***
Note- I'm still not through my inbox yet- thanks for all the feedback, guys! *sniffle* I just got back today, and I typed up this chapter as fast as I could. I have another one and a half handwritten, so I'll get that up as soon as I can.

By the way, the song lyric Sirius thinks of is from "Jesus Christ Superstar". I have this obsession with linking it to Harry Potter, I guess.
***

Sorting.

It happened every year. The same ceremony every year, the Hat putting them in their Houses. It really wasn't anything special anymore. It was kinda neat, seeing all the midgets in line terrified... but as a prefect, it was his job to keep them in line. After the Gryffindor midgets found their way over, he'd herd them to the Common Room along with Hermione, and they'd be able to sit down and talk.

His eyes darted worriedly to his best mate, the round glasses fallen far down the boy's nose. His hair was as mussed as always, though it looked like it hadn't been brushed more than usual. His once-bright green eyes were somewhat dulled, his smiles not as frequent.

Harry barely smiled at all anymore.

He'd felt the fear of losing his father, last year. But still, worrying over it and having it actually happen were two different things. He couldn't even imagine what Harry was going through, losing Sirius...

But all he could do was just sit with him and talk about other things. It was all he knew how to do, really.

The long line was reaching its end, and Ron stretched with a long yawn. He wanted to eat. He wanted to go take a nap. Anything but sitting here agonizing over every minute change in Harry's expression. Anything but-

"Ron!"

He blinked up dumbly at Hermione, who was attempting to get his attention to the fore. "Look!" she mouthed, pointing to the stool.

Dumbledore was standing beside it, a genial smile on his crinkled face. "Due to recent circumstances, we have a transfer into our fifth year," he announced, as though adding a fruit to the menu. "As this is the O.W.L.s year, please treat him gently."

"Evans, Nigel," Professor McGonagall read in her cool, clipped tone.

It was a tall, dark-haired boy who took the stool as though he had been doing it all his life. Ron was too far away to catch any details, but he could catch the delighted female murmur from the front. He couldn't avoid the glower that blossomed red over his ears, but he pretended loftily not to care. "Transfer, huh?" he commented. "That's weird."

"Mmm." Hermione's brow was furrowed, attempting to catch a glance of him. "And to transfer in fifth year... it must be dreadfully exciting."

Ron rolled his eyes and nudged Harry hopefully. He was rewarded with a hollow laugh.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Like that's a surprise," Hermione observed absently. "The odd one out always goes to Gryffindor."

Ron nodded in grudging agreement. Colin Creevey... Neville...

"And now, before there is mass rebellion..." Dumbledore paused dramatically. "We eat!"

"Wonder why he's so happy," Harry muttered darkly, digging violently into a helpless pudding.

There was a moment of confused silence, neither Ron nor Hermione having a clue what could possibly be said.

"Hey, why's there no new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher up there being introduced?" Ron offered hastily, craning his neck to peer at the professors' table. "Empty seat, too."

Harry nodded agreement, casting a quick glance. "Maybe they couldn't get one this year," he commented. "Bad publicity."

"Honestly, didn't you two read the letter enclosed with our book list?" Hermione regarded them with nothing less than complete befuddlement. "You'd think that if they sent it to us, it would be important enough to-" She paused at the joint look of obvious confusion, then sighed. "Honestly. Professor Lupin has been summoned back, as he's the only one who's not either dead or brainless, or overly occupied with the Order. The letter said all complaints should be directed to Professor Dumbledore's office and would be summarily dealt with. They even detailed the potions he's taking to abate his condition."

"Well, that's something, I guess," Ron said hopefully. "He's a good guy."

Harry nodded silently, then turned a pale shade of green.

"Here comes Colin. Hide me."

Ron shoved him casually under the table in the seconds before the enthusiastic Gryffindor made his way through the crowd. His face fell at the sight of no Harry, but that didn't stop the boy from leaning over to talk to them.

"That transfer student was looking for Harry!" he said brightly. "D'you think they know each other? He's in my year, y'know!"

"Is he now, Colin?" Hermione asked calmly. "But Harry's off taking care of something right now... I'm sure he'll be in the Common Room later."

Colin nodded rapidly. "I know, that's what I said. But Nigel's really insistent... All the girls up there are disappointed he's more interested in Harry than them." He showed a bright smile. "They're already buzzing about him, but I'm sure you'll hear, Hermione. Right, Ron?"

"...Right," Ron agreed placidly. Colin could be hard to follow. After the camera-toting fifth year had made his way to the head of the table again, he nudged Harry with his foot. "He's gone, mate."

Harry reappeared, somewhat ruffled with glasses askew. "That transfer was looking for me?" he repeated, a dark brow raised.

"Sounds dead suspicious to me," Ron muttered in agreement. "Watch out for 'im, Harry."

"Ron, he could easily just be a fan," Hermione placated. "We dont even know him yet."

"You just fancy him," Ron accused, before really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth.

"Fancy him? I've never even MET him!"

"Don't you two even start," Harry said quietly, rubbing his temples.

***

"Mr. Evans, if you could wait a moment."

The crisp voice halted him in his tracks, a familiar sheepish grin coming to his lips as he turned on a booted heel. It wasn't as though he'd done anything worth a scolding yet, but old habits always did die hard.

"Yes, ma'am," he returned obediently, following Professor McGonagall into the alcove she indicated. Her quick eyes darted over the mostly-empty hallway, then returned to him, apparently satisfied with their privacy.

"You're sure of your story, Mr. Evans?" she queried, eyeing him with that familiar air of disapproval.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Repeat it for me."

He sighed, but obeyed. "My family is pureblooded, and didn't want to send me to Hogwarts because of Professor Dumbledore. They sent me this year of my O.W.L.s, and because the Ministry is taking a more active interest in the school. I've been hometaught until now."

"If you're pureblooded, why is the Evans name not known in the wizarding world?" McGonagall pursed her lips.

"'Cause there was a family dispute, and half the line started breeding with Muggles," he returned glibly. "There aren't very many of us left, and most moved to Germany."

McGonagall paused, then nodded sharply. "Good. Now..." Her stern countenance softened, ever so slightly. "I will warn you to be careful... there is a reasonable chance that Potter will not believe your story."

"I know, Professor." He nodded soberly. "But I'll make him believe me, I have to." He steeled his jaw and nodded again, and then again. "I have to."

Suddenly, with no more warning than a helpless sigh, Professor McGonagall took his shoulders in bony but strong hands, holding him fast to her thin bosom with all the desperation of a woman who had thought a dear child was gone forever. "You must be careful, Sirius," she whispered fervently. "Careful. Harry cannot lose you again... the Order cannot lose you again. This school cannot lose you. You must be cautious."

Sirius froze there for a moment, but closed his eyes and hugged the lady professor tightly. "I-I will, Professor," he said softly.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, McGonagall released him and gave a crisp, businesslike nod. "The professors who have a necessity to know of your situation have already been expressly informed. Please report to your Common Room at once."

"Yes, ma'am."

McGonagall turned efficiently on her heel and clicked down the corridor, disappearing around a corner more swiftly than he could think to call after her. Which professors had needed to know...? Who could he talk to?

Snape, obviously. Poor Snivellus... seeing him like this was going to be like an apparition from the poor man's fifth year. And having to teach him, no less.

Sirius leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily and sweeping his short black hair out of his face. To say it was a strange feeling would be selling it far short. To... to be here again in these black and scarlet robes, here again, fifteen again, alive again-! He had no idea how it had happened. One moment he'd been agonizing over how to return to life when he'd no way of contacting anyone living... The next, he'd woken ensconced warmly in his old bed in his old room at Grimmauld. Staring Kreacher right in his ugly face.

First, he'd thrashed that traitorous creature within an inch of his life. He remembered, just before he'd left the house for the last time, the sickly look of triumph on the elf's face. Harry Potter called for master, sir...

He'd been so afraid, so afraid for Harry... It didn't matter if it had been a trap, if he had known it or not. He'd had to go. Harry was as dear to him as his own son would have been... or a kid brother...

Sirius rubbed his temples. Funny to think, that his body was younger than Harry's now.

The warmth still hadn't left him. It pumped through his veins, effusing him with heat. He still felt silly to think it... but he'd woken up feeling as though he was holding someone, was being held, being loved...

Maybe it was stupid, but... killed by hate, conceived in love...

"Hey, Nigel! It was Nigel, right?"

It took a moment for the name to register, but Sirius started from the wall and blinked back to life within a reasonable time just the same. "Yeah, Nigel Evans," he said cordially, extending a hand.

The blond teenager took his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. "Colin Creevey! I'm a Gryffindor too, fifth year! It's absolutely brilliant here, youll love it. Even if it is our O.W.L.s year..." His smile faltered a bit, but remained cheery nonetheless.

"Good t'meet you, Colin." It was hard to keep a chuckle back. Harry had mentioned the Creevey boy only once or twice, but the stories were hard to forget.

"So, why did you transfer? Were you at a different school or something? The other wizarding schools came here for the Triwizard Tournament two years ago, you know. Hogwarts won, of course, because Harry Potter was competing. I'm sure you know all about Harry, though."

"Who doesn't?" He'd even changed a few of the boy's diapers... he could only smile at the thought.

Colin prattled on as they walked together towards the Gryffindor Common Room, about silly things, meaningless things. He didn't mind it. It gave him time to think, time to get accustomed to the facade. He had to convince Harry, somehow... What McGonagall had said was right. The boy was too cautious to just accept him, after all. It would be simplest to just transform... but that wasn't quite enough. Peter knew-... no, Wormtail knew. The traitor wasn't good enough for his name anymore.

Peter will deny me, in just a few hours... three times, will deny me...

The lyric drifted through his mind, and Sirius quirked a slight grin. So many had called him Judas, and maybe there was a little truth there, he'd been so enthusiastic, so blind... But so many forgot that the greatest betrayal came from Peter.

"...Um, Nigel?"

"Eh-!" Sirius jumped, spinning round and nearly tripping over the edge of his robes. Colin had his head cocked, a hand on the wall beside the Fat Lady's portrait. "Oh." He coughed sheepishly. "Sorry, drifted off in thought there."

"Oh, that's fine." Colin smiled good-naturedly. "I'm sure there's a lot on your mind. I just thought we-"

"Sirius Black?" the portrait interrupted, blinking lazily.

It was always in the tightest moments that a man would show his true character, or so they all said. There had never been a moment tight than this. There had never been a man with more character, or so he'd heard said. Maybe.

So Sirius Black would show his mettle.

"Where?" he yelped, spinning back around and frantically searching the stone wall behind him.

"No, that's Nigel," he could hear Colin inform the portrait. "He's a new fifth year."

"Don't be silly," the painted lady said imperiously. "That's little Sirius Black. Had a little trouble with a Time Turner, dear? Last time I saw you, dear, you slashed me up with a steak knife. Don't do that again, please."

Sirius ran a hand through his short hair, trying to hide his face, turning back to face the familiar portrait. "Colin, just say the password," he muttered. They didn't tell the Fat Lady. Well, he couldnt blame Dumbledore, he hadn't thought of it either... he'd have to tell her later, alone...

"Hinkypunk," Colin piped cheerily. Still eyeing him blearily, the portrait swung open and Sirius crossed through as swiftly as possible. Close, too close...

There were obvious reasons he had to keep his identity a secret. One, wizards didn't come back from the dead. Ever. Two, the majority of the wizarding world thought him a Death Eater and insane murderer. Three... he didn't feel like explaining what had happened every five seconds, especially when he wasn't quite sure himself.

The Gryffindor Common Room was nearly the same as he remembered it; the same fire and the same chairs, the same bulletin board in the corner. But it was so strange... to not recognize a single face...

"Nigel! Youre Nigel, right?"

He cursed silently, but grinned affably into the unknown girl's face. "That's me," he returned generously.

"I'm Lavender, Lavender Brown," she introduced brightly. "I just wanted to wish you luck this year, with your O.W.L.s and everything..."

"Thanks so much, Lavender." Sirius smiled at her genuinely. He really did need all the luck he could get... and making friends was the fastest way to getting tutors. Besides, it would be nice to have some casual friends again. He hadn't been able to afford having anyone but Remus, James, and Lily after seventh year.

He didn't count Wormtail anymore.

"I'd introduce you to the local celebrity, but he's not in..." Lavender indicated an empty chair by the fireplace. "Harry Potter, of course. You know who he is?"

"'Course." Sirius sighed mentally, then launched into the story again. "I live here, I was just home-taught until now."

"Home-taught? By your parents?" The girl seemed genuinely interested.

"Parents, tutors." Sirius sat on the arm of one of the couches, arranging his robes compulsively. "My family's pureblooded... really pureblooded..." The annoyance in his tone was not in the least bit feigned, and Lavender smiled. "So they didn't want me here, but I can't get my O.W.L.s at home."

"Oh..." She nodded sympathetically. "You'll have so much catching up to do."

"Well, they taught me off what they did at Hogwarts, so I don't think I'll be terribly bad off." He was reasonably confident. After all, he'd taken the O.W.L.s before, and he'd done just fine.

"But the classes have been updated, and so have the tests! The old curriculum is obsolete." Lavender nodded knowledgably, completely missing the look of complete horror on his face.

"Oh! That reminds me!" He slammed his fist into his palm, startling both Lavender and the several girls who had begun to eavesdrop. He'd think about that later... much later. "Can you do me a favor, Lavender?"

"Sure, I guess." She blinked up at him.

"I need to find-" Harry wasn't there. Odds were, Ron was either with him or looking for him. That left... "Hermione Granger. She's a prefect, right? I'm supposed to see her about... tutoring." Genius. Sheer genius.

"She'd be the one to see." Lavender seemed strangely disappointed. "Hermione's by the bookcase, she's the one with the prefect's badge. Oh, but-" Her voice brightened. "If you need a Divinations tutor, it's my best subject. I'd be thrilled to help you out, if you'd like."

"I'd like that. Thanks, Lavender." Sirius smiled kindly, then stood up, brushing himself off.

There was a certain flutter in his throat as he picked his way across the cluttered Common Room. Ron would be swayed by his sincerity, he always was. Harry... he could appeal to Harry's emotions and anguish.

But Hermione was going to be a tough sell.

He cleared his throat carefully, running his fingers through his hair and mussing it before his eyes. He didn't know if Hermione had ever seen pictures or not, but he couldn't afford to take the chance.

"Hermione Granger?" he asked casually.

Hermione paused in her reading- something incredibly thick that seemed to have something to do with Arithmancy- and looked up, brushing a few strands of hair from her eyes. "Yes?" she queried, obviously distracted.

"I'm Nigel Evans, I need to talk to you about tutoring...?" He motioned quickly with his head. "Can we, uh, talk in private?"

"I suppose." She eyed him, bewildered, but closed her book and put it aside, standing. "We could use one of the boys' rooms... Ron, Neville, and Seamus are out looking for Harry, so that room is empty."

"Lead the way."