Disclaimer: Harry Potter. Still not mine.
Author's Note: I've been sitting on this chapter for weeks now. Thank goodness ff.net is finally back up. How I've missed it! It's been so temperamental lately, that I've sorely missed reviews. So here's my renewed enthusiastic pitch to read and review! Enjoy!
Chapter 15
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore began. then paused and turned to look at the door. With a raised eyebrow, he cast a silencing spell on the room. Harry nearly smiled, curious who had remained outside the door. "There is something I need to discuss with you," Professor Dumbledore continued. Harry watched as Professor Dumbledore dragged a small chair from the corner to the middle of the room.
"Yes, Headmaster?" Harry asked as Professor Dumbledore sat, blinking owlishly over the rims of his glasses.
"As you remember from the end of last term, Fudge is loathe to admit Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded, suppressing a shiver. The memory was clearer than he liked. "The Minister of Magic has been so determined to keep Voldemort's name out of the public eye that he's been keeping the attacks you've been dreaming about secret." Harry sat, frozen in shock. There'd been so many people killed. How on earth..?
"Sir, how can he keep this a secret? Won't relatives or friends leak this to the press? This is just the sort of thing Rita Skeeter lives for," Harry replied. He realized his arm throbbed painfully still from when Ron had grabbed it accidentally earlier.
"Ah, but they don't know what's happened either," Dumbledore replied. Harry frowned.
"How can that be? I've seen what's been done, sir. Even if they don't know *who* did it, surely."
"No, Harry. They don't know that *anything* has been done," Dumbledore said solemnly. Harry stilled, his eyes huge.
"He's covering it up? No one even knows they're dead?" Harry whispered in horror. Dumbledore nodded. Harry wrapped his arms around his chest in a failed attempt to fend of the chill seeping through him. "Then Fudge is not acting alone," Harry said flatly. Dumbledore nodded.
"But he won't be able to keep Voldemort a secret forever. He may be able to cover the murders up for now, but there are still people missing," Dumbledore said. Harry suddenly knew exactly where this conversation was going.
"And once news of the missing wizards gets out, he's going to try to cover up even more, isn't he, sir?" Harry asked woodenly.
"Yes, he is," Dumbledore said. Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes. They didn't twinkle. There was no mirth or happiness there. They were solemn and sad.
"And you think he's going to somehow try to tie this to me?" Harry asked. He still wasn't sure how that could be, but he'd vividly remembered to the look on Fudge's face. He may have been in denial over Voldemort's return, but he clearly blamed Harry for everything that had gone wrong.
"He's been kicking up quite a fuss at the Ministry over Cedric Diggory's death," Dumbledore said. Harry closed his eyes as unbidden memories threatened to overwhelm him. "Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently. Harry opened his eyes, pushing the dark images aside. After all the deaths he'd seen, the memories of Cedric and the graveyard had become no less vivid or devastatingly painful.
"Is he going to accuse me of murder?" Harry asked in a flat voice. He turned his eyes once again to Dumbledore, and almost thought it looked for a moment as if Dumbledore flinched. Then he nodded.
"I believe so," Dumbledore replied. Harry closed his eyes. "But, you have choices to make. This is why I asked to speak to you in private," Dumbledore continued.
"Choices?" Harry asked.
"I have created two portkeys, one for you and one for Sirius. At the first sign of trouble, you are to use them immediately. You will arrive at the Shrieking Shack, and we'll determine what to do from there," Dumbledore said. Harry was reassured that he wouldn't be arrested, but then replayed Dumbledore's words in his mind.
"You said I have a choice, sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded.
"You do. As soon as the Aurors arrive, by using the portkey you can go into hiding with Sirius. But if you were to stay when they came, and let the Aurors arrest you, they would likely give you Veritaserum," Dumbledore said.
"But that could be good, couldn't it? The questions they'll want answered won't get the answers they want to hear, but." Harry said speculatively, an odd combination of sheer terror and optimism running through him at the same time.
"The fact is, Harry, that they shouldn't give Veritaserum to anyone under 18. But it won't matter, after all the laws they've broken already. Veritaserum isn't a pleasant experience under normal conditions, but." Dumbledore was explaining. Harry raised a hand.
"Please, sir. Will it kill me?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.
"I do not believe so," Dumbledore replied. Harry nodded, his mind remembering what the fake Mad Eye Moody's behavior was like once he'd been given the serum.
"If I took it, would it guarantee they believe my answers then? I know Minister Fudge doesn't now," Harry said.
"I believe even if Fudge doesn't, others would," Dumbledore replied. Harry pondered the ramifications. If he could talk about how Voldemort had risen, about what really happened at the Shrieking Shack.
"That means they'd learn Peter Pettigrew is still alive," Harry said, his voice hushed. With proof that Pettigrew was alive, maybe they would clear Sirius' name. Maybe. Or maybe they would cover it up, like they had everything else. Dumbledore nodded.
"As I said, it's a possibility," Dumbledore replied. Harry looked down at the floor, biting at his lip deep in thought. "You do not need to make this decision now. But it is something to consider. You understand of course why I couldn't say this in front of the others." Dumbledore explained. Harry knew all too well.
"Sirius would never allow it," Harry stated.
"Fudge has gone to considerable lengths to cover up these deaths. I cannot say how much further he will go. It could all go horribly wrong. To be accused of murder, or as an accomplice. Harry, once you're in their hands there is little I can do to protect you," Dumbledore said. Harry suddenly realized that Dumbledore didn't want him to do this, not really.
But Dumbledore knew Harry would do it. For as desperate as Dumbledore was to unite the wizarding community against Voldemort and quit living in denial, Harry was to see Sirius a free man. To live with him during the holidays; to be able to go to Diagon Alley with him before term. The idea of meeting Sirius at the Hogwarts Express instead of the Dursleys was a powerful image.
But it was a huge gamble, Harry knew. And so far, luck had been both for and against him. He knew there was no way to predict which way his arrest would go. But if Harry ended up with the Dementors, he knew he couldn't survive as Sirius had. Unless. first thing tomorrow morning Harry vowed to begin studying intently to become an Animagus. Ron and Hermione would help him, he knew. They'd probably want to learn how to do it themselves anyway, Harry thought warmly. Plan for the worst but hope for the best.
"If I stay, how will we get Sirius to use his portkey?" Harry asked, trying to think of every angle now, while he had Dumbledore as a captive audience. That was the other thing Harry had to consider. He wouldn't take any chances on Sirius' future if Sirius could get caught, too.
"Remus will take care of Sirius," Dumbledore reassured.
"But we have to find a way to keep him far from the Ministry as well," Harry said thoughtfully. He missed the strange expression that crossed Dumbledore's face. "Pettigrew. If I did this, it would be because of Wormtail and my hope to prove his continued existence. If he could find some evidence against Wormtail to get to the press. Even if you can't get me out and everything goes wrong. I could still help free Sirius," Harry speculated. But to look for Wormtail meant Sirius might also run into Voldemort. That was not a possibility Harry wanted to face. Dumbledore remained silent, his face still. "Wormtail does a lot of scouting for Voldemort. If you could insure Sirius only tries to track Pettigrew when he's on his own.?" Harry asked Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded.
"Your dreams have been a good indicator for when he's gone. We can certainly try to determine a pattern as to why and predict where he might go next from there," Dumbledore reassured. Harry felt a little better about that.
"Thank you, sir. I will consider my options," Harry replied, although in his heart he already knew what he'd do. After all, the wish he'd made as he blew out the candles on his cake was for Sirius to be acquitted and free. Dumbledore nodded and patted Harry's knee gently.
"How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked after a few moments.
"Fine," Harry replied. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Ah. He expected an honest response. "My scar burns all the time now, and I'm really tired. But I'm much better than I was," Harry replied. Perhaps a bit of an optimistic description, but close nonetheless.
"Well, Percy Weasley will be arriving for dinner, so we must be off to remind Sirius to stay out of sight," Dumbledore said, standing up. Harry smiled thinly.
As generous a gesture as Percy's room was, Harry wasn't looking forward to more of his questions. Weariness was beginning to make his eyelids droop. Sighing, he stood up only to be gently pushed back onto the bed again. "Harry, why don't I send Sirius up, and you take a nap before dinner?" he suggested, and Harry knew it wasn't really a hint, it was an order. Harry smiled tiredly at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry you have to make these sort of choices at all," Dumbledore said softly as he pulled back the covers and Harry slipped out of his shoes and socks. He was so surprised at the words, he didn't say anything in return.
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Ron watched with a scowl as Dumbledore came downstairs, catching Sirius' eye. He and Hermione watched as Sirius bounded upstairs in a flash, then came back down as Snuffles, glancing at them briefly with a faint tail wag before trotting outside. Ron stood to go visit Harry, but Dumbledore shook his head.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, but Harry's taking a brief nap before dinner," Dumbledore said, then smiled gently before leaving to join Ron's parents in the kitchen. Ron nodded, glancing at Hermione. The corner of her mouth quirked in a combination of annoyance and relief. They'd been dying to hear what Dumbledore had wanted to talk to Harry about, but were also glad to hear he was resting.
"Mum?" a voice called from the fireplace. Percy had arrived. Ron shot him a dark look, which Percy briefly acknowledged. He had his briefcase in hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm and managed to look very self- important and self-conscious at the same time. Not an easy combination to achieve.
"In here, dear," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.
"Your mum's been cooking for hours now," Hermione said to Ron as Percy went into the kitchen at the same time Remus slipped out the back to join Snuffles. He gave Ron and Hermione a slight wave before he disappeared.
"Snuffles cut that close," Ron observed quietly.
"He hates leaving Harry alone," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Really, we all do. That was a really beautiful present for your family to give," she said, changing the subject. Ron blushed. The idea had been his, originally. Once Percy moved out, it just made sense.
"I think he liked it," Ron said vaguely. Hermione snorted.
"Of course he liked it," she said, shaking her head. Voices began to rise in the kitchen. Ron frowned at Hermione, and in unspoken accord, they both stood and crept towards the kitchen to better hear what was being said.
"You can't be serious," Arthur Weasley was saying, and his voice sounded constricted and tense.
"I'm sorry dad. They just wanted to see what Harry has to say about it," Percy said.
"There's no way I'm going to let you question him, Percy. He's gone through enough. This is insane. What is Fudge thinking?" Arthur asked.
"Dad." Percy said softly. The kitchen stilled. "I have to," he said. "If I don't. Fudge won't be satisfied. He might send someone else."
"At least not today, Percy. It's his birthday," Molly Weasley said, and Ron and Hermione looked at each other in horror. That meant he *was* definitely going to question Harry.
"I'm sorry mum. I'll do it after dinner. He goes back on the Dreamless Potion tonight anyway, right Dad?" Percy asked. Ron felt a snarl cross his face and almost stalked into the kitchen himself if Hermione hadn't grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Consider Harry's reaction and its ramifications carefully before reporting to Minister Fudge, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore's voice drifted out of the kitchen. Footsteps indicated the conversation was moving. Ron and Hermione scrambled back to sit on the couch, then at the last moment, Ron changed his mind.
"Hermione, come on. Let's warn Sirius about what Percy's going to do," Ron said quietly.
"You don't think he might reveal himself, do you?" Hermione whispered as they slipped out into the dusk. The evening was cooling now, and a visible layer of bugs hovered near the creek. Ron and Hermione stopped in the center of the yard and looked around. Neither Remus or Snuffles were visible, of course.
"Ron? Hermione? It's time to eat!" Molly Weasley called from inside.
"We'll be right there, mum!" Ron called. "Remus? Snuffles?" he whispered fiercely.
"Here," came Remus' voice from near the creek. He was sitting with his back propped against the tree, similar to the way Harry had been days ago. Snuffles sat next to him, his tongue lolling to one side lazily.
"Sirius," Ron said hesitantly. "Remus. Percy's going to question Harry after dinner," he blurted, unable to think of a better way to break the news. The last vibrant colors of the sunset had begun to dim, and in the encroaching shadows, Sirius growled dangerously.
"He doesn't want to do it. Dumbledore is still there, so I don't think it will be too bad," Hermione tried to reassure. Remus was making to stand up, but Hermione held out a hand. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go in yet," she said. Remus frowned.
"Percy's suspicious as it is. Even though he gave Harry his room, he *is* still about to question him for the Ministry of Magic, isn't he? It's best not to make him curious why you haven't been around much when he's there," Ron said. He couldn't believe the disgust he felt towards his own brother. The worst part was, he suspected Percy thought what he was doing was the *right* thing.
"We'll let you know as soon as he leaves, Sirius, but please stay out of sight. It's not like Percy's going to hurt Harry with all of us around," Hermione tried to reassure them both.
"Ron?! Hermione?!" Mrs. Weasley called out again, annoyance evident in her voice.
"We've got to go. We'll let you know the moment Percy leaves!" Ron promised, and ran back to the house with Hermione close on his heals.
Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. Harry was still bleary eyed from his nap, and the larger appetite from earlier was gone. He nibbled at the meal tiredly, aware of the tense silence that shrouded the table. Ginny, Fred, and George kept watching everyone curiously, as they hadn't been privy to the argument in the kitchen. But they knew something was going on, and it made them uncomfortable. Hermione and Ron tried polite chatter, which Harry was trying hard to participate in, but he was failing miserably. He was obviously distracted, *probably by whatever Dumbledore wanted to talk to him about*, Ron thought, and withdrawn. Dumbledore was apparently intending to stay at the Weasley house until Percy was done with his questions, for which Ron was profoundly grateful. If nothing else, even Fudge respected Dumbledore.
As the evening wore on, Harry began to press his hand more and more often against his scar, as if it pained him. Ron felt himself blanch at the thought and the twins kept exchanging glances. *Some birthday dinner, huh, Harry?* Ron thought, and wondered when he'd be able to find a moment to warn Harry about the upcoming questions.
"Is that all you're going to eat, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, breaking the silence and nearly startling Ron off his chair. Hermione looked flustered as well. Harry glanced up distractedly, noticing his hand on his forehead, which he quickly let drop back on to his lap. Dumbledore was eating in silence, his eyes watching Harry.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, it was really good. I guess I just had too much for breakfast," Harry said apologetically with a gentle smile. Mrs. Weasley smiled back reassuringly, but Ron didn't miss the determined gleam in her eye. Ron suspected she intended to make Harry need new robes by the end of holiday, and shook his head. So long as *he* wouldn't need to get new robes as well.
The twins had done something freakishly kind for Ron: they'd bought him new dress robes. After daring to try them on at home (fully expecting to them to turn clear, or into girl's Muggle clothes, which they didn't), he began to really look forward to being able to wear them. The robes were a royal blue, and the fabric felt both thick and soft at the same time. He'd never paid much attention to fabric before, but Ron could suddenly understand how someone could want to wear robes like these *all* the time. He knew it made his eyes stand out handsomely. the girls who worked at Madam Malkins over the summer had squealed pleasingly when he'd tried it on. He couldn't wait to show Hermione, and found himself wishing for another Yule Ball despite his own terror of all that came with it.
"Are you tired, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked softly. Harry nodded. Mr. Weasley locked eyes for a moment with Percy for a moment and cleared his throat. Ron cursed silently that he hadn't had a chance to warn Harry yet. They were going to do it now. At the dinner table. "Harry? I'm afraid Percy has been sent by the Minister to ask you a few questions," Arthur said. Harry stilled, his eyes wide. Ron was almost sure it was fear he saw. Ron noticed the glance Harry shot at Dumbledore, who almost imperceptibly shook his head. What was that about?
Percy took out the newspaper he'd brought with him and spread it out in front of Harry. The Daily Prophet front page appeared to be nothing but pictures of people. Ron couldn't quite read the caption at the top, but he felt a chill run up his spine at the expression on Harry's face.
"Do you recognize any of these faces, Harry?" Percy asked quietly.
"Wait a minute!" Arthur cried out angrily. "You were going to ask for more information about what happened with Cedric Diggory!" he said, standing up to grab the paper from in front of Harry. But he froze, as did everyone, at the expression on Harry's face.
Harry stared at the faces in front of him, people he knew, and began to hear screams. A chorus of screams, *their screams* filled his mind as he looked at the pictures of the dead. Photos taken during happier times. People smiling and laughing at the camera, playing with their families, waving to relatives, playfully nudging friends. Thoughtful, introspective shots of people doing their favorite hobbies, visiting their favorite vacation spot. Harry suddenly felt cold and chilled.
"Do you know where these people are? Does anyone know what's happened?" The caption read. Harry stood up jerkily, not even noticing how the chair crashed to the floor. He was shaking uncontrollably. A distant echo of voices were calling his name, but he couldn't hear them through the screams. The faces looked up at him so innocently. Yes, he knew what happened to many of them. He'd seen them die horrible, painful, torment- filled deaths. Hands on his shoulder tried to steady Harry, but he shook too hard. He jerked out of reach, his eyes still locked on the newspaper as he backed away. He nearly tripped as he backed into something, then turned and fled up the stairs.
Too many people. There were too many faces. and he'd watched, damnit! He'd watched the worst moments of their lives. Harry ran for the bathroom, nausea and grief causing him to throw up everything in his stomach until he was left dry heaving, his head throbbing painfully and his eyes swollen nearly shut. His stomach spasmed as he desperately tried to quell the heaves. He was sweating profusely, and shook with sobs he wasn't even aware of. It was one thing to see a new face each night, but it was another to see them all together. How many pictures graced the newspaper? 50? More? Harry felt a hand on his back rubbing up and down soothingly as he rested his head against the cool porcelain of the loo. Voices still buzzed behind him, but Harry couldn't discern what they said for all the memories that drowned them out. All their screams.
Closing his eyes, Harry remembered one woman in particular. an older woman with kind eyes. "Oh child, wake up," she'd said. She'd seen him. How could she have seen him? Harry followed that line of reasoning, grasping at it desperately; allowing his memory of that one dream to silence the others. Thankfully, it seemed to dull the screams in his head. He hadn't *actually* been there, and certainly no one else had seen Harry before or after. How had she?
Harry closed his eyes and felt his body collapse. He was vaguely aware of someone tenderly picking him up. A warm wash rag wiped the sweat off Harry's face. As his desperate gulps of breath eased to a deeper, more relaxed level, Harry wondered what made it different for her to see him when no one else had. Harry's last conscious thoughts were that perhaps he could play a more active role in these dreams than he'd thought. She'd seen him once. He'd try to figure out why, and see if maybe, just *maybe*, he could do something other than just die a little each night. Even one life saved. It was more than Harry had dreamt for a long time of being able to do. Harry's thoughts spiraled into welcome nothingness as a furious Arthur Weasley carried Harry to bed.
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Sirius sat next to Harry waiting for Mrs. Weasley to return with Dreamless Sleep potion. Percy left minutes after Harry had collapsed, as had Dumbledore. Sirius had been waiting for the 'all clear' with a sense of foreboding, and was grateful Ron and Hermione warned him what had been about to take place. No one had expected Percy to accuse Harry of complicity with the recent disappearances, though. Arthur's voice, instead of rising in anger, had dropped to a dangerous hiss. He'd followed Percy back to the Ministry and was fully intending to have words with Fudge, as it had become clear that Fudge had instructed Percy as to what to ask and how to go about doing so.
Molly had frantically called Sirius and Remus back inside. Dumbledore stood solemnly at the fireplace, preparing to leave.
"Did you know this was going to happen?" Sirius demanded of Dumbledore.
"I did not. But it is not unexpected. It is, however, sooner than I'd anticipated, so I must be off to make preparations," Dumbledore said cryptically. Sirius looked at him intently for a moment, but Dumbledore threw floo powder into the fireplace to return to Hogwarts. The conversation was clearly over.
Sirius looked down now at Harry closely. His skin had a grayish cast and was shiny with sweat, although he was shivering hard enough that his teeth occasionally chattered. Ron and Hermione had already been in the room when Sirius arrived. Ron looked furious, and Hermione had clearly been trying to keep him calm.
"What happened?" Sirius asked softly. Ron stood up and handed Sirius a newspaper he hadn't noticed before.
"I can't believe you brought that in here!" Hermione hissed.
"I'm going to read it later. Mum would have thrown it out. I had it out of sight. I would never have let Harry see it, but we need to know what this was about, Hermione, and you know it," Ron said quietly but fiercely in return. Sirius glanced again at Harry. His eyes were closed and his breath relatively even. Sirius opened the paper up and knew immediately what had happened. Voldemort's victims.
Remus stood behind Sirius, glancing at the paper over his shoulder. He inhaled sharply. "Merlin. Poor Harry. Happy birthday," he said bitterly. Sirius nodded, white hot rage building inside him at the callousness of Percy's behavior towards Harry.
The next time Sirius saw Percy Weasley, he was fully intended to inflict bodily harm. If his time in Azkaban did nothing else, it taught Sirius that weak minded individuals were the worst of all. Evil could be predictable, but cowardice and the refusal to make up your own mind could strike anywhere, at any time. At this moment, Sirius knew that Harry was in far more danger from Fudge and Percy than he was from Voldemort.
"These are the people he's been dreaming about, isn't it?" Ron asked Remus and Sirius quietly. Remus nodded. "I think I'll switch rooms with Harry tomorrow," Ron said after a moment. Hermione, who had begun to straighten the sheets around Harry now stilled, staring at Ron in surprise.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it's wrong that the gift we gave him is the room of the one to do this to him," Ron said furiously, pointing at Harry lying in bed. Sirius ran a hand through Harry's hair, trying to soothe his tremors. Harry's eyes snapped open as Molly hurried up the stairs.
"Sirius?" he asked, frowning at least in part because Hermione had taken off his glasses. Sirius placed them back on his face.
"I'm here," Sirius said warmly. "How are you?" he asked.
"I'm sorry about earlier." Harry said, embarrassed.
"Don't be. You didn't know Percy was going to do that, the prat," Ron said with a snarl. Harry shook his head.
"No, it's not that. I don't know why I reacted like that," Harry said.
"What did happen, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"As soon as I saw their faces. The dreams came back to me. I try to forget them, Sirius, I really do. I figure that since I write them down. It's enough. I've done my part, and I shouldn't carry it around. But it's silly to think I can forget, I guess. Of course I can't. But when I saw all their faces. I knew there were a lot of victims. My journal is certainly thick enough, right? But to see their faces and know so many of them. It was like all the dreams came back. only instead of coming back one at a time, they overlapped. All I could hear were their screams, and I." Harry said, and stopped, at a loss for words to describe what he had been trying to do.
Sirius pulled Harry up in bed and into his arms. Harry's thin arms were surprisingly strong as he wrapped them around Sirius' chest. Harry didn't make a sound, but Sirius could feel the warm wetness of silent tears soaking his shirt.
He locked gazes with first Lupin, then Molly. She still had the cup in her hand. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Sirius glanced at Harry's night table. Molly nodded and set it there, then glanced over at Ron and Hermione.
"I think we should all let Harry get some rest," Molly said. Ron and Hermione clearly didn't want to leave, but they stood up anyway.
"See you in the morning, Harry," Hermione said gently.
"No dreams tonight, buddy," Ron said, trying to reassure Harry, then turned and left the room, quietly picking up the newspaper that had been sitting beside Sirius and taking it with him.
"See you in the morning, Harry," Remus said gently, and closed the door behind him leaving Sirius and Harry alone.
"Some birthday, huh?" Sirius said with a disgusted shake of the head.
"It was actually. I got some terrific gifts, and I got to be with friends. It's the best birthday I've ever had," Harry said, pulling his face away from Sirius and discretely wiping his face before looking at Sirius. Sirius realized he meant what he'd said.
"Are you up to getting some rest now?" Sirius asked gently. Harry nodded.
"Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm sorry." Harry began to apologize again, but Sirius placed a finger against Harry's lips to *shush* him.
"No apologies necessary. For any of us. Just get some rest and feel better. That's the best thing you could ever give us, okay?" Sirius asked gently. Harry looked up at Sirius as he handed him the drink, and the candid expression on Harry's face nearly froze Sirius.
"I don't think you realize how important you are to me, Sirius. I thank God, or Merlin, or whomever every day that you came into my life. Thanks for a great birthday," he said earnestly, and Sirius fought to keep the lump in his throat from turning into full blown tears. Sirius' smile was a bit watery as he reached out and slipped Harry's glasses off of his face just as Harry turned his attention to the potion, drinking deeply. Sirius caught Harry as he fell back into the pillow and tucked the blankets around him, his heart racing as he tried to get his own emotions back in control before facing the others.
"As you are to me, Harry. As you are to me. Sleep tight," Sirius whispered, and feeling daring, tenderly kissed his godson's forehead good night.
Author's Note: I've been sitting on this chapter for weeks now. Thank goodness ff.net is finally back up. How I've missed it! It's been so temperamental lately, that I've sorely missed reviews. So here's my renewed enthusiastic pitch to read and review! Enjoy!
Chapter 15
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore began. then paused and turned to look at the door. With a raised eyebrow, he cast a silencing spell on the room. Harry nearly smiled, curious who had remained outside the door. "There is something I need to discuss with you," Professor Dumbledore continued. Harry watched as Professor Dumbledore dragged a small chair from the corner to the middle of the room.
"Yes, Headmaster?" Harry asked as Professor Dumbledore sat, blinking owlishly over the rims of his glasses.
"As you remember from the end of last term, Fudge is loathe to admit Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded, suppressing a shiver. The memory was clearer than he liked. "The Minister of Magic has been so determined to keep Voldemort's name out of the public eye that he's been keeping the attacks you've been dreaming about secret." Harry sat, frozen in shock. There'd been so many people killed. How on earth..?
"Sir, how can he keep this a secret? Won't relatives or friends leak this to the press? This is just the sort of thing Rita Skeeter lives for," Harry replied. He realized his arm throbbed painfully still from when Ron had grabbed it accidentally earlier.
"Ah, but they don't know what's happened either," Dumbledore replied. Harry frowned.
"How can that be? I've seen what's been done, sir. Even if they don't know *who* did it, surely."
"No, Harry. They don't know that *anything* has been done," Dumbledore said solemnly. Harry stilled, his eyes huge.
"He's covering it up? No one even knows they're dead?" Harry whispered in horror. Dumbledore nodded. Harry wrapped his arms around his chest in a failed attempt to fend of the chill seeping through him. "Then Fudge is not acting alone," Harry said flatly. Dumbledore nodded.
"But he won't be able to keep Voldemort a secret forever. He may be able to cover the murders up for now, but there are still people missing," Dumbledore said. Harry suddenly knew exactly where this conversation was going.
"And once news of the missing wizards gets out, he's going to try to cover up even more, isn't he, sir?" Harry asked woodenly.
"Yes, he is," Dumbledore said. Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes. They didn't twinkle. There was no mirth or happiness there. They were solemn and sad.
"And you think he's going to somehow try to tie this to me?" Harry asked. He still wasn't sure how that could be, but he'd vividly remembered to the look on Fudge's face. He may have been in denial over Voldemort's return, but he clearly blamed Harry for everything that had gone wrong.
"He's been kicking up quite a fuss at the Ministry over Cedric Diggory's death," Dumbledore said. Harry closed his eyes as unbidden memories threatened to overwhelm him. "Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently. Harry opened his eyes, pushing the dark images aside. After all the deaths he'd seen, the memories of Cedric and the graveyard had become no less vivid or devastatingly painful.
"Is he going to accuse me of murder?" Harry asked in a flat voice. He turned his eyes once again to Dumbledore, and almost thought it looked for a moment as if Dumbledore flinched. Then he nodded.
"I believe so," Dumbledore replied. Harry closed his eyes. "But, you have choices to make. This is why I asked to speak to you in private," Dumbledore continued.
"Choices?" Harry asked.
"I have created two portkeys, one for you and one for Sirius. At the first sign of trouble, you are to use them immediately. You will arrive at the Shrieking Shack, and we'll determine what to do from there," Dumbledore said. Harry was reassured that he wouldn't be arrested, but then replayed Dumbledore's words in his mind.
"You said I have a choice, sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded.
"You do. As soon as the Aurors arrive, by using the portkey you can go into hiding with Sirius. But if you were to stay when they came, and let the Aurors arrest you, they would likely give you Veritaserum," Dumbledore said.
"But that could be good, couldn't it? The questions they'll want answered won't get the answers they want to hear, but." Harry said speculatively, an odd combination of sheer terror and optimism running through him at the same time.
"The fact is, Harry, that they shouldn't give Veritaserum to anyone under 18. But it won't matter, after all the laws they've broken already. Veritaserum isn't a pleasant experience under normal conditions, but." Dumbledore was explaining. Harry raised a hand.
"Please, sir. Will it kill me?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.
"I do not believe so," Dumbledore replied. Harry nodded, his mind remembering what the fake Mad Eye Moody's behavior was like once he'd been given the serum.
"If I took it, would it guarantee they believe my answers then? I know Minister Fudge doesn't now," Harry said.
"I believe even if Fudge doesn't, others would," Dumbledore replied. Harry pondered the ramifications. If he could talk about how Voldemort had risen, about what really happened at the Shrieking Shack.
"That means they'd learn Peter Pettigrew is still alive," Harry said, his voice hushed. With proof that Pettigrew was alive, maybe they would clear Sirius' name. Maybe. Or maybe they would cover it up, like they had everything else. Dumbledore nodded.
"As I said, it's a possibility," Dumbledore replied. Harry looked down at the floor, biting at his lip deep in thought. "You do not need to make this decision now. But it is something to consider. You understand of course why I couldn't say this in front of the others." Dumbledore explained. Harry knew all too well.
"Sirius would never allow it," Harry stated.
"Fudge has gone to considerable lengths to cover up these deaths. I cannot say how much further he will go. It could all go horribly wrong. To be accused of murder, or as an accomplice. Harry, once you're in their hands there is little I can do to protect you," Dumbledore said. Harry suddenly realized that Dumbledore didn't want him to do this, not really.
But Dumbledore knew Harry would do it. For as desperate as Dumbledore was to unite the wizarding community against Voldemort and quit living in denial, Harry was to see Sirius a free man. To live with him during the holidays; to be able to go to Diagon Alley with him before term. The idea of meeting Sirius at the Hogwarts Express instead of the Dursleys was a powerful image.
But it was a huge gamble, Harry knew. And so far, luck had been both for and against him. He knew there was no way to predict which way his arrest would go. But if Harry ended up with the Dementors, he knew he couldn't survive as Sirius had. Unless. first thing tomorrow morning Harry vowed to begin studying intently to become an Animagus. Ron and Hermione would help him, he knew. They'd probably want to learn how to do it themselves anyway, Harry thought warmly. Plan for the worst but hope for the best.
"If I stay, how will we get Sirius to use his portkey?" Harry asked, trying to think of every angle now, while he had Dumbledore as a captive audience. That was the other thing Harry had to consider. He wouldn't take any chances on Sirius' future if Sirius could get caught, too.
"Remus will take care of Sirius," Dumbledore reassured.
"But we have to find a way to keep him far from the Ministry as well," Harry said thoughtfully. He missed the strange expression that crossed Dumbledore's face. "Pettigrew. If I did this, it would be because of Wormtail and my hope to prove his continued existence. If he could find some evidence against Wormtail to get to the press. Even if you can't get me out and everything goes wrong. I could still help free Sirius," Harry speculated. But to look for Wormtail meant Sirius might also run into Voldemort. That was not a possibility Harry wanted to face. Dumbledore remained silent, his face still. "Wormtail does a lot of scouting for Voldemort. If you could insure Sirius only tries to track Pettigrew when he's on his own.?" Harry asked Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded.
"Your dreams have been a good indicator for when he's gone. We can certainly try to determine a pattern as to why and predict where he might go next from there," Dumbledore reassured. Harry felt a little better about that.
"Thank you, sir. I will consider my options," Harry replied, although in his heart he already knew what he'd do. After all, the wish he'd made as he blew out the candles on his cake was for Sirius to be acquitted and free. Dumbledore nodded and patted Harry's knee gently.
"How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked after a few moments.
"Fine," Harry replied. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Ah. He expected an honest response. "My scar burns all the time now, and I'm really tired. But I'm much better than I was," Harry replied. Perhaps a bit of an optimistic description, but close nonetheless.
"Well, Percy Weasley will be arriving for dinner, so we must be off to remind Sirius to stay out of sight," Dumbledore said, standing up. Harry smiled thinly.
As generous a gesture as Percy's room was, Harry wasn't looking forward to more of his questions. Weariness was beginning to make his eyelids droop. Sighing, he stood up only to be gently pushed back onto the bed again. "Harry, why don't I send Sirius up, and you take a nap before dinner?" he suggested, and Harry knew it wasn't really a hint, it was an order. Harry smiled tiredly at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry you have to make these sort of choices at all," Dumbledore said softly as he pulled back the covers and Harry slipped out of his shoes and socks. He was so surprised at the words, he didn't say anything in return.
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Ron watched with a scowl as Dumbledore came downstairs, catching Sirius' eye. He and Hermione watched as Sirius bounded upstairs in a flash, then came back down as Snuffles, glancing at them briefly with a faint tail wag before trotting outside. Ron stood to go visit Harry, but Dumbledore shook his head.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, but Harry's taking a brief nap before dinner," Dumbledore said, then smiled gently before leaving to join Ron's parents in the kitchen. Ron nodded, glancing at Hermione. The corner of her mouth quirked in a combination of annoyance and relief. They'd been dying to hear what Dumbledore had wanted to talk to Harry about, but were also glad to hear he was resting.
"Mum?" a voice called from the fireplace. Percy had arrived. Ron shot him a dark look, which Percy briefly acknowledged. He had his briefcase in hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm and managed to look very self- important and self-conscious at the same time. Not an easy combination to achieve.
"In here, dear," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.
"Your mum's been cooking for hours now," Hermione said to Ron as Percy went into the kitchen at the same time Remus slipped out the back to join Snuffles. He gave Ron and Hermione a slight wave before he disappeared.
"Snuffles cut that close," Ron observed quietly.
"He hates leaving Harry alone," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Really, we all do. That was a really beautiful present for your family to give," she said, changing the subject. Ron blushed. The idea had been his, originally. Once Percy moved out, it just made sense.
"I think he liked it," Ron said vaguely. Hermione snorted.
"Of course he liked it," she said, shaking her head. Voices began to rise in the kitchen. Ron frowned at Hermione, and in unspoken accord, they both stood and crept towards the kitchen to better hear what was being said.
"You can't be serious," Arthur Weasley was saying, and his voice sounded constricted and tense.
"I'm sorry dad. They just wanted to see what Harry has to say about it," Percy said.
"There's no way I'm going to let you question him, Percy. He's gone through enough. This is insane. What is Fudge thinking?" Arthur asked.
"Dad." Percy said softly. The kitchen stilled. "I have to," he said. "If I don't. Fudge won't be satisfied. He might send someone else."
"At least not today, Percy. It's his birthday," Molly Weasley said, and Ron and Hermione looked at each other in horror. That meant he *was* definitely going to question Harry.
"I'm sorry mum. I'll do it after dinner. He goes back on the Dreamless Potion tonight anyway, right Dad?" Percy asked. Ron felt a snarl cross his face and almost stalked into the kitchen himself if Hermione hadn't grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Consider Harry's reaction and its ramifications carefully before reporting to Minister Fudge, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore's voice drifted out of the kitchen. Footsteps indicated the conversation was moving. Ron and Hermione scrambled back to sit on the couch, then at the last moment, Ron changed his mind.
"Hermione, come on. Let's warn Sirius about what Percy's going to do," Ron said quietly.
"You don't think he might reveal himself, do you?" Hermione whispered as they slipped out into the dusk. The evening was cooling now, and a visible layer of bugs hovered near the creek. Ron and Hermione stopped in the center of the yard and looked around. Neither Remus or Snuffles were visible, of course.
"Ron? Hermione? It's time to eat!" Molly Weasley called from inside.
"We'll be right there, mum!" Ron called. "Remus? Snuffles?" he whispered fiercely.
"Here," came Remus' voice from near the creek. He was sitting with his back propped against the tree, similar to the way Harry had been days ago. Snuffles sat next to him, his tongue lolling to one side lazily.
"Sirius," Ron said hesitantly. "Remus. Percy's going to question Harry after dinner," he blurted, unable to think of a better way to break the news. The last vibrant colors of the sunset had begun to dim, and in the encroaching shadows, Sirius growled dangerously.
"He doesn't want to do it. Dumbledore is still there, so I don't think it will be too bad," Hermione tried to reassure. Remus was making to stand up, but Hermione held out a hand. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go in yet," she said. Remus frowned.
"Percy's suspicious as it is. Even though he gave Harry his room, he *is* still about to question him for the Ministry of Magic, isn't he? It's best not to make him curious why you haven't been around much when he's there," Ron said. He couldn't believe the disgust he felt towards his own brother. The worst part was, he suspected Percy thought what he was doing was the *right* thing.
"We'll let you know as soon as he leaves, Sirius, but please stay out of sight. It's not like Percy's going to hurt Harry with all of us around," Hermione tried to reassure them both.
"Ron?! Hermione?!" Mrs. Weasley called out again, annoyance evident in her voice.
"We've got to go. We'll let you know the moment Percy leaves!" Ron promised, and ran back to the house with Hermione close on his heals.
Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. Harry was still bleary eyed from his nap, and the larger appetite from earlier was gone. He nibbled at the meal tiredly, aware of the tense silence that shrouded the table. Ginny, Fred, and George kept watching everyone curiously, as they hadn't been privy to the argument in the kitchen. But they knew something was going on, and it made them uncomfortable. Hermione and Ron tried polite chatter, which Harry was trying hard to participate in, but he was failing miserably. He was obviously distracted, *probably by whatever Dumbledore wanted to talk to him about*, Ron thought, and withdrawn. Dumbledore was apparently intending to stay at the Weasley house until Percy was done with his questions, for which Ron was profoundly grateful. If nothing else, even Fudge respected Dumbledore.
As the evening wore on, Harry began to press his hand more and more often against his scar, as if it pained him. Ron felt himself blanch at the thought and the twins kept exchanging glances. *Some birthday dinner, huh, Harry?* Ron thought, and wondered when he'd be able to find a moment to warn Harry about the upcoming questions.
"Is that all you're going to eat, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, breaking the silence and nearly startling Ron off his chair. Hermione looked flustered as well. Harry glanced up distractedly, noticing his hand on his forehead, which he quickly let drop back on to his lap. Dumbledore was eating in silence, his eyes watching Harry.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, it was really good. I guess I just had too much for breakfast," Harry said apologetically with a gentle smile. Mrs. Weasley smiled back reassuringly, but Ron didn't miss the determined gleam in her eye. Ron suspected she intended to make Harry need new robes by the end of holiday, and shook his head. So long as *he* wouldn't need to get new robes as well.
The twins had done something freakishly kind for Ron: they'd bought him new dress robes. After daring to try them on at home (fully expecting to them to turn clear, or into girl's Muggle clothes, which they didn't), he began to really look forward to being able to wear them. The robes were a royal blue, and the fabric felt both thick and soft at the same time. He'd never paid much attention to fabric before, but Ron could suddenly understand how someone could want to wear robes like these *all* the time. He knew it made his eyes stand out handsomely. the girls who worked at Madam Malkins over the summer had squealed pleasingly when he'd tried it on. He couldn't wait to show Hermione, and found himself wishing for another Yule Ball despite his own terror of all that came with it.
"Are you tired, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked softly. Harry nodded. Mr. Weasley locked eyes for a moment with Percy for a moment and cleared his throat. Ron cursed silently that he hadn't had a chance to warn Harry yet. They were going to do it now. At the dinner table. "Harry? I'm afraid Percy has been sent by the Minister to ask you a few questions," Arthur said. Harry stilled, his eyes wide. Ron was almost sure it was fear he saw. Ron noticed the glance Harry shot at Dumbledore, who almost imperceptibly shook his head. What was that about?
Percy took out the newspaper he'd brought with him and spread it out in front of Harry. The Daily Prophet front page appeared to be nothing but pictures of people. Ron couldn't quite read the caption at the top, but he felt a chill run up his spine at the expression on Harry's face.
"Do you recognize any of these faces, Harry?" Percy asked quietly.
"Wait a minute!" Arthur cried out angrily. "You were going to ask for more information about what happened with Cedric Diggory!" he said, standing up to grab the paper from in front of Harry. But he froze, as did everyone, at the expression on Harry's face.
Harry stared at the faces in front of him, people he knew, and began to hear screams. A chorus of screams, *their screams* filled his mind as he looked at the pictures of the dead. Photos taken during happier times. People smiling and laughing at the camera, playing with their families, waving to relatives, playfully nudging friends. Thoughtful, introspective shots of people doing their favorite hobbies, visiting their favorite vacation spot. Harry suddenly felt cold and chilled.
"Do you know where these people are? Does anyone know what's happened?" The caption read. Harry stood up jerkily, not even noticing how the chair crashed to the floor. He was shaking uncontrollably. A distant echo of voices were calling his name, but he couldn't hear them through the screams. The faces looked up at him so innocently. Yes, he knew what happened to many of them. He'd seen them die horrible, painful, torment- filled deaths. Hands on his shoulder tried to steady Harry, but he shook too hard. He jerked out of reach, his eyes still locked on the newspaper as he backed away. He nearly tripped as he backed into something, then turned and fled up the stairs.
Too many people. There were too many faces. and he'd watched, damnit! He'd watched the worst moments of their lives. Harry ran for the bathroom, nausea and grief causing him to throw up everything in his stomach until he was left dry heaving, his head throbbing painfully and his eyes swollen nearly shut. His stomach spasmed as he desperately tried to quell the heaves. He was sweating profusely, and shook with sobs he wasn't even aware of. It was one thing to see a new face each night, but it was another to see them all together. How many pictures graced the newspaper? 50? More? Harry felt a hand on his back rubbing up and down soothingly as he rested his head against the cool porcelain of the loo. Voices still buzzed behind him, but Harry couldn't discern what they said for all the memories that drowned them out. All their screams.
Closing his eyes, Harry remembered one woman in particular. an older woman with kind eyes. "Oh child, wake up," she'd said. She'd seen him. How could she have seen him? Harry followed that line of reasoning, grasping at it desperately; allowing his memory of that one dream to silence the others. Thankfully, it seemed to dull the screams in his head. He hadn't *actually* been there, and certainly no one else had seen Harry before or after. How had she?
Harry closed his eyes and felt his body collapse. He was vaguely aware of someone tenderly picking him up. A warm wash rag wiped the sweat off Harry's face. As his desperate gulps of breath eased to a deeper, more relaxed level, Harry wondered what made it different for her to see him when no one else had. Harry's last conscious thoughts were that perhaps he could play a more active role in these dreams than he'd thought. She'd seen him once. He'd try to figure out why, and see if maybe, just *maybe*, he could do something other than just die a little each night. Even one life saved. It was more than Harry had dreamt for a long time of being able to do. Harry's thoughts spiraled into welcome nothingness as a furious Arthur Weasley carried Harry to bed.
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Sirius sat next to Harry waiting for Mrs. Weasley to return with Dreamless Sleep potion. Percy left minutes after Harry had collapsed, as had Dumbledore. Sirius had been waiting for the 'all clear' with a sense of foreboding, and was grateful Ron and Hermione warned him what had been about to take place. No one had expected Percy to accuse Harry of complicity with the recent disappearances, though. Arthur's voice, instead of rising in anger, had dropped to a dangerous hiss. He'd followed Percy back to the Ministry and was fully intending to have words with Fudge, as it had become clear that Fudge had instructed Percy as to what to ask and how to go about doing so.
Molly had frantically called Sirius and Remus back inside. Dumbledore stood solemnly at the fireplace, preparing to leave.
"Did you know this was going to happen?" Sirius demanded of Dumbledore.
"I did not. But it is not unexpected. It is, however, sooner than I'd anticipated, so I must be off to make preparations," Dumbledore said cryptically. Sirius looked at him intently for a moment, but Dumbledore threw floo powder into the fireplace to return to Hogwarts. The conversation was clearly over.
Sirius looked down now at Harry closely. His skin had a grayish cast and was shiny with sweat, although he was shivering hard enough that his teeth occasionally chattered. Ron and Hermione had already been in the room when Sirius arrived. Ron looked furious, and Hermione had clearly been trying to keep him calm.
"What happened?" Sirius asked softly. Ron stood up and handed Sirius a newspaper he hadn't noticed before.
"I can't believe you brought that in here!" Hermione hissed.
"I'm going to read it later. Mum would have thrown it out. I had it out of sight. I would never have let Harry see it, but we need to know what this was about, Hermione, and you know it," Ron said quietly but fiercely in return. Sirius glanced again at Harry. His eyes were closed and his breath relatively even. Sirius opened the paper up and knew immediately what had happened. Voldemort's victims.
Remus stood behind Sirius, glancing at the paper over his shoulder. He inhaled sharply. "Merlin. Poor Harry. Happy birthday," he said bitterly. Sirius nodded, white hot rage building inside him at the callousness of Percy's behavior towards Harry.
The next time Sirius saw Percy Weasley, he was fully intended to inflict bodily harm. If his time in Azkaban did nothing else, it taught Sirius that weak minded individuals were the worst of all. Evil could be predictable, but cowardice and the refusal to make up your own mind could strike anywhere, at any time. At this moment, Sirius knew that Harry was in far more danger from Fudge and Percy than he was from Voldemort.
"These are the people he's been dreaming about, isn't it?" Ron asked Remus and Sirius quietly. Remus nodded. "I think I'll switch rooms with Harry tomorrow," Ron said after a moment. Hermione, who had begun to straighten the sheets around Harry now stilled, staring at Ron in surprise.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it's wrong that the gift we gave him is the room of the one to do this to him," Ron said furiously, pointing at Harry lying in bed. Sirius ran a hand through Harry's hair, trying to soothe his tremors. Harry's eyes snapped open as Molly hurried up the stairs.
"Sirius?" he asked, frowning at least in part because Hermione had taken off his glasses. Sirius placed them back on his face.
"I'm here," Sirius said warmly. "How are you?" he asked.
"I'm sorry about earlier." Harry said, embarrassed.
"Don't be. You didn't know Percy was going to do that, the prat," Ron said with a snarl. Harry shook his head.
"No, it's not that. I don't know why I reacted like that," Harry said.
"What did happen, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"As soon as I saw their faces. The dreams came back to me. I try to forget them, Sirius, I really do. I figure that since I write them down. It's enough. I've done my part, and I shouldn't carry it around. But it's silly to think I can forget, I guess. Of course I can't. But when I saw all their faces. I knew there were a lot of victims. My journal is certainly thick enough, right? But to see their faces and know so many of them. It was like all the dreams came back. only instead of coming back one at a time, they overlapped. All I could hear were their screams, and I." Harry said, and stopped, at a loss for words to describe what he had been trying to do.
Sirius pulled Harry up in bed and into his arms. Harry's thin arms were surprisingly strong as he wrapped them around Sirius' chest. Harry didn't make a sound, but Sirius could feel the warm wetness of silent tears soaking his shirt.
He locked gazes with first Lupin, then Molly. She still had the cup in her hand. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Sirius glanced at Harry's night table. Molly nodded and set it there, then glanced over at Ron and Hermione.
"I think we should all let Harry get some rest," Molly said. Ron and Hermione clearly didn't want to leave, but they stood up anyway.
"See you in the morning, Harry," Hermione said gently.
"No dreams tonight, buddy," Ron said, trying to reassure Harry, then turned and left the room, quietly picking up the newspaper that had been sitting beside Sirius and taking it with him.
"See you in the morning, Harry," Remus said gently, and closed the door behind him leaving Sirius and Harry alone.
"Some birthday, huh?" Sirius said with a disgusted shake of the head.
"It was actually. I got some terrific gifts, and I got to be with friends. It's the best birthday I've ever had," Harry said, pulling his face away from Sirius and discretely wiping his face before looking at Sirius. Sirius realized he meant what he'd said.
"Are you up to getting some rest now?" Sirius asked gently. Harry nodded.
"Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm sorry." Harry began to apologize again, but Sirius placed a finger against Harry's lips to *shush* him.
"No apologies necessary. For any of us. Just get some rest and feel better. That's the best thing you could ever give us, okay?" Sirius asked gently. Harry looked up at Sirius as he handed him the drink, and the candid expression on Harry's face nearly froze Sirius.
"I don't think you realize how important you are to me, Sirius. I thank God, or Merlin, or whomever every day that you came into my life. Thanks for a great birthday," he said earnestly, and Sirius fought to keep the lump in his throat from turning into full blown tears. Sirius' smile was a bit watery as he reached out and slipped Harry's glasses off of his face just as Harry turned his attention to the potion, drinking deeply. Sirius caught Harry as he fell back into the pillow and tucked the blankets around him, his heart racing as he tried to get his own emotions back in control before facing the others.
"As you are to me, Harry. As you are to me. Sleep tight," Sirius whispered, and feeling daring, tenderly kissed his godson's forehead good night.