All you wonderful wonderful people! Thank you for all your beautiful reviews!
Here's the next chapter!
Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. They're J.K. Rowlings. Who we need to torture painfully for The Death in book 5. Curse you, Rowlings, curse you! Bring him back!
Ok, enough ranting from me. Sorry about that.
Symbols :
"speech"
'thoughts'
* * * * = diary entry
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Chapter Three – Night Revelations
London was full of noise and lights as the many people of the city hurried about in the chill December evening, cars rumbling through snow-covered streets and people talking as they walked upon salt-dusted sidewalks, seeking shelter from the cold of the quickly approaching night. Many children could be seen pressed against shop windows, marveling at the many toys and objects of wonder that they all longed to find wrapped up for them on Christmas morning. Adults wandered about, carrying packages of items to be hidden until the joyful 25th of the month and trying to tug staring youngsters from the aforementioned light-filled panes of glass.
Traveling among the throngs of busy humans was a large black hound, a green collar around his neck and a plastic bag clutched carefully between the sharp teeth of his strong jaws. The long fur was now free of burrs and dirt, sleeker and shiner thanks to someone's loving care. Flesh from more or less regular meals of whatever could be stolen in the past couple days had covered the ribs that had stared starkly but two weeks ago. Stopping at a corner, the canine accepted the petting of a pair of youngsters as he waited for the light to change, ignoring the looks from amused and wondering adults. He chuckled silently at the whispers of some wishing that their dog could be as smart and well-trained as the black beast standing beside them. 'Training has nothing to do with it,' thought Padfoot wryly as he trotted across the street and into an alley, seeking a shortcut to his destination, large black paws making soft sounds as he crunched the snow underfoot.
Finally, a small house came into view as the Grim reached the edge of the city, crossing the frost-nipped grass of a lonely field that gave some distance from the outermost buildings of the brightly-lit metropolis. The outer walls were a dirty uniform brown color, making the house blend in a bit with the leaf-less trees behind the squat one-story building. Several dark shingles were missing from the roof, which was somehow still devoid of holes despite the house's decrepit appearance. It was the run-down look of the place that had made all avoid the house, but it had yet to draw the attention of any city authorities thinking of tearing the structure down. Thus, the one-bedroom fireplace-bearing crummy-bathroom-holding house was perfect for the two fugitives hiding within, providing the shelter needed during the cold winter of London.
Black paws carried the dark form around to the back of the house, where a flap of thick cloth covered a hole in the wooden wall large enough for the canine to use as a door. Ears stiffened, straining to judge if there was any activity in the house. Hearing only the soft breathing of a sleeping person, Padfoot nudged the cloth aside and walked into the place he was now calling home, if only for the winter. As he entered, pale eyes surveyed the room. Yellowish inner plaster walls, empty of any pictures or such, stared at him, peppered with dents and small holes here and there where something may have once hung upon an iron nail. The heavy wooden front door was shut firmly, not having been touched by anyone for many years now. Cloth covered the two front windows, keeping any light from within the wooden walls from catching any passer-byer's attention. Cupboards above and below an off-white counter beside a broken Muggle stove stood in the kitchen, a few items of canned and packaged food evidence of life in the dreary place. A battered old maroon couch stood before a large fireplace, the embers of last night's fire still burning red in the ashes. Yet the room was not pitch-black, as one would expect, for light came from a ball of white hovering above a figure lying upon a rug and a few blankets in the center of the wooden floor between couch and hearth. Setting the bag down in a corner, the canine padded over on soft paws to the form on the floor.
The small form of a boy lay curled up on the nest of blankets, black-framed glasses askew before emerald eyes closed in slumber. A thin chest rose and fell under the dirty deep-blue sweater that the boy had been given by his canine guardian. Padfoot remembered how he had found the item of clothing carelessly tossed in some garbage a week ago. What was that saying, "One man's trash another man's treasure" or something? Either way, it kept the boy warmer than the rags he had been wearing before. A cool nose snuffed the wild black locks of the sleeping boy, assuring the Grim that all was well and the boy was really real rather than a fantastic dream. The soft sigh that left the boy and the small hand that unconsciously rose to pat the canine as the youth slept comforted Padfoot. Giving the hand a lick and nuzzle, the Grim started to turn back to the package he set aside when something caught the pale eyes' gaze.
There, open with a blue-inked Muggle pen lying on the half-filled white page, was The Journal. The notebook that Harry had so often written in, usually just before he went to sleep each night. Some nights, after the youth had awakened suddenly from some dream, he would open the pad of paper to scribe a new entry of whatever had startled him from his much-needed sleep. Never before had Padfoot tried to read the diary, not wanting to intrude on the boy's privacy. Besides, it would appear rather strange for him to be reading over Harry's shoulder. Much too intelligent seeming for a mere dog. Perhaps now, as his boy was asleep, was the time to learn more of Harry, and hopefully find some information to help Sirius make a few decisions that he had been musing over.
Padfoot had been hesitant to reveal his human form to his godson, worried about the reaction he may get. Over the time he had spent with Harry, the animagus had noticed a few oddities about the boy. Harry was uncomfortable with humans, whether they be adults or children. More than once, there had been someone who had taken pity on the orphan boy and given free food and tried to talk to him and such. But each time, Harry would politely, and softly, thank the person for the food or whatever, and then clam up. What the lad was good at hiding from them, but not from Padfoot, was his fear. For some reason, Harry was afraid of being in close proximity with people. An annoying voice in Sirius' mind whispered of abuse, but he didn't want to believe that. With how shy and withdrawn Harry became around people, Padfoot didn't want to turn into Sirius and have the boy be afraid of him. Padfoot was trusted by Harry; Sirius, on the other hand, may not be.
With a soft 'pop', the form of a man replaced that of the black canine beside the sleeping boy. A large pale hand carefully reached over and pulled the open journal from under a small hand, trying not to wake Harry. Sirius gave a silent sigh of relief when Harry showed no signs of stirring. The man in dark slacks and ragged gray wizard robes made himself comfortable by his godson's side, the Lumanos spell that Harry somehow knew giving more than enough light for a bit of reading. Flipping to the first page, Sirius' pale blue-gray eyes began to read of the life of Harry Potter.
* * * * *
September 16
I think that's what the day is. Kinda lost track. I've been too busy stealing food or passed out from pain. What pain, you ask? Well, I have welts from a belt on my back, a few bruised or maybe broken ribs, and a whole lot of other bruises and cuts all over my body. My right leg is broken too, I can feel the bones grinding against each other. Just like Uncle Vernon, toss me out on the streets after beating me up like this. He probably expects me to die out here. Well, I don't really feel like dying.
It's strange. I hurt so bad sometimes that I almost want to just die, sometimes wish my uncle had just killed me. But, then I have this funny feeling. I don't know why, but I feel that I have to stay alive. That there's something that I'm waiting for, or is waiting for me. Something I need to do before I die. I know, that doesn't make sense. But I can't shake the feeling. Maybe it's all my subconscious or some kind of survival instinct or something. But it's there, and I learned a long time ago to listen to my instincts, they never steer me wrong.
Hurts. Gonna try to sleep for a bit.
* * * * *
Sirius growled softly as he got a glimpse of the treatment those fat excuses for Muggles had given to his godson. Upon reading of Harry's instinct to stay alive and strange notion of destiny, he furrowed his brow in confusion, wondering where that idea had come into the lad's head. Storing the information away in his own mind and hoping that he could work on easing that "feeling" of Harry's in the future, Sirius focused on the notebook in his hands once more.
* * * * *
September 18
I never did explain anything, did I? Well, I don't really know how to write a journal or anything, 'cause I've never had one. I've never owned anything except my clothes and now a knapsack I hung on to when Uncle Vernon dumped me on the streets out here in London and now this journal thing. Kinda sad, if you think about it. (another growl from Sirius)
Anyways, my name's Harry Potter. I'm six year old. Surprising that I can write this well, isn't it? I taught myself how to read and write when I was 5, since my aunt and uncle didn't see me as anything but a waste of oxygen and didn't bother to try to send me to pre-school or kindergarten with my fat cousin, Dudley. I'm not being mean when I call him fat. He's huge! At least twice my size. Looks like a balloon and is as heavy as an elephant. Sat on me once, and I know I heard a rib or three crack. I was dumped here on the streets about a week ago, as, like I said, my aunt and uncle saw me as worthless. My parents are dead, died when I was a baby. My aunt said they were killed in a car crash, but I don't believe her. I knew she was lying to me. Somehow, I know when people are lying, or not telling the entire truth. Another instinct thing.
Now, I'm staying in this abandoned warehouse. I'll probably have to move to somewhere else soon. I heard that this place is gonna be torn down. Not safe or something. Bad foundation, I think. Hopefully I'll be able to move easier by then. Gotta get something to wrap my leg up with. That means I'll need to steal some bandages. I hate stealing, it's just . . . wrong. People work hard to make that stuff and need the money from the proceeds, but I gotta steal it 'cause I don't have anything and I need what they have. There's something to weigh my conscience down. Hope I can find a lot of good things to do with my life one day, balance the bad acts with good deeds and all that. We'll see.
* * * * *
The man chuckled softly as he read the description of Harry's cousin. Though that didn't stop a snarl at yet more harsh and abusive treatment upon the lad sleeping quietly beside him. With a blink of surprise and realization, Sirius couldn't help but notice that he had become more emotional as he spent more time with Harry. A month ago, he wouldn't have even thought of laughing, or being sad, or anything but rage toward that filthy rat. 'Curse you, Peter.' A black eyebrow raised at the part of instinctively knowing of lies. 'That's interesting, to say the least. Certainly not a skill you see every day. But then, Harry is capable of a lot of unusual things for a boy his age, so perhaps this shouldn't be too much of a surprise. Knew I should have paid more attention while at Hogwarts, would know more of what's going on. Or maybe Remus – no, don't think about that now. Let's focus on Harry and wonder about Remmy later.' A wry grin crossed his face at the bit of good outweighing bad. 'We both have a lot to make up for. Me especially.' Shaking his head to push the darker thoughts aside, Sirius went back to reading.
* * * * *
September 23
I'm sure about the date this time. Watched some of the news thanks to a TV in a shop window. Couldn't stay there long, but at least I got the date.
Had a vision today. Bet you're wondering what I mean by that. I See things, the past, the present, sometimes even the future. Sometimes it's in dreams, other times I kinda get an overload of sensory info when I'm awake. It kinda feels like I'm suddenly flying or something to another place, and I can see and hear and feel everything that's going on. These visions and dreams have been with me since I was 3 or so. Don't really remember the exact date.
Ok, I'm avoiding the vision, aren't I. Gotta write it down. Writing it isn't going to change anything that happened, though. It was a present vision, so I was seeing everything as it happened. I don't know how but I can tell the difference. Another instinct thing. Here's what happened. I had just slipped into an alley after stealing some food when it hit me. One minute I'm standing there, happy to have food and guilty that I had to steal it, the next my mind's torn away from my body and I'm flying to a place I know too well : number 4 Privet Drive. THEY are there, the Black Ones, the one's in those black robes and white masks who point sticks – I think they're called 'wands' – at people and say things that make light come out and hurt whoever they're pointing the wand at. They were after the Dursleys. They killed them. There, I said it. The Dursleys were killed, murdered, by the Black Ones.
The Dursleys were so surprised and shocked. Uncle Vernon yelled at them to get out, but one of them, the one with white-blond hair and the cold voice, hit him with the red light of the "Crucio" word. He screamed and screamed, I felt sorry for him. Vernon may have hurt me, but he didn't deserve that. Aunt Petunia shrieked in fear and grabbed Dudley, she was so scared. She had been afraid something like this would happen one day, but she had always hoped that her little family was safe from Them. One of them, think he's called Nott, asked, no, demanded where I was. He knew my name, said "Give us Harry Potter." Obviously, the Dursleys couldn't, so they were killed. Slowly and painfully. A "Lepidae" spell cut up Dudley like a bunch of knives all at once. Another spell did something to Aunt Petunia's skin where it split into pieces and peeled off, drenching her and the carpet with blood. Uncle Vernon got the "Crucio" until he was drooling and glass-eyed. Then the entire house burst into flames as the Black Ones vanished. They didn't deserve to die. And it's all my fault. The Black Ones were looking for me. The Dursleys wouldn't have been killed if it hadn't been for me. It's all my fault.
* * * * *
Sirius had to stop. This was a bit of an overload of information for him. Harry was most definitely a Seer. There was no other explanation. But a Seer at that young?!? Usually, a Seer doesn't start showing signs of the Sight until he is six to ten years old. To have the Sight at 3? That must have been rather bewildering for the boy, seeing and hearing and dreaming things like that, having no idea just what it all meant. Plus, getting the Sight sooner meant the Seer was more powerful than most and a lot more perceptive and Merlin knows what else! 'I'm really beginning to wish Remmy was here. He actually took Divination, and is really the smartest of us. He'd know so much more about this Sight than me. If he didn't, he would know how to find it.' His mind turned to another part of the diary entry. 'The 'Black Ones' of Harry's could only be one group : Death Eaters. But how did they find Harry? And why were, or perhaps are, they after Harry in the first place? Revenge? Power? Or something else?' The suffering that his godson had gone through brought tears to the pale eyes. Harry felt guilty for the deaths of the family that had made his life a living hell, had blamed himself for something he had no control over. Worse, he had been forced to witness their deaths, the deaths that had caught Sirius's attention in the first place when the fool Fudge had given him a copy of the Daily Prophet, a copy that just so happened to have an article of the murder of the Dursleys and disappearance/probable death of the Boy-Who-Lived on the front page. Knowing that Pettigrew had to be involved somehow, the treacherous little rat he was, Sirius had escaped in hopes of vengeance. Now, he lived only to help and protect a poor little boy who had known too much hardship and suffering at this young age. Dashing the salty trickles of water away with a hand, Sirius flipped open to a random page of the journal and continued to read.
* * * * *
November 29
Remember that dog I mentioned finding, or rather meeting up with, a few days ago? Padfoot? Well, I don't think, no, I know he isn't a dog. Or at least, that's not his real form. Padfoot is really a human who can change into a dog, probably with magic like the cat-lady I dreamed of before. He was asleep as I was brushing him, trying to get all the tangles and dirt out of his fur. It's too cold to try to give him a bath, so brushing will have to do. Suddenly, wham, I had a Vision. Padfoot was there, in a clearing in what seemed to be a forest. Then, the form of Padfoot blurred, getting taller and losing hair until there was a man standing in his place. It was the same man I Saw the first time I met Padfoot, the thin man with long black hair who I feel I know. There were others with Padfoot, a stag, a rat or some rodent, and I think a wolf, but it didn't quite feel will a normal wolf. All three others also transformed into humans, but I couldn't get a good look at them. The wolf and stag felt safe and comforting like Padfoot. The rat or whatever it was felt . . . well, it felt wrong. Slimy. Evil. Like a queasy feeling in your stomach and a chill up your spine. He just didn't feel right. Luckily, Padfoot was lost in Dreamland, so he didn't notice anything. I wonder what his real, well human, name is. And who exactly is he? Why does he care for me like this? I mean, he didn't have to come with me, to help me, and everything else. He could have just left. After all, I'm just a worthless piece of humanity, not worth care or attention or love. It doesn't make sense. Maybe when he finally reveals his human self, I can get some answers. Maybe ---
* * * * *
A gasp and strangled cry jolted Sirius out of the shock that had overcome him in reading that last entry. Eyes darted to the right, where Harry suddenly sat bolt upright, eyes wide and wild. Out of pure instinctive habit of being around his godson, Sirius dropped the book and changed back into Padfoot. Giving himself a mental slap for acting like a fool when he had just read that Harry knew the truth about him, Padfoot shook his head before padding (A/N : I did it again!) forward the few paces to the newly awakened boy.
Harry sat shaking on the pad of blankets that made up his bed. Cold sweat covered his thin trembling form, trickling down his face and sending chills through him. A shaking pale hand rose to wipe an equally pale face and ran trembling fingers through sweat-drenched black locks. He gasped for sweet life-giving air, the feeling of strangling and suffocation that he had experienced in that nightmare still far too fresh in his terror-struck mind. Wild green eyes flicked about the room, still not completely sure if the yellowish walls around him were actually real and not some kind dream, that cold stone walls and the Black Ones weren't surrounding him, that a pair of slitted red eyes weren't glaring at him with triumphant malice oozing out of the eerie orbs. That emerald gaze then fell upon the thin arms held out for their observation, seeing no chains or deep bleeding cuts that had been there in the dream. 'No, that was no mere dream.' Harry thought, the cold truth hitting him as his mind slowly stopped panicking. 'That was a Seeing Dream, one of the future. Hopefully a future that can be prevented.' Swallowing hard, he tried to calm his racing heart that was pounding loudly in his ears.
Something cool and damp touched a bare shivering arm. Harry yelped in surprise, his breath coming out fast again in surprise. Emerald eyes whipped around, searching for a threat, only to meet pale gray-blue ones, full of concern and a touch of hurt. Breathing a sigh of relief, the boy reached out and shakily stroked the canine, confirming that he was real. Padfoot stepped forward and nuzzled Harry's cheek, the soft fur warm and tickling the smooth pale skin. On an impulsive need for comfort, Harry leaned over and wrapped his arms around his canine guardian, breathing in the scent of snow and cloves that emitted from the man-dog as he tried to calm down. The Grim animagus, meanwhile, stiffened momentarily at the sudden move, but quickly relaxed and lay his head reassuringly on the still-thin shoulder. 'Need to get him to eat more.' Padfoot thought offhandedly as he gave the shivering lad what comfort he could in this form.
The boy and dog stayed like this for several long moments as the wind carried soft snow outside and the embers in the fire flared and dimmed. Slowly, the lad withdrew and lay back down, weariness evident on his sallow features. Patting the blanket beside him in invitation, sleepy green eyes locked with those of his canine companion. The Grim calmly settled down next to his boy, tugging a blanket up onto the lad's shoulder before he made himself comfortable to give his godson what warmth he could. A grin lit up the youth's face as he draped an arm around the dog and closed his brilliant eyes once more. With a causal wave of a hand, the ball of light 'poof '-ed out, sending the room into calm darkness. Within a few short moments, Harry was fast asleep once more, knowing he was safe from nightmares with his protector beside him. Padfoot gazed lovingly at the too-small boy that he had sworn long ago to protect, and felt a rushing renewal of that oath run through him. He would never leave Harry, not so long at the youth needed him. Nothing else mattered, just seeing to giving the last Potter a good and happy life, certainly better than the one he had been forced to dwell in for the past few years. With a relaxed sigh and mental promise to reveal his human form to his godson the next day, Padfoot joined Harry in the land of peaceful contented dreams.
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Well, there you go. Over twice as long as my past chapters. Sorry I took this long to update. Please don't hurt me!
Thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, sara, for helping me with piecing this thing together and aiding with the decision-making. Thank you! * hug *
Reviewer Responses :
DavidCamp : glad you liked the 'Padfoot padded' part. Didn't mean for it to happen, and thought it sounded dumb, but obviously there are those who disagree. Thank you for reading!
Façade1 : I forgive you for the late review. Things keep us all busy. I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Was hoping to update on Sunday, but life happened. This chapter's longer than the first two, so I hope you'll be happier. I started typing, and I just couldn't stop. LOL. Glad you liked my descriptions and interactions! Happy! * big smile! * hope I can keep a wonderful reviewer like you pleased! Happy and honored to be on your favorites list!
Felion : glad you're liking the story. Here's the next chapter. Like the name. Did you make it up, or find it somewhere, or something?
Harry's Muggle Sister : I like having Harry be all smart and able to take care of himself. After all, with the way the Dursleys were, he needed to stand on his own two feet. Hope you like this chapter too.
Kemenran : Since you were so polite, here's the next chapter. ooh, Tolkien. Do you like the LOTR movies or read any of the fanfics here? If you read the fanfics, have you looked at Shirebound's stuff? I certainly recommend her magnificent work to all LOTR readers.
Lily-of-Annoth : *bow in gratitude* thank you for the compliments! I try my best, and am glad you think so highly of my writing. I hope to continue to be worthy of your praise. And I'll try to keep you guessing on my plot. Thank you again! And please keep reading! Honored that I'm on your favorites!
lkl : it's not my fault! Blame fanfiction.net! they don't like to show people a newly uploaded chapter. If that happens again, go to the address bar and change the chapter number (blah blah blah … &chapter3). It should go to the hidden chapter then. Again, it's not my ruddy fault! I'm innocent!
ping*pong5 : I'm glad you like, or rather love! The Sirius-escaping-early-to-raise-Harry are my faves too! Have you read "Of Western Stars" by Neutral or "Coming In From The Cold" by ahappyjtm? They also write stories like this and are two of my favorites. Go take a look! Also your guess was right, but we'll hear more on that in later chapters. Hope you continue to read and love my story! * big smile *
Piper Of Locksley : nice name. Here's the next chapter!
The Vampire Story Hunter : do you really hunt vamp stories? If yes, then you might like "Opacre" by Shades, another AU HP one. Very good. Glad you're liking it!
WalkingCensure : kool name. Here's the next chapter! And thank you for putting me on your favorites! I'm so honored!
I also thank Amber-986 for putting me on her favorites. Thank you! On four favorites lists! * collapses in chair from weak-in-the knees happiness *
Hope all of you enjoyed this chapter and will be so kind as to review, question, whatever. Thank you!
And another thanks to my lovely beta-reader, sara! Couldn't have done it without you! * another big hug *