The first time Sirius Black came face to face with his godson, he wasn't able to pull him into a Marauder-style hug like he'd so dearly hoped to.
It probably had something to do with the wand pointed in his face by a very pissed-off miniature version of James.
"You have thirty seconds to explain why exactly I shouldn't paint the walls of this place with your brains, Black!"
Sirius swallowed. Scratch that, a miniature version of James with Lily's temper!
Thankfully his survival instincts kicked in before his godson decided to make good on his threat. He started babbling about Peter, and switching Secret-Keepers and dirty rats who stabbed their friends in the back.
Judging from the baffled expressions on the faces of the other two kids though, he wasn't doing a good enough job of explaining himself.
Just as Sirius was seriously wondering who he'd pissed off in his previous life to warrant getting killed by his own godson, help arrived in the form of an old friend.
"Professor Lupin!" the girl cried.
Remus took one look at the scene before raising his wand to disarm Harry, or so Sirius hoped anyways. Merlin help him if he'd tried anything else!
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who you asked) Harry was much faster.
After throwing the hapless Professor into the wall with enough force to rattle the windows, Harry stalked over to him menacingly.
"You dare turn your wand against me?" he thundered. "Me? I trusted you, you wanker! I kept your bloody secret all this time, and you've been in league with this bastard all along?"
"Harry...you don't understand..."
"Shut up, Werewolf!" The venom in his voice actually made Sirius flinch.
"He's a werewolf?" the red-head ask dumbly.
The bushy-haired girl just nodded quietly, obviously terrified by what she saw.
In a few minutes, a bound Remus Lupin was sitting next to his old friend, stammering out an explanation, and his deduction that Peter Pettigrew was still alive. Sirius also threw in his two cents, telling them about how he'd escaped from Azkaban after seeing that news article with Peter's photo in his rat form.
His heart sank at the expression of utter distrust and hatred on his godson's face. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
Sirius had had it all planned out. He would get into Hogwarts, find the traitorous rat, then something would happen. . . .he wasn't exactly sure what. Either way he'd be a free man, and then he'd walk into Hogwarts and his godson, his beloved Prongslet, would run into his arms. They'd live together happily after that, preferably on an island full of buxom Veela.
He'd never imagined that things would turn out this way.
Sirius supposed that he was partly to blame for this. He'd been wallowing in his filth (which wasn't really as bad as it sounded, seeing as he was in his dog form) when he'd picked up the scent of the dirty rat from the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Almost immediately, he spotted the lanky red-head whose shoulder Peter had been perched on in the photo. Knowing full well that the bastard was in one of the kid's pockets, he'd simply tackled the boy and proceeded to drag him through the Willow into his hideout.
In hindsight, that hadn't been one of his better ideas.
Now he watched his godson's face in dismay as he finished his tale. He looked into those bright green eyes, beseeching them to at least consider what he'd just said.
His hopes were in vain.
"You're both mental!" the red-head cried, succinctly summing up the thoughts of all three teenagers in the room.
"Ron, please," Remus begged. "He's telling the truth. You have to. . . ."
"Enough," Harry said coldly.
Lupin immediately fell silent, regarding the angry teenager warily. Sirius however was ready to cry.
Please, believe me Harry. I don't care if you kill me later, but you have to know the truth.
"Did you hear all that?" Harry said quietly, prompting confused looks from his friends.
"I did." Everyone in the room nearly jumped out of their skin and stared in shock as Severus Snape stepped out from the shadows, lifting his Disillusionment charm. "And you are deluding yourself if you believe a single word out of their traitorous mouths." He glared at Sirius with undisguised hatred.
"Severus, please. You. . . . ."
"Silence, you beast, or I shall. . . !"
"Enough!" Harry's firm voice cut off their argument. He paced back and forth a few minutes and then stopped, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration.
Just like James. . . . .
"There's only one way to solve this," he declared. "Professor, can you conjure a silver stake for me?"
Snape wordlessly conjured a foot long silver spike and passed it to him. Harry levitated the stake to place it a mere two feet away from Remus' face.
"Check the rat, Professor," he said coldly. "If they're lying, the werewolf gets it right between the eyes."
The girl gasped. Remus swallowed in fear. Snape gave a feral smile before striding over to the other boy.
"Harry, mate. . ." The red-head goggled at him. "You don't seriously think. . . ?"
"Let the Professor check him, Ron. It's the only way to know for sure."
Ron silently obeyed, handing the struggling rat over to Sirius' childhood nemesis. The fugitive from Azkaban sent out a silent prayer, hoping that he was right.
For the first time in a very long time, his prayers were answered.
Sirius and Remus, freed from their bindings, watched as the. . . .the animal they once called their friend pathetically tried to justify his betrayal of Sirius' two dearest friends to their own flesh and blood.
It took all of Remus' enhanced strength to pull him off the wretched rat once he'd finished his story.
"Let me go, Remus!" Sirius growled. "That bastard deserves to die!"
"Sirius. . . control yourself . . ." Remus panted. "We need him. . .to prove your innocence. . ."
"Like hell I'm letting him. . . !"
"Black, you utter imbecile!" Snape sneered. "For once in your life listen to those who possess more sense than you do. Or has Azkaban robbed of what little brainpower you had?"
"Bugger off Snivellus, or I'll. . . . !"
"Sirius, calm down."
Hearing his godson call him by his given name for the first time in his life startled Sirius out of his tantrum.
"Pettigrew's no good to us dead," he said wearily. He looked completely exhausted, physically and emotionally. . . .not that Sirius could blame the poor kid. "We need him alive to testify on your behalf."
"But Harry. . ."
"You've got a Kiss-on-sight order on you, Mr Black," the girl reminded him. "Your turning up with his body won't be enough to get you a trial. We need his testimony."
The earnest look on the children's faces did a good job of deflating his anger. "Fine," he conceded.
"Oh, thank you," the double-crossing filth sobbed, throwing himself at his godson's feet. "Thank you so much, Harry!"
To Sirius' immense satisfaction, Harry's kick shattered the man's jaw and sent him flying.
"I said we won't be killing you," his godson said, advancing on the whimpering coward slowly. "I never said we'll be bringing you in in one piece."
Sirius's grin was positively feral.
Sirius wasn't quite sure about what happened after that.
He remembered everyone taking turns to groin-stomp the backstabbing rat (even Snape joined in, to his surprise), he remembered leaving Remus behind in the shack as they moved out (something about forgetting his potion, whatever that meant), he remembered talking to his godson as they levitated the twitching and moaning rat out of the Willow entrance (it was his godson's brilliant idea to shatter the traitor's kneecaps). . . .
He remembered their group being ambushed by a hundred Dementors as they made their way to the castle, and the most incredible display of raw magical power Sirius had ever seen as Harry drove them all off with a single patronus. . . .
The encounter with the Dementors made his memory even fuzzier after that. He remembered Amelia Bones coming in (she was DMLE head now, apparently), and both Dumbledore and her questioning him and the rat under Veritaserum; he also dimly recalled their argument with Fudge, who kept insisting that he be Kissed (who knew the Minister swung that way, but then Sirius had always been rather devilishly handsome). . . .
And just like that, he was a free man.
Sitting on a bed in St Mungo's as he underwent medical treatment for malnutrition and mental trauma, Sirius Black allowed this new piece of information to sink in.
He was free, gloriously free!
He giggled slightly to himself. No more eating out of trash bins, no more wallowing in his own filth while making elaborate plans to hunt down treacherous vermin, no more staving off unwanted advances from female canines in heat (not his fault he was such a stud even as a starved dog). . . .
He was a free man!
He giggled some more. He was free! Free to live with his godson, free to finally go to that island full of buxom Veela (a bit of drool leaked out from his mouth), free to have his revenge on that bastard Crouch who sent him to that hell-hole without a trial, and that old goat-buggering fool who testified against him without even once listening to his side of the story. . . .
He cackled evilly. He'd show them. . . .he'd show them all! Prank Lord Padfoot was back, and he brought pain and humiliation for his enemies. . .
Sitting a few feet away from his bed, a young nurse turned around to regard her senior.
"Hey, Agnes?"
"Yes, dearie?"
"Should we tell him he's been talking out aloud for the last half hour?"
"Oh, never mind him, dearie," Agnes said without looking up from her novel. "They're all the same when they get here, you know: nutty as a fruitcake."
"If you say so," she agreed.
Sirius groaned slightly as he heard the door to his room open once again.
"If your name isn't Harry Potter, you should just turn around and leave."
"And if my name is Harry Potter?" a rather amused voice asked.
Sirius looked up to see his godson standing near the door, his bright green eyes shining with mirth.
"Then you should plonk your arse down on that chair and pay your respects to your dogfather," Sirius said with a wide grin.
"Yes, oh dogfather of mine," Harry said with a mock-bow and made himself comfortable next to his bed. "So, been having a lot of visitors?"
"Yeah. The more irritating ones anyways," Sirius grimaced.
"Fudge?" his godson asked sympathetically.
"And old man Dumbles," Sirius nodded. "Driving me up the wall, those old codgers are."
"Fudge I can understand. But what does the goat-lover want with you?"
Sirius grinned. He'd been incredibly pleased to know that his godson shared his dislike of the old Headmaster. He didn't really know what the old man did to earn Harry's ire, but from what he could tell about the boy so far, it must've been something major.
"Well. . . .first, he started with the usual crap. How sorry he was that he believed so wrongly of me, how regretful he is of all the time I spent in that hell-hole, how disappointed he was that we didn't trust him enough to tell him about the Secret-Keeper switch. . . ." Sirius snorted contemptuously. "Fat lot of good his regret does for me now."
"Oh. . . .he was also saying something about you having to stay with your muggle relatives over the summer. Something about Blood Wards," he looked at his godson questioningly.
Harry nodded sadly. "The Blood Wards part is true, I'm afraid. Dumbledore cast it himself based off of whatever ritual my mum used to defeat Voldemort. I hired a Gringotts curse-breaker to check it out during my first-year. It's powerful intent-based magic."
Sirius nodded in grudging admiration. Intent-based wards were some of the strongest wards in existence and he had no desire to deprive his godson of them, especially if the Dark Plonker was still alive as the old man believed; not to mention that the fact that Lily had sacrificed herself to give her son that kind of protection made those wards practically sacred in his eyes. He tried his best not to let his disappointment at not being able to live with his godson show.
Judging from the look in Harry's eyes, he wasn't quite successful. "It's not that bad. I only have to stay there for two weeks every summer for them to fully recharge, the rest of the time I'll be spending with you. Plus it's only until I reach my majority. I'll be able to move in with you fully then."
Sirius perked up considerably upon hearing that.
"By the way, what did Fudge want with you? Worried you're going to give the Ministry bad press?"
Sirius barked out a laugh. "Yeah. . . .there's that. He's also trying his hardest to convince me not to claim the Black seat on the Wizengamot."
Harry blinked in surprise. "You're not serious? You actually have a seat on the Wizengamot?"
Sirius grinned. "I assure you, kiddo, I am Sirius. . . ."
Harry groaned loudly at the pun. "You know that gets old pretty quickly, don't you?"
"Nonsense," he waved his hand airily. "There's nothing old about a 'Serious-Sirius' joke."
"Whatever," Harry rolled his eyes. "Now, you were saying that you had a seat on the Wizengamot?"
"My dear old dad did; and since I'm the only Black male left it falls to me to take it up. The Black family is one of the oldest Wizarding families in Britain. Pureblood bigots, the whole lot of them," he finished in disgust.
"Why does Fudge not want you to take up the seat?" his godson asked curiously.
"Probably because cousin Lucy doesn't want to give up his proxy," Sirius said with a sneer.
Harry blinked. "You're related to the Malfoys?"
"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry purebloods your choice is very limited, there are hardly any of us left. Heck, I'm even related to the Weasleys, however distantly."
"In this case though, Lucius holds the proxy of the Black seat because his wife Narcissa is my closest relation by blood. One of her sisters, Bellatrix, is in Azkaban and the other, Andromeda, was disowned." Sirius shook his head slightly. "I bet that blood-purist ponce was hoping to gift the seat to his son when he reached his majority."
"Draco on the Wizengamot, huh?" Harry scratched his chin thoughtfully. "He's not as bad as his father, but I'm not sure I want to see him with that kind of power."
Sirius nodded. "You see what my dilemma is? A part of me wants to reclaim the seat, if only to spite dear cousin Lucius. Another part of me wants to flip the British Ministry the bird and get a French citizenship. Bugger these fools and their backward policies!"
"You do that and you'll lose any chance you have of getting my guardianship. The British Ministry won't allow me to become a ward of the French," Harry warned him.
"Dumbledore said the same thing," Sirius scowled. "Personally I think the old codger is hoping I'll side with him when I take my seat; give him another vote to add to his faction."
"Yeah, I'm starting to realize he doesn't do anything without an agenda of his own," Harry practically growled, leading Sirius to wonder for the umpteenth time what exactly the old man had done to piss his godson off.
They remained silent for a few moments. Then Harry spoke. "What if you claimed your seat, and decided to side with neither Dumbledore nor Malfoy?"
Sirius frowned in thought. "You're asking me to go neutral?"
His godson nodded. "I'm friends with the daughters of the Greengrass family, and from what I've heard he's the one who heads the Neutral Faction in the Wizengamot. I'm sure he'd be happy to let you join them."
Sirius grinned lecherously. "Friends, huh?" He put up his hands in a calming gesture as his godson glowered at him. "All right, all right. . . ."
He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "The Neutral Faction, huh? That'd be interesting. You know the Blacks have sided with the Dark Faction for centuries, right?"
"Yeah, but you're not a blood-purist," Harry pointed out correctly.
"Yeah, I'm not. You know, you're definitely onto something there, Harry." Sirius let out a huge sigh. "What the hell. . .I'll do it. I'll take the seat and join up the Neutrals. If nothing else I'll be able to stick it to both Dumbles and Lucy, and maybe give Fudge a heart attack or two." Sirius nodded to himself. Yes, it'd be the perfect revenge for all the crap those bastards put him through. He'd create so many problems for those three wankers that they'd rue the day they set foot in the Ministry.
A Black never forgives. . . .and a Marauder never forgets. Unfortunately for them, Sirius Black was both.
"So, enough of all this," he grinned at his godson. "Tell me Harry, you played any good pranks at Hogwarts yet?"
"Well. . . ." he leaned forward. "I ever tell you about the time I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing his own house-elf?"
Sirius' grin just got wider.
"Hey Sirius?"
"Hmmm?"
"You spoke to Remus recently?"
Sirius grimaced at the mention of his former friend. "Nope. Why?"
"Well. . . .you know he lost his job at Hogwarts a week ago. Figured he'd get in touch with you by now."
Sirius and his godson were sitting in his room on the eve of his discharge from St Mungo's, playing a game of exploding snap. The Black heir was due to claim his Lordship in the next two days, and as such was in a rather antsy mood.
"What do you want from me, Harry?" he asked quietly.
His godson sighed softly. "Look, I know you're still mad at him. Hell, if I were in your place I'd be furious too. It's just. . . ."
"Just what?"
"You miss him," Harry said bluntly. Sirius squirmed in his bed when he saw his godson shoot him the same penetrating look Lily did whenever he was being too bull-headed. "It would be one thing if you were glad to be rid of him, but you actually miss the bloke."
"I don't," Sirius said, stubbornly glaring at his cards.
"You didn't have any problems forgiving Andromeda when she showed up a few days ago," he pointed out.
"That's different!" Sirius snapped. "She's my cousin. Granted we were close once, but we dropped out of touch years ago. Heck, I was still in school when she married Ted and ended up getting disowned from the family."
"Remus on the other hand was one of my best friends. The closest thing I had to a brother apart from your father! He should have known better. He should've trusted me!"
"Just like you trusted him when you decided to tell him that you'd switched Secret-Keepers, right? Oh wait. . . .you didn't."
Sirius glowered at his godson. "I admit it alright. . .I screwed up. . . !"
"Yes, yes you did Sirius. You screwed up big time." Harry's glare was much fiercer than his. "You should have taken care of me instead of running after Peter. Merlin's balls Sirius, I just survived an attack from Voldemort. . . .you should've rushed me to St Mungo's before doing anything else. Instead, you dumped me in Hagrid's arms and ran off like a moron!"
Sirius was outraged. "I didn't have a choice, alright? Hagrid said that Dumbledore told him to . . . ."
"To hell with Hagrid and to hell with Dumbledore!" Harry snarled. "My parents made you my godfather. Not Hagrid, not Dumbledore. . . .but you! It wasn't Dumbledore's bloody job to decide where I was supposed to go. But you didn't think about that did you? No. . . .you were obsessed with punishing Pettigrew. You didn't even think to inform the aurors or take any backup with you, you just ran after him and look where that got us all!"
Sirius felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Harry. . . ." he croaked. "I swear I. . ."
At his hurt expression, Harry's anger dissipated. He sat back in his chair and sighed. "I'm not blaming you, Sirius. Merlin knows I'd probably do the same thing if something happened to Ron and Hermione, but you have to stop this. You can't go around hating Dumbledore and Remus when you yourself messed up so badly."
He ran his hand through his messy hair in frustration. "A lot of mistakes were made that night. Dumbledore jumped the gun when he testified that you were the Secret-Keeper based on complete hearsay, Remus messed up when he didn't get all the facts straight; and you didn't exactly help your case either, sitting there and continuously babbling that it was your fault my parents were dead."
Harry sighed once more. "I don't want you to lose yourself in your anger, Sirius. Whatever anyone might say, I know that you're a good person at heart. Heck, if I were in your place I'd probably start tearing this country apart by now." He smiled wryly. "I know you still care about Remus. . . .after all he's the only friend you've got right now. I just don't want you to do something you might come to regret."
Sirius relaxed slightly when he realized his godson really wasn't upset with him. "It's not just the whole Azkaban thing, Harry. Okay. . . .I'll admit it hurts that he thought so little of me, but the real reason I'm so furious with him is about. . . .well, you."
Harry frowned. "What d'you mean?"
Sirius let out a deep sigh. "I spent twelve years in that hell-hole, Harry, and in all those years there wasn't a single day when I didn't think of you; there wasn't a single day when I wished I'd told Hagrid to go bugger himself when he asked me to hand you over."
"You know there's nothing I wouldn't have done to so much as catch a glimpse of you back then. I'd have done anything. . . .hell, I'd have happily spent another twelve years in that place just to be able to see you even once."
"I was unable to check up on you all those years because I was stuck in prison. But what was Remus' excuse?"
He glanced at his godson, whose face may as well have been made out of stone. Looks like he was right when he suspected that his home life hadn't been good. There was no way any normal kid would've been so mature at that age, unless he lived in a home where he was forced to grow up early.
"You know, Remus has always been rather insecure because of his. . . .condition. He was always going on about how James and I seemed to take the regular things in life for granted. But the one time he had something the both of us didn't, he screwed it up."
"He could've checked up on you. Even if he couldn't stay close, he could've at least looked you up maybe once a year. Told you about your parents, about your heritage, maybe taught you a few things. . . .heck, he knows enough about the muggle world to even write to you via non-magical means. But he didn't do any of that."
"Hell, the one time he decided to meet with you, it was while working for Dumbledore of all people. After everything you dad did for him, it was almost as if he needed to be paid just to get in touch with you," he finished with an angry growl.
Harry looked at him in slight alarm. "You didn't actually say that to his face, did you?"
Sirius gave a hollow laugh. "Merlin no, even I'm not that heartless."
"But do you see now why I'm so upset with him? I can forgive Remus for the way he treated me, Harry, but I can't forgive him for the way he treated you." Sirius' eyes blazed with anger. "His behavior towards you is an insult to everything James and Lily ever stood for."
Harry sat back in his chair tiredly. "I know Sirius, I know. . . .believe me, I've thought about all this on more than one occasion; but I didn't have the patience to take it up with him, not with everything else that was going on."
"Someday I'll probably ask Remus why he was so hesitant to look me up all those years. But right, now we need to focus on moving ahead. You, me, Remus. . . .we've all got a lot of baggage that we can't afford to keep carrying around. It's time to let the wounds heal and move on, Sirius."
"If you still find it hard, think about it this way: at least you have Andromeda and me to consider family, Sirius. Who has Remus got?"
Sirius nodded quietly. His godson was right on the money. Once again he wondered what could've forced him to grow up so fast. No child should sound so mature, or have such old and tired eyes.
"What do you think I should do?"
"Get in touch with him, preferably before he pulls another disappearing act," said Harry. "He just lost his job so, I dunno, maybe you could help him find one."
Sirius stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know. . . .I suppose I could offer him a job to clean out my parents' old place."
"Your parents' house?"
"Yeah. You remember what I told you about my mum?"
"Yeah. You said she was a blood-purist and a complete nutjob."
"Understatement of the century," Sirius muttered. "She was obsessed with two things: Blood-purity and the Dark Arts. By the time of her death she had what was easily the largest collection of Dark Artifacts outside of Knockturn Alley."
"Anyways, I figure I could hire Remus to get rid of all things, seeing as he's pretty knowledgeable about this stuff and has some reliable contacts in the seedier parts of town. There're also some pretty valuable books in the library; get rid of the cursed ones and we can make a small fortune selling the rest."
"How long will this take?"
"Years," Sirius shrugged. "The house is big and who knows where my mother squirreled away her stuff. Assuming I decide to sell the whole damn thing, it could take years to evaluate the entire estate."
"Nice," his godson nodded approvingly. "Think he'll go for it?"
"If I word it as an excuse to spend more time together, then yeah, he will. If he tries to act up you could always try convincing him yourself." Sirius grinned at the teen. "You got a way with words, kiddo."
"It's been said," Harry laughed. "Anyways. . . .I'm just glad you're up for it."
"Yeah, well. . .that's only cause you make so much sense," Sirius said as he picked up his cards again. "Besides, I figure since Moony forgave me for trying to feed Snape to him, I should be a mite generous as well, right?"
His godson was silent for a few moments. "What was that just now, Sirius?"
Sirius cursed himself for the slip, trying his best to shield his face with his cards.
Harry's hand moved forward to shove the cards away. "Sirius," he said quietly, a cold look in his eyes. "What was that just now?"
He gulped slightly, trying to not think about how much his godson's eyes and tone reminded him of Lily back when she'd caught him in the girls' showers under James' invisibility cloak, trying to take pictures. That had not ended well for him.
"Well?" Harry demanded.
Sirius Black whimpered in fear. Suddenly, he began to doubt if he'd be able to leave the hospital the next day.
Sirius paced from side to side in front of the fireplace in his new home, shooting a dirty look at his godson every now and then.
"Padfoot?" Harry asked, not looking up from his book.
"Yeah?"
"That's getting really annoying."
"Too bad," Sirius snapped.
With a huge sigh, Harry closed his book and looked up at his dogfather. "Alright, say it."
"What?"
"You've been like this since we came back from Hogwarts. So spill, what's gotten your boxers in a twist?"
Sirius stopped and glared at his godson in an effort to look as stern as possible. "Next year you're going to be transferring to Beauxbatons Academy. I'm not going to have you study at Hogwarts anymore."
Judging from the brat's eye-roll, he was failing miserably. "Why?"
"Why? Why? Merlin Harry, are you insane?" Sirius exploded. "You've just agreed to take part in Tournament that got cancelled because its death toll was too high in order to draw out a Dark Lord who's been after your blood since you were one; and you're asking me why?" He shook his head in wonder.
"I dunno. . . .maybe I caught your crazy?"
"Don't get cheeky with me, you brat! You just agreed to act as bait for the worst Dark Lord the world has ever seen! Clearly, I'm not the crazy one here."
"And don't even get me started on all those. . . .adventures you've had in the first two years. Trolls in the bathrooms? Cerberus in the corridors? Possessed teachers? Thousand-year old basilisks?" He stared at his godson in horrified wonder.
"Okay, calm down. Let's take this step by step."
"Firstly," Harry held up one finger. "You heard what the Headmaster said. There's no way to get me out of the Tournament that doesn't involve the loss of my magic or my life."
"Secondly: even if there was another way, we both know that wouldn't stop Voldemort from trying to kidnap me again. He's persistent as hell and short of killing him, there's no way to get him off our backs."
"And thirdly," he was openly glaring at Sirius now, "I don't want to hear about any complaints about my 'adventures' from a bloke who spent his school days running around with a werewolf every single month."
Sirius was incensed. "And that worked out wonderfully for all of us, didn't it?" he hissed quietly. "One dead, one living hand-to-mouth for the last dozen years, one a former guest of Azkaban, and the last a servant of the very man who killed your parents!"
Both godfather and godson glared at each other for a few moments. Then Sirius let out a huge sigh and sat heavily in his armchair.
"Back when we were your age, we thought we were the smartest kids on the block." He gave a hollow bark of laughter. "We were a bunch of fools, Harry. A bunch of arrogant fools. We weren't unintelligent by any means, but even between the four of us we didn't have a lick of common sense."
"We thought we were bloody invincible, that we could do no wrong. . . .that by itself wasn't so bad since all teenagers think that way, you know. But the problem started when we carried that attitude forward into the real world, in a time of war no less!"
"Sometimes I wonder how things would've been if we actually listened to your mother and grown up a little. If we were a little more cynical, if we were a little more pragmatic, if we were a little less self-righteous. . . .I dunno. Maybe James and Lily would still be alive, maybe you'd have grown around people who actually loved you, maybe. . . ." He shook his head, not knowing what else to say.
For a long time they both said nothing, only staring at the crackling fire. Then Harry spoke up.
"What's wrong, Sirius? You're not usually like this. What's really bothering you?"
Sirius stifled a snort. Just like Lily, nothing got past her either.
"Do you know how your dad and I came to be friends?" he asked quietly. "It was mostly because your father was the only student in the school willing to be my friend. I was the first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor in, well. . . .forever I guess. Guess my Uncle Alphard rubbed off on me more than anyone thought." He chuckled sadly. "My family had a reputation for being the darkest of families, and frankly I don't think anyone expected me to be anywhere else but in Slytherin. 'A snake in lion's clothing', that's what the students used to call me back then."
"I still remember how shocked I was when your dad said he wanted to be friends. He said he didn't care what family I came from, as long as I was clear on what I stood for." He smiled wistfully. "James was always strange that way. He could be a real berk sometimes, but he had a way of making people feel wanted, you know. Never hesitated to go out of his way for them."
"Like with Remus?" Harry asked.
"Exactly," Sirius nodded. "Most people would've distanced themselves from him once they realized what he was, but not James. Nope, he actually wanted to help the bloke. Animagi transformations are hard enough for most adult wizards, but James was stubborn enough to get it done within a couple of years. All because he wanted to help someone he considered his friend."
"My point, Harry, is that I spent my entire childhood, and a good part of my adult life fighting for the Light, largely thanks to your dad. I stuck by my friends, I fought against Voldemort and his supporters. . . .even if it meant going against my own blood. And how did they reward me for that? They threw me in bloody Azkaban!"
Sirius' expression was murderous now. "Crouch and Dumbledore can say whatever they like, the real reason for sending me to Azkaban without a trial was because, in the eyes of the Wizarding people, I was a Black. . . .so naturally I must be evil. What did it matter that I fought and bled for the Light? What did it matter that my godson needed me? No. . . .I was a Black, and naturally that made me a Dark Wizard because that's what was expected of me!"
Sirius looked his godson straight in the eye. "You want to help Bones and Dumbledore get rid of Voldemort, I get it. Merlin knows I want that wanker to suffer as well! But the one thing you have to understand Harry, is that the British Wizarding population is full of sheep. They're fools who're so entrenched in their stupid beliefs of Light and Dark, and so used to having other people do all the work for them, that they'll never even try understand what it takes to actually win a bloody war."
"That's what worries me the most: the fact that someday these people will turn on you the same way they turned on me. You might be willing to put your neck on the line for these people now, but trust me: one word from someone like Malfoy, and they'll start calling you the next Dark Lord and call for your arrest faster than you can say 'unfair'."
There was silence for a few moments before Harry spoke. "Is that what you really think, Sirius? You think I'm putting my life on the line for the 'innocent masses'?"
Sirius gaped at the teenager. "Then what the hell are you doing this for? What in the name of Morgana's saggy tits made you agree to Bones and Dumbledore's insane plan?"
In response, his godson got up from his seat. "Wait a moment." He reached into his bag and after a bit of rummaging, pulled out a framed photo that he thrust into Sirius' hands.
"What's this?"
"Group photo of the entire House after we won the House Cup in my first-year."
Sirius smiled slightly as he looked at the photo. Harry in the center, holding up the House Cup, flanked by his friends. Their bright smiles made him feel flush with joy.
Harry reached out and pointed at one of the more familiar students in the photo. "Hermione Granger, muggleborn. One of smartest students in the school. She's smarter than even I am (even if she doesn't know it yet herself) but she's never going to rise beyond a senior clerk in the Ministry, simply because her parents aren't wizards."
Sirius sighed inwardly. He had an idea where his godson was going with this.
"Katie Bell," he pointed at a slightly older brown-haired girl. "Half-blood. I overheard one of the scouting managers for the Harpies claim that she was one of the most talented fliers he'd ever seen, but she's never going to make it far because her blood isn't 'pure' enough."
"These are the people I'm fighting for, Sirius. Those old farts in the Wizengamot, and those sheep who walk the streets don't matter to me. My friends, right here, are the reason I'm going to fight Voldemort and his death munchers, and win."
"But Voldemort. . . ."
". . . .isn't going to leave us alone if we simply go to France. He'll hunt us down there after he's finished conquering this country, and then we'll have to fight him anyway; we can't run forever, Sirius! And you know something. . . .the people who'll pay the price for his ambitions will be my friends, and all those innocent muggleborn out there. Not the bloody adults in charge of the Ministry, not the sheep public. . . .but the present generation: my generation."
"Taking down Voldemort won't mean anything when the next Dark Lord pops up in the next decade or so, Harry," Sirius argued. "Unless things change drastically for the British Wizarding society, which'll never happen as long as people like Fudge are in charge, your generation is always going to suffer."
"Well. . . .that means we'll just have to make sure Fudge isn't in charge anymore, don't we?"
Sirius stared at his godson in open-mouthed shock. "You think this is some kind of a joke? You think you can replace the Minister for Magic that easily?"
Harry crossed his arms and stubbornly glared at his godfather. "Why not? I've got political mileage of my own, so do you. . . ."
Sirius laughed at the boy's naiveté. "Okay. . .okay, look now. It's true that between the both of us, we've got significant political capital. . . .but it's not that easy, Harry. What, you think you can just go up to the Wizengamot and make a few speeches and they'll just agree to replace Fudge?"
"A vote of No-Confidence isn't that simple to push through, kiddo. Bribes have to be made, favors have to be exchanged; it can take a whole year for even someone like Dumbledore to set up something like that. Take Archer Evermonde, for example: Bloke actually passed a law saying that witches and wizards were forbidden from helping muggles after the First World War, lest they broke the Statute of Secrecy. He pissed off thousands of people who had spouses or relatives as muggles, but still managed to stay in office for ten years. Then there was. . . ."
"Fine, I get your point," Harry groaned. "We can't replace Fudge. Although. . . ." He was thoughtful all of a sudden. "Hypothetically speaking, if we could replace him, who'd you choose?"
"Hmmm," Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully. "If we could somehow get rid of Fudge, then I'd replace him with. . . . .Amelia Bones."
"Madam Bones?" Harry asked in surprise. "Why?"
"Well, for starters she's got a killer rack. . . ."
"You're voting for the DMLE head to be the next Minister because she's got huge breasts?" Harry looked at him in disbelief.
Sirius solemnly placed his hands on his young godson's shoulders. "Someday soon, kiddo, you will understand the value of a nice pair of tits."
Harry sighed loudly. "I'm really starting to understand why your animagus form's a dog, Sirius."
They laughed together for a few moments.
Sirius sobered up quickly. "Okay, jokes aside, Amelia is definitely the best candidate for the Minister's post I can think of. She's good at her job, knows how to make the tough decisions and is one of the few Department Heads I know of who isn't up to her neck in bribes. The only other people who fit the bill would be Arthur Weasley and Dirk Cresswell."
"Mr Weasley's not exactly Minister material," Harry pointed out.
"Precisely, and Cresswell's a muggleborn which means no one's even going to consider voting for him. Amelia, though, she fits the requirements perfectly: she's a pureblood, so the traditionalists won't have any problems; she's from a prominent Light family, so that takes care of that faction; she's not one of Dumbledore's stooges, which means the other factions won't be skittish about voting for her."
"And the best part of all: she's a veteran of the First War, meaning the public will be more likely to vote for her when Snake-face finally shows his scaly arse."
"Damn. . . .you know quite a lot for someone who's been on the Wizengamot only a few months."
Sirius flushed slightly under his godson's praise. "The only problems I can foresee will be from Fudge's supporters. Fudge may be an incompetent administrator, but he's an excellent politician, not to mention power-hungry as hell. From what Daniel Greengrass tells me, for years he's been moving his people into key positions in the Ministry, just in case Malfoy decides to pull his money and support in the Wizengamot."
"So, you're saying that even if Fudge gets booted out, he'll still have some influence thanks to his supporters?"
Sirius nodded. "Exactly. These people will go out of their way to cause trouble for Fudge's replacement. Unless something can be done about them, the new government will fail in a few weeks and we'll be back to square one."
"So how do we take care of these toadies of his?"
"Well. First we'll have to. . . ." Sirius frowned as he realized he'd walked straight into his godson's trap.
"What?" the emerald-eyed boy said innocently.
Sirius snorted and crossed his arms. "Nice try, Harry. But I wasn't born yesterday, not to mention I practically helped your dad perfect that look you've got on your face."
"Oh alright, you got me," Harry grinned. "But you have to admit you've got some great ideas."
"No. . . .just no. I am not helping you bring down the government," Sirius said stubbornly.
"Come on, Padfoot," his godson whined. "It'll be fun."
"No."
"Please?"
"I am not going to fall for that. No way."
"Think of it as a huge prank on the Ministry," Harry suggested brightly.
"What?"
"A prank. Not just any prank, but the biggest prank of the century! A chance to prank Fudge and all those blood-purist bigots at the Ministry." He was practically dancing with excitement.
Sirius had to admit he was sorely tempted. His godson was right. This was the perfect chance to get one over all those bastards in the Ministry, and with Voldemort slowly gaining strength and Harry insisting on fighting him, they needed all the support they could get.
Not to mention the incredible power of those puppy-dog eyes, magnified a hundred-fold by Lily's bright green ones until they were just short of the Imperius curse in terms of power.
"Well, all right." Sirius sighed in resignation. "Just this once, I'll help you overthrow the government."
"Yay," his godson cheered.
And so it was that two extremely intelligent (and slightly unhinged) individuals sat down and made plans that would change the British Ministry as they knew it.
Sirius looked up from his book as Harry suddenly appeared in the middle of their living room.
"Well?"
"Good news. Walden Macnair has just shuffled off the mortal coil."
He glanced at his godson's slightly pale face before walking into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate?"
"Please," Harry said as he flopped down on the couch.
Sirius bustled over with a steaming mug that Harry gratefully accepted. He took a sip and coughed slightly. "What did you put in it?"
"Firewhiskey."
"I'm underage," his godson reminded him.
"You just killed your first Death Eater," Sirius said simply. "That warrants a real drink."
"Thanks," he said, shuddering slightly after another sip.
"You okay?" Sirius asked quietly. He noted the way the teenager's hands trembled slightly.
Harry shook his head. "I made the mistake of peeking into that plonker's mind. The things he did," he took another sip and shuddered again. "Animals, the whole lot of them! Hell, calling them animals is an insult to animals."
Sirius said nothing. He recalled only too well the horrors of the First War, and the kind of things they'd found when they raided Death Eater safe houses. He'd had nightmares for weeks.
It was a few minutes later that he spoke. "Hey, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I can understand killing Macnair, I really do. It's just," Sirius licked his lips slightly. "Why did you have your men torture him?"
"Worried I'm gonna turn into a sadist?" Harry asked shrewdly.
"It's not like that! I. . . ."
"It's fine, Sirius. If someone sat in front of me all calm and collected after doing something like this, I'd question their sanity too."
He sipped his drink quietly. "I didn't have them torture Macnair because I enjoyed it. I honestly don't. But it had to be done for a few reasons."
"Such as?"
"The war's barely begun, Sirius. Sure, things are going easy for us now, but if Dumbledore's prediction is true and Voldemort gets his body back within the year, things are going to get real messy real fast."
"These people we hired: former hit-wizards, mercenaries, fighters-for-hire. . . .I brought them together to do the things that the aurors would be unwilling to do, the things that need to be done. Now I know that they're all veterans of the First War, but a decade of peace will dull even the sharpest of instincts. I needed to reacquaint them with the nasty side of war so that they'll be ready when the time comes."
"At the same time I have no desire to create something worse than the Death Eaters. I need soldiers who can follow orders, not remorseless killers with a personal vendetta against Voldemort and his men. That's why I ran this little experiment: to see how they'd react when under pressure."
"It was a test?" Sirius asked in surprise.
"Yep," his godson nodded. "Part of John McDonald's responsibilities is to send me a report on the team's reactions to their missions. Based on his recommendations, we either retain or dismiss the fighters."
"But everyone already knows that John reports to you," Sirius pointed out. "They'll be careful what they say in front of him."
Harry smirked at him. "What makes you think John is my only source for information within the team?"
"He isn't?" Sirius asked him dumbly.
His godson's smirk grew wider. "Dobby!" With a crack, a rather strangely dressed elf appeared. "There's a file lying on my desk. Fetch it for me, please?"
Dobby disappeared and returned almost immediately with a thick file that Harry passed to Sirius.
"'Blake, William'," Sirius read out aloud. "William Blake is your inside man!?"
"His real name's Lieutenant Commander Barry Marston. Muggleborn, Hogwarts class of 1960. Served as a Medical Officer in the Royal Navy for ten years. Falklands War veteran. Honorable discharge," Harry effortlessly recited from memory.
"How the hell did you manage to get hold of someone like that?" Sirius gaped at him.
"I have my ways," he said with a mysterious smile. "But that's not really important right now. Look at his qualifications."
Sirius read the file carefully. "He's got a degree in Clinical Psychology?"
"He specializes in combat psychology. Did a lot of good work back in the Falklands war, when people like him were in pretty high demand. He's also the one who put together the dossiers for all the other guys we hired, including John McDonald."
"His services must've cost a small fortune," Sirius said in awe.
"Hardly. Turns out he's got one hell of a grudge against Voldemort. His fiancée was one of the people killed in one of the earliest Death Eater attacks in 1970. Practically fell over himself when he found out who was hiring him."
"So he's keeping an eye on everyone?"
Harry nodded and took another sip. "He sends out regular reports about their mental states. He's old, and something like a mentor to them, so they talk a lot."
"Yeah. . . .I remember people saying he was a bit like Mad-Eye: a man who knew real war. People have a tendency to open up to men like that."
"Exactly. They let their guard down and we find out what's going on in their minds. If Blake indicates that any one of them is enjoying their work a little too much, we simply hand them a sack of gold and obliviate the shite out of them."
"Nice," Sirius nodded approvingly. "You really put quite a lot of thought into that."
"Thank you."
"But you're not actually thinking about fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters with just fifteen hit-wizards, are you?"
"Of course not," Harry scoffed. "They're just the red herring."
Sirius blinked. "What?"
"They're the distraction," Harry explained. "Okay, lemme put it this way: Remember what you said was the difference between a good prank and real good prank?"
"Sure. A good prank is one where you don't get caught; a real good prank is one where you use a little misdirection to make sure you're not even suspected."
"That's precisely what I'm doing here. When things start getting heated up, I'm going to use this little team of Vigilantes to keep the Ministry, Dumbledore and Voldemort distracted. It'll keep the attention off me while I focus on my real plans."
"Which are?" Sirius prompted.
His godson's grin was positively feral. "I'm going to do the impossible. I'm going to build an army at Hogwarts, right under the old man's crooked nose; an army far stronger than Dumbledore's precious Order, one that'll rival Voldemort's at the height of the First War."
"An army?" Sirius racked his brains to figure out Harry's thinking. "You mean that duelling club of yours?"
"It's not going to be just a duelling club for much longer. I've used the last year to closely gauge everyone's strengths. I'm going to pick out a hundred of the best fighters in the school and turn them into an elite fighting force."
"Harry, they're just kids!"
"So am I. Besides, today's children are tomorrow's citizens." He sipped his drink some more. "I'm fighting a bloody war against the worst Dark Lord our world has ever seen, Sirius. If they want a peaceful future, they'll have to fight for it by my side."
"You still can't expect a bunch of kids to go up against Voldemort's fighters and win. Seven years at Hogwarts hardly teaches you any effective combat spells," Sirius said reasonably.
"It's the not the number of spells you know, it's how you use them that matters," Harry declared. "And don't worry: I'll be focusing on teamwork to bring the Death Munchers down. I have absolutely zero intentions of fighting a fair battle. We're going to fight as dirty as possible. Hit em hard, hit em fast and get the bloody hell out of there as fast as you can."
"Guerrilla warfare," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Using the Death Eater's own tactics against them."
"That's the plan. Besides," he gave a huge yawn, "I'm going to neutralize the strongest Death Eaters pretty early in the game. With the Vigilantes also working side-by-side, the rest of them should be fairly easy to handle."
"Yeah, I suppose," Sirius watched as his godson set down his cup and curled into the sofa.
"It'll be fine," Harry said sleepily. "We'll win this one, Padfoot, don't worry. . . ."
"I'm sure we will," Sirius said quietly as he watched the Dreamless sleep potion in the Hot Chocolate finally kick in.
He sighed softly as he conjured a blanket and tucked it around the lightly snoring form of his godson.
The boy was so smart. Definitely Lily's intelligence in that one, along with James' confidence. . . .one heck of a combination, really.
His godson was a smart young man, that Sirius did not doubt. But sometimes the boy was too smart for his own good. . .
He gently ran his hand through the boy's messy black hair. What wouldn't he give to just take him and run? Run away from all this. . . .this fighting, this bloodshed, this war.
It's not fair. It shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't be his burden to carry. . .
Sirius snorted slightly. Who was he kidding? He'd had his chance all those years ago. He should have run away with him back then, but he hadn't. It had ended up costing them both a lot.
It had cost him twelve years in Azkaban. . . .and it cost his godson his childhood.
Sirius was no fool. He'd conducted his own investigations into Harry's life with the Dursleys and reached his own horrifying conclusions. Nymphadora's report only served to confirm everything.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair that good people like James and Lily were dead when monsters like Voldemort were still alive. It wasn't fair that innocent children like Harry suffered while scum like Malfoy lived in opulence even after everything they did.
But saying that aloud didn't change anything. His godson's childhood and innocence were long gone. There was nothing Sirius could do about that anymore.
But there was one thing he could do.
He sat down on the couch and put his arm around the boy who was his son in everything but blood.
He would protect Harry. He would stand by him no matter what he did, no matter how dark a path he chose to walk, no matter how far he decided to go in the pursuit of his ambitions . . . .
When his time came and he finally met up with James and Lily, he would fall on his knees and beg their forgiveness.
But until that day he would stand by his godson. Until that day he would support him, pull him back from the edge if he had to. . . .
Either way, he would always stand beside Harry.
Always.
AN: Here it is people, the chapter on everyone's favorite dogfather :)
This chapter contains a shout-out to Rorschach's Blot, possibly my all-time favorite writer on this site.
So yeah, as you can see Sirius is a little off his rocker in the beginning of the story. I've always found it hard to believe that he could survive a dozen years with the Dementors with absolutely no negative effects.
I also tried to look for a logical reason for Sirius' devotion to James. I figured that the effects of his sorting into Gryffindor would've been similar to say, Draco's sorting into the House of Lions, seeing as both families have a history of producing Slytherins.
As you can see, this chapter marks the point where Harry's goals evolve from 'kill Voldy and protect my friends' to 'bring Britain into a new world'. Also, just because he's smart doesn't mean he's got enough brains to figure out how the wizarding government works. An intelligent pureblood like Sirius however, does know a few things.
Regarding the part with William Blake: I hope some of you must have at least suspected something while reading the chapter. After all, would a man known to be as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody allow John to meet their mysterious employer by himself? Unless he knew all along. Then there was the name itself...
Hope you folks understand what I meant by this Harry always having a plan within a plan.
Next up, the chapter you've all been waiting for: Harry and Voldemort go head-to-head for the first time in the graveyard. How will it turn out for the Boy-Who-Lived?