I must apologise profusely for not updating this story for ages. Teachers
seem to enjoy giving tonnes of work just before the work, but now I'm on
holiday I will try and update more often.
This is a very short chapter, but will make sense later.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise and anything that you've seen before its not intentionally copied and is coincidence.
Chapter 2
A man arrived at the Weasley's house. He had been there many times before, and would come again many times in the future. His name was Sirius Black. He was known throughout the wizarding world. He was a famous murderer, and was reportedly insane. Pity it wasn't true, or life might have been easier for him. But when an innocent man with a fierce temper is locked up wrongly in Azkaban for twelve years, it makes him want to get revenge and retribution. Sirius Black did. But he wasn't at the Weasley's to get it. They, like so many others, had thought he was a murderer, and a servant of the dark lord, until they learned the truth a few weeks ago. Now they were keen to help. Sirius was grateful; he liked the Weasley's.
He let himself into the house, as he had a key, but was surprised to find Mr and Mrs Weasley awake, for it was late.
"What's happened?" He asked in a concerned voice, for these days anything could have.
"Oh, there were some children, with a sick friend Molly's helped. We've let them stay here the night.
"Arthur, how could you be so stupid?! They could be Death Eaters. Where are they?" Roared Sirius. Security had to be tight, he thought. How could they be so stupid as to let perfect strangers into their house?
Sirius Black strode into the Weasley' living room, and went pale. There were four sleeping figures that he recognised. One of his best friends daughter lay nearest the door. Wary and alert even in her sleep. He walked slowly back into the kitchen and put his head on the table.
"Oh God."
"Sirius, what is it?"
"Oh God," he repeated, not lifting his head off the table.
"What's going on?"
"I can't believe it's happening already," Sirius said half to himself, "It's not time, I'm not ready."
"What aren't you ready for?" Mr Weasley demanded, "Do you know these children?"
"Oh yes. I know them better than they know themselves."
And so he began to tell his story.
It was quite a long story, but it gripped them, for it was interesting. It told of power, of good and evil, of places far and near, of times gone, times feared, and times yet to come. It was the tale of people they knew, people they had read about, and complete strangers. It followed their fortunes and misfortunes. It explained things and confused matters. But now they understood, at least, and could help.
Sirius sat back.
"And these children.?" asked Arthur.
"They are totally involved, yet they know nothing. Strange isn't it," said Sirius.
The Weasley's only looked at him. There was silence. Then Sirius broke it.
"Well I'm going to bed. Please don't say anything to them; it's my duty to do that. Sleep well," and with that he went upstairs to his small room at the top of the house.
He didn't go to sleep for a while, he was but he had to think of his responsibilities. For these children were now his. How was he going to break it to them? Would they understand? He thought back when it had been broken to him, not long after his twelfth birthday. He certainty hadn't understood, but then there hadn't been any immediate need for them to understand. And then there was Philip; he'd have to see him again. There was a lot unresolved there. And how would he fit this into Harry's version of his father? This was too hard. This wasn't what he wanted, or could cope with at the moment. But he knew he must-after a sleep of course.
This is a very short chapter, but will make sense later.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise and anything that you've seen before its not intentionally copied and is coincidence.
Chapter 2
A man arrived at the Weasley's house. He had been there many times before, and would come again many times in the future. His name was Sirius Black. He was known throughout the wizarding world. He was a famous murderer, and was reportedly insane. Pity it wasn't true, or life might have been easier for him. But when an innocent man with a fierce temper is locked up wrongly in Azkaban for twelve years, it makes him want to get revenge and retribution. Sirius Black did. But he wasn't at the Weasley's to get it. They, like so many others, had thought he was a murderer, and a servant of the dark lord, until they learned the truth a few weeks ago. Now they were keen to help. Sirius was grateful; he liked the Weasley's.
He let himself into the house, as he had a key, but was surprised to find Mr and Mrs Weasley awake, for it was late.
"What's happened?" He asked in a concerned voice, for these days anything could have.
"Oh, there were some children, with a sick friend Molly's helped. We've let them stay here the night.
"Arthur, how could you be so stupid?! They could be Death Eaters. Where are they?" Roared Sirius. Security had to be tight, he thought. How could they be so stupid as to let perfect strangers into their house?
Sirius Black strode into the Weasley' living room, and went pale. There were four sleeping figures that he recognised. One of his best friends daughter lay nearest the door. Wary and alert even in her sleep. He walked slowly back into the kitchen and put his head on the table.
"Oh God."
"Sirius, what is it?"
"Oh God," he repeated, not lifting his head off the table.
"What's going on?"
"I can't believe it's happening already," Sirius said half to himself, "It's not time, I'm not ready."
"What aren't you ready for?" Mr Weasley demanded, "Do you know these children?"
"Oh yes. I know them better than they know themselves."
And so he began to tell his story.
It was quite a long story, but it gripped them, for it was interesting. It told of power, of good and evil, of places far and near, of times gone, times feared, and times yet to come. It was the tale of people they knew, people they had read about, and complete strangers. It followed their fortunes and misfortunes. It explained things and confused matters. But now they understood, at least, and could help.
Sirius sat back.
"And these children.?" asked Arthur.
"They are totally involved, yet they know nothing. Strange isn't it," said Sirius.
The Weasley's only looked at him. There was silence. Then Sirius broke it.
"Well I'm going to bed. Please don't say anything to them; it's my duty to do that. Sleep well," and with that he went upstairs to his small room at the top of the house.
He didn't go to sleep for a while, he was but he had to think of his responsibilities. For these children were now his. How was he going to break it to them? Would they understand? He thought back when it had been broken to him, not long after his twelfth birthday. He certainty hadn't understood, but then there hadn't been any immediate need for them to understand. And then there was Philip; he'd have to see him again. There was a lot unresolved there. And how would he fit this into Harry's version of his father? This was too hard. This wasn't what he wanted, or could cope with at the moment. But he knew he must-after a sleep of course.
