~**~**~
Chapter Three
~**~**~
Harry blinked groggily, reaching up with his small hands to wipe layers of grime and soot away from his eyes. Where was he? He sat up gingerly, causing small piles of rubble to cascade down around him. The building that had previously been the house was in shambles around him. None of the debris was recognizable as whatever polished wood furniture or solid walls it had been previously..
Except... a pale hand stuck out of the heaps of charred wood. Harry clambered over to it, slipping and falling on the trash around him. Two bands of gold circled the ring finger, one of them with a small diamond set into it carefully.
"Mum!" he sobbed, pulling her body out of the remnants of the house. her eyes were closed, giving her an odd expression of almost peace. "Mum!"
He did not know how long he sat there, head cradled in his fragile hands, sobbing until his green eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks puffy from his tears. He could not comprehend what had happened. His parents were well one moment, laughing and joking with him, and the next morning they were cold and lifeless.
As far as he could figure, it was the fault of the two men who had shown up at their house that night. If they had not appeared out of no where, Voldemort would have had no reason to come and confront his parents. His parents' deaths could be laid at the feet of the two strange men who had come to his house the night before.
He spotted a stray foot poking out of the garbage. Maybe it was his father. Possibly, despite everything, he might have survived. Harry stumbled over to it, scraping his hand on a raw edge of wood. Blood welled up from the cut, and a blazing fire roared through his hand. Cradling the limb gently, he tugged with his uninjured hand on the foot.
Moan.
Harry pulled harder, bracing his feet against a particularly large scrap of debris and leaning backwards, placing all of his weight in that direction. Whoever it was, they were alive, and that meant that he had to free them from the junk heaps.
He toppled over as the body jerked out from under the remains of what looked like it had once been a darkly-veneered desk. Squinting from the clouds of dust that his sudden motion sent flying, he nudged his glasses up his nose and stood up to see his father, to run into the arms that were undoubtedly be thrown open wide in expectation of a warm hug.
Harry stopped abruptly. That man was not his father. The dark hair was the same, but his man's locks were longer and less unruly, though they were still rumpled from his night spent under the rubble. His eyes were the wrong color, a shining blue in the stead of the bright hazel that his father's were.
"Harry?" the man questioned, rubbing his eyes as if he thought he was seeing a wraith. "You're alive." He did not sound as if he believed it.
For his part, Harry just stared at the man sullenly, lips curved downwards in a sulking frown and brow furrowed. "You're not my dad."
"No, I'm not. I'm your godfather." The man stretched slowly, rubbing his eyes to free them of the grime that was nearly encrusted on them. "Have you seen Remus? After we find him, if he's still alive, I can take you somewhere safe."
"No."
"What do you mean? I'm going to take care of you; I'm your godfather!" He seemed utterly appalled that Harry would try to deny him his right. Sirius noticed the hurt look on the boy's face, one that was mingled with horror and denial. "Listen, Harry, I'm really sorry about your parents. They were great friends of mine, but we don't have time to grieve now. We have to get out of her before any more Death Eaters show up."
"If you were friends with mum and dad, then how come I've never seen you before?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and glaring at the older man.
"Well..." Sirius rubbed his hands through his hair awkwardly. "It was kind of hard to see you when you were always around Voldemort."
"Why?" Sirius sighed at the query, not realizing that he would face the same single word for the rest of Harry's adolescence if he raised the boy.
"Because Voldemort would have killed me on sight."
"You mean you fought against him?" Harry's lip trembled as he fought back tears. "Then you weren't friends with mum and dad. They didn't fight against Voldemort."
"Look, Harry, Voldemort made them join him. They didn't have a choice. But they fought against him at the end, and that's all that matters."
Harry opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, but was cut off by a groan. Sirius turned away from the young boy and immediately started searching for the source that was emitting the sound, flinging charred scraps behind him in his fervor. One of them soared right into Harry's face, cutting a long scrape on his cheek in addition to his numerous other injuries.
"Remus? Where are you?" Sirius was frantic, darting from one lump to the other.
"Over 'ere," a weak voice called back, and a bruised and battered arm rose to the surface slowly. Sirius rushed over, shoveling the remains of the small house with his bare hands in an effort to reach his friend. Slowly, a worn face emerged, followed by a thin body in torn gray robes.
Sirius helped the other man to his feet, leading him over to where Harry was still standing, bitterness evident in his countenance.
"All right, Harry, we need to go now," Sirius said, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We can sort everything out after we've all eaten and rested up a bit."
"I don't want to go with you! I don't even know you!" Harry protested, squirming free from his godfather's grip.
"Harry," Sirius sighed exasperatedly, "I used to come over to your house every other day. I'm your godfather, and therefore your legal guardian. I'm going to take you back to my house, along with Remus here, and then we can do whatever you want."
"You killed my parents!" Harry roared, eyes flashing with distrust and a deep loathing. "If you hadn't come, mum and dad would still be alive!"
His revelation did not have the affect that he had hoped for, but if he had wanted to wound Sirius deeply like a knife twisting in his gut, he could not have picked better words to do so.
"I did," he admitted, voice suddenly thick with emotion. "If I hadn't told James to switch to Peter as their secret keeper, then Voldemort never would have been able to find them. It is all my fault Harry, though I did not mean to kill them. I'd give anything to go back and change the past."
"But you can't," Harry reminded him, chewing his lip sadly.
"I know, but I can give you a future."
Harry cocked his head to one side, considering this. He might have been only five, but he was not stupid, at least not when he took the time to follow things through to the consequences. If he continued to resist, Sirius could take him forcefully anyway, or he could simply abandon Harry. His choices of surviving with no idea where he was and no money were very slim if he was left alone. He could not let that happen; he would have to follow Sirius.
"Okay," he acquiesced reluctantly.
A huge grin broke out on Sirius' face, one which was mirrored on Lupin's. Sirius settled his hand on Harry's thin shoulder, and Harry did not flinch away from his touch this time. Together, the small group apparated away from the cold ramshackle remnants of the house.
~**~**~
Sirius heaved a huge sigh, settling down into a heavily cushioned armchair with little grace. Remus had whipped up a simple stew consisting of potatoes, meat, and a few bits of vegetables, which all three had eaten heartily. Harry had promptly fallen asleep as soon as the last smudges of his stew were wiped from his bowl, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face that Sirius had not seen in the few short hours in which he had been reacquainted with the boy.
After tucking him into a bed covered in crisp white sheets upstairs, Remus and Sirius had stumbled into the chairs in front of a roaring fire where they had sat in silence for some minutes.
"I can't believe they're dead," Sirius choked out, unable to bear the oppressive stillness of the house any longer.
"James and Lily..." Remus croaked.
"James and Lily...." Sirius echoed.
Each became lost in memories of their deceased friends. James chuckled as the potions master spluttered after one of their particularly inventive pranks. Lily the prefect berated them after they had hexed Snape, hands placed on her hips in a way that made her only that much more lovely, even if she did not seem to realize that James paid more attention to her than he did to her harsh words. They saw James lifted high onto the shoulders of the Gryffindor House, all of them cheering and applauding wildly as he held the Quidditch cup aloft, grinning broadly. They witnessed their graduation again, and the full moon immediately following in which they had all transformed into their animagi forms to keep the werewolf in their number in check. The relived the wedding, a joyous affair in the midst of the quickly descending darkness. Lily smiled softly in their minds, holding out Harry to display him to the Marauders after her long and difficult labor, boasting that she cradled in her arms the greatest baby in the entire world.
The memories took a swift downturn from there. Sirius grimaced as he saw James' haggard face arguing with Sirius as he explained his plan to bequeath the grave responsibility of secret keeper on Peter. Remus nearly cried out as he noticed the pained look on Lily's face as she argued with Voldemort, bargaining for the life of her son.
When they had first regained consciousness, they had known that they would have to be strong for Harry. Harry did not need to be taken in hand by two sobbing wizards who had no idea as to what their next move should be. Harry had needed them to present a plan of action and to follow through with it. Harry had to be fed and then shown a place to rest so he could begin to mend from the tribulations he had suffered for his entire life.
Now, though, Harry was snug in his cot and Sirius and Remus needed to grieve. They did so for hours, heads buried in their hands and tears streaming out of their eyes as they weeped and weeped.
They had only two comforts in their long period of mourning. First, the constant presence of the other, the knowledge that they did not sob alone. Even though they exchanged no words after the initial breakdown, each was constantly aware of the other, and they received much from that link.
Second was Harry. Even though James and Lily might be lying in their makeshift grave, Harry was still with them. They still had a living, breathing reminder of their two comrades, one which they could continue to be with for as long as he required adults in his life.
Even if Harry was not exactly welcoming them- in fact he wanted nothing to do with them- they were living solely for him now.
~**~**~
Chapter Three
~**~**~
Harry blinked groggily, reaching up with his small hands to wipe layers of grime and soot away from his eyes. Where was he? He sat up gingerly, causing small piles of rubble to cascade down around him. The building that had previously been the house was in shambles around him. None of the debris was recognizable as whatever polished wood furniture or solid walls it had been previously..
Except... a pale hand stuck out of the heaps of charred wood. Harry clambered over to it, slipping and falling on the trash around him. Two bands of gold circled the ring finger, one of them with a small diamond set into it carefully.
"Mum!" he sobbed, pulling her body out of the remnants of the house. her eyes were closed, giving her an odd expression of almost peace. "Mum!"
He did not know how long he sat there, head cradled in his fragile hands, sobbing until his green eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks puffy from his tears. He could not comprehend what had happened. His parents were well one moment, laughing and joking with him, and the next morning they were cold and lifeless.
As far as he could figure, it was the fault of the two men who had shown up at their house that night. If they had not appeared out of no where, Voldemort would have had no reason to come and confront his parents. His parents' deaths could be laid at the feet of the two strange men who had come to his house the night before.
He spotted a stray foot poking out of the garbage. Maybe it was his father. Possibly, despite everything, he might have survived. Harry stumbled over to it, scraping his hand on a raw edge of wood. Blood welled up from the cut, and a blazing fire roared through his hand. Cradling the limb gently, he tugged with his uninjured hand on the foot.
Moan.
Harry pulled harder, bracing his feet against a particularly large scrap of debris and leaning backwards, placing all of his weight in that direction. Whoever it was, they were alive, and that meant that he had to free them from the junk heaps.
He toppled over as the body jerked out from under the remains of what looked like it had once been a darkly-veneered desk. Squinting from the clouds of dust that his sudden motion sent flying, he nudged his glasses up his nose and stood up to see his father, to run into the arms that were undoubtedly be thrown open wide in expectation of a warm hug.
Harry stopped abruptly. That man was not his father. The dark hair was the same, but his man's locks were longer and less unruly, though they were still rumpled from his night spent under the rubble. His eyes were the wrong color, a shining blue in the stead of the bright hazel that his father's were.
"Harry?" the man questioned, rubbing his eyes as if he thought he was seeing a wraith. "You're alive." He did not sound as if he believed it.
For his part, Harry just stared at the man sullenly, lips curved downwards in a sulking frown and brow furrowed. "You're not my dad."
"No, I'm not. I'm your godfather." The man stretched slowly, rubbing his eyes to free them of the grime that was nearly encrusted on them. "Have you seen Remus? After we find him, if he's still alive, I can take you somewhere safe."
"No."
"What do you mean? I'm going to take care of you; I'm your godfather!" He seemed utterly appalled that Harry would try to deny him his right. Sirius noticed the hurt look on the boy's face, one that was mingled with horror and denial. "Listen, Harry, I'm really sorry about your parents. They were great friends of mine, but we don't have time to grieve now. We have to get out of her before any more Death Eaters show up."
"If you were friends with mum and dad, then how come I've never seen you before?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and glaring at the older man.
"Well..." Sirius rubbed his hands through his hair awkwardly. "It was kind of hard to see you when you were always around Voldemort."
"Why?" Sirius sighed at the query, not realizing that he would face the same single word for the rest of Harry's adolescence if he raised the boy.
"Because Voldemort would have killed me on sight."
"You mean you fought against him?" Harry's lip trembled as he fought back tears. "Then you weren't friends with mum and dad. They didn't fight against Voldemort."
"Look, Harry, Voldemort made them join him. They didn't have a choice. But they fought against him at the end, and that's all that matters."
Harry opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, but was cut off by a groan. Sirius turned away from the young boy and immediately started searching for the source that was emitting the sound, flinging charred scraps behind him in his fervor. One of them soared right into Harry's face, cutting a long scrape on his cheek in addition to his numerous other injuries.
"Remus? Where are you?" Sirius was frantic, darting from one lump to the other.
"Over 'ere," a weak voice called back, and a bruised and battered arm rose to the surface slowly. Sirius rushed over, shoveling the remains of the small house with his bare hands in an effort to reach his friend. Slowly, a worn face emerged, followed by a thin body in torn gray robes.
Sirius helped the other man to his feet, leading him over to where Harry was still standing, bitterness evident in his countenance.
"All right, Harry, we need to go now," Sirius said, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We can sort everything out after we've all eaten and rested up a bit."
"I don't want to go with you! I don't even know you!" Harry protested, squirming free from his godfather's grip.
"Harry," Sirius sighed exasperatedly, "I used to come over to your house every other day. I'm your godfather, and therefore your legal guardian. I'm going to take you back to my house, along with Remus here, and then we can do whatever you want."
"You killed my parents!" Harry roared, eyes flashing with distrust and a deep loathing. "If you hadn't come, mum and dad would still be alive!"
His revelation did not have the affect that he had hoped for, but if he had wanted to wound Sirius deeply like a knife twisting in his gut, he could not have picked better words to do so.
"I did," he admitted, voice suddenly thick with emotion. "If I hadn't told James to switch to Peter as their secret keeper, then Voldemort never would have been able to find them. It is all my fault Harry, though I did not mean to kill them. I'd give anything to go back and change the past."
"But you can't," Harry reminded him, chewing his lip sadly.
"I know, but I can give you a future."
Harry cocked his head to one side, considering this. He might have been only five, but he was not stupid, at least not when he took the time to follow things through to the consequences. If he continued to resist, Sirius could take him forcefully anyway, or he could simply abandon Harry. His choices of surviving with no idea where he was and no money were very slim if he was left alone. He could not let that happen; he would have to follow Sirius.
"Okay," he acquiesced reluctantly.
A huge grin broke out on Sirius' face, one which was mirrored on Lupin's. Sirius settled his hand on Harry's thin shoulder, and Harry did not flinch away from his touch this time. Together, the small group apparated away from the cold ramshackle remnants of the house.
~**~**~
Sirius heaved a huge sigh, settling down into a heavily cushioned armchair with little grace. Remus had whipped up a simple stew consisting of potatoes, meat, and a few bits of vegetables, which all three had eaten heartily. Harry had promptly fallen asleep as soon as the last smudges of his stew were wiped from his bowl, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face that Sirius had not seen in the few short hours in which he had been reacquainted with the boy.
After tucking him into a bed covered in crisp white sheets upstairs, Remus and Sirius had stumbled into the chairs in front of a roaring fire where they had sat in silence for some minutes.
"I can't believe they're dead," Sirius choked out, unable to bear the oppressive stillness of the house any longer.
"James and Lily..." Remus croaked.
"James and Lily...." Sirius echoed.
Each became lost in memories of their deceased friends. James chuckled as the potions master spluttered after one of their particularly inventive pranks. Lily the prefect berated them after they had hexed Snape, hands placed on her hips in a way that made her only that much more lovely, even if she did not seem to realize that James paid more attention to her than he did to her harsh words. They saw James lifted high onto the shoulders of the Gryffindor House, all of them cheering and applauding wildly as he held the Quidditch cup aloft, grinning broadly. They witnessed their graduation again, and the full moon immediately following in which they had all transformed into their animagi forms to keep the werewolf in their number in check. The relived the wedding, a joyous affair in the midst of the quickly descending darkness. Lily smiled softly in their minds, holding out Harry to display him to the Marauders after her long and difficult labor, boasting that she cradled in her arms the greatest baby in the entire world.
The memories took a swift downturn from there. Sirius grimaced as he saw James' haggard face arguing with Sirius as he explained his plan to bequeath the grave responsibility of secret keeper on Peter. Remus nearly cried out as he noticed the pained look on Lily's face as she argued with Voldemort, bargaining for the life of her son.
When they had first regained consciousness, they had known that they would have to be strong for Harry. Harry did not need to be taken in hand by two sobbing wizards who had no idea as to what their next move should be. Harry had needed them to present a plan of action and to follow through with it. Harry had to be fed and then shown a place to rest so he could begin to mend from the tribulations he had suffered for his entire life.
Now, though, Harry was snug in his cot and Sirius and Remus needed to grieve. They did so for hours, heads buried in their hands and tears streaming out of their eyes as they weeped and weeped.
They had only two comforts in their long period of mourning. First, the constant presence of the other, the knowledge that they did not sob alone. Even though they exchanged no words after the initial breakdown, each was constantly aware of the other, and they received much from that link.
Second was Harry. Even though James and Lily might be lying in their makeshift grave, Harry was still with them. They still had a living, breathing reminder of their two comrades, one which they could continue to be with for as long as he required adults in his life.
Even if Harry was not exactly welcoming them- in fact he wanted nothing to do with them- they were living solely for him now.
~**~**~
