A/N: So…the imp of the perverse overtook my soul and made me do it. Or, at least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I really can't come up with any other good reason as to why I thought I'd commit a bunch of fic cliché taboos. (Oh, say, the related original character, the professorizing of Harry's age group, Malfoy turning, beating the crap out of Sirius…dude, I don't think I realized how many I'd committed up until now. O_o;;) At least it's not a song fic, although I was tempted. ^-^;;

So, yeah, bless any of you who are still with me and reading this. *bows humbly*

*****

Chapter Three

*****

Sirius waited until after the door closed behind 'Uncle Harry' before he let out the sigh he was holding. What a weird way to try and pump information out of a kid. What the hell had the bloke been thinking? As if he really had a godfather who just happened to have Sirius's name and owned Sirius's house. He'd heard some badly told lies in his time—mostly from James—but this one was just beyond the pale.

Had the bloke really been expecting Sirius to buy into such a convoluted story? Sirius was the only one in his family named after the Dog Star. There wasn't even a burn mark further up on the family tree his mother kept that might have been a relative with the same name. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more insulted he felt. As if he'd be that gullible. Even if he hadn't grown up in a house full of back stabbing pit vipers, he wouldn't have been dumb enough to fall for such an obvious ruse.

However, other than accidentally mistaking Sirius for a backwards five-year-old, Harry hadn't seemed too bad, though Sirius reserved the right to totally rescind that opinion later. Half the members of Sirius' family seemed perfectly nice and sympathetic on the surface. That was the great thing about sympathy. It was easy to fake.

Bella had quite a few games she'd played on him during the holidays when he'd been little that had driven that particular lesson home. She'd stuck him with a fork, hard enough to draw blood, one Christmas and feigned sympathy with the rest of the family so that when he tearfully pointed the finger at her, no one had believed him. Of course, it had taken a few years to figure out that if he'd been Reggie, the reaction he'd gotten would have been a hell of a lot different.

So maybe he was slow. Just not as slow as Harry seemed to think him.

"Someone has to be worried about you."

The likelihood of that was fairly slim. His friends wouldn't miss him, really, until the start of school. Romie and Ted might wonder briefly as to why he hadn't written after a while, but even then, they had a little girl and careers of their own to worry about. It wasn't like they had the time or energy to sort out Sirius's problems for him. Besides, current count of heads seemed to prove that if he caused too many problems, people got him out of the picture. Which didn't seem fair since it took causing problems to get him in the picture to begin with. 

Romie and Ted were the first people—well, the only people really—who'd ever paid attention to him before he'd caused enough ruckus to raise the dead. But it would be the first place his family would look if they were hot on his tail, and it would embroil Ted and Romie in something that Romie had left the family to avoid.

And sitting here on this bed, chest on fire and the botched ritual sacrifice still fresh in his mind, who was to say that she wouldn't kick Sirius out on his ass when confronted with the Blacks all over again? Hell, he'd be hard pressed to want to face them right now, and as much as he loved Romie and Ted, as much as he'd loved the weeks he'd spent with them in the summers and the way that they always kept the spare room set up in case he stopped by for a visit, a part of him doubted.

And wondered. Blood was thicker than water, as the saying went. And in his family, his blood was the plague. He hated himself for thinking it, and most of the time he dismissed the thought the moment it popped in his head, but all the same there was the worry. The thought that maybe Romie was playing him much the same way that her younger sister did. Maybe she wasn't as nasty as Bella or Narcissa, and maybe she wasn't as obvious. Maybe she just couldn't help herself. After all, he wasn't the easiest kid to love. He wasn't cute like Dora, the youngest like Reggie, smart like Remus, cool like James, and well, the list went on.

No, he decided, they wouldn't be worried about him because he didn't plan on telling them what had happened.

Narcissa and Bella would happily dance on his grave should he turn up somewhere in a wooded lot in a shallow grave. The thought of them being worried about him was laughable. Their apparent hatred didn't bother him much. It wasn't like he could stand them either, conceited selfish little bitches.

Reggie wouldn't notice he was gone until it directly affected his world in some fashion. His father wouldn't notice if he fell off the face of the planet, let alone care if he did. And his mum? She dogged his every step, and she ignored every word he said. She praised his smarts, and belittled every effort he made. She told him to be careful, and she laughed at him when he broke an arm. She loved him, and she hated him. It was easier to just not think about her at all than it was to try and figure her out. 

"Is there anyone I can get in touch with that you trust? Someone that could help you out?"

He could really use someone at the moment, because none of this made any sense at all. From the way he'd been found, to ending up here, to Harry's stupid story. Everything seemed familiar, but in a twisted kind of way that didn't sit well with him at all. He could send an owl to any one of his friends, he supposed.

Remus would help him in a heartbeat, he was sure. But Remus already had a full set of problems all his own. Not to mention the fact that his parents were pretty nosy on top of it. Seeing as they were so big on family, they'd probably end up trying to reunite Sirius with his mother in some fashion, and Sirius was fairly certain now that his mother would just set out to finish what she'd started.

Peter's family was like a zoo, there were so many kids floating around. They wouldn't notice one more mouth or one more kid. But at the same time, Peter wouldn't believe him or his story in a million years. As good of friends as they were, Peter seemed to think that most of what came out of Sirius's mouth was a joke in the making. Most of the time, Peter wasn't entirely wrong either, but the way Sirius figured, it was just going to take too much time getting across to Peter what had happened let alone making him believe it. He didn't want to have to repeat himself or what happened any more times then he absolutely had to.

James, though, had parents who would at least be willing to put up with him for a little bit and believe the story. There was no lost love between the Blacks and the Potters, and Sirius was fairly certain that if given the opportunity to believe the worst about the Blacks, the Potters would snap up the opportunity. It was just coincidence that the worst to be believed in this case was actually true. James wouldn't let him down either. Seeing as how the bloke was head over heels for that muggleborn, maybe he wouldn't get too weird if Sirius did end up becoming muggle himself.

All he had to do now was figure out how the hell to get out of the infirmary without anyone becoming any the wiser and he had to do it without relying on a wand. Stretching slightly, he tested to see which way he could move without it hurting too much. Surprisingly, he had some range of motion, and what he couldn't manage without pain, he'd just live with.

Sliding his feet out from under the covers and onto the floor, he shakily stood up. Lovely, he was in nothing but his pants. A quick look around didn't unearth his trousers, and maybe under different circumstances that would have been more important. Besides, this infirmary was a lot warmer than any other infirmary he'd ever been in. Hogwarts', in particular.

The mental list in his head of reasons that this was probably not the Hogwarts infirmary jumped by one, but it didn't really mesh that well with the whole professor thing, considering Hogwarts was the only magic school he knew of in Britain and no one was nattering on in foreign languages or accents. Quite frankly, thinking of the whole thing was beginning to make his head hurt, and since his chest already felt as if he'd been kicked by a Hippogriff, he decided to just not think about it. Right now, the priority was to get the hell out of this building.

He made it to the infirmary door just fine, if a bit light headed. At the rate he was going, though, they were going to catch him before he even made it down to the hallway. And all right, running around in his pants wasn't exactly going to make this easier. Hell on earth. Rolling his eyes, he turned slightly to look back. There were the sheets on the bed, but that was all the way across the room. Fuck it, maybe there was a tapestry or something he could use. If worse came to worse, he'd play the insanity card. It had gotten him and James out of detention that one time.

The hallway itself was dark and quiet, as well as eerily familiar. The portraits on the walls were unfamiliar, but they were hung in all the right places. It felt like someone was playing a prank on him, even though he would be the first to admit that as far as pranks went, this one was way too involved and elaborate to be worthwhile. No, it was too bizarre to not be real.

That being the case, as an invalid, he was going to get a whole lot of nowhere before someone stumbled on him and stopped him from making his getaway. His underwear and the lack of tapestries notwithstanding. The insanity card would probably land him in St. Mungos instead of scot-free, and ideally, he didn't want to end up anywhere but at James' place alive, and in one piece. As he was now, that was beginning to look downright impossible. Of course, if he were someone else…

Or something else. If he were Padfoot, this would be a hell of a lot easier. Mostly because there were lots of advantages to being an illegal animagi, the least of which was that no one knew who he was when he was a big black dog. There might be some confusion if someone found a dog inside a school, but it wouldn't get his ass in half as much trouble as it would if he were found as himself.

He'd still have to have a hell of a lot magic left in his soul though, if he were going to be able to pull off the transformation. Biting his lip for a moment, Sirius contemplated the idea. If he didn't have enough in him—if he'd somehow been rendered a squib—a hell of a lot could go wrong. He could end up with a tail on his human body for the rest of his life, or he could be stuck with a snout and fur, somewhere between human and dog. Half transformations were nearly impossible to reverse. It was half the reason that one had to register before attempting the animagi transformation.

Well, he'd never know if he didn't try, he decided recklessly. Really, what did he have to lose? Squeezing his eyes shut, Sirius muttered the words and then just about yelped in happiness as he felt the magic flow through him. His body shifted, and suddenly he had a dog's perspective on everything. He had magic!

He did a quick jump in the air as his tail wagged before he came down wincing. If anything, his burn now ached more than ever. Although, what did that matter? He could transform. The ritual hadn't succeeded. He was going to transform back to human and then back to dog again just to prove to himself that he still could. Panting happily, he turned in a quick circle chasing after his tail before buckling down and concentrating.

He put all four paws solidly on the ground and willed himself back to his original form. And…

…nothing happened. He tried once more with the same results. Frustrated now, he growled slightly before trying one last time. Like the first time, nothing happened. He was still all dog.

Great. Just great.

*****

"Harry, be reasonable. There are plenty of perfectly capable adults here at the school. Not to mention the fact that there are children here. Hogwarts isn't the same way it was when you were a student here," Remus brushed a tired hand through his hair and regarded the younger man with mixed chagrin and affection. He knew he wasn't going to be able to talk Harry out of taking in this kid. Harry was, if anything, stubborn to a fault. But he had to try, if just so that he could be someone to remind Harry that he wasn't required to take on responsibility.

"I know that, and I'll probably stick around here with him for a while, too. But as nice as this school is, trust me, it's not a home. And until we figure out if he even has one of those, he's going to need one."

"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, though? We don't even know who he is. Does he have a first name?"

Harry shot him a withering glare, and Remus resisted the urge to grin back in response. He respected the adult that Harry had grown into, but there were just some occasions when the tenacious child he'd once taught all those years ago, seemed to shine through. "He's not telling us who he is precisely because he doesn't want us to figure out how to send him home."

"That's a pretty big assumption," he chided mildly as Harry crammed his fists in his pockets.

"He told Alice his name was Sirius," Harry deadpanned, as if that explained everything. As soon as Harry said it though, Remus wondered why he hadn't seen the resemblance sooner.

"He does look a lot like Sirius did at that age," he said cautiously. There were a lot of things he and Harry did not discuss. It was one of the things Remus regretted sometimes late at night when he was having troubles sleeping himself. As stubborn as Harry was, on certain things, Remus outranked him completely. Sirius was one of those things. As much as talking it through and talking about him might have been cathartic for them both, Remus had flat out refused to even try.

Not that Harry had been particularly forthcoming either, but Hermione had tried roping them into a discussion about their feelings on more than one occasion. Personally, Remus didn't see the point. People died. People left. There wasn't any point in moping on what had been or could have been. He lived in the present, and if he was living a pipe dream in pretending that he could forget how much the past hurt, then it was his pipe dream to live.

"Oh please," Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't think that's just a little too coincidental? He says his name is Sirius, appears in my godfather's house, and you say he looks like Sirius? This is total misdirection. He's desperate for acceptance somewhere, and he's figured out how to get it with me. I'm not going to turn him out just because he's brought up painful memories. He doesn't want us snooping into his past and he doesn't want us trying to throw him back with his family. If all he wants is a place to stay and a place to figure himself out, then I'm more than willing to give him that, no questions asked."

Even if Harry couldn't see it, Remus could. This was starting to become a bit too personal and as much as he cared about Harry, the bloke was losing perspective on the situation. "We won't know for sure until we ask and until we look into his past. Maybe being back with his family is the best thing for him right now." Not that Remus thought so. Personally, he agreed with Harry's initial assessment. But he wasn't here to be Harry's personal yes man. There were thousands of adoring fans outside the school gates who would do anything asked for the Man Who Lived.

"Back with his family?" Harry growled. "I asked him outright if there was anyone I could get in contact with for him. I asked him if I could get a hold of someone he trusted so that we could talk this out. And you know what? There was no one. He completely shut down and shut me out."

"All I'm saying is that it's possible that maybe, just maybe, he isn't you," Remus said softly before putting up a hand to stave off Harry's angry retort. "You don't know anything about him, Harry. And for the record, yes, I agree, we probably shouldn't try forcing him back with his family without getting his consent first. But we have to know more about him, and if he says his name is Sirius, then let's just go with that until we find out otherwise. We can't jump to conclusions," he finished calmly.

Harry bowed his head for a moment then as they paused outside of the door to Remus's rooms. "I hate it when you do that, you know."

"Hm?"

"That you can be Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected like that. It pisses me off, even when I can see the sense in it." Harry heaved a sigh, banging his head lightly against the wall behind him. "Do you really think I'm making this too personal?"

"I wouldn't let you do that," Remus crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the younger man. "I'd sedate you and drag you to St. Mungos before I let it go on that long again." Because the last time Remus had watched Harry make something personal, the bloke had tried to single handedly track down the Lestranges, hell bent on revenge. The results hadn't been at all as conclusive as Harry had hoped, and Harry hadn't taken the news well at all. It was the last time Remus ever wanted to be visiting St. Mungos under those circumstances, and he'd damn well make sure it never came down to that again in his lifetime.

"Good," there was a wry smile on Harry's face. "It's just that," Harry paused uncomfortably, "he reminds me a bit of me, you know?"

"They all do," Remus pointed out gently. Harry had a soft spot for kids in general, and Remus had seen and helped him bend over backwards for some of the war orphans and the occasional runaway that had made it to the school grounds.

"You know, if I'd been a muggle, I'd be working in child services."

Since Remus had no idea what that was, he let it slide. "Well, just remember, if you get in too deep, for the love of god, ask for help. I'm more than willing to lend a hand. You know that." Not that it would do any good. No matter how many times Remus offered, Harry only accepted when the mood struck him. Which, as far as Remus could tell, was never.

"Sure, of course," Harry agreed easily, confirming Remus's suspicions. He rolled his eyes, just so that Harry would know he knew that. Odd little games he played sometimes with James's son. Heaven only knew James had never been like this.

Remus turned to say his password to Sir Cadogan who had been kind enough to offer to guard his rooms, when he spotted something down the hallway. "Harry?" He gestured down the hallway, looking to the younger man for confirmation that he wasn't seeing things.

"Is that a dog?" Harry whispered as the creature in question came loping past the only lit torch on the floor. For a moment, Remus was sure it was going to run right in to them. It finally saw them, though, and skidded to a halt, as if it were startled to find itself in the company of other living creatures.

"Padfoot?" Harry's incredulity was echoed silently by Remus as he got a good look at the huge black mutt. There was simply no way. There had to be thousands of black dogs all over the isles.

But how many of them were that huge? With pale blue eyes? And inside Hogwarts' walls?

The dog slid in spot for a second before it took off at a full gallop back down the way it had come. Maybe Harry was right after all. Maybe it was too much of a coincidence for all of this to not have been meticulously planned, Remus decided as both he and Harry gave chase.

*****