A/N Just wanted to say thanks for all of the great reviews. You guys are really spurring me on as my chapters just seem to get longer and longer. Hope that's okay. :)
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As Harry slid clumsily from the floo into the parlor, he adjusted his glasses which had gone askew and saw Ron looking around him in amazement at the room. He stood up, a little disoriented, as Sirius followed him a moment later. Taking in the size of the house they had just travelled to, Ron shot Harry an incredulous look.
"Bloody Hell, Harry. Is this where you live?"
Harry caught Sirius' disapproving look at the language and gave him a look of his own as if to say 'it wasn't me'. Sirius chuckled softly and brushed more soot from his godson's black hair.
"Honestly, Harry. You seem to take most of the floo with you when you travel."
Harry just glared at him as he grabbed Ron by the sleeve and pulled.
"C'mon, Ron. Let me show you your room and then we can go out to the pitch."
Sirius watched them scramble up the staircase as he made his way to his study, smiling as he walked.
Harry led Ron to the bedroom next to his own. It was a mirror image of Harry's own room, complete with private bath and a door that connected the two boys' bedrooms. Sirius had arranged this to make sure that Ron did not feel like his accommodations were less grand than his mate's. Harry had told him that Ron sometimes had a small chip on his shoulder about his family's financial standing and, having had a best mate in similar circumstances, Sirius was determined to pay close attention to the easy going redhead and anything that might upset him.
Harry didn't let Ron take any time to get settled. Anxious to show him the pitch, he grabbed his shirt for the second time and dragged him back down the stairs. Ron had not needed any encouragement. He was just as excited to see the pitch as Harry was to show it to him. As the two skidded across the entry hall floor, Sirius appeared near the back door and put up a halting hand.
"Wait just a moment, will you?", he teased. Reaching into the stair cupboard, he pulled out Harry's Firebolt and his own Nimbus 2003, handing the latter to Ron. Ron took the broom with wide eyes and a slight reverence. Although the Nimbus 2003 was not an international standard broom like the Firebolt, it was the best in Britain at the moment and the thought that he would get to borrow the magnificent equipment for the weekend stunned him. Sirius watched him with slight amusement before he gave them both a stern look.
"Now, remember to stay away from the grove. Harry, make sure Ron knows where it is", he watched as Harry nodded his head quickly, anxious to be outside and in the air. "Also, Harry trade off with your Firebolt. Ron is your guest, give him equal time. Dinner is in an hour. Be back on time because after I want both of you to have a bath before bed. We are leaving tomorrow after breakfast and I want to make sure you are both well rested. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir", Harry assured him quickly and Ron nodded vigorously. Sirius gave them a pointed nod and then smiled as he herded them to the door. In a flash, they were gone.
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Ron's jaw had dropped when he saw the pitch. The two mates had spent a half hour frantically chasing each other around with Ron relishing the streamlined beauty of the Nimbus. Minding his godfather's instructions, Harry had landed after half their free time was over and willingly traded his beloved Firebolt for Ron's borrowed Nimbus. The Nimbus was no Firebolt, but it was still a sleek ride and even more graceful than Harry's own Nimbus 2000 had been. The temporary trade was not quite a wrench for him to bear.
Getting tired and a little hungry, the boys began to fly in lazy patterns around the pitch until Ron stopped short and gazed over at the grove. Although Harry had not paid much attention to it, owing to the desire to keep his backside in one functioning piece, Ron seemed enthralled by the strange beauty of it. The row upon row of tall slim trees swayed easily in the early summer evening breeze. Harry had soon found out that the illusion of the trees individually spinning was no illusion. Like leafy green tops, they spun gently around, casting their large technicolor blooms out from the sides. Flying just a little closer than was comfortable for Harry's liking, Ron took a deep breath of the intoxicating fragrance that the blooms expelled.
"It's so beautiful", he said wistfully. "Why won't Sirius let you go in there?"
"He said it's too dangerous", Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "Something about one of his ancestors having a sick sense of humor."
Harry noticed the overt interest in his friend's gaze and stepped quickly to nip it in the bud.
"Sirius pretty much lets me do what I want. If he's told me not to go in there, there is a good reason. I'm not going to risk it, to find out what the reason is."
Ron looked over at his friend in disbelief. Harry was never one to back down from something just because of a little danger.
"Are you scared of him? Is he mean to you?", he asked with real concern over the new attitude of his mate.
Harry snorted at the absurdity of the words before he took in the worried face of his friend and checked himself. Ron didn't really know Sirius, he remembered belatedly.
"No, of course not. I'm not scared of him at all and he is definitely not mean. He's great, really. He just worries about me a lot. It's...", he paused a little bashfully, "it's nice actually. No one's ever done that for me before."
Ron started to protest that statement before Harry hurried to continue.
"Not like you or Hermione or Professor Dumbledore, or even your Mum and Dad. I don't mean it that way. Sirius worries about me like my own Dad probably would have. Its....nice."
Harry was blushing furiously. He didn't know why he was embarrassed to say these things in front of Ron. If he couldn't tell his best mate about how he was enjoying living with his godfather, who could he tell? Hermione would probably have understood easily enough. He missed talking to her. She was spending the hols in France with her parents and had not had time to send many owls. He looked uneasily at Ron but, amazingly enough, his ginger haired friend was just giving him wide grin as if he completely got where Harry had been coming from.
"Yeah, I understand, mate." Rolling his eyes, he smirked at Harry. "I can see where you are being abused having to live here", he teased as he waved his hands as if surveying the house and grounds. "Must be real torture having the run of this place and gobs of galleons and your own pitch. I can see where you are really suffering."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. Although he knew that Ron was taking the mickey, it made him uneasy to think that he might feel like Harry lived like the little prince that Snape accused him of being. It wasn't the house or the room or the pitch or the broom that made him happy to be living with Sirius. It was the way Sirius fussed over him and worried about him and gave him real attention, even taking the time to punish him when he deserved it. That was what truly made him grateful for the life he now led.
"It's not like that, Ron", he defended himself, weakly. He didn't elaborate any further. Ron just probably wouldn't get it. He had always had his wonderful parents.
Harry was saved from further explanation by the twin chimneys of the manor house exploding into blue sparks. That was Sirius' not-so-subtle reminder that it was time to come inside. Angling his broom towards the house, Harry jerked his head to Ron.
"It's dinner. We need to go in now."
A bit reluctantly, the boys flew towards the manor house and made their way up the back stairs. Ron had been a bit taken aback by the knights stationed at the door until Harry had introduced him. Eyes wide, as the two swords snapped back and the doors flew open, the boy took an amazed breath.
"Wicked!"
Harry just snorted a little, good humor returning.
Dinner was a jovial affair with Ron staring at the house elves serving the meal in their pristine tea towels emblazoned with the family crest of the House of Black. Sirius made entertaining conversation that had both boys laughing until their sides ached and Ron began to see what Harry meant about his godfather's kindness. After a large dessert of Apple Charlotte and cream, two helpings of which Sirius normally disapproved, the boys were sent upstairs for a bath before bed.
Scrubbed clean and in pajamas, the two mates gathered on Harry's bed to play a couple of games of Exploding Snap before going to sleep. Neither had noticed the time until they heard a knock on the door. Harry's eyes flew to the small clock on the stand next to his bed and saw that it was twenty minutes past his bedtime. Shooing Ron underneath the bed before his godfather opened the door, Harry yanked his glasses off and scooted under his blanket. Sirius walked in and gave him a fond wink before coming over to sit on the side of the bed.
"Time to go to sleep, young man", he admonished gently. "We have a big day tomorrow."
Harry nodded and pulled his blanket a little tighter. Sirius leaned over to give his godson a kiss on the top of his unruly head of hair before standing back up. Grinning mischievously, he leaned over the bed slightly and addressed the empty air on the floor on the other side.
"Ron, do you have everything you need in your room?"
An uncomfortable few seconds passed as the hidden ginger swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Um..yes, sir", came the disembodied voice.
Sirius let out an amused chuckle before extinguishing the light in the room. "To sleep, you two", he commanded good naturedly before closing the door again.
Sliding out from under the bed, Ron gave Harry a sheepish smile before heading through the connecting door to his own bed. Although he was very excited about the match in the morning, Harry fell happily asleep.
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The two boys barely contained themselves during breakfast the next morning. Even Ron, who had never needed an excuse to stuff his face like he didn't know when he'd next get a meal, was eager to be on their way. The match was to start promptly at eleven o'clock and the crowds would mean that it would take forever to get seated.
Sirius had explained to Harry that they would need to get to the stadium a bit earlier than they actually would have needed to. In exchange for being left alone during the match, he had agreed to allow Harry and himself be photographed and interviewed, very briefly, for the Daily Prophet. It had been a necessary evil to endure if they wanted to have any peace or privacy. Uncomfortable, as usual, to be thrust into the spotlight, Harry had eventually been convinced that it was better than being hounded, which they otherwise certainly would have been. Walking into the stadium's press room, he had obligingly followed his godfather to the set while Ron stayed under the watchful gaze of Remus who had joined them for the day. Besides keeping Sirius company, it had allowed them to apparate with the boys making the travel significantly quicker.
Sirius and Harry pasted smiles on their faces and suffered through the agreed upon fifteen minutes of questioning and bulbs flashing before Sirius held a hand up and declared them to be finished. The two older men herded the boys out of the press room and joined the throng of Quidditch devotees as they queued for their seats in the bleachers. Unbeknown to Harry, Sirius had arranged with the Ministry to have four Aurors stationed around Harry at all times. Acting professionally and discretely, they forded a pathway for the little group as best as they could to the private box that Sirius had booked for them.
The match itself was everything and more that Harry had ever hoped for. While he exalted in the thrill of playing for his own house team, seeing professional teams in action left him breathless with excitement. The two boys screamed themselves hoarse, even while they ribbed each other good naturedly as they rooted for opposing teams. Sirius and Remus took turns fetching snacks and drinks for everybody, making sure that the Aurors standing unobtrusively around the box entrance were provided for as well. When the seeker for the Cannons grabbed the snitch, Ron let out a deafening Whoop as he jumped to his feet, pounding on Harry's shoulders excitedly. Harry, although a bit disappointed that his team had lost, nevertheless revelled in the enjoyment of the day.
As they made their way through the crowds back towards the field outside of the stadium, Sirius noticed Ron eyeing an autographed program of the Cannons covetously. Excusing himself, he asked them to all wait a moment as he made his way to the vendor to buy it and one of the Puddlemere team for Harry. While they waited for him to return, Harry caught a man looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Assuming it was another gawker, he turned his head and saw the man staring at him intently.
Suddenly, his scar started to burn and he instinctively smashed his hand against it as he winced. Blinking back tears from the pain, he took one more look at the bedraggled stranger before the pain flamed again and he clamped his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the man was gone.
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In the swirls of dark mist, the ramshackle old manor house was barely discernible. Harry's head ached monstrously as his vision went in and out of focus. In the back of his thoughts, he heard the steady sound of a low hiss. Master.....Master......Master.....Master.....Master. The grass underneath his body was slippery and wet, a strong smell of rot and mold tingled the back of his throat and made him want to retch. Making his way forward as if he had no control to stop his own gliding motion, he saw the half decayed double front door come into view, opening seemingly under its own power and granting him access into the musty corridor. Master.....Master.....Master.....Master....Master.
His body coiled and arched as he slid slickly across the dingy putrid boards, faster, faster, faster up the partially collapsed staircase. His stomach roiled with bile, the fetid air infesting his punished lungs. Forward, forward, forward down the hall towards the blazing patch of light at the end, the oppressive heat of the fire blistering his skin. Onward to the decaying cushioned chair, torn fabric, slippery with patches of mildew, rusting coils sticking haphazardly in each direction. A mass of filthy cloth bunched up protectively on the shredded seat, an eerie white glow emanating from the pile.
In the corner of his eye, a blurry figure hovered protectively over the half ruined chair, partly cooing, partly bowed in reverence. The greasy mop of hair sticking out in dirty jags from all angles, something in his tortured face vaguely familiar. The demented eyes started to focus, his hand simultaneously reaching for his wand.
Harry's ears rang, almost a vibration, not quite a discernible hum in the atmosphere, acid forcing itself up his esophagus as his mind slowly processed the sinister green light and the blood curdling sound of a scream. Over and over and over and over........
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Jolting up in his bed, Harry yelled at the top of his lungs from the pain of his nightmare. His face and hair drenched in sweat, his dark blue T-shirt soaked almost completely through. He desperately attempted to kick off his bedcovers but only managed to succeed in making them more hopelessly tangled as he continued to scream. From the adjoining room, Ron crashed through the door and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, attempting to wake him up. The red haired boy paled in fear as he took in his best mate's ghostly pallor and inhuman screams, his trembling right hand pressed tightly against the angry red scar on his forehead. Harry was shaking uncontrollably when he was suddenly seized with a forceful tremor in the pit of his stomach. Wrenching himself from Ron's hands, he doubled over and vomited all over himself and his wrinkled bedding.
Seeing Harry's face go positively gray, Ron hesitated for a split second before sprinting out of the bedroom, pounding down the stairs and across the marble halls to the other side of the house to Sirius' study, crying out his name repeatedly as he ran.
Sitting in his favorite chair, book in hand, brandy glass half empty on the small antique table to the side, Sirius had been enjoying the peace of the late evening. With a minimum of fuss, he had bundled off the two boys upstairs just before ten to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. Following them after a few moments, he had first checked to make sure that Ron was comfortably settled in the room next to Harry's before making his way to his godson.
Harry's subdued behavior since they had returned from the match was concerning Sirius quite a bit. Harry had tried to pass it off as being tired, but Sirius knew he was hiding something. He had seen Harry tired many times and this was something completely different. He didn't want to embarrass his godson in front of his best friend, so he had decided to wait until Harry was tucked into to bed to speak with him privately.
Harry had been absolutely insistent that he was perfectly fine, just a bit overwhelmed from the day in general. He had repeatedly assured his worried godfather that there was nothing wrong with him at all and could he please stop worrying? Against his better judgement, Sirius had acquiesced and, leaning over to kiss the scarred forehead lightly, he wished Harry good night as he tucked the blanket around the small shoulders.
As he took a warm sip of the fragrant brandy from the heavy cut crystal snifter, he heard his name being called. As the voice came nearer and the frequency of his summons faster, his heart started to race in panic. He was starting to rise from his chair when Ron burst through the study doors.
"Sirius! It's Harry, he's sick!", he panted, his eyes wild with worry.
A knot the size of a bludger forced its way into his throat as Sirius dropped the book and the snifter and raced out the door and up the stairs, Ron nipping at his heels. By the time the elegant crystal smashed to the floor, he was already half way up the landing. Throwing open Harry's bedroom door, his eyes were frenzied as they scanned the empty room. He didn't miss the sight of the damp messy bedcovers that were clearly smeared with sick. Turning to the side, he saw the door to the bathroom slightly ajar a fraction of a second before he heard the unmistakable sound of retching and fled in that direction.
In the darkened bath, he made out the silhouette of a small figure hunched on the floor.
"Harry", he croaked, his heart sick with fear and worry.
He cast Lumos and saw his beloved godson curled up on the tile, his arms wrapped tightly around his trembling chest. The boy's face was pale, so pale, his black hair plastered against the skin of his forehead. His eyes were shut tightly, but there were tears streaming from them and his mouth pulsed with the jagged breaths that he was forcing in and out. Sirius dropped to his knees and took the quivering face into his hands feeling a helplessness that even Azkaban had never inspired.,
"Harry, what's wrong, little one? What happened?", the anguish heavy in his voice as he searched desperately for any sign.
Harry didn't say a word as he slowly rocked himself back and forth, his entire body shaking. Clearing his throat, Ron stood in the doorway watching the horrific scene unfold in front of his young eyes. He so very much wanted to help.
"His scar was hurting him. It does that sometimes. But..but I've never seen it affect him like this before", he said, somewhat nervously.
Sirius stared up at the frightened ginger, a quick flash of anger in his eyes.
"His scar was hurting him? When? Earlier today? Did you know? Why didn't someone tell me?", he peppered the boy with harsh questions.
Ron's eyes grew huge as he took in the fearsome scowl of the much larger man.
"I didn't know! I swear. I only noticed it after I heard him start to scream. When I found him in his bed, he was holding it like he does when it hurts him."
Sirius quickly checked his temper. He had not meant to upset Ron, but he was just so scared himself, fearful that this could have been avoided if he had convinced Harry to talk to him earlier.
I apologize, Ron. I didn't mean to speak to you that way. I'm just worried about Harry. Please forgive me", he apologized ashamedly.
He gave Ron a kind smile to assure the boy that he was not angry with him.
"Please do me a favor and run down to the kitchen and fetch Bicky. Ask her to come up, please."
Ron nodded quickly and fled the room.
Now that they were alone, Sirius turned his full worried attention to his godson. He put an arm around the trembling shoulders while bringing up his free hand to brush the wet strands of hair from the pale face.
"Harry, please tell me what's wrong. Is it your scar? Did you have a nightmare?", the fear heavy in his voice.
Nodding jerkily, Harry shivered a bit keeping his eyes tightly closed.
"Ni..ni..nightmare", he rasped quietly, lifting his shaky hand up to rub against his still aching forehead. "My scar hurts sometimes.....but..but usually not like this."
Sirius stood up and grabbed a small washcloth from the marble counter. He turned the cold tap on and soaked the cloth as the water ran, getting steadily cooler, before wringing it out and folding it up into a small rectangle. He hunkered back down to the floor and held the drippy fabric against Harry's flushed forehead. Harry lifted up a pale hand and pressed it against the soothing cloth, sighing a bit in relief.
"Thanks."
Sirius stood again and repeated the process with a fresh towel, this time applying it to the back of Harry's neck and holding it there himself as the boy's breathing evened out. By this time, Ron and the small elf had appeared in the doorway, Ron's eyes still fraught with concern. Sirius glanced up at the tall worried redhead and gave him a weak smile.
"He'll be alright, Ron. Go back to bed, now. I've got him", Sirius said soothingly.
Ron didn't move for a moment, but Sirius gave him a reassuring nod that prompted him to turn for the door.
"Alright. Feel better, Harry."
Harry nodded his head a bit, eyes still shut, his voice weak.
"'night, Ron. Thanks."
Sirius turned his attention to the small elf as she stood quietly in the doorway, anxious to be of assistance.
"Bicky, could you run a warm bath for Master Harry and then tend to his bed please?", he asked gently. The house elf scurried into action and a moment later, they heard the sounds of the multi-faucet-ed bathtub gushing to life, fragrant steam sifting through the room. Sirius continued to support Harry's neck with the washcloth, his free hand patting the boy's arm soothingly. When the water stopped, he saw Bicky excuse herself and close the bathroom door gently as she made her way into the bedroom to redress the bed in fresh linens.
"Harry, let's get you into the tub. You'll feel a bit better when you are cleaned up", Sirius prompted him quietly.
Harry gave him the slightest of nods and allowed his godfather to slowly pull him up onto his feet. His crying had stopped, but he he could not get his shivering under control, much to his mortification. Sirius led him gently across the room to where the deep bathtub waited invitingly. He took the two cloths in his hand and gently tugged Harry's wet, sick covered T-shirt up over the boy's head. Turning away from his godson, he made his way back across the room and deposited the soiled items into the hamper, taking care not to turn until he heard Harry slip into the tub. Harry had dropped his pajama bottoms onto the grooved tile and was sitting hunched over, knees up, arms folded around them in a death grip. The multicolored scented bubbles floated across the surface of the deep water covering him up almost to his shoulders. Sirius bent down and picked up the bottoms, depositing them into the hamper as well. He hesistated a moment, unsure whether or not he should leave his distressed godson while he bathed, but unwilling to embarrass him any further by remaining unwanted in the room. As he headed for the door, Harry's small weak voiced reached him.
"Sirius? Please...please stay."
Quietly relieved, he pulled the small padded bench from against the wall and brought it to the side of the tub. Harry's color was slowly starting to return to his face, but his eyes were still cast down and he was still shivering occasionally. He sat down on the bench and folded his hands in front of him patiently.
"Do you want to tell me about it?", he inquired softly. He didn't want to frighten the boy any further although he was desperate to know what had scared him so much.
"It was so real. Like I was actually right there in the middle of it. I was in an old house that was rotting and falling down. I didn't recognize it. And...and there was someone there", he paused, getting slightly sick again from the remembered smell. "He looked at me and drew his wand and....and then I saw a bright green light and I heard...", he stopped, scared to finish.
Sirius reached over and lifted the quivering chin up to meet the boy's eyes.
"Heard what, Harry?"
Harry held his godfather's concerned gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes back down to the bubbly water.
"Screaming."
Sirius took a deep breath, his pulse racing. What Harry had just described sounded a lot like someone casting the killing curse. He had wondered whether or not Harry had any memories of the night his parents were killed and he himself was the target of the curse. But, this was different. The house he described didn't sound like the pretty little home in Godric's Hollow. Although he was willing to admit that it could just be some residual fear from a terrible night in the memory of a toddler, Sirius had a deeper unease that it was something far more sinister. He would have to discuss this with Albus tomorrow. For now, his priority was getting Harry calm.
He put a comforting hand on Harry's back and tried to project as much confidence in his voice as possible.
"Harry, it was just a nightmare. Everyone gets them from time to time. You're safe here with me. I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you. You know that, don't you?"
Harry lifted his eyes searching his godfather's for reassurance and nodded. He took a shuddering breath and lay back against the cool marble of the tub. After a moment, he slipped completely under the water and held his breath for a moment, willing his heart to stop beating so erratically. When he resurfaced, sputtering and scrubbing the suds out of his eyes, he saw his godfather grinning at him and holding out a small towel. He took it gratefully and wiped his face dry.
"Feeling any better?", Sirius asked him softly.
Harry nodded, pushing back the feeling that he was acting childishly in front of godfather. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm tired, I guess."
It was true. The boy's eyelids were starting to droop against his will and the warmth from the bathwater was making him very sleepy. Sirius stood up and pulled two large fluffy towels from the cabinet next to the sink. He placed them on the bench he had been sitting on and darted quickly into the bedroom. When he returned, he held a folded up set of fresh T-shirt and bottoms and placed them with the towels.
"Why don't you dry off, put your pajamas on and brush your teeth. I'll wait in the bedroom for you. Take your time and call me if you need me."
He saw Harry nod and then made his way out to the bedroom. Bicky had completely changed the bed linens and it was made up neatly smelling sweetly of the outdoors. He turned the bed down and summoned the wing back chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed. As he sat, he thought briefly about sending Albus a message by patronus, but they had agreed to only use such extreme methods in an emergency. While tonight's events were a bit on the frightening side, Harry was scared, but otherwise safe. He could call him by floo, but that would require him leaving Harry's room and he wasn't comfortable with that option just yet. It could wait until the morning.
He didn't have to wait too long for his godson to emerge from the bathroom, wet messy hair, fresh clothes and, mercifully, pink cheeks. Sleepily, he crossed the room and climbed into his bed as Sirius pulled up the blankets around him.
"Are you alright, Harry?", he asked with real concern. Harry looked better, but there was still a haunted look in his eyes.
"Yeah, I'll be okay. Sorry for making such a fuss." Harry turned his head away, ashamed of acting like such a child.
"There is no fuss. Don't ever think that", his godfather reassured him. "You are the most important thing in the world to me. I would do anything for you, you know. No need to feel badly about something like having a nightmare."
Slightly mollified, Harry scooted down further into the bed and curled up onto his side. Feeling Sirius rubbing his back gently, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing rhythm. No one had ever comforted him after a nightmare before and, in that moment, he really felt like he had a Dad. All those times at Privet Drive when he had either been left whimpering in his cupboard or, worse, screamed at and shaken for waking the household by his enraged uncle, leaving him feeling even more distressed than he had been by the terrors. Sirius' kindness and gentle ministrations calmed him more completely than the strongest calming charm ever could.
"Will you stay with me awhile?", he asked hopefully in a small voice.
Sirius choked up a little at the note of desperate fear in the boy's words. Harry so obviously needed to feel protected sometimes.
"All night, if you want me to", he replied honestly and reassuringly.
He heard Harry exhale deeply and, in just a few moments, the boy's breathing evened out and he was asleep. Sirius leaned back in his chair, settling himself before flicking his wand.
"Nox."