Two months, nearly. For this. And I don't even have the excuse that it's twice as long as normal … because it's actual rather on the short side, as chapters of this story go. *sigh*

It is … all Sirius' fault, I think. He and Harry were being bloody nightmares, giving me the worst writer's block I've ever had on this story. Thankfully, it seems to be over; the next chapter should not be nearly as long in coming. *crosses fingers* I hope.

Though I suppose not having finals and APs and graduation to worry about will help some, too. :P

Anyway, here it be. The only part of Harry Potter that belongs to me is a full set of the British version of the books, plus a copy of the fifth book pre-ordered from amazon. And … um … the remarkable nonentity that only shows up in one chapter, a Miss Erica Brown. For what it's worth.

So … enjoy.

(11/26/2012: more random minor edits)

# # # Chapter 7 # # #

He tumbled endlessly through … space? nothingness? eternity? … books he had not been aware he was holding (how could he hold anything? he was dead, he no longer had a corporeal body with which to hold things) tumbling away from him down the stairs as he, too, began to fall, paralyzed by the sudden disorienting light, color, sound … the sudden life, where a moment before there had been nothing.

Suddenly his shirt tightened across his throat as he was hauled back from the fall, literally by the scruff of his neck. "Thanks, James. That was a close one!" His mouth shaped words and a nervous laugh that his mind had not, as his hand rose of its own accord to rub his throat, as he found himself a helpless observer in another's body once again.

"Don't bother to thank me – and especially not if you're going to confuse me with Potter." Snape answered, the distaste for both that thought and the person who had uttered it quite clear. "I didn't do it for you, Black … I just didn't think Harry would have taken too kindly to me letting you trip down the stairs and break your fool neck." The Slytherin turned on his heel and left.

"Yeah … well … thanks anyway." Sirius muttered, unsure himself whether he wanted Snape to hear.

:The more I see of him, the more I find myself almost liking the greasy old bastard.: Harry chuckled to himself. :Who would have thought?:

"Harry?" Eyes wide, Sirius narrowly escaped falling down the stairs again – this time with no Snape there to catch him. "You're back?"

:Evidently.: Dryly. :How long have I been gone? It was only a matter of minutes back in my time … world … whatever.:

"It's been nearly a month." Sirius answered. A pause. "Waitasecond! What are you doing in my head?"

:That is the million-pound question, now isn't it?:

# # # # #

"What do you want?" Having given up on class for the moment in favor of quizzing his new inhabitant, Sirius leaned against the corridor wall, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he was carrying on a conversation with a nearby suit of armor.

:Um. World peace would be nice?:

Sirius sighed gustily. Should have known … "What do you want from me?" He rephrased.

Silence. :Do I have to want anything specific?:

:Well …: Sirius tried, for the first time, to direct a thought at the interloper instead of speaking aloud – though the halls were empty, so it wasn't like there was anyone around to hear and deem him crazy –and was rewarded by a perceptible shift in what he could sense from the younger man towards anticipatory curiosity. :I can almost see you landing in James' head on accident, but to come back … and target me instead … makes me think that you want something.:

:Hm. From your perspective I'd agree with you, but … whatever it is, this thing I do apparently doesn't work like that. I was back in my own time and place, informing the Headmaster and my godfather of Voldemort's death: a brief flash of fierce triumph that almost as quickly faded into a sort of … regret? :and, of course, my own. I hope my godfather's okay … I disappeared so unexpectedly …:

He … really cares. It surprised Sirius, though perhaps it shouldn't have. But what little he had seen of Harry had seemed so … well, distant. Disconnected from reality. It was vaguely disconcerting to find the spirit did care for someone.

:I may be dead now, but alive I was as human as anyone, you know.: Harry replied, not as snippily as Sirius would have expected – especially considering the earfuls the Marauders (meaning primarily himself – the rift between the two of them and Remus and Peter had still not yet entirely healed) had received from James on the very subject once he was sure Harry had disappeared.

:I … hero-worshipped, I suppose … Dumbledore; I loved my friends, liked my dormmates, got along fairly well with just about everyone, most of the time, except Professor Snape and the Slytherins … I really liked Professor Lupin that year he was there, and my godfather …: In his mind's eye, Sirius could almost visibly see Harry trying to shake the mood off. :Yes, Padfoot, I'm human.:

He said something about being back in his time; so he probably … Padfoot, you're an idiot.

Sirius sighed, resisting the impulse to smack himself. :You just saw them, and here I am, salting raw wounds. I apologize, Harry … usually I'm not quite this much of an oblivious moron.:

He could feel Harry's mood begin to lighten – was he better at judging this sort of thing than James, or was Harry just not putting as much effort into shielding? – taking on an almost teasing tone. :Could have fooled me.:

# # # # #

:What's wrong?:

Sirius' head shot up from its former position, where he had been staring morosely at – or rather through – the cobblestones slightly in front of his feet. :Nothing. What makes you think there was?:

:You were brooding harder than my godfather – and you don't have twelve years in Azkaban as an excuse.:

:Twelve years in –: Sirius spluttered, now more sure than ever that Harry had some sort of connection to the Dark. :What did he do?:

:Falsely convicted of being a Death Eater, betrayal, murdering thirteen people …:

Falsely convicted? This story was beginning to sound terribly familiar to the seventh-year. :Me? I am your godfather?:

:And despite my disagreements with you here, I couldn't have asked for a better one.: Harry affirmed staunchly. :… aside from the whole escaped-convict-on-the-run angle, of course. Kinda cuts down on visiting time.: Despite the flippant tone of the answer, Sirius could feel a sense of … regret? At not having had a chance to get to know him better?

:Well, at least I can –: Change into Padfoot, he had been about to say. But what if Harry didn't know? He had used the nickname, but what if he thought it was just a nickname? Whether Sirius would someday be the fourth-year's godfather or not, he was still not entirely convinced that Harry was not affiliated with the Dark – in fact, nearly all the evidence that he had encountered seemed to point directly at that very conclusion; it was only his … what? Gryffindor sense of fairness? … that kept him from demanding something be done, kept him waiting until Harry provided incontrovertible proof one way or the other.

He'd like nothing more than to think that no one he associated with would be the sort to turn Dark –whether 'he' was himself, or the person with his name twenty years or so from now in a different universe – but even if that was true, it's not like he'd been around during Harry's formative years, so he – the other himself – Merlin this was confusing – probably hadn't known Harry very well.

Besides, the fact that Harry knew an escapee from Azkaban, even if he was innocent …

:Indeed.: Harry said, and for a moment Sirius panicked, thinking the spirit had been responding to his later thoughts. :In fact, that's how you managed to escape, you said – evidently the Dementors: a barely perceptible flinch :don't really notice animal emotions.:

Sirius very quietly raised mental eyebrows. So the seemingly undauntable spirit was afraid of something. Not that he blamed him in this case … he had had a chance encounter with a Dementor once, and that had been quite enough for him, thank you! But Harry was continuing. :Though the first time I saw you, it was late at night, and your eyes seemed to be glowing … I nearly had a heart attack.: A self-deprecating chuckle. :Then again, meeting you in human form for the first time wasn't exactly a walk in the park, either … you may not have actually been a deranged mass murderer, but you certainly looked the part.:

:Comforting.: And so, genuinely, was the revelation that Harry already knew about his Animagus form. For one thing, it was one less secret he would have to (attempt to) hide from Harry – not exactly the easiest task, when they were sharing space in Sirius' head, and definitely not when he was almost certain that he was far more open than his fellow resident. For another … well, godson or not, Sirius didn't think he'd ever reveal his Animagus form to someone he didn't fully trust, so it was also a indication of the trust the other Sirius had in Harry, even if he did not feel the same.

That topic dealt with, he turned his mind to the image that he had thought, for a moment, that he had seen. It had been located in a place he recognized as the Shrieking Shack, and the focus had been a strange adult that could not have been anyone but himself. He had looked old, though, and worse than that, an absolute mess – bruised, dirty, extremely frayed around the edges, and starved.

Though it was a silly thing to do, he reached up and touched his head, reassuring himself that his hair was still soft, silky, and only a little past the tips of his ears, not the elbow-length mess he thought he had seen. :My hair was greasier than Snape's. I didn't know that was possible.: Belatedly, it occurred to him that that had probably not been the best move ever … considering that he knew the spirit regarded Snape as … well, certainly something far more congenial than he himself did.

Yet, surprisingly, Harry snickered. :… how very true.: Then, shock. :But … how did you … you saw that?: An impression that he was shaking his head. :Never mind. Stupid question. Can you see … this?: Another picture formed in his mind's eyes, this one more solid and longer lasting.

Two students, actually looking the fourteen or fifteen Harry claimed as his age. A boy with fiery red hair and a girl who had bushy brown. :That hair … the boy's a Weasley, right? I don't recognize the girl.:

:Ron's Mrs. Weasley's youngest son.: Harry confirmed. :I wouldn't expect you to recognize Hermione; she's Muggle-born. The two of them are … were … my best friends.:

This was beginning to give Sirius a serious desire to go somewhere else and scream. (Except how do you get away from someone who's living in your head?). Every time he thought he finally had Harry figured out, the spirit sprung something else on him, something that upset all his calculations. Before, he had been perfectly content disliking Harry, secure in his belief that the boy was a younger, slightly more congenial, and (thankfully) dead Dark wizard (in training).

Then the spirit had to admit that Sirius was his godfather (a shock in and of itself … who would be foolish enough to choose him as mentor to a young, impressionable child?), and that he was best friends with a Weasley – one of the most prominently Light pureblooded families, even though certain others looked down on them for their lack of wealth. For one of them to associate with someone he had formerly ranked only slightly lower on the scale of Darkness than Voldemort and his Death Eaters …

Was Harry truly Dark? The relationships could be explained away, if not very satisfactorily, and the factual evidence all seemed to point in that direction. But … wait. 'Were' his best friends? Had they thrown him over when they discovered the truth about him? Or … :What happened to them? Did they die?:

Dryly, :No. I did.:

And what did one say to that?

# # # # #

:Has the Chamber of Secrets remained quiet?:

Sirius jerked, nearly choking on his food, far more surprised than Harry thought was warranted, given that they had been sharing head-space for hours now.

"You all right?" James asked, pounding him (unnecessarily hard, of course) on the back.

Sirius coughed a last couple of times, experimentally, before weakly reassuring his friend. "Yeah, 'mfine."

:Sorry about that.: Harry apologized, feeling guilty. :I didn't expect you to react quite so … violently.:

:… You surprised me.: With one last cough, Sirius returned to the task at hand: namely, eating. :You were quiet enough that I had almost forgotten you were there.:

:I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult …: Harry's tone was dry. :I suppose I'll let it pass … this time.:

Sirius tossed an image – himself wiping his forehead and collapsing against a wall with the sheer force of his relief – in Harry's direction. Harry caught the image easily, taking it in the spirit it had been meant. :Glad to know you have proper … 'respect' for me.: He replied, deadpan.

When Harry had first realized he was trapped in Sirius' head, he had worried that it would be like trying to coexist with James … or possibly worse. Yet … after the first exchange of hostilities, it felt like he was slipping back into a comfortable relationship with an old friend, though Sirius' quirky sense of humor was a delightful surprise he had not previously seen in either his post-Azkaban godfather or his earlier interactions with the Sirius of this time and place.

Sirius, on the other hand, was struck yet again by the oddness of his reaction to this being that every rational part of him was crying out for him to draw his wand on (though that would be rather hard, considering that Harry was currently residing in his head …); surprised and, to be frank, rather disturbed as he realized just how much he enjoyed their exchanges.

After all, it just didn't seem right that a Death … no, he was almost certain that Harry was not a Death Eater; though the boy knew entirely too much about the Dark Lord, his hatred for said wizard seemed unfeigned. Still, that a Dark wizard like Harry (for on that point, after careful consideration and much thinking in circles, he would not be budged) could be such pleasant company …

It was a sad statement of affairs that he would almost have been relieved had Harry suggested sneaking out for a spot of Muggle-torture, if only because then he would be acting in line with Sirius' expectations. Except one of his best friends was Muggle-born …

:The Chamber?: The object of his musings prompted, after what he evidently judged was a significant length of silence. :I may keep allowing myself to be distracted, but I would like to know eventually.:

Sirius shrugged. :I haven't heard anything, and I'm pretty sure James hasn't either. And as Head Boy, he's in on nearly everything, so I'm assuming it has stayed closed.:

:Believe me,: Harry said solemnly, softly, as intensely as he had ever heard the spirit speak, :if it was open, you would know.: Sirius caught a flash of something, nearly too quickly gone to catch anything. A stone wall, much like the ones bordering every hall here at Hogwarts, splattered with blood (or something similar … yet he had a sinking feeling that it was not any comforting substitute), flickering eerily near-black in low torchlight. :Be glad it didn't get that far, this time …:

:What do you mean, 'this time'? Harry!:

Silence.

# # # # #

"Do mine eyes deceive me? Sirius Black? In the Library?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and grunted. "Nice to see you too, Moony." He muttered sourly. "Feel like helping? Or would you rather just sit around and ridicule me?"

As he took a seat, Remus frowned contemplatively at the stack of books surrounding his black-haired friend. "What exactly are you researching, Padfoot?"

"Chamber of Secrets." He raked his fingers through his hair. "There's nothing useful!"

Remus blinked. "We only have Dumbledore's reaction to the topic to prove that the Chamber of Secrets is more than just a myth." He pointed out. "That's the tack all the books I've ever seen have taken, so of course there's nothing useful. Why? This isn't a History paper from the last full moon that you 'forgot' to tell me about, is it?"

Sirius shook his head. "Harry was saying something about being glad that the Chamber wasn't fully opened 'this time'. So I wanted to know about last time."

"Considering that this is Harry we're talking about, I'm betting he was in the thick of everything … which means that 'last time' was probably about twenty years from now." His eyes widened. "Wait a second. Harry was saying?" And narrowed. "Is there something you would like to tell me, Si-ri-us?" He carefully enunciated each syllable in a tone that approached singsong.

:Scary!: Sirius whimpered.

Though part of him was laughing at the completely cowed picture Sirius was presenting, most of Harry agreed fervently. :Quite.: He said weakly. There was just something about the way Remus' amber eyes nearly glowed that made him very conscious of that part of Remus that was a wolf. A rather irritated one, in fact. Even though he knew that Remus would never willingly hurt any of his friends, the sight was, as Sirius had put it so concisely, scary.

"Hm?" Remus was now tapping his foot. Make that a rather irritated, impatient wolf.

"… Heonlyjustappearedearliertod ayandIhaven'tseenyousincelunch" Deep breath. "SoyouseeIreallycouldn'thavetbeenreallykeepingsecretsfromyou."

Remus smiled, and just as suddenly all hints of danger dissipated. "So, how is he holding up? Did he say what he's been up to for this last month or so?"

"He claimed he was only gone a few minutes. From what he's said, he returned to his time and was talking with the Headmaster and his godfather when he … came back. And landed in my head somehow."

Remus leaned forward slightly. "Harry has a godfather? Huh. Anyone we know?"

"Yeah. Me."

"You?" Okay, so Sirius knew he wasn't the brightest choice for godfather ever. That was still no excuse for Remus to sound quite that … well … shocked. "Good god, Harry, I'm surprised you turned out as well adjusted as you did."

Harry made some sort of sound of amusement; somewhere between a snicker and a giggle. Sirius folded his arms, reluctantly amused himself. It was, after all, a good crack, and if he had learned nothing else from Hogwarts, it was how to laugh at himself. "Oh, that's easy enough to explain. I was too busy playing Dementor bait and becoming uglier than Snape to have anything to do with Harry."

"Oh yeah." Remus bit his lip. "Sorry, Padfoot."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to let it happen to me, after all, even if it did happen to the other me."

"Still … oh, and how are you holding up? I assume Harry is doing well enough, or he'd probably be making you a lot more miserable than you look."

Sirius sighed a huge puff of air, setting his chin on his hands. A moment later, minus the sigh, Remus followed his example, once again putting them more-or-less on eye level. "Confused." He finally admitted. "And it doesn't help that Harry is a lot more polite and … well … bearable than James made him sound. The worst that has happened to me so far is almost choking during dinner … and I know that was an accident."

Remus remained pointedly silent; after nearly six and a half years living in the same dorm room and being part of as tight-knit a group as the Marauders, Sirius knew quite well that that was just his polite way of saying 'I told you so'. James' complaints, after all, had been one of the main things driving the 'pro-Harry' Marauders (Remus and Peter) away even after Harry was exorcised, as neither could bear to listen to him for long before they either jumped in on Harry's behalf (ending in a nice, loud fight) or stalked off in anger.

Sirius just sighed again, silently this time. I may like him more than James does, but I'm even more convinced that he's at least partly Dark … and I don't know that I'll ever have your faith in him.

Whatever Harry had done to or for Remus, it had earned him an unswerving friend for life. Sirius could only hope that it wouldn't end up hurting his friend … Remus had been hurt entirely too many times in his life already.

# # # # #

"C'mon Wormtail! Sirius has something to tell us." Remus pulled his quietly protesting friend along, completely ignoring the strange looks being shot his way.

"A little too much tea this morning, Moony?" Peter quizzed. "I haven't seen you this bouncy since … well, in quite some time." And as they skidded up to Sirius, he frowned thoughtfully. "And since when has Sirius told you anything before James? … Well, except for those times that he was in danger of failing and desperately pleading for your help in passing."

"You'll see." Remus was bouncing on his toes. Just a little, but noticeably … and that was something he never did unless he was excited. "Oh! Snape! I bet he'd … hmm. Not here in the common room, though. Oh well, one of us will have to tell him later."

"Tell who what later?" As usual, when James entered the room, all eyes turned to him.

Immediately, Sirius started looking even more uncomfortable, taking a distinct interest in his feet. "Well … you see … I found out this morning that Harry is back." A deep breath. "In my head, this time."

"Really?" Now Peter knew what had Remus so perky. "Tell Harry I say hi. How's he been?"

Sirius went briefly unfocused. "Harry says to tell everyone hi. He's been quite well, thank you, other than his consistent complaint."

"Oh yeah." Peter looked briefly embarrassed. "I guess it is kinda silly to ask a dead person how he's feeling."

Another blank look. "He laughed, agreed, but pointed out that, in this case, it's reasonable."

James shook his head, his mouth a firm, angry line, turned on his heel, and abruptly left. Sirius' head turned to follow the movement. "James –?"

Peter put out a restraining hand. "Let him go for now. This is James … he'll be back eventually, though I wouldn't be surprised if he keeps his distance until Harry disappears again." His tone of voice changed. "Sorry, Harry, but …"

:It's probably the truth.: Harry admitted. :For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too, Sirius. I didn't mean…:

:For James to act like an utter git?: Sirius asked sourly. :It's not your fault that … well, it is partly your fault, and partly his, that he doesn't like you – and is now free to act on that dislike. But it's not your fault that this is how he is reacting.:

:But if I wasn't here …:

:Prongs and I would be happier,: Sirius acknowledged, :but I'd bet you anything that Wormtail and Moony wouldn't. They missed you.:

He could almost physically feel Harry's wince. :They shouldn't. That'll only make the final parting that much harder … because I am going to go away and not come back someday. Especially if – no offense – I keep getting stuck in James' or your head.:

:None taken.: Sirius reluctantly smirked. :I get the feeling that you and I are getting along better than you and James did … but we're still neither of us terribly enthused with the prospect of being stuck together.:

:I couldn't have put it better myself.:

# # # # #

Carefully keeping even his thoughts quiet and his movements as close a simulation to 'natural' as he could, Sirius turned over in his bed, looking towards James'. Still empty. Again, as he had at mostly random moments all evening, ever since James turned and walked away, he felt a cold, hollow feeling in his stomach, paired with a burning determination. He would not let Harry ruin his friendship with James, inadvertently or otherwise, the way he had nearly destroyed the Marauders.

:Harry?: He sent the whisper threading through his mind, and smiled in triumph when all that returned to him was an incoherent mumble and what might have been the beginnings of a soft snore. Perfect. He had been afraid the fourth-year would literally stay up all night, either worrying at the question of the evening – why had they not switched bodies as the sun fell, the way Harry and James had? – or just flat from insomnia.

He rolled out of bed, years of escapades allowing him to make a nearly completely soundless landing, stood, and tiptoed out of the room.

As he had expected, James was sitting in the common room in front of the fire, staring into it with a moody expression. When James had not shown in their dorm room at first, Sirius had been worried that James had finally found a reason worthy of breaking his boycott of the Head Boy's room – slept in only that first evening of their seventh year, then promptly abandoned to return to the room the four of them had shared for the six years previous.

Yet, if that had been the case, his trunk and the other little trinkets that, scattered around, made that corner of the room undeniably his, would have disappeared long before the other three headed to bed. No, James just wanted to make absolutely certain that he would not have to talk to Harry (and, as a consequence, Sirius as well) by staying out of the room until even the spirit – obviously as much a night owl as any of the Marauders – had fallen asleep. Well, tough.

"Heya Prongs." He greeted quietly, swinging down into the chair beside James, who stiffened and half-stood. "No, don't. It's just me."

"He left?" James sat back down, straighter than before, eyes bright with a sparkle that had been absent ever since the announcement.

"No, not so far as I can tell. But I made absolutely sure he was asleep before coming down here."

"Oh." James slumped back into his former position. "What do you want, Sirius?"

"I want to know if you're going to destroy our friendship – which is where we're headed right now, don't you dare deny it! – simply because I'm not alone in my head right now."

"I …" Disturbed was the only good word for James' expression. "If that's the way you interpreted it, I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you, Sirius … not after Harry has already cost me Remus and Peter. I … just can't be around him."

"Why? I know you don't like him, I don't much either" except when I do … "but you don't like Snape, either, and you can stay in the same room as him for at least a couple of hours. If you absolutely have to."

"It's not that. It …" Unconsciously, he started rubbing his right upper arm with his left hand, as if suddenly chilled. "He creeps me out, Siri. I'm not entirely sure why … there have been times – once – when he seemed very … vulnerable, when I couldn't not care and try to protect him. But then he turns around the next second and it's like a completely blank wall. Nothing. No one's that unreadable, and certainly not when it's their very thoughts and emotions that they're controlling, not just how they affect their facial expressions and body language."

"You can't bear him because you can't read him?"

"No!" He protested. "Well … that's part of it. But I could almost deal with it in a Slytherin, say, someone I expect to be different … someone I don't have to live with, day in and day out. But he was supposed to be Gryffindor, right? Gryffindors aren't like that."

He leapt to his feet; started pacing. "And every time he tells you something, you get the feeling that there are about ten other things he could have said, but chose not to. He has too many secrets. And he knows too many secrets: Remus' condition, our private names for each other …"

"Our – or at least my – alternate forms." Sirius interjected quietly. "I take that back – Wormtail's, too. Remember when he was talking about the future? He said Peter spent a number of years as a pet rat."

"… the entrance to the you-know-where … the Chamber of Secrets, for crying out loud! How can he know so much?"

"It is possible that one of us told him." Sirius pointed out after a short silence. "Well, not about the Chamber of Secrets; even we haven't managed to find that yet." They shared a chagrined smile. "But about everyone else. After all, according to him, I am supposedly his godfather."

"You? A godfather?" The sparkle was back at last. "I take back everything I said. No wonder he's screwed up!"

Sirius breathed a quick sigh of relief, indescribably happy that their relationship seemed to once again be getting back to … well, as close to normal as it could be, what with a suspected Dark wizard currently snoring away in the back of his head. Still, no matter how relieved or happy he was, he couldn't let a comment like that stand.

"Oh, and I suppose you could do better?"

7 June 2003
18 September 2011
5 September 2012