Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
I managed to scrape some time off studying… ack… died on my first AP, and I'm preparing to die on the Chemistry one. The passing rate is… 40%? *wails* This chapter is longer than most, to make up for the other seven days I'm going to be gone. *runs off to a corner to die*
// … \\ dream
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter sixteen - of spotted ceilings and broken cabs
Sirius leaned in the deeply seated cushions of the divan, the tattered headrest a gnawing into the back of his neck. With the thin hotel blanket draped lightly over him, and the six year old sleeping quietly in its folds, Sirius numbly counted the discolored spots on the ceiling. But when they danced haphazardly over the darkened walls, he began to wonder if they were on the paint or in his eyes.
Sirius blinked the graininess in his eyes away, keeping his hand still so the child wouldn't be jarred.
He was beginning to get used to the dark room. The color black no longer reminded him of Azkaban. Rather, the last time he even thought about that place was over a week ago. He was so caught up with Harry then…
Sirius blinked again, but his eyelids refused to open this time. He pried them open forcefully, the room swimming in his vision and his veins throbbing in his head.
He rubbed his eyes, forgetting the effort to stay still. His hand came away clammy, and Sirius inwardly groaned. Becoming ill was the last thing he needed, with a physically and mentally scarred child on his hands. He knew he should rest, but he couldn't. What if Harry had another nightmare? He had to be there to reassure him, tell him everything was alright, that he'd be okay, everything would be okay…
Distractedly, Sirius rocked the bundle in his arms back and forth, lightly smoothing out the child's unruly hair.
He never felt more defeated in his life. It was reliving James and Lily's death all over again, only it was their son dying. A trapped, lost six year old boy slowly fading away into a shell. He was so deeply scarred, so scalded and burned from those experiences that Sirius wondered if he could ever lead a normal life.
And Harry didn't trust him…
He should take Harry to Remus, to Hogwarts; leave him in peace where he can be tended to without fear. Harry trusted Remus, didn't he? He remembered the child talking about him to Padfoot. Sirius could make sure that Harry had a good home; he could make sure the child was happy. He could explain to Remus, and even if he was sent back to Azkaban, he would have found some semblance of peace. It felt so much like giving up, abandoning his godson.
Sirius rearranged the blankets, and tucked the child snuggly in its folds. Harry had sunk past unconsciousness into sleep, eyes peacefully closed. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to move.
Harry's face twisted into a faint grimace, burrowing himself deeper in the folds of Sirius' shirt.
//
The autumn wind blew the browning leaves in gentle sweeps. Harry stared up at the clouded sky, blind to the people that passed by. They couldn't see him, anyway. A lady in an overcoat ran right through him, her body passing through his like a rippling wave. Her overcoat fused into his arm, and drew out the otherside as if he was only a shape of solid, clear water, leaving behind only the lingering sensation of perfume. Harry just stood still, watching the leaves sway overhead.
Another dream.
He didn't mind dreams. The people didn't acknowledge him, and he preferred it that way. If he could, he would have chosen to spend his life in dreams.
Invisible hands, guiding him. Harry followed them, as he always followed his instincts, picking his way through the brick street of a crowded London afternoon. A gleam caught the corner of his eye, and Harry turned.
A short man with thin flaxen hair and a potbelly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, beady black eyes watery with terror. His right hand clutched a piece of stick, entire body shaking. Harry stilled at the sight of him, inwardly shuddering. There was something about him that brought chills to his stomach.
Another man rapidly approaching made Harry's eyes widen. The pale, blue eyes and dark hair, although shorter and neatly trimmed, the lanky frame…
The stranger…
The stranger looked murderous, eyes burning was an enraged fire that he never even saw in Uncle Vernon. His face was ashen, but filled with such abhorrence that it made the plump, rat-faced man squeak with fear. In two strides, Sirius had caught him by the collar, shaking him savagely.
"You bastard!" he hissed, every word laced with contempt. "You traitor…"
Harry flinched at the fury radiating from the stranger.
"Si… Sirius!! I… I don't know what you're talking about!" the man whimpered, hands fumbling to loosen the man's grip.
Sirius? Sirius Black? That man that Remus said was evil…
Harry paled like a sheet.
Sirius' fingers tightened, his other hand raising a wand in front of his face threateningly. "Shut up! Don't play the fool with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
Peter squeaked, writhing futilely to free himself. The people were oblivious, hurrying through the streets in hope of making home before afternoon traffic.
"I trusted you, Peter," Sirius growled out, his blue eyes darkening to a dull gray. "I told James to trust you."
"I don't know what you're talking about!!" Peter cried, his face tearing up pitifully.
"You betrayed them to Voldermort!" Sirius hissed.
Peter visibly cringed at the name. "I… I…"
Sirius cut him off sharply with a clench of his hand, the glint in his eye almost insane with fury. "I should never have trusted you, I should never have told James to trust you. You deserve to die for what you did!"
That seemed to shake Peter out of his daze of fear. His hand went to his back pocket, but Sirius was too distracted to see. With a sudden upward jerk of an arm, Sirius made a start of surprise and dropped his collar, stunned. A thin line of blood seeped through his sleeve, a gaping wound deep in his shoulder. Peter took a few unsteady steps back, clutching a bloodied knife in his hands.
Sirius snapped out of his surprise, face contorting in almost unrecognizable fury. "You…"
Peter gave a loud sob, "James and Lily," he shrieked accusingly to the crowded afternoon street. "Sirius, how could you?!"
And the dream exploded into shards of light. The faces of shocked pedestrians shattered like broken glass, falling around the child in uneven pieces, leaving black patches in its trail. Harry awoke with a jolt.
\\
Remus paced restlessly along the sidewalk tracing the outer edge of the secluded park. With Harry gone, there was really no more reason he should stay in Little Whinging. But Dumbledore had insisted he should for reasons even he did not understand. Remus found himself scrounging through the streets questioning every nightworker, bus, and taxi driver he could find, hoping, somehow, that he'd be able to find some sign of where the six year old was.
But the chances of finding Harry alive were so slim. Sirius, Remus clinched his fists ate the name he used to react with fondness, probably killed the child the moment he left the Dursleys. And even if he didn't, who knows what he could have done to him.
But another part desperately said otherwise. Sirius had been there for a week and never touched a hair on that boy's head. It didn't make much sense for a convict to escape from prison, already stained with the blood of others to hesitate with a child. By the way Dudley described it, Sirius seemed actually fond of Harry, but what if he was only pretending?
But that's not like the hot-tempered and impatient man. All of this was so confusing. Sirius saved him from the Dursleys when they abused him. He took Harry's clothes and a first aide kit. Perhaps Sirius' motives weren't that sinister, but that was a foolish hope. Who knew what the man who had fooled everyone around him would be thinking? He could have been misleading everyone on purpose.
A thought haunted the back of his mind ever since Arabella voiced it. He knew everyone steered away from it, but it was still there, just lurking in the shadows.
What if Sirius was teaching Harry Voldermort's ways? What if he was corrupting the child to the dark?
Remus shuddered. He tried hard to dismiss it as an impossibility, but there was no other explanation for Sirius' actions. He heard too many horrifying possibilities from the staff, and he found their ideas quenching his hopes.
If those muggle relatives hadn't been so foolish…
The Dursleys…
Remus gritted his teeth. The family was so horrified of persecution they packed their bags and bought a vacation to London for a month. But that was after Remus had pressured them into telling all the details in Harry's upbringing. Remus slowed his steps, sitting heavily on a park bench. He buried his face in his hands feeling as if someone spread silver in his veins. Harry was so young, so innocent, how could they…?
He should have pressed charges… made sure they paid for their crimes.
Damn those muggles…
Damn you Sirius, where the hell are you? If you hurt Harry, I'll…
Remus stood up jerkily. He couldn't sit anymore, he had to do something. All the searches Dumbledore sent had resulted in nothing, but the headmaster was severely hindered by the Minister's denial and unwillingness to act. He had to help, find Harry. Somehow, just somehow, but he knew he couldn't sit and wait.
Remus approached a cab parked casually at the curb, the driver leaning against the open door drinking from a mug. He glanced up when he noticed the other man.
"I'm sorry sir, the, car broke down. Still waiting for the towing truck," the man said, voice muffled by his mug. "Sorry about that, sir."
Remus nodded distractedly, not really listening. He had been detached ever since Harry vanished four days ago, staring off into the distance and wondering if his best friend's son was really dead or alive. He should have told him, however young Harry was. He should have told him the truth about Sirius, at least he would have been prepared. But now, just how badly had he failed James this time?
Remus inwardly sighed, cursing his never relenting fortune or misfortune to survive despite anything and everything that occurred. The wolf bite, James and Lily's death, Sirius' betrayal, Peter's death, and now possibly Harry's. Why was he always the one left? Did something hold a grudge against him?
A small breeze teased his acute senses. Remus stiffed, all thoughts fading the moment he passed an opened door. The air in the car was stale, scents lingering for days in the small compartment. A mix of smoke, a whiff of perfume, the smell of somebody's cat or dog. But one stood out above the rest: the bittersweet tang of blood. Remus choked.
"Something wrong, sir?" the man asked professionally but not really caring about his reply.
"Did you see a man and a boy four days ago?" Remus asked hurriedly.
The man glanced at him in surprise. "I've seen many men and boys since four days ago…"
"A man with black hair, tall… probably wearing some strange clothes. His hair is a bit long, and he has really pale blue eyes, in his mid-twenties. The boy has really messy hair and glasses, very bright green eyes. He has a small scar on his forehead, always wearing old and oversized clothes. He's six, but looks younger. He's… probably a bit injured," Remus continued, his gaze never wavering from the driver's face.
There was a long silence when Remus held his breath. He was sure he was going to choke if the driver didn't speak again.
The man wrinkled his brow. "Oh, you knew them?"
Remus stood up straighter. "You saw them?" he asked desperately.
The driver nodded slowly. "Yeah, at night. The man came in with the boy; he was quite flustered and upset… didn't even know where he wanted to go. He had on these really large clothes that didn't seem to belong to him… came in carrying this thing that looked like a large bundle of jackets of some sort… took me a while to realize it was a boy… didn't even notice he was alive at first…"
*
The dream skewed the timeline in the book on purpose, it seems strange doesn't it? Sirius was too calm. *sigh*
Inverted law of Murphy? Yhprum law? It certainly seems to be the case here. I mean, out of the hundreds of thousands of cabs, Remus just happens to run into the one Sirius was in four days ago. *sigh* But what the hell...
Harry's getting creepy again.
Humm… about PoM. I might accelerate jump start the plot so James wouldn't be in confusion for the next four chapters. It might cut down on the believability, but what the hell… sorry about that.
Sorry about the more 'sorrys' for little Harry, but I really don't want to delete something I already wrote. WS was written in pieces on and off, and when I spliced them together, I suddenly realized much of it was repetitive. The time frame was way too tight. Plus, I tried to write it from different points of view to make the story more dynamic and believable, trying to decide which one worked better. In the end, I used them all… think it just made a lot of people feel bored. But I spent so much time on it, I really didn't want to just throw it out. Sorry for those who just want to wring my neck with impatience.
Sirius seems a bit calm, but I think I already overdid the skin Dursley kill Dursley eat Dursley wear Dursley thing. *groan* that just sounds weird… plus, the poor guy's bordering on a physical and emotional breakdown taking care of little Harry. Poor guy. Harry's a difficult kid.
Remus doesn't think Sirius is innocent. In fact, he thinks Sirius' using Harry as a tool and corrupting him, etc. etc. etc. *cackle* This is going to be fun…
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
I managed to scrape some time off studying… ack… died on my first AP, and I'm preparing to die on the Chemistry one. The passing rate is… 40%? *wails* This chapter is longer than most, to make up for the other seven days I'm going to be gone. *runs off to a corner to die*
// … \\ dream
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter sixteen - of spotted ceilings and broken cabs
Sirius leaned in the deeply seated cushions of the divan, the tattered headrest a gnawing into the back of his neck. With the thin hotel blanket draped lightly over him, and the six year old sleeping quietly in its folds, Sirius numbly counted the discolored spots on the ceiling. But when they danced haphazardly over the darkened walls, he began to wonder if they were on the paint or in his eyes.
Sirius blinked the graininess in his eyes away, keeping his hand still so the child wouldn't be jarred.
He was beginning to get used to the dark room. The color black no longer reminded him of Azkaban. Rather, the last time he even thought about that place was over a week ago. He was so caught up with Harry then…
Sirius blinked again, but his eyelids refused to open this time. He pried them open forcefully, the room swimming in his vision and his veins throbbing in his head.
He rubbed his eyes, forgetting the effort to stay still. His hand came away clammy, and Sirius inwardly groaned. Becoming ill was the last thing he needed, with a physically and mentally scarred child on his hands. He knew he should rest, but he couldn't. What if Harry had another nightmare? He had to be there to reassure him, tell him everything was alright, that he'd be okay, everything would be okay…
Distractedly, Sirius rocked the bundle in his arms back and forth, lightly smoothing out the child's unruly hair.
He never felt more defeated in his life. It was reliving James and Lily's death all over again, only it was their son dying. A trapped, lost six year old boy slowly fading away into a shell. He was so deeply scarred, so scalded and burned from those experiences that Sirius wondered if he could ever lead a normal life.
And Harry didn't trust him…
He should take Harry to Remus, to Hogwarts; leave him in peace where he can be tended to without fear. Harry trusted Remus, didn't he? He remembered the child talking about him to Padfoot. Sirius could make sure that Harry had a good home; he could make sure the child was happy. He could explain to Remus, and even if he was sent back to Azkaban, he would have found some semblance of peace. It felt so much like giving up, abandoning his godson.
Sirius rearranged the blankets, and tucked the child snuggly in its folds. Harry had sunk past unconsciousness into sleep, eyes peacefully closed. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to move.
Harry's face twisted into a faint grimace, burrowing himself deeper in the folds of Sirius' shirt.
//
The autumn wind blew the browning leaves in gentle sweeps. Harry stared up at the clouded sky, blind to the people that passed by. They couldn't see him, anyway. A lady in an overcoat ran right through him, her body passing through his like a rippling wave. Her overcoat fused into his arm, and drew out the otherside as if he was only a shape of solid, clear water, leaving behind only the lingering sensation of perfume. Harry just stood still, watching the leaves sway overhead.
Another dream.
He didn't mind dreams. The people didn't acknowledge him, and he preferred it that way. If he could, he would have chosen to spend his life in dreams.
Invisible hands, guiding him. Harry followed them, as he always followed his instincts, picking his way through the brick street of a crowded London afternoon. A gleam caught the corner of his eye, and Harry turned.
A short man with thin flaxen hair and a potbelly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, beady black eyes watery with terror. His right hand clutched a piece of stick, entire body shaking. Harry stilled at the sight of him, inwardly shuddering. There was something about him that brought chills to his stomach.
Another man rapidly approaching made Harry's eyes widen. The pale, blue eyes and dark hair, although shorter and neatly trimmed, the lanky frame…
The stranger…
The stranger looked murderous, eyes burning was an enraged fire that he never even saw in Uncle Vernon. His face was ashen, but filled with such abhorrence that it made the plump, rat-faced man squeak with fear. In two strides, Sirius had caught him by the collar, shaking him savagely.
"You bastard!" he hissed, every word laced with contempt. "You traitor…"
Harry flinched at the fury radiating from the stranger.
"Si… Sirius!! I… I don't know what you're talking about!" the man whimpered, hands fumbling to loosen the man's grip.
Sirius? Sirius Black? That man that Remus said was evil…
Harry paled like a sheet.
Sirius' fingers tightened, his other hand raising a wand in front of his face threateningly. "Shut up! Don't play the fool with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
Peter squeaked, writhing futilely to free himself. The people were oblivious, hurrying through the streets in hope of making home before afternoon traffic.
"I trusted you, Peter," Sirius growled out, his blue eyes darkening to a dull gray. "I told James to trust you."
"I don't know what you're talking about!!" Peter cried, his face tearing up pitifully.
"You betrayed them to Voldermort!" Sirius hissed.
Peter visibly cringed at the name. "I… I…"
Sirius cut him off sharply with a clench of his hand, the glint in his eye almost insane with fury. "I should never have trusted you, I should never have told James to trust you. You deserve to die for what you did!"
That seemed to shake Peter out of his daze of fear. His hand went to his back pocket, but Sirius was too distracted to see. With a sudden upward jerk of an arm, Sirius made a start of surprise and dropped his collar, stunned. A thin line of blood seeped through his sleeve, a gaping wound deep in his shoulder. Peter took a few unsteady steps back, clutching a bloodied knife in his hands.
Sirius snapped out of his surprise, face contorting in almost unrecognizable fury. "You…"
Peter gave a loud sob, "James and Lily," he shrieked accusingly to the crowded afternoon street. "Sirius, how could you?!"
And the dream exploded into shards of light. The faces of shocked pedestrians shattered like broken glass, falling around the child in uneven pieces, leaving black patches in its trail. Harry awoke with a jolt.
\\
Remus paced restlessly along the sidewalk tracing the outer edge of the secluded park. With Harry gone, there was really no more reason he should stay in Little Whinging. But Dumbledore had insisted he should for reasons even he did not understand. Remus found himself scrounging through the streets questioning every nightworker, bus, and taxi driver he could find, hoping, somehow, that he'd be able to find some sign of where the six year old was.
But the chances of finding Harry alive were so slim. Sirius, Remus clinched his fists ate the name he used to react with fondness, probably killed the child the moment he left the Dursleys. And even if he didn't, who knows what he could have done to him.
But another part desperately said otherwise. Sirius had been there for a week and never touched a hair on that boy's head. It didn't make much sense for a convict to escape from prison, already stained with the blood of others to hesitate with a child. By the way Dudley described it, Sirius seemed actually fond of Harry, but what if he was only pretending?
But that's not like the hot-tempered and impatient man. All of this was so confusing. Sirius saved him from the Dursleys when they abused him. He took Harry's clothes and a first aide kit. Perhaps Sirius' motives weren't that sinister, but that was a foolish hope. Who knew what the man who had fooled everyone around him would be thinking? He could have been misleading everyone on purpose.
A thought haunted the back of his mind ever since Arabella voiced it. He knew everyone steered away from it, but it was still there, just lurking in the shadows.
What if Sirius was teaching Harry Voldermort's ways? What if he was corrupting the child to the dark?
Remus shuddered. He tried hard to dismiss it as an impossibility, but there was no other explanation for Sirius' actions. He heard too many horrifying possibilities from the staff, and he found their ideas quenching his hopes.
If those muggle relatives hadn't been so foolish…
The Dursleys…
Remus gritted his teeth. The family was so horrified of persecution they packed their bags and bought a vacation to London for a month. But that was after Remus had pressured them into telling all the details in Harry's upbringing. Remus slowed his steps, sitting heavily on a park bench. He buried his face in his hands feeling as if someone spread silver in his veins. Harry was so young, so innocent, how could they…?
He should have pressed charges… made sure they paid for their crimes.
Damn those muggles…
Damn you Sirius, where the hell are you? If you hurt Harry, I'll…
Remus stood up jerkily. He couldn't sit anymore, he had to do something. All the searches Dumbledore sent had resulted in nothing, but the headmaster was severely hindered by the Minister's denial and unwillingness to act. He had to help, find Harry. Somehow, just somehow, but he knew he couldn't sit and wait.
Remus approached a cab parked casually at the curb, the driver leaning against the open door drinking from a mug. He glanced up when he noticed the other man.
"I'm sorry sir, the, car broke down. Still waiting for the towing truck," the man said, voice muffled by his mug. "Sorry about that, sir."
Remus nodded distractedly, not really listening. He had been detached ever since Harry vanished four days ago, staring off into the distance and wondering if his best friend's son was really dead or alive. He should have told him, however young Harry was. He should have told him the truth about Sirius, at least he would have been prepared. But now, just how badly had he failed James this time?
Remus inwardly sighed, cursing his never relenting fortune or misfortune to survive despite anything and everything that occurred. The wolf bite, James and Lily's death, Sirius' betrayal, Peter's death, and now possibly Harry's. Why was he always the one left? Did something hold a grudge against him?
A small breeze teased his acute senses. Remus stiffed, all thoughts fading the moment he passed an opened door. The air in the car was stale, scents lingering for days in the small compartment. A mix of smoke, a whiff of perfume, the smell of somebody's cat or dog. But one stood out above the rest: the bittersweet tang of blood. Remus choked.
"Something wrong, sir?" the man asked professionally but not really caring about his reply.
"Did you see a man and a boy four days ago?" Remus asked hurriedly.
The man glanced at him in surprise. "I've seen many men and boys since four days ago…"
"A man with black hair, tall… probably wearing some strange clothes. His hair is a bit long, and he has really pale blue eyes, in his mid-twenties. The boy has really messy hair and glasses, very bright green eyes. He has a small scar on his forehead, always wearing old and oversized clothes. He's six, but looks younger. He's… probably a bit injured," Remus continued, his gaze never wavering from the driver's face.
There was a long silence when Remus held his breath. He was sure he was going to choke if the driver didn't speak again.
The man wrinkled his brow. "Oh, you knew them?"
Remus stood up straighter. "You saw them?" he asked desperately.
The driver nodded slowly. "Yeah, at night. The man came in with the boy; he was quite flustered and upset… didn't even know where he wanted to go. He had on these really large clothes that didn't seem to belong to him… came in carrying this thing that looked like a large bundle of jackets of some sort… took me a while to realize it was a boy… didn't even notice he was alive at first…"
*
The dream skewed the timeline in the book on purpose, it seems strange doesn't it? Sirius was too calm. *sigh*
Inverted law of Murphy? Yhprum law? It certainly seems to be the case here. I mean, out of the hundreds of thousands of cabs, Remus just happens to run into the one Sirius was in four days ago. *sigh* But what the hell...
Harry's getting creepy again.
Humm… about PoM. I might accelerate jump start the plot so James wouldn't be in confusion for the next four chapters. It might cut down on the believability, but what the hell… sorry about that.
Sorry about the more 'sorrys' for little Harry, but I really don't want to delete something I already wrote. WS was written in pieces on and off, and when I spliced them together, I suddenly realized much of it was repetitive. The time frame was way too tight. Plus, I tried to write it from different points of view to make the story more dynamic and believable, trying to decide which one worked better. In the end, I used them all… think it just made a lot of people feel bored. But I spent so much time on it, I really didn't want to just throw it out. Sorry for those who just want to wring my neck with impatience.
Sirius seems a bit calm, but I think I already overdid the skin Dursley kill Dursley eat Dursley wear Dursley thing. *groan* that just sounds weird… plus, the poor guy's bordering on a physical and emotional breakdown taking care of little Harry. Poor guy. Harry's a difficult kid.
Remus doesn't think Sirius is innocent. In fact, he thinks Sirius' using Harry as a tool and corrupting him, etc. etc. etc. *cackle* This is going to be fun…