Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing and I am making no profit

Setting: This story starts a couple of weeks after the end of GoF but after that goes a little AU.

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Chapter 12: A Piece of the Puzzle in Place.

Harry hugged his knees. He was in the upstairs bedroom of the shrieking shack, leaning against dirt and blood stained pillows of the four-poster bed. Tiny spears of sunlight made their way through the boards that blocked the windows, but the room was otherwise dark.

The house was pretty much as Harry remembered it - distended with scratch marks over the walls and furniture - but there were small differences; the thick layer of dust was yet to settle itself down across the floor and a faint smell of blood penetrated the air. Remus's blood? Probably.

Would it be full moon soon?

Harry had a sudden desire to see James transform; to see Prongs in the flesh rather than as an apparition of white smoke originating from Harry's own wand. He wanted to see Peter transform too, and never transform back. He wanted to talk to Sirius; not young Sirius with the laughing eyes who had pulled a wand on him earlier, but Harry's Godfather; the Azkaban escape with the skeletal frame and twisted grin.

Harry remembered all too well the first time he'd come here. He remembered Sirius's hatred and rage against Peter. He thought of young Sirius jumping to Peter's defense; an act that was second nature to him in him in this time.

How did future Sirius feel knowing that he had once acted as Peter's protector, and what would he have done if he'd found himself in Harry's current predicament? Could he have told James what to do in order to prevent the personal tragedies but not prolong the war? Could he have figured out a way to use this opportunity in a way Harry has yet to do? No, probably not. Sirius probably would've jumped in and strangled Peter, consequences be damned. Twelve years in Azkaban combined with natural recklessness made Sirius an unpredictable element.

Harry heard footsteps downstairs, crisp against the silence, and sat up, straining his ears for some further clue as to who was approaching. It would be one of three people he decided; James, Sirius or Lupin. Fred didn't know about the tunnel to the shack and Harry very much doubted that Peter would have had the courage to follow him after what had happened in the commonroom. It had almost made Harry retch to see the rat cowering before his own wand. He'd wanted more than anything to just be able to fight the boy - curse him until he couldn't get up off the ground - but seeing him cower like that; Harry had felt pity. It made things complicated.

The footsteps were now jogging up the stairs and Harry tried to relax as he waited for whomever it was to find him. It was Sirius. He entered the room squinting, using his lit wand to locate Harry on the bed.

"Oh, here you are," he said, a little too casually. Harry realised he was still wary of him after the incident with Peter.

"I'm not going to attack you," he said.

"Course not," said Sirius cheerily. "That would just be foolish; I'm bigger and stronger than you." He flicked his wand. "Lumos lit! Nox!" The torches on the walls lit up and Sirius's wand went out. Harry was glad to have the light of it out of his face. The room felt warmer.

Sirius perched himself on the edge of the bed. "So I have to ask," he said, watching Harry closely. "Why is it that you and Fred are such gits around us?"

Harry snorted, not quite believing that Sirius had just said that. Direct and to the point he thought. Sirius returned his gaze without flinching.

"I'm not being a 'git'," said Harry, affronted. Then more thoughtfully, "And it's not Fred's fault. He doesn't have all the facts. Don't worry though, I'll sort it out with him."

Sirius nodded. "What are the 'facts'?" he asked.

"You know I can't tell you," said Harry, trying to match Sirius's apparent calm, though this questioning was making him very uneasy.

"Alright then," said Sirius. "What's not fact? What does Fred think about me that isn't true. You can tell me that. I mean, you wouldn't be telling be about the future if it's nothing that really happened."

Harry applauded the rather manipulative logic of this, but also knew that he would not give Sirius the answer. What would Sirius do to the timelines if he discovered that most people thought he was a mad killer?

"I'll sort Fred out," he repeated instead.

Sirius looked him in the eye for a moment, then stood and began to pace. "You won't tell me, but you don't hate me. You know something Fred doesn't. Something about Peter upsets you but not Fred. Fred is afraid of me, but you don't seem to be … " He was counting off the facts on his fingers, jittery with pent up frustration, any façade of calm now forgotten. It was as though he thought the future was a puzzle and all he had to do was put the pieces together to find the answer. Harry felt a thrill of fear. He could see himself in Sirius - that same obsessive nature that had led Harry into a series of terrifying, life threatening situations - and he knew he had to put a stop to this.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, before Sirius got any further. "I know you; you're …" Could he say it?

Sirius wheeled around and eyed him intently. "What? I'm what Harry?" Harry was silent. "Oh, just tell me! Whatever it is!" Sirius exploded.

"You're my Godfather."

Clearly this was the last thing Sirius had been expecting to hear, his mouth opening and closing silently as he digested the information, but Harry could tell he was rather pleased. "Oh," he said finally, overcoming his surprise. "You mean James and Lily would actually let me be your guardian if anything, God forbid, were to happen to them?"

Harry felt the pained expression cross his face before he could stop it. "I suppose so."

"Huh." Sirius seated himself again. "Well, it makes sense of course."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, feeling rather melancholy now. "You were my Dad's best friend."

Sirius hummed in agreement, but then fell silent; the pleased expression melting from his face. "Wait, what was that?"

"I-I said that, er, you and Dad, you're b-best friends," Harry stuttered out, sensing he'd made an error somewhere.

"Right," said Sirius, stretching the word out thoughtfully. "Even after all those years?"

"Er, yeah," Harry managed, a little scared now. What had Sirius deduced? "Yeah, of course; why wouldn't you be?"

"And you attacked Wormtail because?"

"I didn't attack him!" Harry protested. "I just … "

"Pulled his own wand on him," Sirius finished shrewdly.

Harry tried to take a calming breath. "Sirius, look, it was just … it was something to do with the future … " He was trying to put Sirius off, but knew he wasn't making an effective job of it. His fears were very close to the surface and that was only making Sirius even more keenly interested. "Sirius, you know I can't tell you, so just don't ask, alright? It's hard enough without you … "

"Wanting the truth?" Sirius asked impatiently. Harry fell silent, willing Sirius to understand.

Sirius stood and paced across the room, running his hands through his hair in agitation, but when he turned to face Harry again his face was deadly calm. He knows something thought Harry, but what? What had Sirius figured out? What had Harry given away? Sirius was smarter than Harry was. He'd done something; tricked him somehow.

"Tell me," said Sirius dispassionately. "What position does James play on the quidditch team?"

"Why?" asked Harry nervously. "You don't need me to tell you that."

"Humour me."

"Chaser," said Harry. "He played chaser."

"Correct." Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and swallowed as though trying to prepare himself for something. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What's James's birthday?"

It took a moment for the significance of this question to sink in. Once it did, Harry felt the blood draining from his face. He could see the growing horror in Sirius's eyes.

"Sirius … "

But Sirius had disappeared, and the huge black dog that had taken his place was fleeing down the rickety old staircase, no more than a blur of black fur.

"Sirius!" Harry cried. "Wait!"

His voice echoed around the shack.