A/N: Chapter two, enjoy.

Previously: It's green-gray eyes were happy and smiling, staring directly into Harry's own emerald green ones. If he could have with all that weight on him, Harry would have jumped.

"S-Sirius?" he asked quietly, too afraid he was dreaming, "Sirius, is it-is it really you?"

The big black dog gave a loud bark. It leaped from his stomach to the floor beside Harry's bed. Quite suddenly it transformed into a man, a man with shoulder length black hair and brilliant wizard's robes of darkest black. A man Harry had thought he'd never see again.

"That's my name, kiddo, don't wear it out." Sirius chirped, seeming very chipper. In fact, amazingly chipper for a dead person. Harry couldn't believe his eyes.

Before either Sirius or Harry knew it, the thin teen had scrambled from the bed, hooked his arms around Sirius, and was now squeezing him for all he was worth. Sirius yelped and pushed on the boy's shoulders.

"Harry, you bugger, what's the matter?" He wheezed, still trying to push the 16 year old boy off of him. Harry, however, seemed unready to let go.

"Sirius! It's really you! But-but I killed you! You fell through the veil, and Lupin told me I'd never see you again. But you're here! And where is here, what am I doing here? What are you doing here Sirius, you're dead. I'm really sorry I got you killed." Harry exclaimed all rather fast, his words coming out blurred together.

"What nonsense are you rambling about? Let go, Harry!" Sirius was still struggling when Remus walked by the room. Seeing his friend in a bit of trouble, the brunette came in to see if he could help.

"What's up Harry, Sirius?" he asked.

"Well, Moony, Harry's just gone crazy on me. Went flying out of bed screaming something about me being dead and now he won't let go." Sirius explained.

"You being dead? When were you dead, Padfoot?"

"I don't know. I feel pretty not dead right now, although that might change if this kid doesn't let go." Remus grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him off.

"Lupin, Sirius is alive!" Harry beamed up at the werewolf, still confused about the whole situation but far too pleased to question.

"Yes he is Harry and-Lupin? When did you get so impersonal?" Remus asked, then shook his head, "It's not important. Now why would you think Sirius is dead?"

"Because he fell through the veil. You said he had died." Harry told him, getting confused again.

"When-look I think it must have been a bad dream. We told you not to eat all that chocolate before bed last night, though I guess you can't be blamed for not listening. It's not as if there weren't people telling you it was alright." Here Remus glared at Sirius.

"Hey, he's just a kid alright. Let him have his fun." Sirius smiled.

"He's not a kid. He's 16."

"So what? 16 can still be a kid."

"I know, seeing as how you're over 30 and still a kid." Remus sighed, but not without a smile, "Come on Harry, lets go downstairs. I think your mom is cooking waffles."

Remus and Sirius had both started to exit the room before the brunette's words sank in. Harry stared open-mouthed.

"My-my mother?" he asked to the retreating backs of the two adults. Neither one really heard him, but they did see him whiz by a second later. In fact they were practically thrown against the wall.

Harry skipped stairs in an effort to get to the kitchen faster. He turned to the left-and was stopped by a couch hitting his gut. It was a front room he had turned to face, not a kitchen. Feeling slightly dizzy, Harry spun to the right and ran that way. He stopped when he came to a bathroom, turned around and ran the other way. Eventually he found a door that had to lead to the kitchen, as it was the only door left. With his breath hitching in his chest Harry grabbed a hold of the brass doorknob and turned it.

Directly in front of the door was an elegant mahogany table with three chairs along each side length-wise and one chair at each end. Someone was sitting at the far end, reading a copy of The Daily Prophet. The smell and sound of sizzling bacon wafted to Harry's nostrils. There was a little doorway into the kitchen, and the stove was right beside it. The wall behind the stove was only half a wall, so that someone standing in the kitchen could look right over and see those seated in the dining room. A crinkling sound as the paper was set down and Harry gasped. James Potter was sitting there, in a blue blazer sipping a cup of coffee. His hair was extra tousled from sleep and his hazel eyes looked a little tired behind their glasses. His son stood in the doorway, unable to drag his eyes away. That is, until he heard the humming. Harry looked back over to the stove and saw a woman tending to the bacon. A woman with long dark red hair and emerald green eyes, his eyes, standing there with an apron tied around her waist. Lily Potter was smiling as she flipped the bacon and turned to grab some plates.

"Oh just in time Harry, dear. The waffles are almost finished. Could you-" Lily had to stop speaking as the wind was knocked out of her. Harry was about four inches taller than her, so quite suddenly her head was caught against his chest. "Harry!" she gasped into his night shirt.

"Mom! You're alive! I can't believe it! I never even dreamed-"

"What's going on?" James asked as he sauntered into the kitchen. He was the next unsuspecting target of Harry's hug attack, and was also nearly bowled over by the force.

"Dad, mom, dad, mom!" Harry yelped, alternating his hugs between parents.

"Son, son!" James screamed over the youth's cries. "What in bloody hell is going on?"

"Don't curse, James." Lily admonished, trying to free herself from Harry's grip.

"Oh no, not you guys too." Sirius had arrived to find Harry still trapping his parents. James reached an arm out to his friend, who tried to pull him free to no avail.

"How come I don't get a hug? I feel so unloved." Remus mulled as he watched but did not participate in the freeing of James.

"Come now, Moony. You know we love you." Sirius explained, finally managing to loosen Harry's grip. "Harry's just…"
"Gone bloody mad? What's wrong with you this morning, son?" James questioned.

"You guys were…were dead and…I was…living with the Dursleys."

"The Dursleys!" exclaimed James, "Your magic-hating aunt and uncle? Why would you ever live with them and-hold on. What do you mean we were dead?"

"You were dead. Voldemort killed you. He tried to kill me too but the curse reflected on all I got was my scar." Harry enlightend, gesticulating to his forehead. The occupants of the room stared at him. It was Remus that spoke first.

"Harry, you don't have a scar."

"What! Of course I do, right there." His hand went to brush his raven hair out of his eyes, but when his fingertips brushed across his skin he stopped. Carefully he examined his forehead with his fingers a little longer, amazed. There was no thin line of uneven skin. Harry turned quickly to find a mirror. Catching sight of his reflection in a copper pot he studied his forehead closely. No lightning bolt. No evidence that he had ever had a scar.

"Bloody hell!"

"Harry!" Lily reprimanded

I know they are short chapters but I like them. I like ending them at interesting points like this.