A/N: The whole banshee-veela animosity and banshee lifestyles are my own creation and don't belong to the HP world.

Chapter 15: Sirius

Harry walked into the castle heading for the Headmaster's office. Ignoring the looks of shock and gasps from the few students who were still in the corridors, Harry glided to the stone gargoyle. Before he had fully stopped, the gargoyle sprang aside and a shocked Albus Dumbledore came down to stand before him.

"Harry...." Harry sidestepped him and climbed the revolving staircase to his office.

Dumbledore followed him back into his office. Harry sat down on one of the chairs facing the Headmaster's desk and waited for Dumbledore to take his place. Regaining his usual serenity, Dumbledore took his seat and waited expectantly. He was curious about so many things but he knew better than to question Harry.

Harry was still dressed in his black Banshai outfit and the tear-shaped stones on his Banshai necklace shone like diamonds in the morning sun. There was a serene look about him that seemed almost unnatural. Dumbledore did not realize that his eyes betrayed his despairing emotions as he gazed at the necklace around Harry's neck.

The silence in the office stretched and nothing moved except Fawkes who after giving Harry a customary once over, went back to cleaning his feathers. Finally Harry sat up slightly from his previously leaned back position in the chair. He looked at Dumbledore with his head titled slightly then he opened his mouth as if to say something. However no sound came out. Harry closed his mouth and straightened before opening his mouth to speak, yet again it was as if a thought had just come to him and he didn't speak.

Harry leaned back in his chair, leaning his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers, staring thoughtfully at his hands. Dumbledore watched it all in silence. There had never been a banshee who spoke. Historical books recorded events where desperate relatives or friends approached, sometimes even captured their loved one who had turned into a banshee but none of the banshees ever spoke. The only time a banshee's voice was heard was in that terrible magical scream that released all pent-up anguish. However, there was nothing known about a Banshai's ability to speak or the lack of it.

Harry sat in silence, still looking thoughtful. He looked up at Dumbledore and tried to speak again and again no sound came out of his mouth. Dumbledore was going through every single speech spell and potion in his memory. It was apparent that Harry wouldn't be able to speak without some magical help.

"Aah.....I...I..." he was surprised to hear Harry's voice.

Harry was struggling as if he hadn't spoken in years and speech was a near- forgotten memory.

"I...have...returned....Had to back....The ban-banshees need help..." Harry's voice grew steadier.

"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore's voice sounded genuinely concerned.

Harry only raised an annoyed brow at his tone then began the difficult process of telling him the reason for his return. Even with his halting speech, Dumbledore was almost spellbound with the story he had to tell.

Harry had indeed become the banshai of that particular banshee colony. He had been content to stay with them living at their forest sanctuary. However, during his stay he had learnt all about the special place a banshai held within a colony and the reason behind this special status. He had been told the tale a few days after he had been 'turned'.

The banshees lived a harsh life due to the curse the veelas had put on them. Not only could their kind not have a mate, children and a family, the banshees were completely cut off from the rest of the world. The banshees could not speak even if they wanted to. The only creatures who understood them were other banshees. The curse prevented them from keeping any contact with the people they had known before becoming a banshee. They were also incapable of doing magic even though most of them had been witches before being 'turned'.

The veelas also suffered form the curse put on them by the legendary leader banshee, Ghera centuries ago but that curse wasn't half as bad. The veelas could still mingle freely with other witches and wizards and still had families.

However, there was a way to lift the curse on the banshees. The story had been passed down generations of banshees and was still recited amongst them. It was almost like a prophecy. Ghera had died in the great battle between the banshees and the veelas all those centuries ago. But as she was breathing her last breath on that battlefield, she spoke to her fellow banshees. She told them that the curse was breakable. They would once again regain their voices and be able to live the life they had before. The curse would be broken by a banshai who passed the ultimate test.

That was all she had been able to say before her death. For centuries, the banshees remembered her words and searched the world for the one banshai that could set them free from the curse. There had been a number of banshais but even the banshai never knew what this 'test' was and how to pass it. And the veelas never failed to track down the banshai and convert him into a veela. Now once again the banshees' hopes had risen to be free from the curse.

Harry felt he was responsible to help them. He needed to learn everything about the curse and learn how to break it. That was the reason he was back at Hogwarts. The banshees had wanted him to stay far away in the sanctuary with them, but he knew that he needed some help if he was ever going to be able to do anything. The banshees had been highly agitated when he said he wanted to return to Hogwarts. They were afraid of losing him to the veelas. He had a hard time convincing them to let him go but he promised he would return every evening to the sanctuary. Finally they had agreed albeit reluctantly.

"I am here to try to find a way to break this curse." Harry paused though he could speak clearly now.

"Will you help me?" he asked and it sounded as if the plea for help had been wrenched painfully from his throat.

Dumbledore was pained that this boy could be so loathe to ask him for help. He knew what it cost Harry, how hard it had been to let go of his pride. Dumbledore knew that the pain of betrayal hadn't been healed. He vowed to help Harry through this, no matter what it took, no matter how long.

"Yes, of course Harry. I am sure I speak on behalf of all the teachers when I say that you will get all the help you need. There are many historical books in the library that mention the banshee-veela war and the teachers might be able to make some useful suggestions. I believe Professor Sinistra's second cousin is a researcher of magical history with some rare manuscripts. Hogwarts has many outer contacts that might be able to find something. I am sure we will come up with something." Dumbledore assured him.

He picked up a quill and scribbled a few words on a piece of parchment.

"Why don't you start with looking up these books in the library? I will see the other teachers in case they remember anything of use" he handed the parchment to Harry.

Harry accepted and stood up to leave. As he was about to turn the doorknob, Dumbledore called after him.

"You might want to stop by the Hospital Wing before you go to the library. Sirius is still in a coma and the experts from St. Mungo's have given up on him. If you wish to say goodbye to him, it would be best to do it now."

Dumbledore's voice remained calm and unemotional as he said this. He might have felt bad about breaking the news in such a manner but he hoped it would bring out a good reaction from Harry. From what he saw of Harry's behavior these days, he knew pleading with him to see Sirius would almost certainly cause him to close up and run the other way.

Harry turned around to look at the Headmaster in shock. After a moment he turned around and left the office. Harry walked down the stairs and turned left. He was walking in that gliding manner but he wasn't yet sure of his destination. That corridor led both towards the library and the hospital wing.

Sirius was in a coma, his brain kept repeating. Why was he in a coma? The answer came to him soon enough. That day when he had been 'turned'. Sirius had tried to get to him. Two of the banshees had screamed at him. His last vision of Sirius had been his unconscious form lying prone on the grass. Being a banshai, he now fully understood the different effects of banshee magic on witches and wizards. Sirius had been affected. He was in a coma caused by banshee magic. He would die if his grief didn't end. He would die if no one could pull him out of the pain he was suffering.

But Remus Lupin was here, wasn't he? As far as he knew Remus was the only close person to Sirius. Only other close person, he admitted to himself bitterly. Why couldn't Remus pull him out of the coma? Why did he have to be the one to do this? He didn't want to save Sirius. Sirius had abandoned him, he wanted to abandon Sirius in return. Then why was he feeling so miserable? No, wait. He always felt miserable. Why was he feeling more miserable than usual?

He wasn't going to visit Sirius. He wouldn't save him. Saving him would mean forgiving him. He was not ready to forgive Sirius, he didn't know if he would ever be ready. This Was Not Fair! Why was life so mean to him? He didn't want to go see Sirius. He didn't want to hold his hand and call his name. He didn't want to pull him out of this coma. Yet he couldn't bring himself to imagine his death. He didn't want Sirius to die because of him. And he knew it was because of him. Sirius had been vulnerable to banshee magic because of his guilt towards Harry. Well it wasn't Harry's fault so he wasn't going to feel guilty about it. He would just not visit Sirius. That way, he wouldn't have to save him.

But he would have to go to his funeral. Damn conscience! He hated himself for being so weak. He was still undecided and the fork that separated the way to the library and hospital wing was fast approaching. But in that moment the choice was taken out of his hands.

A very haggard-looking Remus Lupin shuffled towards him from the corridor that led to the hospital wing. He didn't see Harry since his head was bent. He looked weary to the bone, gray hairs more visible than ever. His entire stance was that of a defeated and despairing man. That stance changed the moment he raised his head and laid eyes on Harry. At first, he looked shell shocked. Then, he began to look relieved to see Harry was alright. And then it was as if a steamroller of an idea had hit him.

"HARRY...Harry, you're back. I thought I'd never see you again. Thank God you are alright" he strode towards him and clasped his shoulders.

"Harry...Sirius. Harry, Sirius is dying. He is dying. They have all given up on him. He won't live. He's been lying there in the hospital wing for a month now. They called in specialists from all over the world. They tried every charm and potion they could think of. But nothing worked. Nothing. They say there is no cure. His grief is eating him from the inside and there's nothing we can do. Harry, they are preparing for his death. They are preparing for his death. They think I don't know but I know. I know...I know..." his voice had lowered to a whisper, head nodding in time with the last exclamations.

There were tears in the werewolf's eyes and his voice had gained a hysterical edge. His superhuman strength was hurting Harry because he was unaware that he had tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders.

"Harry, you can help him. You can, can't you? I know you can. He has been feeling guilty over you. If you tell him to not to die, he will listen to you. If you tell him to wake up, he'll wake up. Harry, you have to save him. Please Harry, please. Please save Sirius. Please don't let him die. I wouldn't be able to live if he dies."

He was gazing at something above Harry's head in a way that was frightfully similar to a madman's look.

"It was so hard when mom and dad died. It was so hard when James and Lily died. It was so hard when I thought Peter had died and Sirius was responsible. Now that Sirius is back, I won't be able to bear it if he died. I can't take this anymore. Everyone has died." Remus was lost in some horrific world of his own for a moment.

His tears were flowing freely although he himself wasn't aware of it. The usually calm and quiet Professor was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Save him, Harry. Please save him. Only you can. Please, Harry. I'll...I'll do anything. Just don't let him die. I won't be able to bear it. You'll save him, won't you? You'll tell him to wake up? He'll listen to you. Please tell him to wake up. Harry, please help him. Harry...." Remus was tugging on Harry's arm.

Harry could no longer ignore him. He sighed and nodded and walked towards the hospital wing with Remus. Remus still held a firm grip on Harry's arm though he wasn't dragging Harry. It was as if he was afraid Harry was a figment of his imagination and would vanish in a puff of smoke if he let go.