Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of the characters from Harry Potter. They are all the property of J.K. Rowling, and I am merely borrowing them for my own purposes.
The food was spectacular, even better than it had been in the past five years Harry Potter had been a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Puddings and cakes adorned every inch of the four House tables, until the wood seemed to be groaning under the effort of supporting all the sweets. Students chattered all around the hall about the trivial kinds of things children discuss at holiday time — who was dating who, which Quidditch team was sure to win the Quidditch Cup this year, which House would win the inter-House championship, who's class was the hardest, and the like. An air of general happiness surrounded all the students.
Save for one.
Harry pushed at the green jello on his plate, having been encouraged by Hermione to take some. He'd eaten a bite of it, pronounced it not bad, and proceeded to push it around his plate with his fork, occasionally raising another mouthful only to set it back down and continue playing with it. Green eyes were clouded and it was obvious that he wasn't enjoying himself like . . . well, like everyone else in the Great Hall. He could feel the stares of Ron and Hermione, as well as Professor Dumbledore, he was sure, on his back, and it was beginning to make him angry.
"Come, come. Cheer up."
Harry turned his head a fraction of an inch to the side and found himself face to face with the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick. The ghost was wearing a very fancy ruff since it was a holiday, and he looked positively jovial, which was saying a lot.
"What?" Harry asked half-heartedly, not entirely sure if he wanted to get into an argument or not. I should just go to bed.
"It's no fun looking so glum. Cheer up! It's Halloween, Samhain, take your pick."
"Sam-what?"
"Samhain," Hermione piped up tentatively, forcing herself to smile even when Harry turned his desolate green eyes in her direction. "It's an ancient Celtic holiday, which has been turned into Halloween in the modern era. It's what the Celts called this time of year, since it was the quarter containing winter. Though each of the other quarters contains a holiday too, and — "
"Hermione." Ron spoke firmly, but it was hard considering he had his mouth packed with sweets. Hermione glowered at him, and he forced himself to swallow before he spoke again. "Instead of lecturing us like Professor Binns," he said more clearly, giving her a mock-exasperated look, "why don't you just tell us what Samhain is? Preferably before midnight."
"Oh all right," Hermione huffed, noticing that Harry didn't seem to be listening to a word she said anyway, and Nearly-Headless Nick had drifted over to converse with the Fat Friar. "Basically, on the eve of Samhain, the barriers between the worlds fade, and the world of the living mingles with the world of the dead — "
BANG.
Hermione squeaked and jumped, landing on Ron's foot when she came back down, since he was sitting across from her. Glancing at Harry, she saw that he'd slammed his fork down on his plate, and his face was whiter than it had been before. She opened her mouth to speak, but he suddenly leapt to his feet and walked out of the Great Hall.
Around them, no one seemed to have noticed what had happened, and everyone was chattering away about their business as before. Hermione looked at Ron and saw he was practically glaring at her.
"What?" she demanded, feeling her temper rising. "Now what did I do?"
Some of the anger faded from Ron's eyes, and he looked down at the table as he spoke. "You mentioned the dead." When Hermione didn't respond, he looked up and saw her looking fretfully at the entrance to the Hall. "You reminded him."
All Hermione could do was sigh.
Harry didn't even realize at first where he was going. His feet worked independently of his mind, and before he knew it he was standing at the edge of the expansive lake on the Hogwarts grounds. Glancing in the direction of Hagrid's cabin, he saw all the lights out. No doubt that Hagrid was still at the Halloween Feast. Harry was relieved. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the half-giant coming by and trying to start conversation.
His eyes drifted over the black waters of the lake, watching as a light wind made ripples dance across the surface. He shivered. He didn't have his cloak with him, and the last night of October was unseasonably cold. All at once he wished he hadn't walked out of the Great Hall, probably worrying his friends in the process. Part of him wanted to march back inside and tell them he was sorry. The other part didn't care. They could worry all they wanted. They'd been worrying since that night in June, in the Ministry of Magic.
Turning his eyes to the sky, Harry heard Hermione's words over and over again in his head. "Basically, on the eve of Samhain, the barriers between the worlds fade, and the world of the living mingles with the world of the dead — " Shaking his head, Harry felt a bitter laugh bubbling up in his throat. He pushed it back down.
"What a load of bull," he said to the darkness. "What a load of superstitious bull — "
"I wouldn't finish that word if I were you. Your mother would be extremely angry if you did."
Harry spun around, looking for the source of the disembodied voice he'd heard. "Who's there?"
"Relax Harry. Turn a little to your left."
Harry turned, and whatever sharp words he was formulating died on his tongue.
"Sirius."
In death, Sirius Black looked much as he had in life. The only difference was that his body was transparent — Harry could see Hagrid's darkened cabin through his godfather's silhouette. Other than that obvious difference, Sirius looked just as he had that June evening, when he'd dueled with Bellatrix Lestrange . . . and lost.
"What are you — "
" — doing here?" Sirius finished for him, clasping his hands behind his back and looking up at the sky. "No matter what you may think about Hermione's information on Samhain, she's actually right. The barriers between the worlds do fade. I decided to take the opportunity to drop in and see how you were doing."
"How I'm doing?" Harry demanded angrily. He could feel hot tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and for the moment he didn't care. Something inside him had snapped that night when Sirius had fallen beyond the veil, and it had never truly and completely been expressed. "I watched you die, learned I was never going to see you again, and you decide to 'drop by' five months later and see how I'm doing?"
Sirius sighed and looked at his godson, and for a moment the emotion Harry could see in his eyes gave him pause. Even in death, Sirius hadn't lost the haunted look Azkaban had given him. Despite the transparency of his body, Harry could still see the look in his eyes that he had worn only in his most unguarded moments. It chilled him even more than the weather, and he shivered.
"Harry, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened that night."
"I don't blame myself."
"Don't lie to me." Sirius's voice could be strict when he wanted it to be, and right now he sounded very much like a father reprimanding a son. "Ever since that night you've blamed yourself because you put yourself in danger and therefore made it my duty to rescue you. Well, you seem to forget something. I chose that duty. Sixteen years ago when your parents made me your godfather, I chose the duty of protecting you from everything I could. All the years in Azkaban didn't change that. If anything, it only made me more determined to protect you if I ever got out."
Sirius turned and looked at the sky again, giving Harry a chance to blink back his tears. "But if I hadn't gone to the Ministry . . . if I hadn't believed what Kreacher said that night . . ."
"Harry, even if I hadn't died that night, you couldn't protect me forever. Eventually, either the Ministry would have found out where I was hiding, or Lucius Malfoy would have discovered me. You know he recognized me that day at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters." Sirius sighed, passing a ghostly hand over his eyes. "If I hadn't been there that night, and Voldemort had succeeded in killing Dumbledore, the Secret-Keeper for the Order would have been dead, and Voldemort would have been free to come to Grimmauld Place and do whatever he wanted."
After a moment or two, Sirius realized what he'd said, and a look of panic washed over his features. "I shouldn't have told you that."
"I'm not telling anyone. Who d'you think I am?"
"At the moment you look a great deal like your father did when he was angry."
At the mention of James Potter, Harry paused. "Are he and . . ."
"James and Lily have no plan to come tonight, though they could. Trust me, your mother would like nothing better than to see you, but they thought it was a bad idea for me to come. And I'm just your godfather."
"You're not just anything, Sirius. You're the only father I ever knew."
Even as he said it, Harry felt his throat choke with tears, and he tried in vain to push them back. Sirius watched him with affection shining in his eyes, and had he been able to cry, tears would have been sliding freely down his face. "Harry . . ."
"No. You are only family I've ever had. The Dursleys sure don't count, and as much as I love the Weasleys . . . well, they weren't my parents best friends. You knew my parents, you and my father were like brothers, from what you've told me, so that makes you practically related to me." Here Harry paused, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what happened five months ago, but knowing that you don't blame me is going to help me a lot."
"I would never, ever blame you for what happened. My death . . . it wasn't anyone's fault. I had a duty to protect you, and that came before all else."
Harry's eyes shone, not just wish unshed tears, but with admiration. Clearing his throat, he turned towards the lake. "I'm going to train to be an Auror when I graduate from Hogwarts. Though somehow I doubt I'll ever be as good as you were."
"Under the tutelage of Mad-Eye, I'd say you have a pretty good shot." Sirius chuckled, staring at his godson out of the corner of his eye. A sigh was apparent on his features — he didn't breathe, so one surely wasn't expelled — and he spoke the next words with careful concern. "Will you be all right?"
"I won't ever forget."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know that." Harry turned his earnest gaze at the ghostly figure of his godfather, his face still pale, but resolute. "But as long as I can remind myself of what you said, and remember the few good times we had, I'll be okay. You can bet I'll be pestering Professor Lupin as much as possible for stories about your Marauder days though."
"Remus'll make me and James sound like criminals!"
Harry laughed, and Sirius warmed to hear the sound. When the boy stopped, he fixed Sirius with a mischievous gaze. "So how long is the barrier between worlds down?" His expression grew softer, almost anxious. "Do I have time to hear Marauder stories straight from the worst of the pranksters?"
Sirius gave a little bow at the compliment, and gestured for Harry to sit on the ground if he wished.
"Son, I've got all night."