Okay. I feel this chapter sucks, like, big time. At least compared to the earlier ones. I beg you to forgive me, I may revise it later.
It's been too long! But I've been working with a number of fics as well as a number of originals and school work. So I'm excused. Meh.
Please review!

M. Sunshine


Just about a week later, Harry received a letter from Ron. Hedwig nipped him affectionately in the ear as he stroked her back while reading the messy handwriting.

Harry!

I guess you're having a good time at home, now that you're living with Sirius, but Mum said you could come over here for a while if you like. I mean, you might not want to at all, but it'd be cool. Send a letter back quick.

Ron

Good old Ron, Harry thought with a smirk. He'd love to go and visit him. But on the other hand… Frowning slightly, he gripped the letter tightly and made his way downstairs. Sirius was sitting in the kitchen, scratching away at a letter. Probably to Remus, Harry thought.

"Hey, Sirius?" His godfather looked up at the address, and smiled at his godson.

"Hey, mate. Harry. How're you doing?"

"I'm good. Listen, I got a letter from Ron just now."

"Oh yeah? What did it say?"

"Well he was wondering whether I could stay there for a few days. Y'know, like I've done in past summers." Sirius put his quill down and leaned back.

"Of course you can. It's hardly something you have to ask about." He looked at Harry for a moment. "But as you did ask, I'm guessing you're not certain if you want to go or not." Damn.

"Well… Before it was sort of a relief going there…"

"But now it's more like actually leaving home?" Harry nodded. "You don't have to go."

"But I want to. I mean, I want to see him."

"Why don't you invite him here then?" The simplicity of the solution left Harry speechless. Invite Ron. Why hadn't he thought of that? Sirius smirked. "Yes, you may have your friends here, you nutter." He flexed his fingers and continued writing his letter. With his head bowed, he said:

"Write to him now. Check when he can come." Harry stared for a few seconds and then turned and walked slowly back to his room. While living with the Dursleys, inviting his friends was simply out of the question, for several reasons. First of all, his Aunt and Uncle would never have let them near the house. Second, Harry wouldn't have wanted them to see how he lived, what he had to cope with every summer. No, it had been, in a way, easier to endure it alone and then have fun when he spent a few weeks at the Weasley's. He sat down by his desk and unrolled a piece of blank parchment. With his quill dipped into the dark ink, he hovered above the material for a few moments before starting to write.

As soon as he'd finished, Hedwig soared out of the window, the complete letter attached to her leg. Harry smiled crookedly and then plodded back downstairs, his stomach making rather clear that it was time for lunch. Apparently, Sirius was thinking the same thing: as Harry entered the kitchen, Sirius opened the fridge and frowned.

"Lunch?" Harry asked casually.

"Yes, I'm starving." He replied "But…" He peeked inside the fridge again. "We're out of… like, everything." Harry rolled his eyes.

"You mean you didn't shop at all?"

"Hey!" He exclaimed, affronted.

"But you didn't." Sirius huffed.

"No. Sorry. I'm an arse. But will you be an angel and go buy some stuff?" Harry choked.

"Anything for you not to call me an angel." Sirius smirked, and started scribbling a small list.

"Here you go." Harry grabbed it and stuffed it into his pocket, along with the twenty pound note Sirius handed him.

"Thanks. I'll be back in a few."

"Sure. Be quick. And just go to the local." Harry rolled his eyes again.

"I'm not ten years old, Sirius."

"I know, but… Just be careful, yeah?" Harry kept from snorting, and nodded.

"Whatever." He grabbed his trainers and then left the house. The sun was shining brightly, and Harry shoved his hands deep into his pockets and strolled along. He didn't really go outside often, mostly because Sirius was sort of overprotective. It was nice being alone for a while, even if it was just while walking to the shop. After having walked for about five minutes, Harry noticed someone was following him. He felt his heart thud just a tad quicker, but forced himself to remain calm. The man had been walking after him for a while, and the way he looked away when Harry glanced over his shoulder made him certain. With a few deep breaths, he slowed his pace, and carefully edged his hand closer to his wand. The move was ever so subtle, but in his peripheral vision he saw the man behind him whip something out of his jacket, and everything went black as a shooting pain erupted in his right leg. In what felt like slow motion, his knees gave way and he fell forward, landing with an awful crunch on the warm tarmac.


When Harry regained conscience, he immediately sucked in a deep breath at the pain he was feeling in his right calf. He bit his lip and pressed his eyes together when a voice said:

"He's awake!" People starting moving about around him, and he cracked an eye.

"Harry?" He recognised his godfather's voice straight away. He groaned and moved his head a little in response. "Are you in pain?" He managed a small nod. "Madam Pomfrey…" Sirius' voice was dripping in concern and fear. Harry wished he could say something, but the pain was still gnawing at him.

"Calm down." Came the mediwitch's brusque voice. A moment later a phial was pressed to his lips, and a bitter potion slid down his throat. It burned uncomfortably, but seconds later the pain in his leg vanished, and he relaxed his whole body in relief. Cracking in eye, he realised he was in the Hogwarts infirmary. Sirius was leaning over him, his face a frown. Behind him was Remus, also looking like he was about to faint. Madam Pomfrey was rummaging about in her office, and Professor Dumbledore was sitting in an armchair a few metres away.

Sirius surprised them all by gathering his scrawny godson in a tight hug for a few moments, breathing in the scent of his hair.

"Bloody hell. You scare the life out of me." He let go and sat up. "You okay?" Sirius enquired.

"'M fine… And get off." Sirius was sitting on his bed, his face just a bit too close to Harry's for the latter's liking. The older man smiled faintly and stood again. "What happened?"

"You… You were shot." Harry sat up with a start. "Whoa, lie back down, mate." A firm hand pushed him back down onto the pillows.

"Shot?" He spluttered.

"Yes, in your leg."

"Oh, not shit Sherlock." Harry grumbled in response. Sirius smiled again, thankful that he was well enough to be sarcastic. "And why the hell was that?"

"We don't know…" At this point, the Headmaster stood and walked with graceful steps over to the foot of Harry's bed.

"Harry, did you see the person who did this?" He shook his head.

"No, not really. He was behind me."

"So you're certain it was a he?"

"Yes, I noticed that much." Harry nodded.

"Well. I shall contact the Muggle authorities." Harry raised his eyebrows but kept silent as Dumbledore smiled and then left the infirmary.

"Are you all right?" Remus piped up.

"Yeah, sure. I've just got a hole in my leg, but other than that I'm fine."

"You haven't got a hole in your leg." Remus retorted with a small eye-roll. "Madam Pomfrey fixed that up as soon as you got here."

"Then why did it still feel like a knife was stabbing me when I woke up?"

"You were sore, I expect. The wound is healing, and there's a bandage on it, but you can take a look if you like." Harry frowned slightly, almost disappointed with the lack of evidence. He pulled the covers off his elevated leg. True enough: it was covered in a bright white bandage, and was obviously not bleeding enough for it to show. He sighed.

"Well, I suppose it's something." Sirius snorted.

"You should be grateful we got to you so quickly."

"About that. How did you know where I was? And what had happened?"

"When you fell over, you pulled your wand out. I suppose it reacted when you hit the ground, because it blew up a telephone box on the pavement." Harry's eyes widened. "It's all right, though. The Ministry wizards were there seconds after us and helped with memory charms. Everything's back to normal."

"Yeah, right. Like anything can ever be normal."

"You know what I mean."

"But… I used magic?" Sirius nodded.

"Not intentionally though. It's all been sorted out. Now, what you need to do," He added pointedly, "Is rest."

"How long have I been out?" Harry asked, completely ignoring his godfather's not so subtle order.

"It's half past five now." Remus supplied. "So a fair few hours."

"Right. Any chance of some food?" Sirius couldn't hold back a laugh, and with a swish of her hand, Madam Pomfrey conjured a tray for him, laden with sandwiches and pumpkin juice.

"Thanks." Harry smiled at her. She gave a curt nod and then bustled away into her office. Harry didn't mind. She'd always been sort of short.

"I'm glad to see your appetite wasn't affected." Sirius remarked with a raised eyebrow as Harry began shuffling the food in.

"I haven' eaten since bweakfasht." Harry replied through a full mouth. Remus rolled his eyes, and then clapped his hands together.

"Listen, I really don't want to seem like an arse, but I have some work to do."

"Work?" Harry enquired, to which his godfather's friend smiled.

"Yes, work. Dumbledore asked me to come and help Professor Flitwick with Charms classes. Apparently, he got Dragon pox some week back. He's all right, but I suppose Dumbledore's worried."

"That's wicked." Harry smiled. "I mean, that you got work. Not about Flitwick." Remus smiled faintly.

"I'm glad you think so."

"Yeah, 'cause he wouldn't accept at first." Sirius snorted.

"Really?"

"Yep. Said he could hardly go back now that the whole school knows he's a…" He trailed off at the sight of Remus' glare.

"About that." Harry said. "Will the parents be okay with it?"

"Dumbledore merely said he'd 'Sort it out'. What he meant by that, we may never know." A snort escaped Harry.

"He would do something like that." He nodded in agreement.

"So if you're not too offended, I shall go and start preparing some classes." He winked at the boy and then left him alone with his godfather (apart from the Mediwitch, still in her office behind a closed door). Sirius sighed.

"I can't believe how a perfectly normal day turned into this." He said, rubbing his eyes. Harry was about to answer when the large doors were flung open. He spun around, and was met by his best friend loping inside.

"HARRY! What-" he broke off and looked at his friend's bandaged leg and bruised face, his own eyes widening. "Bloody hell, mate." He said in a low voice, and approached his bed. When he sat down, his mother and father came running in, too.

"Ronald!" Mrs Weasley admonished. "You weren't supposed to go inside."

"Sorry mum." Ron said automatically. "What the hell happened?" At this point, both Mr and Mrs Weasley had reached them, and were greeting Sirius.

"I was going to pick up some stuff and someone shot me." Harry said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have happened.

"Someone what?" His red-headed friend had a frown on his face, looking rather perplexed.

"Shot me. Like, with a gun?" He really didn't know how to explain it. Thankfully, Mr Weasley stepped in.

"It's a Muggle weapon." He said, not with the usual enthusiasm he had when speaking about Muggle objects.

"What kind of weapon?" Ron asked.

"It's… Correct if I'm wrong Harry, but it's made of metal and contains a bullet. I don't know how it works, but you push a button…"

"Pull the trigger." Harry interjected.

"Right, that's the one. And it fires the bullet at you. At one hell of a speed, too."

"So you got the thing on your leg?"

"Not just on it. In it."

"It went inside your leg?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, bullets tend to do that."

"Merlin's pants, Harry…" He grinned a bit.

"It's okay though. It still hurts, but it's all right."

"Yeah, yeah." Ron said absent-mindedly. "Hey! I got your letter."

"Glad to hear it."

"But you sure? I can come stay?"

"'Course you can." It was Sirius who answered, smiling.

"Wicked! How about tomorrow?" Sirius coughed.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Harry isn't really fit for hosting a party at the moment."

"Oh… I thought Pomfrey fixed it?"

"Well, almost, but this was a Muggle thing. She could only do so much."

"Right…" He looked a bit miffed about not being able to come stay with his mate straight away. Sirius chuckled.

"I'll owl you as soon as he's up and about."

"Come on, Ronnie." Mrs Weasley said.

"Mum." He muttered.

"Oh, right, sorry." She said hastily. "Now come along."

"I'll see you around." Harry said, waving as his friend left. "Well… That was weird."

"I've seen worse." His godfather assured him.


The next day, Dumbledore came into the infirmary with the announcement that he had clarified the "mistake".

"Mistake?" Sirius asked, frowning. Dumbledore conjured a plush armchair and seated himself comfortably in it before speaking again.

"Mistake, yes. It seems," he said, lacing his fingers together, "Harry was shot by a policeman." Harry almost choked on his own tongue.

"A POLICEMAN?" he yelled.

"Shush." Sirius said, though he too was looking a bit outraged. More than a bit, maybe.

"Yes." Dumbledore said, completely untouched by Harry's outburst. "Allow me to explain."

"Please do." Sirius said.

"First…" The Headmaster reached into his midnight blue robes and retrieved what looked like a large photograph. Harry couldn't see what or who was on it, but it wasn't moving so he understood it was a Muggle version anyway. "Take a look at this." He handed it to Harry's godfather, who took it and held it up. While he studied it, his eyes became wider and his mouth opened slightly.

"Unbelievable."

"What is it?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see better. But Sirius didn't acknowledge him.

"Who is this?"

"His name is Jack Allen." Dumbledore replied. "He's wanted for the murder of a young woman."

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen." Sirius grimaced.

"That's sick.

"Can I see the bloody picture?" Harry said exasperatedly.

"May you. And yes, here you go." Harry all but snatched it from his godfather's hand, and felt his own eyes widen as he saw it. The photograph was a mug shot of a young man. He had messy, dark brown, almost black hair, wore glasses and had blue eyes. Just looking at him quickly, one would have thought it was Harry. Apart from the eye-colour and the fact that his jaw was a bit wider than Harry's, they looked almost exactly the same.

"That's creepy." He managed.

"My sentiments exactly." Dumbledore nodded and took the picture back. "Now, the man who shot you was a police officer looking for young Mr Allen. Understandably, he was certain it was you he'd seen, and when you reached for your wand he thought you were pulling a gun. And so, naturally, he did what he thought necessary."

"Yeah. Shooting a guy who was going to buy bread." Harry snorted. Dumbledore smiled serenely.

"Well, I have fixed things with the Minister and their Prime Minister. Though I have to say, Fudge was rather struggling."

"He never liked me. Remember that hearing?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"I think he might be afraid of you." He said, making the boy frown. "Well, I shan't bore you anymore, young man. I do have an empty school to run, after all." He winked at Harry and then left, just as swiftly as he had arrived. Harry groaned and threw himself back down on the bed. This was all such a mess.