Over the next few weeks, life settled into a routine for the three, helped by Hermione's timetable, which Sirius had checked over and corrected in places before deeming acceptable. Harry had written Ron a letter a few days after everything was settled and had gotten an angry one in return. It had made his chest ache; he didn't want to lose his best friend to grief. But he'd written a return letter the next day and still hadn't gotten a reply.

Having the distraction of schoolwork, Hermione had been able to pretend she was fine quite well, and maybe a year or two ago Harry wouldn't have been able to see through it. But he heard her cry when she thought he and Sirius were asleep and one such night he couldn't take it anymore.

Harry crept quietly along the corridor, taking care not to step on the floorboards that he knew creaked, until he got to the door of his best friend's room and knocked. Receiving no response, he slowly opened the door and walked in to see Hermione wiping her eyes. He sat down beside her, not saying a word, trusting that she would talk to him if she wanted to.

'Does the pain ever stop?' she asked him eventually and Harry had to pause to think about it before answering.

'Well, I think –'

'No.' Harry and Hermione looked up to see Sirius standing in the doorway in his pyjamas. 'It doesn't stop. But you learn to live with it.'

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he instead asked, 'What are you doing here?'

'Couldn't sleep, so I decided to check on Hermione.'

Harry embraced Hermione and let her bury her face in his shoulder. Sirius hesitantly sat down beside them and Hermione pulled them both into a hug, mumbling, 'I'm so lucky to have you two.'

'You too,' Harry replied and Sirius grunted in agreement. They stayed like that for quite a while before Hermione pulled away, and Harry could see her eyes glinting in the dimly lit room.

'Try talking about him,' Sirius suggested. 'It's just, for me it always helps with – you know.'

Hermione nodded, 'Okay.' She paused for a moment and then the hint of a smile stretched over her face. 'So one time my dad and I were playing hide-and-seek and I hid in the bathroom behind the shower curtain. But I left it mostly open and squeezed myself into the very corner so that my dad would see that it was open and not look further.' Hermione chuckled and continued, 'Anyway, I ended up sitting there for at least half an hour. He looked everywhere, even on the roof of our house. Then eventually my mum found me, but she didn't tell him and he eventually gave up and then I came out and told him I travelled to a parallel dimension and that was why he couldn't find me. And he nearly believed it, until we told him the truth.'

Sirius laughed, 'Oh Merlin, that reminds me. James and I once tricked everyone into thinking that James could teleport. Not Apparate, literally just suddenly appear in another place. So back when he was small the Invisibility Cloak was more like an Invisibility Blanket for him, so naturally we took advantage of that and levitated the Cloak so that he could walk into it and it would look as if he just disappeared. Then he'd walk a few steps and we'd levitate it away and he'd reappear. It drove the professors up the wall until Dumbledore figured out that we had a Cloak.'

Harry closed his eyes and listened to the two most important people in his life trade stories, feeling more content than he had in a long time.

...

'I never did ask,' Sirius said the next morning, 'did you find out anything about Ravenclaw's artefact?'

'Nothing much,' Harry replied, trying to remember what Luna had said, 'I asked around and one of the students told me that there was only the diadem – it was lost when Rowena Ravenclaw died and and no one's seen it in living memory. So basically what you told me.'

'Wait. You said "in living memory", correct?'

'Well yeah,' said Harry. Clearly Hermione was onto something, but he couldn't see how that little phrase meant anything.

'So that means we have to talk to the dead!' his best friend exclaimed triumphantly. 'There's plenty of ghosts at Hogwarts and they're all ancient, I'm sure someone remembers.'

'Merlin, that makes sense. And I know who we could ask, I remember there was a ghost Remus would always talk to.' Sirius jumped up from his seat, abandoning his cereal. 'Come on, we haven't got a moment to lose!'

Harry sighed and went to get dressed, grumbling about how there wasn't a time limit on ancient diadems.

...

It felt strange to be back at Hogwarts after they'd left so hurriedly, Harry reflected as they performed the long trek across the school grounds, and he was sure Hermione felt the same. Nothing had really changed, and yet, everything had.

Like Hagrid's hut for instance, which had smoke rising out of its chimney.

'Hagrid's back!'

'Oh my God, he is!' Hermione turned to Sirius, 'Please, can we stop to talk to him?'

'I thought you two were mad that I wasn't letting you in on the Horcrux hunt?' asked Sirius, but he was smirking. 'Fine, you can go, but I'll go along without you, I'm worried that they might kick us out, so best do it quick.'

The two of them ran up to Hagrid's hut and stopped to pant for a moment before knocking. The door opened to Hagrid's beaming face.

'Harry, Hermione, so good to see yeh! Well, c'mon in, then.'

Both of them noticed the scar trailing down the half-giant's cheek, but neither said anything and they followed Hagrid inside, only to stop short when they saw Ron sitting there on one of the benches.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence as the three of them took each other in. Ron looked thinner than usual and had dark bags under his eyes. Clearly the past few weeks had not treated him well, though that was no wonder.

Ron broke the silence, blurting out, 'Harry, Hermione – er – I'm sorry. I know what I wrote was bad. I was just –' he trailed off, and then asked, 'Can you forgive me?'

Harry and Hermione shared glances. 'Of course,' said Harry and Hermione added, 'I get it, you know.'

Ron nodded awkwardly. 'So what's been going on with you two lately?'

Harry motioned his head at Hagrid, who was busy making tea, and whispered, 'Can you come to Grimmauld?'

'Not at the moment, but I can once the holidays start.'

'We should meet up at Diagon Alley,' Hermione interjected, then blushed and added, 'I wanted to get more books anyway.'

Harry and Ron made eye contact and burst out laughing. Somehow, a reconciliation with Ron made teasing Hermione for her love of books more fun.

...

Well, that had taken quite a while. The Gray Lady – or Helena, as he'd found out – seemed to be traumatised by whatever Voldemort had done in order to find out where the diadem was, and it had taken a lot of convincing before she'd told him that it was in the Room of Hidden Things. Luckily for Sirius, Voldemort clearly hadn't thought of anyone else ever finding it, so the diadem had been sitting in plain view right in front of the door.

Harry, Hermione, Hagrid and, interestingly enough, Ron were waiting for him outside, probably having seen him coming out of the window.

'Hi, Hagrid, hi, Ron,' he said and was about to inform Harry and Hermione of his success when Hagrid pointed to something behind him and said, 'Who's that?'

Sirius turned around and groaned when he saw a pink figure in the distance.

'Bye, Hagrid, bye, Ron,' he said and grabbed Harry and Hermione by the hands, dragging them out of sight and Apparating them out as soon as they left the grounds. He really didn't want to face that bitch right now.

Sirius let go of their hands the moment the dark and gloomy hall of Grimmauld Place appeared in front of them, but not before he felt raised bumps under his fingers.

'Harry, show me your hand.'

Hermione elbowed Harry, who stilled, then slowly passed over his hand. Sirius examined the scars – I must not disrespect authority. His voice barely containing his rage, he asked, 'Who did this?'

'Umbridge,' Harry mumbled, looking like he wanted to disappear. Growing more furious by the second, Sirius let go of his hand and nearly yelled, 'How dare you not tell me?!'

In the silence that ensued after his outburst, he took a deep breath and said at a more normal volume, 'No, I understand why, but still, you should have told someone, Harry. You can't let her get away with it.'

'It was only a week of detention,' Harry muttered defensively, 'and they'll fade soon anyway. They're nothing like your scars.'

Sirius faltered. That was low. But he pressed on, 'Well, we have to get back at her. We can't let her get away with torturing students.'

'Sirius, are you sure?' Hermione said uneasily, 'I mean, Umbridge is with Fudge. She could ruin your whole life.'

'Yeah, I agree with Hermione. I'm not saying don't do it, but maybe at least hold off on it until she's – I don't know – weaker?'

So never. Still, Sirius conceded that Harry had a point. Getting himself thrown into prison again would be – well, not very good. But they were getting that vile quill out of her possession either way.

...

Getting the quill had been ridiculously easy and now it laid discarded on Sirius' bedside table as he attempted yet another ritual that would ideally move Voldemort's soul out of one container and into another. Contrary to what he'd told Harry and Hermione, he hadn't destroyed the diadem, but had kept it for this exact purpose.

Currently it was perched upon a metal holder and Sirius was panting as he held the spell that would move the soul to the goblet he'd placed beside it. A dark shadow started to rise from it and the spell wavered as he felt excitement and anticipation coursing through his veins. Maybe this would finally be it and then he wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort anymore. Maybe Harry would be safe at last. Maybe –

BANG!

And the pieces of the diadem were scattered across the floor, Voldemort's soul piece irreversibly gone. Sirius stared at it for a moment, then sank down to the floor and screamed. He'd been so close, so close...

Why was it that as soon as anything seemed to go his way he had it violently ripped from him? The moment things went upwards and he thought that maybe they'd all be all right, life gave him a cruel kick and sent him tumbling back down again. This had been the last spell he hadn't tried and now he didn't know what he was going to do.

Sirius was about to scream again, but then there was a knock at his door.

'Come in,' he called out. Probably either Harry or Hermione heard him shouting. He was proven right when Hermione walked in and said, 'I heard shouting, is everything okay?'

'Oh, er –,' Sirius wracked his mind for a good excuse, '– a test on the Horcrux backfired, that's all.'

'You kept the diadem?'

Sirius nodded.

'Then why didn't you tell us?' Hermione asked suspiciously.

'Didn't want to worry you.'

Hermione's gaze flitted over the remains of the diadem, the goblet and Sirius's face, and he could tell the exact moment she put two and two together. Before he could say anything, she paled rapidly and ran out of the room.

Sirius tried calling after Hermione, but to no avail. He groaned, feeling a weight settle in his chest, and tried to prepare himself for the inevitable conversation.

A moment later Harry burst in, his face contorted with fury, and Sirius flinched. Merlin, he was sorry...

'HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME?!'

'Harry, I just didn't want to worry you, you have to understand –'

His words sounded empty. Wasn't that what Molly and Dumbledore and every other godforsaken "responsible parent" had said to Harry when he'd expressed his wish to know what was going on? What they'd said to Sirius when he'd decided to fight back?

'Understand what? How my own godfather lied to me and set me up for death?'

For a moment, Sirius imagined James standing there instead of his godson, berating him for setting him and Lily up for their deaths. He blinked. 'I didn't set you up for death. You really think I'd do that? After what happened to James and Lily?'

Harry faltered and asked, a desperate gleam in his eyes, 'Then why? Why didn't you tell me?'

'I thought – thought I'd find a way,' said Sirius and pretended that his voice didn't break. 'That you won't have to – you know.'

Sitting on the floor, all he could do was gaze up at Harry with wide, fearful eyes and try not to imagine him dead.

Harry's features softened. 'I'm sorry. For doubting. And – if I have to die –'

Sirius could see Harry's eyes glittering. He sprung to his feet and it felt like making a vow when he said, 'No! I'll find a way! I'll – I'll live in the library, if that's what it takes.'

...

STOMP-STOMP-CLAP! STOMP-STOMP-CLAP!

A drunk Harry slung an arm over a similarly drunk Hermione's shoulders as they sang. Sirius snorted into his pumpkin juice when Hermione buckled under the force and the two teenagers fell over. They had parties like this quite often now, but this was only the second time he'd let them get even remotely drunk, and he'd locked all the Firewhiskey in another room ten minutes ago.

'Sirius, don' you wanna join in?' Harry slurred and giggled immediately after. The sight made Sirius erupt into giggles as well, even though he hadn't drank anything stronger than juice. He supposed he was drunk on excitement. The world may be doomed to fail, but as long as they still had evenings like these, Sirius could almost believe everything was all right.

...

After Harry and Hermione finished explaining the prophecy and the Horcruxes to Ron, the conversation moved on to more fun topics. They'd made sure to put up a few different silencing spells, of course. A necessity when talking about bringing Voldemort down while having ice-cream at Fortescue's.

Hermione had wanted to know how far along the course they were compared to Hogwarts, and Ron had let her indulge for a good twenty minutes, answering questions with a smile on his face, before declaring that he hadn't left school only to go right back. After that Hermione sat back, a freshly bought stack of books by her side, and let Harry and Ron move onto other topics, such as Quidditch.

'Hooper was down with the flu, so I got to play on the first match. Angelina's really mad that you left,' Ron reported around a mouthful of chocolate chip flavoured ice-cream. How he didn't burn his mouth from that much cold, Harry could only guess. 'We lost obviously, Malfoy got the Snitch in no more than twenty minutes. But she did say I did a good job, so that's something.'

At that moment a man in a hooded dark robe bumped past Harry's chair.

'Well, excuse you,' said Harry, but without any real venom. Something was off. He couldn't explain it, but he had a bad feeling in his gut. And he'd learnt to listen to his gut feelings.

'Listen, guys,' he said and apparently there was something wrong with his voice because all conversation instantly sizzled out as his companions turned to look at him, alarmed looks on their faces. 'I think we have to get out of here.'

'What? But why?'

Unlike Hermione, Sirius didn't question him and stood up immediately, sticking one hand into his pocket which, Harry knew, contained his wand. 'If Harry says get out, then we get out,' he muttered while taking advantage of his height to look out over the crowds. Eventually his gaze settled on the same man that had bumped into Harry. It was clear by his expression that he had the same feeling.

Suddenly he shouted, 'Down!' and pulled Harry to the ground right before a green jet of light sailed over their heads. Wasting no time, Sirius threw a table in front of them and shouted over his shoulder, 'Run!'

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and soon they were gone, lost in the sea of people that had thickened the moment they got attacked, people panicking and running for their lives, bumping into each other and tripping over their own feet. Harry shook off Sirius's hand on his arm, jumped out from behind the table they were using as their cover –

'Harry, no!'

– and the man that had attacked them fell to the floor and moved no more. Sirius immediately pulled Harry back and told him, 'Good job, but I will definitely ground you as soon as we get home.'

Harry blocked a curse from another Death Eater and found it in himself to grin cheekily. 'You won't.'

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but then the table exploded and bits of wood fell in every direction. Shielding his eyes, Harry used the commotion to get lost in the crowd as his best friends had done a moment ago. If the Death Eaters were after him then his best bet was making sure they didn't find him.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten to pull Sirius along as well and now he was alone. He heard Sirius calling out his name, barely audible over the din, and called back, 'I'm here!' hoping desperately that his godfather would hear him and come.

'Harry!'

The crowd parted and suddenly Harry could see Sirius, pushing past people to get to him. Harry tried to run towards him, but tripped and nearly fell when a hand grabbed his shoulder and a rough voice said, 'Oh, no, you don't,' into his ear.

The next thing he knew, he was lying in some sort of dungeon and a woman with dark hair and heavily lidded eyes was cackling as she cast the Cruciatus Curse over and over again.

...

A week later Sirius stood in front of Dumbledore and begged, 'Please.'

...

Sirius slammed the door to his house so hard every ornament and every portrait vibrated with the force of it. Fucking idiots. They were supposed to be finding Harry, yet all they did was sit there and discuss morals while shooting Sirius dirty looks. Only Snape and McGonagall were actually doing anything useful, it seemed. For Merlin's sake, if that was the resistance against Voldemort, then how on earth could they ever hope to defeat him?

Hermione met him halfway to the kitchen and followed him. Pushing aside an old copy of the Daily Prophet that announced the escape of ten Death Eaters (what a fucking surprise), he took out a bottle of Firewhiskey and poured himself a glass. 'No good?' she asked and Sirius wanted to scream.

Instead he shook his head and replied, 'No good. It's like they're hellbent on making sure that Harry gets tortured to next century wherever he is and I'm starting to suspect Dumbledore went to the streets, gave out leaflets and took in anyone who didn't smell bad.'

Hermione started to reply, but was cut off by a burst of fire. When the smoke cleared, a letter lay on the table and Sirius felt a flicker of excitement when he recognised the handwriting as Dumbledore's

Another destroyed. Come at once.

A proper smile stretching over his face for the first time in two weeks, Sirius bade Hermione goodbye and Floo-ed over to the Headmaster's office. He was greeted with a rather peculiar scene; Dumbledore was lying in his chair with Snape leaning over him and examining his right hand, which was blackened as though covered in soot.

'I have managed to contain the curse to your hand – for now,' said Snape, scowling in Sirius's direction. He moved and then Sirius could see a ring with a glinting black stone.

'How long do I have left?' asked Dumbledore, as though discussing a weather forecast.

'A year at most.' Snape looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided not to and with one final look of disdain at Sirius left the room. Sirius was slightly thrown by the news that Dumbledore was going to die. He didn't like the old man, but he'd never imagined him as someone who could die.

'What's going on?' he asked now that Snape was gone. 'What's wrong with your hand?'

'I must confess that I did not think of the consequences,' said Dumbledore gravely.

'Consequences for what? Oh, you mean – why the bloody hell did you put that on?' Sirius understood now what Snape had been about to ask.

Dumbledore looked sad and almost wistful. 'I was selfish. Look at the Horcrux, Sirius.'

Sirius squinted at the ring and was able to make out a sign inscribed on the black stone – a triangle, a circle and a line. Oh.

'But I thought it was a fairytale.'

'Did you really? Even when Mr Potter showed you his Cloak?'

It had occurred to him, but he'd been eleven and sceptical and so he'd assumed that the Invisibility Cloak simply had some really good enchantments on it.

Instead of answering, Sirius said, 'So that's the Resurrection Stone, then.'

Dumbledore's expression became, if possible, even more grave. 'Yes.'

'Can I...?'

Sirius didn't finish his question; he was sure that Dumbledore knew what he was talking about.

'They won't be real,' the old man warned, but passed over the stone anyway. He'd probably learnt by now that Sirius didn't care.

'It is safe now, right?' Sirius asserted and only when Dumbledore nodded did he take it and turn it over three times; just like in the fairytale. His hand shook. Even if they wouldn't be real, even if they'd be mere shadows of their true selves, he'd be able to apologise. He'd get closure.

He could feel it the moment they appeared. The air had gained a thick quality and the sound of children playing Quidditch outside had become muffled. Sirius looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

There they were, the people he'd lost. They looked the same as when he'd last seen them, except for a smidge of hair on his brother's chin and a lack of lines on Remus's forehead. They looked happy, peaceful in death without the war to mar them.

Sirius went to James first and let his fingers trace his cheekbone. He wasn't solid, nor was he transparent. His body was liquid-like; Sirius could feel his cheek under his fingertips, but if he moved his hand just a little further it would sink.

'You – I –,' James was there in front of him, the same as he remembered, and Sirius couldn't speak. The image of his best friend blurred before his eyes and he choked out, 'I'm so – sorry.'

'It's okay, Sirius.'

He stood there with his warm smile and accepting eyes, but couldn't he see that it was not okay? It would never be okay. He was so kind to Sirius, so kind, and Sirius had –

'No, it's not. If only I'd – anything, anything but – then you'd – but I –'

Moisture dropped from his chin and he bent his head and wiped his face with his sleeve, as if that would do anything. As if that'd change what he'd done.

'Padfoot.'

The use of his nickname made him want to sob – those lips saying that word with that voice, infused with the meaning that only James could give it –

'Prongs,' he rasped.

'It's not your fault. Wormtail,' a flash of anger shot through James's eyes, 'he's the one who killed us. Not you. But he's dead, and you shouldn't keep on paying for his mistakes.'

Sirius didn't look up, afraid that at last he'd see the expression he always saw on the James of his dreams.

'But what about Harry? I failed him, I left him to be abused.'

'You got him out,' Lily joined in. 'If not for you, he'd still be living with my bitch of a sister.'

'If not for me, he wouldn't have gone there in the first place. Molly was right – and everyone – I'm irresponsible, I don't –'

'Molly and the others don't matter,' James interrupted softly. 'We're the ones you supposedly wronged and we're telling you it's fine.'

'We love you, Sirius,' said Lily, 'love yourself, too.'

Sirius finally looked up and all he saw in their expressions was what he'd heard in their voices – love. Love and acceptance and everything else that never sang to him at night, all those things told him that maybe everything would be okay.

'Thank you. I – Merlin, thank you.'

He turned to Remus.

'I miss you.'

'I miss you, too,' Remus confessed and then added jokingly, 'The afterlife just isn't the same without someone to step into my puddles.'

Sirius laughed wetly at the reminder of their last conversation and retorted, 'Yeah, it's pretty boring here without someone to stick my Spellotape to as well.'

His smile evaporated when he turned to his brother. Neither of them knew what to say and for a moment there was an awkward silence.

'I'm sorry for not being a better brother,' Sirius blurted out.

'It's okay. I know you had a lot on your plate, what with our parents and all.'

They lapsed into silence again. This time it was Regulus that broke it.

'Sirius, look for Harry in Malfoy Manor.'

...

Harry couldn't stop laughing. They'd taken him to the Department of Mysteries and told him to fetch the prophecy for them. And he had...until he'd looked Bellatrix straight in the eyes, smirked and dropped it, grinning as it smashed against the marble floor. Now he was back in the dungeon, waiting for Voldemort to come and kill him. And he couldn't stop laughing.

He didn't mind, to be honest. They'd tortured him so much. For knowledge about that night at Godric's Hollow, for information on the Order and just for fun. Harry hadn't told them anything, but he could feel his resolve crumbling by the second. He knew he wouldn't last long and if he got killed then everybody else would be safe.

'Potter.'

Harry dissolved into a fit of giggles again. It was just so ridiculous; Voldemort was standing there with a constipated expression and murderous intentions, and all Harry could do was giggle.

'Potter,' Voldemort tried again. 'You destroyed the prophecy and I am –'

'Oh, spare me the speech, we all know about how great you are and how stupid I am for opposing you.'

So maybe all the torture had driven him crazy.

For a moment Voldemort looked as if he was debating it, probably trying to figure out whether the whole thing was an elaborate hoax. Then he seemingly made his mind up and Harry hadn't even glimpsed his wand being pulled out of the fold of his robes before a green light was hurtling toward him and he knew no more.

...

A/N: One chapter left!