Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
There's a time discrepancy in his story… The second and third scene takes place before Remus is there, but its spliced between the two scenes, but just pretend it makes sense. Sorry about that…
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty - of dreaming of birthdays
"He has the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. It's a pity he's so weak. That man rushed him in at two in the morning and drove us all mad running around with towels, hot water, and the like. He had to call a doctor too, that was how ill the child was."
It was Harry. And Sirius was helping him. Sirius tried to save him.
Remus let a small sigh of relief, façade slipping altogether.
"He's ill?" Remus echoed.
Could Harry's condition be as serious as she described? He hadn't thought it was that grave…
He was sure if the lady had glanced at him then, she would have declared him a ghost with the extent the color drained from his face.
The lady sighed again, "Yes, I'm not sure about the details, but it's not contagious, don't worry. I didn't hear what the doctor said, but it seems that the boy was…" she lowered her voice mysteriously. "abused."
Remus' chest clinched painfully.
"That man has been taking good care of him, right?" he asked shakily.
"Yes, as far as I know. I don't believe it was him who hurt the poor child. That man has been by his side day and night since they came. He had to practically feed the boy a few times," the lady smiled softly at the memory. "The little boy was so embarrassed, but you could tell he loved his father very much. If all fathers would be that attentive to their children…" she sighed.
Remus nearly tripped in shock at her words. James and Lily's murderer, the traitor, trying everything he could do to save the one boy that was his downfall? How could that be possible? Did Sirius have really want to use Harry as a tool, as Arabella described? That was the only plausible explanation for his actions.
Whatever she said after that, Remus couldn't remember. It was all a haze, following the lady into his room. He wasn't even sure of the color of his bed or the walls. Numbly, he took the key from her hands and gave her a rather forced smile.
The whirlwind of thoughts and confusion was so strong that it just became a blur.
Sirius was helping Harry.
Which room are they in, I wonder? They're all in the first story…
Sirius had been taking care of him. He even called a doctor for him and treating him like his own son.
I wonder how Sirius will react when he sees me…
But Sirius did rescue Harry from the Dursleys. What if he really had ulterior motives?
Sirius, what are you trying to pull? Remus desperately wondered.
Harry closed his eyes in an imitation of sleep, muffling one ear against the pillow and covering the other with the uncast hand. He couldn't seem to move his neck enough to drag the cushion over his head; the gash stung far too much after several days of laying on it. The flash of light illuminated the curtains with an eerie brightness, making shadows dance across waxy walls, so bright he could even sense it behind closed lids. Harry stiffened, bracing himself for the thunder that followed.
It wasn't that he was afraid of thunder, but it was the voices that those rippling light always left in its wake. Every time the skies screamed, he would have odd memories of a woman pleading and a green light flooding his vision. He could never sleep during those nights.
A low rumble shook the glass.
Harry flinched. The figure beside him shifted immediately, and a weight was at the edge of his bed. There was a hesitant though on his forehead, as if he was afraid to disturb him. It still took a lot of self control not to cringe in response; he knew the person meant no harm, but it was so difficult to break the instinct.
"Can't sleep?" Sirius asked quietly. "Does the storm bother you?"
Harry blinked, trying to bring the face into focus, a bit disoriented at the tone.
It had been two days since he gained a godfather, and he still had trouble adjusting. Ever since he could remember, he had always wished for some long lost relative to rescue him from the Dursleys. Anyone, he didn't even care who. After Uncle Vernon was especially angry, Harry would huddle in a corner of the cupboard and think about a faceless person visiting him the next day; those imaginations kept the tears at bay, kept him from falling completely. But he never actually believed they could be true.
And when that wish suddenly came true, Harry was caught between joy and fear.
Did Sirius help him because he was his godfather? Dudley didn't have a godfather, so Harry wasn't sure. But whenever he got sick, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia waited on him hand and foot. But the differences between him and his cousin were so great that Harry never really thought about being treated like that. But now, he couldn't imagine what it would be like if Sirius wasn't there and he was still at the Dursleys.
But what if Sirius suddenly thought that Harry was a freak, like Uncle Vernon? What if he realized that Harry was a worthless, annoying child who didn't deserve any attention? Would he leave? But Harry wouldn't bring himself to believe someone so kind would throw him away. Padfoot didn't, so Sirius wouldn't either. Harry had no idea why he often compared Padfoot's actions with his godfather's, seeing that he wasn't human, but it was so instinctive.
He abruptly remembered Sirius was still waiting for a response, and hastily shook his head.
"Alright," But Sirius seemed unconvinced, expression clouding in even more concern than before.
"It's just that… it the light reminds me of something…" Harry said, feeling an odd obligation to explain when his godfather seemed so worried. "I can't remember the details…"
"Halloween," Sirius suddenly breathed, paling as he sank back against the headboard. "There was a storm that night."
Those words made no sense to the child, but that wasn't what he was distracted by. Sirius seemed pained again, as if there was a demon eating at him from the inside. Harry noticed, not for the first time, the weariness in his countenance, and the sunk rings around his eyes.
"You look tired," Harry blurted out suddenly, after a few minutes of tense silence.
Sirius looked taken aback at his remark, and he stared at him with a sort of incredulity as if he didn't quite believe Harry was there. He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, and forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. You need to get some sleep."
He stood again, purposefully avoiding Harry's eyes as he tucked the blankets snugly around him. Harry chewed his lip guiltily as he watched his godfather. Sirius had gone from an unusually thin to unhealthily undernourished. His shoulder length hair fell in thick, tangled strands, and his paleness was close to matching the child's. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was because of him.
"Sorry," Harry whispered brokenly.
Sirius stiffened at the word, eyes wide with disbelief. "What…? Harry what are you talking about?"
Harry shook his head, throat constricting so tightly that he could barely breathe. He jerked forward abruptly, and buried his face against Sirius shoulder in an action that surprised them both. "Sorry! Sorry… that you have to take care of me… I'm so sorry! I… I'm always making you sad… I…"
"God, Harry… please, no," Sirius choked out, so strained with pain that it made Harry flinch. Arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly that his back screamed in protest, but Harry barely even registered it. There was a weight as his godfather buried his face in his hair, completely crushing him against his shirt. "No, Harry please don't apologize. No, no, no, you don't understand…"
//
Harry shielded his eyes against the blinding summer sun, watching the passing crowd with a mixture of awe and fear. The walls were tall around his head, and he had to stare straight above him to see the curve of the arch.
A part of Harry's mind smiled. He knew this place. He dreamt about it before. And this was a dream he liked, but he could never remember why. The details were always lost, but something about this dream kept coming back to haunt him. What was it…?
Voices intertwined in an endless echo through the narrow, cobblestone streets reached him clearly. Harry shrank back, intimidated. He never liked crowds; they were too loud, too frighteningly loud, just like Uncle Vernon when he was angry…
Something soft and silky brushed his arm. Harry turned, smiling in relief when he noticed the towering form of Padfoot beside him. It wasn't surprising to see him in this dream. Now that he thought about it, Padfoot was always in this dream, he just didn't remember. Perhaps that's why he seemed so familiar.
Padfoot nudged his shoulder encouragingly, offering comfort and urging him to step out into the street. Harry shook his head, shrinking back behind the wall. The dog seemed to sigh resignedly.
Padfoot took a few steps back, and instantly, his body began to change. It happened so quickly, yet it seemed so slow at the same time. The fur vanished, and skin took its place. Padfoot grew longer and narrower, his nose pulling into his face, and the paws lengthening into fingers. Seconds later, a man stood in its place. A man with black hair, pale blue eyes, wearing a long cloak that didn't seem to be the natural fashion that Harry usually saw.
Sirius…
Harry should have been shocked at the sudden change, but he wasn't. He just smiled widely and took the proffered hand. Without protest, he followed Padfoot, or was it Sirius? into the thickly packed street. A tall, white, classically designed building towered overhead in the distance. The trail was curved haphazardly, shops crowded into every available corner. It looked like an ancient mall without the overhead ceiling, together with rotting wooden signs in front of every store and glass windows that fractured light unevenly.
Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions said one sign.
Eelops Owl Emporium said another.
One store that stood out distinctly in his mind was the musty, dark bookstore that looked like a library all stuffed into Dudley's room. Books stuck out from every crack and corner imaginable, and some books chased each other or held long debates of which one was more important. Harry stared at everything and anything with fascination.
Suddenly, he was very much aware of how tightly Sirius was holding his hand. Harry glanced at him questioningly, noticing for the first time the eyes watching them. The noise subsided as they neared, whispers following their passage.
"Blimey, that's Harry Potter!"
"The Harry Potter?"
"…just a little boy… so hard to imagine…"
They watched him with a strange foreign expression, it seemed to be… reverence? But to Sirius, they scowled and hissed.
"Sirius Black!!"
"… he's innocent!"
"…you never know. He could be lying…"
"Someone get Harry Potter away from him…"
Sirius placed an arm around him defensively, glaring at those who stared. Harry cringed from those stares, paling in embarrassment and some fear when he realized they were speaking about him. He buried his face in the folds of Sirius' cloak, trying to hide. He shivered when some enraged words and shocked gasps reached his ears.
"The poor boy! He doesn't even know he's being led by his own parent's murderer…"
"Hush!"
"… traitor to his own parents! It's cruel!"
"Quiet! They've…"
Sirius' arm jerked convulsively. He lifted him hastily, and half walked, half ran down the street away from the low whispered and enraged glares.
"Don't worry about them," Sirius whispered, although he sounded bitterly aggravated. "Ignore what they say."
Harry nodded. He trusted him. It was so instinctive.
He looked over Sirius' shoulder as they walked through the teeming street, to a display window packet thickly with people. Children ranging from early to late teens plastered their faces against it as if what lay inside was their salvation. The crowds parted like the sea before them with just one glance at his godfather, scurried away to avoid eye contact. Harry blinked at them in confusion, then at Sirius. But when the older man's wasn't intimidating at all. He ruffled Harry's hair with a fatherly affection that sent a warm feeling of comfort that he never knew before.
"So, Harry," he began with an eager smile. "What would you like for your birthday?"
And that's where the dream always ended.
\\
*
The dream sequence was actually something I wrote just to get rid of writer's block about a month and a half ago. Does it tie in well? It seems only to take up space… I sort of got attached to it, and tired to stuff it somewhere along the WS timeline, and it got jammed into here. Then I had to sort of rewrite the passage around it to incorporate it… stupid, isn't it? The time frame sort of got pushed up too, but I was trying to solidify their godfather godson relationship before Remus confronts them. Ack… does it feel awkward or rushed at all? (see kaydee, I didn't bash! *hides just in case*)
Remus is taking a very long time to meet Sirius, isn't he? *cackle* But… *sigh* they haven't seen each other since chapter 1. All these circumstances just skew them inches away.
In response to stormyfire, Godric's Hollow is actually their real residence from Hp book 1. I hope that helps!
After AP Chem (which was... *sigh*... I did a practice exam and missed 7 out of 8 questions. Oh wow... I hope that doesn't reflect on my true score... *groan*), I'm probably going to be posting a lot faster now. Lets say, every 2 to 3 days?
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
There's a time discrepancy in his story… The second and third scene takes place before Remus is there, but its spliced between the two scenes, but just pretend it makes sense. Sorry about that…
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty - of dreaming of birthdays
"He has the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. It's a pity he's so weak. That man rushed him in at two in the morning and drove us all mad running around with towels, hot water, and the like. He had to call a doctor too, that was how ill the child was."
It was Harry. And Sirius was helping him. Sirius tried to save him.
Remus let a small sigh of relief, façade slipping altogether.
"He's ill?" Remus echoed.
Could Harry's condition be as serious as she described? He hadn't thought it was that grave…
He was sure if the lady had glanced at him then, she would have declared him a ghost with the extent the color drained from his face.
The lady sighed again, "Yes, I'm not sure about the details, but it's not contagious, don't worry. I didn't hear what the doctor said, but it seems that the boy was…" she lowered her voice mysteriously. "abused."
Remus' chest clinched painfully.
"That man has been taking good care of him, right?" he asked shakily.
"Yes, as far as I know. I don't believe it was him who hurt the poor child. That man has been by his side day and night since they came. He had to practically feed the boy a few times," the lady smiled softly at the memory. "The little boy was so embarrassed, but you could tell he loved his father very much. If all fathers would be that attentive to their children…" she sighed.
Remus nearly tripped in shock at her words. James and Lily's murderer, the traitor, trying everything he could do to save the one boy that was his downfall? How could that be possible? Did Sirius have really want to use Harry as a tool, as Arabella described? That was the only plausible explanation for his actions.
Whatever she said after that, Remus couldn't remember. It was all a haze, following the lady into his room. He wasn't even sure of the color of his bed or the walls. Numbly, he took the key from her hands and gave her a rather forced smile.
The whirlwind of thoughts and confusion was so strong that it just became a blur.
Sirius was helping Harry.
Which room are they in, I wonder? They're all in the first story…
Sirius had been taking care of him. He even called a doctor for him and treating him like his own son.
I wonder how Sirius will react when he sees me…
But Sirius did rescue Harry from the Dursleys. What if he really had ulterior motives?
Sirius, what are you trying to pull? Remus desperately wondered.
Harry closed his eyes in an imitation of sleep, muffling one ear against the pillow and covering the other with the uncast hand. He couldn't seem to move his neck enough to drag the cushion over his head; the gash stung far too much after several days of laying on it. The flash of light illuminated the curtains with an eerie brightness, making shadows dance across waxy walls, so bright he could even sense it behind closed lids. Harry stiffened, bracing himself for the thunder that followed.
It wasn't that he was afraid of thunder, but it was the voices that those rippling light always left in its wake. Every time the skies screamed, he would have odd memories of a woman pleading and a green light flooding his vision. He could never sleep during those nights.
A low rumble shook the glass.
Harry flinched. The figure beside him shifted immediately, and a weight was at the edge of his bed. There was a hesitant though on his forehead, as if he was afraid to disturb him. It still took a lot of self control not to cringe in response; he knew the person meant no harm, but it was so difficult to break the instinct.
"Can't sleep?" Sirius asked quietly. "Does the storm bother you?"
Harry blinked, trying to bring the face into focus, a bit disoriented at the tone.
It had been two days since he gained a godfather, and he still had trouble adjusting. Ever since he could remember, he had always wished for some long lost relative to rescue him from the Dursleys. Anyone, he didn't even care who. After Uncle Vernon was especially angry, Harry would huddle in a corner of the cupboard and think about a faceless person visiting him the next day; those imaginations kept the tears at bay, kept him from falling completely. But he never actually believed they could be true.
And when that wish suddenly came true, Harry was caught between joy and fear.
Did Sirius help him because he was his godfather? Dudley didn't have a godfather, so Harry wasn't sure. But whenever he got sick, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia waited on him hand and foot. But the differences between him and his cousin were so great that Harry never really thought about being treated like that. But now, he couldn't imagine what it would be like if Sirius wasn't there and he was still at the Dursleys.
But what if Sirius suddenly thought that Harry was a freak, like Uncle Vernon? What if he realized that Harry was a worthless, annoying child who didn't deserve any attention? Would he leave? But Harry wouldn't bring himself to believe someone so kind would throw him away. Padfoot didn't, so Sirius wouldn't either. Harry had no idea why he often compared Padfoot's actions with his godfather's, seeing that he wasn't human, but it was so instinctive.
He abruptly remembered Sirius was still waiting for a response, and hastily shook his head.
"Alright," But Sirius seemed unconvinced, expression clouding in even more concern than before.
"It's just that… it the light reminds me of something…" Harry said, feeling an odd obligation to explain when his godfather seemed so worried. "I can't remember the details…"
"Halloween," Sirius suddenly breathed, paling as he sank back against the headboard. "There was a storm that night."
Those words made no sense to the child, but that wasn't what he was distracted by. Sirius seemed pained again, as if there was a demon eating at him from the inside. Harry noticed, not for the first time, the weariness in his countenance, and the sunk rings around his eyes.
"You look tired," Harry blurted out suddenly, after a few minutes of tense silence.
Sirius looked taken aback at his remark, and he stared at him with a sort of incredulity as if he didn't quite believe Harry was there. He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, and forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. You need to get some sleep."
He stood again, purposefully avoiding Harry's eyes as he tucked the blankets snugly around him. Harry chewed his lip guiltily as he watched his godfather. Sirius had gone from an unusually thin to unhealthily undernourished. His shoulder length hair fell in thick, tangled strands, and his paleness was close to matching the child's. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was because of him.
"Sorry," Harry whispered brokenly.
Sirius stiffened at the word, eyes wide with disbelief. "What…? Harry what are you talking about?"
Harry shook his head, throat constricting so tightly that he could barely breathe. He jerked forward abruptly, and buried his face against Sirius shoulder in an action that surprised them both. "Sorry! Sorry… that you have to take care of me… I'm so sorry! I… I'm always making you sad… I…"
"God, Harry… please, no," Sirius choked out, so strained with pain that it made Harry flinch. Arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly that his back screamed in protest, but Harry barely even registered it. There was a weight as his godfather buried his face in his hair, completely crushing him against his shirt. "No, Harry please don't apologize. No, no, no, you don't understand…"
//
Harry shielded his eyes against the blinding summer sun, watching the passing crowd with a mixture of awe and fear. The walls were tall around his head, and he had to stare straight above him to see the curve of the arch.
A part of Harry's mind smiled. He knew this place. He dreamt about it before. And this was a dream he liked, but he could never remember why. The details were always lost, but something about this dream kept coming back to haunt him. What was it…?
Voices intertwined in an endless echo through the narrow, cobblestone streets reached him clearly. Harry shrank back, intimidated. He never liked crowds; they were too loud, too frighteningly loud, just like Uncle Vernon when he was angry…
Something soft and silky brushed his arm. Harry turned, smiling in relief when he noticed the towering form of Padfoot beside him. It wasn't surprising to see him in this dream. Now that he thought about it, Padfoot was always in this dream, he just didn't remember. Perhaps that's why he seemed so familiar.
Padfoot nudged his shoulder encouragingly, offering comfort and urging him to step out into the street. Harry shook his head, shrinking back behind the wall. The dog seemed to sigh resignedly.
Padfoot took a few steps back, and instantly, his body began to change. It happened so quickly, yet it seemed so slow at the same time. The fur vanished, and skin took its place. Padfoot grew longer and narrower, his nose pulling into his face, and the paws lengthening into fingers. Seconds later, a man stood in its place. A man with black hair, pale blue eyes, wearing a long cloak that didn't seem to be the natural fashion that Harry usually saw.
Sirius…
Harry should have been shocked at the sudden change, but he wasn't. He just smiled widely and took the proffered hand. Without protest, he followed Padfoot, or was it Sirius? into the thickly packed street. A tall, white, classically designed building towered overhead in the distance. The trail was curved haphazardly, shops crowded into every available corner. It looked like an ancient mall without the overhead ceiling, together with rotting wooden signs in front of every store and glass windows that fractured light unevenly.
Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions said one sign.
Eelops Owl Emporium said another.
One store that stood out distinctly in his mind was the musty, dark bookstore that looked like a library all stuffed into Dudley's room. Books stuck out from every crack and corner imaginable, and some books chased each other or held long debates of which one was more important. Harry stared at everything and anything with fascination.
Suddenly, he was very much aware of how tightly Sirius was holding his hand. Harry glanced at him questioningly, noticing for the first time the eyes watching them. The noise subsided as they neared, whispers following their passage.
"Blimey, that's Harry Potter!"
"The Harry Potter?"
"…just a little boy… so hard to imagine…"
They watched him with a strange foreign expression, it seemed to be… reverence? But to Sirius, they scowled and hissed.
"Sirius Black!!"
"… he's innocent!"
"…you never know. He could be lying…"
"Someone get Harry Potter away from him…"
Sirius placed an arm around him defensively, glaring at those who stared. Harry cringed from those stares, paling in embarrassment and some fear when he realized they were speaking about him. He buried his face in the folds of Sirius' cloak, trying to hide. He shivered when some enraged words and shocked gasps reached his ears.
"The poor boy! He doesn't even know he's being led by his own parent's murderer…"
"Hush!"
"… traitor to his own parents! It's cruel!"
"Quiet! They've…"
Sirius' arm jerked convulsively. He lifted him hastily, and half walked, half ran down the street away from the low whispered and enraged glares.
"Don't worry about them," Sirius whispered, although he sounded bitterly aggravated. "Ignore what they say."
Harry nodded. He trusted him. It was so instinctive.
He looked over Sirius' shoulder as they walked through the teeming street, to a display window packet thickly with people. Children ranging from early to late teens plastered their faces against it as if what lay inside was their salvation. The crowds parted like the sea before them with just one glance at his godfather, scurried away to avoid eye contact. Harry blinked at them in confusion, then at Sirius. But when the older man's wasn't intimidating at all. He ruffled Harry's hair with a fatherly affection that sent a warm feeling of comfort that he never knew before.
"So, Harry," he began with an eager smile. "What would you like for your birthday?"
And that's where the dream always ended.
\\
*
The dream sequence was actually something I wrote just to get rid of writer's block about a month and a half ago. Does it tie in well? It seems only to take up space… I sort of got attached to it, and tired to stuff it somewhere along the WS timeline, and it got jammed into here. Then I had to sort of rewrite the passage around it to incorporate it… stupid, isn't it? The time frame sort of got pushed up too, but I was trying to solidify their godfather godson relationship before Remus confronts them. Ack… does it feel awkward or rushed at all? (see kaydee, I didn't bash! *hides just in case*)
Remus is taking a very long time to meet Sirius, isn't he? *cackle* But… *sigh* they haven't seen each other since chapter 1. All these circumstances just skew them inches away.
In response to stormyfire, Godric's Hollow is actually their real residence from Hp book 1. I hope that helps!
After AP Chem (which was... *sigh*... I did a practice exam and missed 7 out of 8 questions. Oh wow... I hope that doesn't reflect on my true score... *groan*), I'm probably going to be posting a lot faster now. Lets say, every 2 to 3 days?