Part One: A Very Sirius Reunion

For all intents and purposes, the windows of Harry's small room could have still had bars on their windows. The wanderings of the past summer were now strictly forbidden, as if the moment he stepped out the door untold horrors would sweep down upon his relatives. Dudley and Uncle Vernon no longer spoke to him, as if by pretending he weren't there would make him truly go away, and all Aunt Petunia would say were curt, simple phrases, orders for the most part, and she would rarely stay around for a reply. Harry didn't mind though, he didn't feel much like talking anyway. In fact, he didn't feel much like doing anything. Occasionally he'd wander downstairs for food, but for the most part he sat in his room and stared out the window.

He was doing exactly that on a clear night in mid-July when he saw someone emerge from the shadows across Privet Drive and make their way towards number four. Millions of possibilities ran through his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of the situation.

He didn't cry out; he didn't even think. Harry just jumped off the bed and ran through the house as if possessed, not caring who was woken up by his mad dash. Deep in his mind he thought that maybe he should be cautious, this could be any number of things, but his eyes only told him one thing, and that was more important than any of the possible dangers. And once he threw open the front door and came face to face with the mysterious figure, any terror he should have felt was swallowed in a sea of joy.

Sirius Black was standing on his doorstep.

All the energy that had propelled Harry through the house suddenly left him, and he started to shake.

'Sirius…' He asked, his voice sounding like tears had finally caught up with him, 'Is that really you?'

Sirius didn't answer; instead, he reached out with an unsteady hand and ruffled his Godson's hair. It was then Harry did cry, and he threw his arms around the godfather he thought he'd lost forever. Sirius, however, was rigid and unresponsive, so Harry quickly let go and stepped back, slightly embarrassed about his display of emotion.

'Er,' Harry stammered, 'Would you like to come inside?' Sirius didn't answer, so Harry turned and walked back into the house. When he looked back at his godfather, he was following Harry inside with slow, jerky movements.

'We'll have to be really quiet so the Durselys don't wake up,' he told him - thankfully his relatives hadn't been roused by his sprint through their house - but of course, Sirius had yet to say anything, so Harry didn't think that would be a problem. Maybe wherever Sirius had gone when he fell through that veil took away his power of speech. Thinking about that only brought back bad memories, and Harry's eyes started to tear again, and he tried to wipe them with the back of his sleeve as discreetly as possible.

When they got to his room, Harry ushered Sirius inside and quietly closed the door behind them. Sirius stood in the middle of Harry's room, looking a little lost. In the pale moonlight Harry could see that Sirius was worse for the wear; his skin was now beyond pale and marred with purple blotches, there were huge dark bags beneath his eyes, which had an almost cloudy appearance to them, and.. Was that drool on his chin?

Harry gestured to his bed, 'Feel free to have a seat.' Sirius stiffly walked across the room, and with much effort, as if bending was a great task for him, sat down on the edge of the bed. Inwardly Harry was kicking himself; for weeks Harry had thought about the million things he would say to his godfather if he saw him again, but here he was in that situation and all he could say was feel free to have a seat? But it wasn't like Sirius was making things easy; his godfather had yet to utter a single word.

'So, what brings you to Little Whinging?' Harry asked, without thinking, trying to coax something out of him. Sirius made a noise that was halfway between a moan and a grunt, and Harry supposed that was the closest he'd get to a conversation right now. Who knows what untold horrors Sirius had encountered on the other side of that veil? He would just have to help Sirius in whatever way he could, but he didn't know where to begin. He knew he should probably ask someone for help, but who? Dumbledore was obviously the most knowledgeable choice, but Harry didn't really want to ask him. Hermione or Ron would be glad to aid him however they could, and he'd be glad to ask for their help, but neither of them would be much use without the library to back them up.

Then it struck him; he should ask Lupin! Not only did he know a lot about magic, but he was also probably the closest person to Sirius after Harry. He grabbed a scrap of paper and a quill, and after chewing on the tip thoughtfully for a moment, wrote out his message:


Lupin,

How have you been? I ran into a friend of ours the other day. He seems a bit worse for the wear, but nothing a good meal and a game of fetch won't fix. My summer homework is going well. I hope you're ok, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Harry

There, he thought, that was cryptic enough so that if it were intercepted it might be passed off as nothing more than a note between friends. He opened Hedwig's cage and she flew out and landed on his arm, sticking out her leg so he could attach the message.

'Take this to Lupin, ok?' he said, and she hooted in reply. She launched from his arm and, after circling Sirius once, flew out the window into the night.

Harry sat down on his bed beside his unmoving godfather. 'Don't worry Sirius,' he said, more to encourage himself than the older man, 'Help is on the way. You'll be back to your old self in no time.'



When will Harry realize what's -really- wrong with his godfather? What will Lupin's reply be? And most importantly, was Sirius ruffling Harry's hair out of affection, or just scoping out his next meal? Tune in again, same bat time, same bat channel!