Neither can live while the other survives.

The words had rattled around his brain ever since the projection of Trelawney had dipped back into Dumbledore's pensieve. Sirius Black wasn't sure how his best friend – James Potter had managed to keep it from Remus and him during the first magical war, luckily, he had also shielded it from the traitorous rat, Peter Pettigrew. The Marauders had hovered around the Potter family, only letting them out of their sight when preoccupied with Order duties. And while he appreciated it more than he could ever tell them, it had left him with precious little time to actually think.

He'd cried by the lake, from what his surname was derived from and for all that he knew he was pathetic for it, it had felt good. What he should do was make his way back to the Slytherin common room and confront his godson. Yet, he stood motionless in the Entrance Hall, torn.

The itch was back. The driving need to do something was tickling the back of his neck, and he knew from the past summer that no amount of scratching would relieve it.

Voldemort was operating openly now, having devoured the soul of Hogwarts's defence teacher, which meant the inhabitants were in more danger than ever. Oddly, the thought wasn't as terrifying as it should've been. His life had been under siege since before he could remember. It felt almost normal that Voldemort was after him. He'd always been and would always be, ever since he had used his powers as Lord Black to annul his cousin's marriage to the Lestrange family and assimilate their vault within his own, depriving the Dark Lord of one of his soul anchors.

Until Harry fulfils the prophecy, his mind said. Sirius contained a flinch, uncaring that no one was around to see him.

Was it absurd that he shied away from even thinking about his godson killing Voldemort? He killed his parents. My best friend. He deserves it, a small part of him whispered. The Dark Lord was a mass murderer, had already killed dozens in his first reign of terror. It shouldn't be difficult to envision him dying. He should welcome it, even. But the thought of Harry doing the killing?

True as it might've been, he couldn't help but grimace at the thought, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "How would he even do it?" he murmured.

"You have to mean it, you filthy blood-traitor!" Walburga's words echoed in his ears. Fresh off seeing his younger brother Regulus skulking in the doorway, forearm blemished from receiving a snake branding, he hadn't even been able to muster up enough disappointment to hurt his parents who'd done the deed of irreparably breaking his familial ties.

And if Harry couldn't kill Voldemort, what would that mean for the rest of the world?

Suddenly chilled, Sirius burst forward into a run. He took the steps two at a time, racing upward. He made it to the third floor in a flash and paused to catch his breath for a moment before tearing off down the corridor once more.

He reached the gargoyle in moments, the fading sunlight casting the statue in harsh, forbidding contrast. Sirius stared up at it for a few moments before, belatedly, realizing he didn't know the password.

"Erm," he floundered before the gargoyle's unseeing gaze. "Don't suppose you can let me in…"

"He cannot." Sirius whirled around as Dumbledore's voice sounded from down the corridor. The Headmaster strode easily along the path Sirius had just sprinted. His robes were a pale grey that seemed to flicker and glow as he passed through the light afforded by the windows. "Thankfully, however, I can," Dumbledore said, coming to rest across from Sirius. "You wished to speak with me, Sirius?"

Sirius met the Headmaster's eyes and tried his best not to flush. Last, he'd seen Dumbledore, he'd trashed his office. He couldn't claim to be happy with the man, not after his brief stint in Azkaban and the many years he had to keep away from Harry, but a thread of shame coursed through him, nonetheless.

"Yes, Albus," he managed after a moment. "If you have time, of course."

"I daresay I owe you far more than a few minutes of my time. If you will." He gestured toward the gargoyle and said, "Mars Bars."

Sirius blinked at the muggle candy Lily had gotten them all to try once as the statue shifted to the side, revealing the spiral staircase.

"I find myself enjoying sweets of the more mundane variety from time to time," Dumbledore said in answer to the unasked question. "It's refreshing not to have to worry about my chocolate running away from me."

He followed Dumbledore up the steps wordlessly and entered the circular office. Glancing around, everything was in pristine condition. How much time did he spend repairing it all? Sirius wondered. He felt shame creep up his neck at the Black madness manifesting in unpredictable ways even as Fawkes trilled a greeting from his perch.

The Headmaster swept his way to his desk and sat behind it. "What did you want to talk about, Sirius?" he asked, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the ornate desk. His eyes missed their distinctive twinkle, his mien serious.

"I... err…I wanted to apologize, professor. For destroying your office," Sirius said haltingly. The thought hadn't once crossed his mind in his mad dash but, sitting here, he knew he should say something about it.

Dumbledore smiled lightly, some of the usual twinkle returning. "Apology accepted. No less than I deserved, I'm afraid, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same. Now, what did you truly wish to discuss?"

Sirius started. Was he that transparent? "It's about the Dark Lord, Albus. And the prophecy."

The twinkle had disappeared once more. "I thought as much. Lemon drop?" Sirius shook his head, and Dumbledore popped a single candy into his mouth. "How can I help you, Sirius?"

"Well, that's just it, sir. I…don't really know," Sirius said. He ran a hand through his hair. "This – the war that is – it's all up to Harry, isn't? I don't even know where to start…"

"If I may interrupt, this conflict is in no way all up to Harry. The Order has been working for months to prepare and now, with the evidence to soon present itself to the Minister, the Ministry will soon to be under new leadership, our allies are growing," the Headmaster stated. "No one is expecting Harry to coordinate efforts against Lord Voldemort."

It was small relief for his godson. "But the prophecy, Albus. All that's great, but if he doesn't…kill Voldemort…well, it didn't sound like anyone else would be able to."

And either must die at the hand of the other…

"How can I help him?" Sirius asked, suddenly desperate. "I've not been there for him – James and Lily…" he trailed off, memories of seared flesh and smoke and screams flashing in front of his eyes at the thought of their brutal demise, friends cut down in their prime. He shook his head, clearing the images of his demons. "Take this unknown burden from him?"

"Your decisiveness does you credit," Dumbledore soothed, leaning forward. "It shows the strength of your character that you desire to take the burden of an unkillable man who, in the eyes of most, deserves death. I'd encourage you not to shy away from such feelings."

"No offense, Albus, but what does character have to do with helping Harry?" Sirius burst out, trying his best not to sound snide. Not like I can character the Dark Lord to death.

Dumbledore only smiled. "A great deal, I assure you." The smile disappeared and he held up a hand to forestall Sirius's rebuttal. "Though I expect that is little comfort to you now. What are you asking for, Sirius?"

Help! "I need to do something, professor. I…" he trailed off once more. He thought of Frank and Alice, of Marlene and James and Lily sprinting through the streets of Hogsmeade, running for their lives. "He's in the open now, not a diminished spirit anymore, which means he won't worry about being discovered by attacking us anymore. I need to protect my godson, Albus. He's a target just like me, but worse, he's unable to protect himself."

Dumbledore was silent, content to stare at Sirius over his half-moon spectacles. "You do have an aptitude for teaching, by all accounts, you've already done so admirably this year for the Order. Members of your squadron. achieved some of the highest completed missions. They would not have been so capable without your guidance."

Sirius shook his head. "I taught them how to survive brief skirmishes. Shield charms and stunning spells." And more than one patronus, his mind supplied, his few months in Azkaban had fuelled his desire to learn the esoteric charm and teach it to his fellow compatriots, remembering Kingsley's Lynx. He felt a flush of pride at the memories that was abruptly quashed by the realization he'd had days earlier. "Albus, Harry needs to learn, to survive the coming darkness."

"Harry isn't a soldier," Dumbledore implored. He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes shuttering slightly as they shifted away from Sirius's. The Animagus wasn't sure he'd ever seen the Headmaster at a loss for words. "Though I suspect it may be a moot point now…"

Dumbledore was silent once more until, "You may have wondered, in these past days, why I did not single the boy out in his adolescence at the tenure with his aunt and uncle. Why, knowing the prophecy, did I not choose to take a more active hand in his education in the hopes of better preparing him for Lord Voldemort's return." Dumbledore sighed, and in that moment, Sirius had never seen him look older. "I have already explained some of this to you, of course, but a larger answer is that I didn't see what good it would do. He is not, nor should he ever be considered, a weapon of war. This conflict is not his responsibility –"

"But it is, Albus," Sirius interrupted. Trelawney's words had made it so. By Dumbledore's expression, he could see the Headmaster knew what he was getting at.

"Indeed, you are correct. It should not be his responsibility; however, the task will still fall on his shoulders, the wizarding world would ask for nothing more. The truth, Sirius, beyond hoping to preserve the innocence of a child for as long as I possibly could, is that anything more would do little else than increase the already unfair scrutiny that he is under," Dumbledore said. "No amount of personal tutelage from me or anyone else could prepare him to battle Voldemort. The chasm is too great."

The Headmaster leaned back and steepled his fingers below his chin. "I do not mean to malign the boys fledgling magical talents. Given enough time, I have no doubt he will grow into a mighty wizard. But Tom Riddle is perhaps the most exceptional student to walk these halls. And, considering the decades he spent abroad, honing his abilities, pitting Harry against him in a duel would be folly."

It was nothing Sirius hadn't already thought of. His tag duel, if it could even be called that, with Voldemort at the Quidditch World Cup with James as his backup had thrown the limits of his abilities into the light. He was good for an Auror at the time, maybe even the best at Defense, with a transfiguration expert to help even the edge but to Voldemort they might as well have been insects.

And yet, "There has to be something we can do, professor," he implored. "Surely there's something we can teach him that will help."

"You will be glad to hear, then, that I had planned to do just that beginning next year, waiting for young Harry's magic to mature," the Headmaster told him, and Sirius felt his heart leap.

He opened his mouth, but was cut off as Dumbledore continued, "But perhaps an adjustment is in order," he said quietly. The Headmaster's eyes narrowed over the top of his glasses, surveying Sirius with an intensity he hadn't felt since he had sent Snivellus to the Shrieking Shack to nearly get bitten by Moony. "It was my hope to shield him from this for as long as possible, however, your inclusion in the fray, taking over Bellatrix's Gringotts account has changed things. You are right, Sirius, in believing anyone that standing with Harry to be targets. He has defied Voldemort, and that is something Tom cannot stand for."

"How is your Occlumency?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject. "We spoke before of your…contentious relationship with Severus, but I wasn't made aware of your proficiency before the lessons ended."

Sirius grimaced. "I turned the Legilimency back on him once," he said, remembering all the negative memories dredged up of his best friend turned blood brother. "But I never got the hang of clearing my mind."

The Headmaster nodded. "I suspected as much. I will procure a teacher for the boy early into this term. Even with Voldemort likely unwilling to dive into his mind after the lengths I've gone to keep an eye on him, I fear it may still be too dangerous for me to assist Harry directly. Please understand, Sirius, that learning Occlumency is of paramount importance for the conflict ahead."

Nodding, Sirius read between the lines. Dumbledore was still hesitant to involve his godson directly and, if he wanted to be taken seriously, he had to hold up his end.

"I understand, sir."

"Good. I suspect we will have to get ministry approval for a time turner, it is absolutely essential that Harry is kept under the radar. In the meantime, this will allow him to review his spell-work, learn occlumency and even get to spend time getting to know you better. The places we will go in this conflict will require you both to be at your best."

Sensing the conversation coming to a close, Sirius rose and nodded once more in gratitude. "Thank you, professor. I won't let you down."

Dumbledore favoured him with a kindly smile. "I have no doubt, Sirius. You never have."

AN:

This chapter is a continuation of chapter 9 - providing a bit of insight into the conversation Albus and Sirius had. I repeat - this ain't no "MANIPULATIVE" Dumbledore. He genuinely wants what is best for Harry. Also, AD doesn't know that Harry is a transmigration of Itachi Uchiha, if he did, he wouldn't be so quick to write him off against Tom Riddle. (:

I would also like to dedicate this chapter to xxmontse31xx for their review motivated me to write and continue this work.

Review, favourite, follow and all that good stuff.

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Till next time.