before waggling his eyebrows none too subtly.
"I'd rather see you in thigh highs,"
The Marauders almost choked at their friend's bluntness, and Peter found himself unable to control the giggles escaping out of the corner of his mouth at Harry's dumbfounded expression, subsequent blush, and slight horror.
'Merlin's sagging left nut, my godfather is hitting on me. Oh Merlin. Oh. OH. OH GOD EVERYONE'S STARING AT ME I SHOULD SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING.'
"You wouldn't rather see me in nothing at all? I'm offended," and with that, quickly closed his privacy curtain around his bed, warding it briefly with a privacy charm and a silencing wall, so noise wouldn't escape, before changing into his faded new pyjamas.
"Hey - we're all dudes here there's no need to be shy you know," there was a whine to Sirius's voice as he pulled on the curtains, unable to part them.
"He warded them!" he said in a personally affronted tone.
Harry swallowed thickly, quickly buttoning up his PJs before opening the curtain directly where Sirius tried to part it, finding himself awkwardly nose to nose with his would-be godfather.
"I rather like to go traditional and feel the breeze up there during summer, but you don't really know me, and frankly, I'd prefer you take me to dinner first before you demand I flash my draws at you," he responded in the most confident tone he could bluster, making Peter guffaw in the background.
"...Too much information but thank you for shielding my virgin eyes," said James sagely after a moment, though in truth, wasn't bothered by it after years of sharing a dorm with boys and rather open Quidditch showers.
Sirius didn't comment on the snitch adorned PJs, but his lips quirked, knowing it would instantly set James off, and predictably it did.
"Quidditch fan? Do you play?" James bolted upright, looking at Harry as though trying to assess his character.
Harry was almost bowled over by the suddenness, going over his mental cover story.
"Well, I was schooled at a small place before Hogwarts that was mainly a handful of tutors, it didn't even really qualify as a school so much as it did just a place to be tutored in subjects, so we barely had enough students for proper team on team games, but I played Seeker and never missed a snitch," he said after a moment.
"Where? It sounds kinda like those tiny preparatory places mum tried to shove me into," said James with distaste.
"Sorta, but it wasn't too bad, I had some of the best times of my life there - at S-Spellards," said Harry, quickly remembering the name and nodding vigorously.
"Never missed a snitch huh? Maybe you should try out, show us what you're made of," smirked James.
"Oh, I was made to fly," Harry grinned at his own joke, before sagging "-but I don't have a broom..." he trailed off with a frown, before sagging and turning silent, poking his trunk with his foot idly.
"Harry?"
He flinched out of his thoughts, realizing he'd left said trunk wide open when he got his pyjamas out, and pretended not to notice the cursory glances thrown at it and Peter none too subtly trying to leer to look at it.
"It's fine you can just use a school broom for try outs, they aren't in bad shape even if the models are a version or two behind," said James reassuringly, piercing the silence.
"Where's all your stuff?" asked Peter bluntly, only to be elbowed by a glaring Remus.
"Sorry about that Harry," he said quickly, as Harry sucked in a breathe and exhaled slowly, mind reeling back to the cover story he was using, the Minister and Dumbledore had worked in tandem to make sure it didn't deviate too far from Harry's truth as much as they could allow, so it would be easier to stick to and check out, but lead to dead ends should anyone investigate.
"It's fine, I ah..." he coughed and cleared his throat a little. "I lost everything in a Death Eater raid so, I don't really have much of anything, including my old broom," he said softly, making a sombre air wash over the dorm uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry," said Peter after a moment, and the irony of it as not lost on Harry, who resisted the urge to sneer.
"Well, you need clothes," said Sirius, plopping down on Harry's bed without asking and pawing through his meagre trunk - all there were was school robes, dragonhide gloves, and battered books and some underwear with socks - not a lot either. The pyjamas Harry had on were his only casual clothes.
"Well, I can't really afford them and neither can the headmaster, not for me anyway, bursaries for Hogwarts students are only meant to cover basic supplies, I spent so much on stuff for Potions that I didn't even have anything left for a trunk or quills," he grumbled, his neck and ears burning as he felt the shame he felt in primary school when laughed at for having Dudley's cast-offs, and in that moment, Harry felt very small - and his discomfort did not go unnoticed.
Sirius, seeing a chance to settle himself in his roomie's good books after trying to invade his privacy a bit, sauntered over to his bed and much larger, ornate trunk, popping it open and rifling through until he found a spare set of casual robes and split some of his shirts, before rolling them all in a huge ball and throwing them in Harry's general direction - or in this case - his face.
"Well consider these a loan, unless you plan to walk around in your birthday suit on weekends or Hogsmeade trips," he waggled his eyebrows a bit. Harry's face flamed a brighter red, folding the strewn clothes and looking up at Sirius unsure, trying to figure out his angle.
"Uhm, you...are you serious? You hardly know me,"
"That's my name isn't it?" beamed the Black heir, making Peter, James and Remus collectively groan.
"Besides, if I get to dress you, maybe I'll get the privilege of undressing you," said Sirius, in a low, silky tone, which unfortunately, everyone caught, as Harry transitioned from red to purple in embarrassment.
"Merlin, Sirius! The boy's barely been here a day. You come on strong don't you?" chortled James.
"The poor guy's going all purple," teased Peter, while Harry's hands flew up to his face to hide his expression in a futile gesture, which even Remus laughed at.
"I am n-not...!" stammered Harry indignantly from behind his hands, reeling from the fact his godfather of all people was coming onto him.
"You really are," mused Remus aloud, contributing to the boy's suffering as he let out a long whine, before moving onto his bed and burrowing against his pillow with a righteous huff.
"Goin' to bed," grunted Harry in a very stroppy, teenage tone.
"Already? It's barely 7!" said Peter, scandalized.
"Tired, Dumbledore is an exhausting man to shop with..." he groaned.
"Thigh highs..." mused Remus again, prompting disgusted reactions once more.
"Oh and Sirius?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," with that, the privacy curtain went up, shielding Harry from sight, leaving the Marauders to their devices.
"-hiding something," was the first thing Harry heard as he woke up later than the rest, riddled with nightmares as he peeped from behind his curtains, only to get an eyeful of the Marauders openly changing and oh, it was wrong, very wrong - he knew, but he wasn't copping a perverted sort of stare, it was one of curiosity, a burning teenage curiosity. They'd all been stretched - by hormones, of course, they were all knees and joints, an uncomfortable mass of pubescent bodies that were refining themselves to adulthood.
His eyes landed first on the soft, nicely brushed waves of tawny hair that belonged to Remus Lupin, bereft of greys, but immediately his eyes roamed to the deep, long scratches on his body - where Fenrir hurt him, turned him, no doubt - those were werewolf markings across his chest.
'Oh, oh Remus...'
A horrible thought occurred to Harry - that Fenrir would be in his prime and height of his bastardry here, and it made a low noise of displeasure want to rumble from his throat.
Some beasts deserved to be put down, child snatchers like Fenrir Greyback were one of them.
His eyes fell onto James, who was hopping about madly trying to get a sock on, he almost chuckled, but didn't want to draw attention to the fact he was awake, his mind raced backwards to the Mirror of Erised, at the dreaded night of the Third Task during the Tri-Wizard Cup, where he had adult versions of his father to go by. James was thinner, not nearly as broad or strong as his adult counterpart, but it was James all the same, and Harry could safely say he inherited his build from Lily after much comparison. His eyes then settled on Pettigrew, the lump of a boy, chubby, awkward, battling his robe clasp, with both hands intact and not a trace of silver to show the crime he would one day commit. Everything about him was just a little off-kilter, right down to the way he did his tie, not that you could tell unless you scrutinized, but boy was Harry scrutinizing. He had all the grace of Dudley Dursley on a good day, which wasn't saying much, his watery eyes seemed to look worse when he was waking up out of his sleepy daze and trying to get changed in a zombie-like fashion.
As much as Harry despised what he laid eyes on, he could not help but think it pathetic, pathetic how Pettigrew let himself be content with his out of shape, constantly falling behind nature that took up noticeable physical signs in how fit he was and how he kept his appearance, he might have been disgusted with the rat-boy's development over all, and think his body rather lacking and perhaps even disgusting for how unmatured and covered with baby fat it was that ill belonged on a traitor, if not for how pathetic he was as a whole. Really, his weak, underdeveloped little body just reminded him of a pudgy little boy, a wizarding Dursley-2.0, it was rather weak, he almost sneered, if not for how he remembered his own appearance as a malnourished boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs.
Looking upon someone so mousy and lacking, it was hard to think he would become someone so awful, without an honest bone inside them left, ready to give their hand to a Dark Lord so that they may rise, and betray the only people who truly cared for his sorry hide.
'How on Earth did you bring down the Wizarding World and destroy so many lives with your choices, when you cannot even clasp your cloak, you silly little boy?' the thought was more despairing than malicious this time. 'How sad,' he thought - 'to have to rely on others constantly, to be so desperate you're reduced to nothing more than someone destined to be in the shadows of others, that joining Voldemort seems like a good idea,' his patheticness struck him, reminding him eerily of his late professor, Quirinus Quirrell who had been forced to share his body with Voldemort as a parasite would feed off a host.
'It's always the feeble ones, isn't it?' though the thought was more desperate than disparaging, wishing he could stop that from even occurring, but Voldemort really did know how to reel those of softer character by exploiting their weaknesses.
"Well, at any rate, should someone wake up Fey for breakfast?" mused Remus aloud, unaware they were all being covertly peeped on "-Dumbledore might be annoyed if he's not around eating with everyone else, might think we've done something to him already,"
"Ehh, you worry too much," said Sirius flippantly, purposely taking his time as Peter and James filed out, eventually followed by Remus, leaving just him.
Finally, Harry's stare landed on Sirius - whose back was to his bed, exposing a curvature of muscle down his back, emphasized by his very languid action exposing decently toned muscles, fat where it was supposed to be, but taught against his skin, showing that all that was there wasn't in there in excess, and contributed mostly to his slightly defined body, which took Harry back a bit, remembering the haggard Sirius from his own world and time. Grown up, unused laugh lines, bags under his eyes, haunted, gaunt glow to his skin, messy long hair he could hide behind and glare out at the world from, as though to curse it for how cruelly it treated him. He was thin, so thin. Every time Harry wrapped his arms around his older godfather he could remember that he wasn't as stocky as Molly Weasley or even at Lupin's physical state which always seemed to be in semi-deterioration around full moons and after due to his lycanthropy. Now, this Sirius had everything in all the right places, he was healthy, young, virile, alive - Harry's stare had become vacant as he settled on the small of the boy's back, not even registering the rhythmic and playful sway of the other's hips and general lower body as he put on his under-shirt.
"So, like what you see?" Sirius's jokey tone jolted Harry out of his reverie, making him suddenly pull open the curtains, blushing in full force since he'd gotten caught red handed.
"U-uhm how..? I mean I wasn't-" he stammered, finding himself digging his hole deeper each time he tried to justify himself and the other's grin merely widening.
"If you weren't, you wouldn't look so guilty, so c'mon, who'd you stare at longest, who'd you thinks the fittest? We always argue about this but James always thinks it's him-"
Harry almost blanched at the idea of categorizing his father the way you'd categorize people you'd - well - fancy. He had to force himself not to be automatically revolted by the thought, despite looking a tad peaky.
"You," he blurted out, just trying to make the conversation end.
"Fey, Fey, Fey... Harry... I am the master covert pervert, I always know when eyes are on me," he flashed Harry a dazzling smile and winked for effect, and it was only by some feat of Merlin that Harry wasn't slurring his words into one hypersentence that made no sense like when he tried to ask Cho Chang to the Yule Ball. The surreality of it all was the only thing keeping him grounded, ironically, trying to mentally put this version of Sirius with the one he knew.
"Sure about that? Remus didn't give me a run for my money? He discounts himself a lot but I think he'd make a fair rival," he mused, making Harry redden further, because for Morgana's sake, that was his professor...sort of. Kind of. Maybe. Not really. A bit.
Oh sodding hell, interdimensional time-travel was confusing.
"Er, why are you asking me?" asked Harry dumbly, trying to divert the conversation.
"Because you are the impartial party caught staring my lad," Sirius smirked, watching Harry almost recoil at being called 'my lad' - but not for the reason he thought.
He snorted at Harry's obvious discomfort after a few moments, pulling his robes on and giving him a stare down, from the top of his head right down to his toes, making no effort to be subtle, before craning himself into the other's some what hidden ear, not quite pushing the limits of personal space by daring to brush it back, but enough to pick on the other's insecurity.
"Oh come on, you know it's okay to window shop so long as you don't molest us all in the night you know - it's polite to ask first," he looked at Harry like he might say something else, before his lip curled as he took a rather sadistic joy in making the Fey boy squirm under his gaze.
"Though it would be nice if you returned the favour, window-shop wise," he held a bit of the material of the privacy curtain, looking rather unimpressed with Harry's privacy enforced on the first night of the dorms, which would be a problem if he couldn't be open when they needed to gage how he'd respond to Moony's furry little problem or if they needed him to move out the dorms or be silenced somehow.
"It almost makes you look like you're...hiding...something," he drawled, making Harry tense up a little. Sirius observed him chew on his lip - a sign of nervousness. Good. Sirius had the upper hand here then, at least, he thought so, until Harry gave as good as he got.
"I'm only hiding what every teenage boy in their bedroom alone wants to hide by drawing up a privacy curtain," his face looked like it might melt with how red it was going - redder than Evans's hair, but he somehow maintained a level stare with Sirius, who felt his own face heat up irrationally, he always made out like he was flippant about that sort of thing but to an extent, a lot of pureblood values were still there, even if he would loathe to admit it, and now, he rather desperately, needed the image of their new dormmate doing ...things... to himself, out of his head! You weren't supposed to really do stuff like that, even if you woke up with a troublesome feeling that needed a cold shower and a cleaning spell in the morning, it was just how things were done, or you'd damage your chance of producing an heir along with a lot of other superstitions that had weaselled their way from medieval Catholicism into modern pureblood culture.
Harry Fey, quite frankly looked too, well, pure, for that sort of thing anyway, and the fact he'd even suggest it to Sirius was jarring and made it hard to think about anything else.
"We're going to have breakfast you can come if you want or do whatever bye," he said hurriedly after a moment, doing a quick heel-face-turn and leaving a slightly bewildered Harry in his wake.
'Did I go too far?' he wondered with thinly veiled amusement, but mostly confusion, before he slowly got ready in the empty dorm and headed for breakfast, not talking to any of the Marauders who were already engrossed in conversation and figured Harry was too tired to engage, like many sullen non-morning people at the table, even though Sirius knew otherwise, and couldn't quite meet Harry's eyes for the duration of the meal.
Idly, he let his stare wander over to the Slytherin table, rather thankful that a young Lucius and Bellatrix had likely graduated, as with Narcissa, he didn't know how he'd be able to handle them if they were still there, it was hard enough seeing Snape along with Mulciber and Avery, lesser Death Eaters, but Death Eaters all the same.
Merlin help him, he didn't think seeing Snape would be so painful, if only he didn't know what he knew.
Across the tables and large expanse of space between Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, green eyes belonging to one Harry Fey landed directly on a set of dark, steadily jaded onyx, getting a full-frontal view of Severus Snape. Poor boy, he really had been cursed with the Prince nose, crooked though it was, it wasn't quite as bad as Dumbledore's, and it didn't make him some deplorable leper despite what the nastier jibes of others would have to say. True, Snape's hair was still, well, greasy, but not as bad as it was in Harry's world and time, where he supposed the man just gave up on himself entirely and left it all to the potions fumes.
He felt his insides want to freeze over when he caught Snape sneering at him, and instead, faught the muscles in his face, to let out a small hint of a smile, green-eyes glittering in a way that only Dumbledore's really seemed to, an I-know-something-you-don't sort of glitter, all knowing, all-encompassing, as powerful as Lily's but three times as expressive even still, like being lost in the toxic ever-growing Forbidden Forest under the bleating, scorching, summer sun.
Quickly, Snape looked away, decidedly ruffled by looking at the newest lion, sneering into his soup instead.
One might think there was an epic plan for the slow and brutal murders of everyone he ever even mildly disliked just by the look on his face, when in fact, the thought was rather petulant, and if Harry knew Legilimency, he might have even been amused.
'Dumbledore's ward indeed. Stupid twinkly eyes,'
Petulant indeed.
"What're you looking at Snivelly for?" said Sirius with a scowl, catching the look.
"What's his name?" said Harry softly, playing dumb, making Sirius blink, before actually looking a little cowed by the reminder that their student was new and couldn't be faulted for any social faux-pas he made this early on, and was just innocently curious. Still unable to quite look at Harry the same, he focused on glaring at Snape instead.
"Severus Snape. He's bad news, future Death Eater, Dark Arts lover and royal pain in the arse," it was James that answered, loathing in his tone, though it was rather subdued, acknowledging that Lily Evans was at early breakfast for once, and was rather aiming to improve his reputation in her eyes in their last few years in Hogwarts.
"What has he done to you?" mused Harry, deciding to use his Innocent Card to his full advantage.
"Always poking in our business, going where he's not wanted, called Lily a mu-...that word," groused James.
Harry furrowed his brow, showing the group he disproved of the word mudblood, but maintained a rather dainty calm about him, not flying up into a storm over it.
"Oh, how vulgar. I hope he grows out of it. Though, I suppose some things cant be helped, the headmaster told me not all houses get on but especially us and Slytherins, and you guys seem to attract attention like moths to flame. I don't really know how things work here yet, but maybe this year will be a bit more peaceful with any luck, we don't need fighting in Hogwarts when there's enough outside," it was then that everyone was reminded of Fey's circumstance, and his solemn words made for a decidedly sombre breakfast, and James in disbelief that someone could be so casual about the m-word as though it was water off a duck's back.
"I'll keep an eye on him, Dumbledore, while he doesn't want it projected around, is aware of his students leanings and where their parents are pushing them in this Merlin forsaken war, but he wants to keep Hogwarts a neutral place if not a Light one, probably why he spent a good chunk of yesterday telling me to promote inter-house unity,"
All of them looked at him oddly.
"What? I'm still his ward, I have some responsibilities," said Harry, laying the brickwork for some freer movement if he could, eyes settling on someone who reminded him of-
'No...'
'So young...'
'He looks like...'
Harry's eyes flitted to Sirius, and then back to the Slytherin table, his heart sinking once more as he remembered the pool of inferi that he had toiled, and one of the bodies that rose, and the note within Slytherin's Locket - R.A.B - it all hit him like a brick, his heart started to ache a bit.
That was Regulus Black. Alive. Not an inferus. Alive.
"...Bit heavy for brekkie, mate," said Peter finally, burping and effectively breaking the heavy tension rather ungracefully, unaware of the dark place that Harry's mind went to, as his expression slowly darkened, and he quietly ate some cheese on toast, deciding whether to shadow a class for the morning or study for his retakes, before deciding on what really to do.
He was going to go to the Forbidden Forest.