A/N: Hey, thanks for those of you who are still with me here. I've been rather rude to keep you waiting so long for revisions. Here you go, another chapter!

p.s. I'm dedicating this chapter to Sirius Black. To a great guy, I wish you didn't die! Wait, what am I saying? No, he isn't dead. As long as we have fanfictions we can resurrect him as many times as we want! Still, it's dedicated to him since he's mentioned in the later part of the chapter.

Chapter 2

Clark managed to get to sleep soon after he crawled into bed. His thoughts on what he'd recently discovered about Harry didn't help though. He didn't sleep for long, and was up as soon as light streamed through the window. Looking over at Harry's bed, he noticed that his bed was empty. Harry must already be downstairs, he thought.

He quickly washed up and dressed before making his way downstairs. The Dursley's were gathered around the table, while Harry was stirring some scrambled eggs in a pan. They all looked up as Clark entered the room and Mr. Dursley put on one of his cheesy smiles once more.

"Good Morning Clark. I hope you slept well?"

"Yes, very well actually." Clark smiled politely back.

"Please sit," Dursley gestured to one of the empty chairs. "I hope you like eggs and bacon. It may be awhile before the eggs are done though." Mr. Dursley's gaze shifted towards Harry with a glare, as if he thought that would make him work faster. Harry just ignored him and continued watching the cooking eggs.

Clark sat and soon after Harry joined them, serving the eggs to his relatives. Clark got up to help him but was stopped by Petunia Dursley's toothpick hand.

"Don't be silly Clark. You're our guest. Please, just sit and let Harry serve the eggs." Clark grudgingly sat back down. He'd already been a little rude to the family; he didn't want to make things worse. He did however make sure that Harry left plenty for himself in the pan, though it was obvious the Dursley's didn't like that. They didn't say anything though, much to Clark's amusement. His little lecture last night must have made some impression on them.

After Harry sat they all ate in silence for a few minutes before Petunia broke the ice.

"So, what do you like to do, Clark? I'm sure we can find somewhere that you'd like to visit. Do you do any sports," asked Aunt Petunia.

"Um, I don't really do sports, just watch them." Clark would have loved to play some sports, but he'd promised his dad that that was one thing he wouldn't do while he was gone.

"Perhaps you can go see a game with my husband and son then." Clark noticed she didn't bother mentioning Harry. He looked over at Harry to see his reaction and he looked a little disappointed that he wasn't mentioned, but not very. Maybe he could get Harry's relatives to bring him too.

"Sounds fun. You should really invite Harry too though." Vernon looked like he wanted to protest but he didn't say anything, just nodded.

"Fine then," Petunia tried to keep a smile on her face, changing the subject quickly. "Is there anything else you like to do, Clark? What did you usually do at home?"

"There's not much to do in Smallville, but I'd usually go to the Beanery with friends or help my friend Chloe with the Torch."

"Torch?"

"It's the school newspaper."

"Oh, are you a reporter?"

"I'm not that good, but Chloe says I have potential. Chloe's the real reporter of our group. Hardly anything gets by her."

"Perhaps then, you can give our Dudley here a few tips about the newspaper. We've been discussing his extra-curricular activities at Smeltings, and thought he'd do well with writing." Clark heard a choking sound coming from his right and looked to see Harry trying to hide his reddening face in his glass of orange juice as he tried not to laugh. Clark couldn't help smiling a little himself, but he turned back to Petunia.

"I'm sure I can show him a few things. I'm not an expert, but I'll try," Mrs. Dursley smiled and looked over at her son in a way that had Clark wanting to dispose of his already eaten breakfast. Could this boy be more spoiled? After a pause in the conversation, Clark turned to Dudley, grasping onto one part of the conversation he'd been a bit confused about. "So, Dudley what's Smeltings? Is that your school?"

The two male Dursleys seemed to puff up with pride (or from bloating, it was hard to tell when they were so large).

"Yes, my father went there before me. It's one of the most respectable schools in England."

"We were so proud when Dudley got accepted to Smeltings. Only the best enroll there." Vernon's enormous chest seemed to expand more with pride, if that was possible, as he looked at his equally large son.

"Must be very hard to get in then," Clark replied as he turned to face Harry. "Do you go there too Harry?" The Dursleys seemed to stiffen as their eyes darted to Harry to see what he would say. Curiosity grew in Clark; perhaps this had to do with what he'd seen hidden in the closet.

"Er, no I don't." Harry replied slowly as he glanced up at his uncle.

"Oh, where do you go then?"

"Er…"

"Harry goes to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Vernon quickly interrupted. Clark looked at him in surprise. Harry didn't look dangerous. "Isn't that right, Boy?"

"Er, yeah that's right. Broken lots of rules so they sent me there to straighten me up." That line from Harry just seemed so comical and how he seemed to try and roughen his voice to sound like a dangerous criminal, Clark couldn't help it.

He laughed.

The Dursley's looked at him in confusion, nearly frightened by this outburst from their guest. Harry looked like he was having a hard time keeping from laughing himself.

"My word," Petunia began with a flustered look on her face. "What on earth is so funny?"

"I'm sorry…. It's… just… Harry…. a criminal," Clark tried to piece his words together to make an intelligent phrase, but was having some difficulties through the laughter. Finally he took a deep breath and calmed down enough the finish. "I don't believe it."

"Well it's true. We suspect he got some of his behavior from that criminal godfather of his," Petunia replied in a sharp voice, but quickly clapped one of her thin hands over her mouth. She looked shocked at her own words, as she stared fearfully at her husband who had turned an interesting shade of maroon. Harry let out some of his laughter then and they looked at him.

"I'll be sure to tell him that in my next letter to him," Harry replied. The Dursleys paled and that was the end of their discussion. It was rather strange that they feared this godfather of Harry's. Clark spent the rest of breakfast wondering what he could have done that scared them so much.

Breakfast had been better than dinner, if that was possible. Harry hadn't had to prevent himself from laughing so much in his entire life. He was afraid he'd crack a rib if the conversation had continued like it was. Fortunately, one mention of Sirius and the Dursley's clamped up. They were all silent for the remainder of breakfast and Harry's mind managed to wander. Since the conversation had ended on Sirius, that's who he was thinking of now. He'd gotten a letter from him not too long ago. A large bird had delivered it. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but suspected it was from wherever Sirius was at the moment.

He hadn't gotten to reply to the letter and now realized he couldn't unless Sirius sent another bird since Hedwig was with the Weasley's. This would be nice so Harry could ensure that Sirius didn't worry, but then he'd have a lot to explain to Clark if the bird showed up at the wrong time.

After Harry was done eating he quickly ran upstairs, and making sure Clark would still be downstairs for awhile, he slipped under his bed to move the board and remove a few chocolates.

"Harry?" Harry was half-way out from under his bed when he heard Clark call his name. His head hit the frame as he jumped in surprise. Clark was really quiet when he wanted to be, and quick. Harry pulled himself out all the way from under his bed, grasping the chocolate in his hand. He thanked whoever was watching over him at this moment that he hadn't grabbed any of the charmed ones, as he stood back up, rubbed his head and looked guiltily at Clark. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "You just startled me that's all."

"What were you doing?" Clark moved further into the room, and sat on his bed.

"Oh, just getting my secret stash of sweets," Harry could feel a blush forming on his face as he held up his hand to show Clark. "The Dursley's had Dudley on a strict diet before you got here, and we all had to diet with him so I practically survived on treats my friends sent me. The food has improved since you got here, but not by that much for me."

Clark laughed, and Harry couldn't help smiling. He held out a few of the Honeydukes chocolates to Clark.

"Here, you can have some if you want. It'll probably be the best thing you'll get around here." Clark took a piece and thanked him, then took a bite out of it and seemed to be enjoying himself a lot. Nothing compared to wizarding candy (especially in strangeness) in Harry's opinion, so the look on Clarks' face was expected.

Once Clark finished his first piece he looked at Harry with a thoughtful shine in his eyes. Harry shuffled a little, wondering what he was staring at. After a moment of awkwardness, Clark spoke.

"Who's your godfather, the one your aunt was talking about?"

"Sirius Black. Everyone thinks he's a criminal."

"But he's not."

"No." Harry couldn't believe he was telling someone he hardly knew about his godfather. Clark just seemed like someone that you could trust though. It was strange, he almost seemed like he kept a few extraordinary secrets himself.

Clark took Harry's blunt answers in stride, and nodded. He believed what Harry was saying, and trusted the younger teen. It was almost like they had the similar "weight of the world" on their shoulders, and Clark found it easy to understand Harry though he'd just met him yesterday. "So, what does everyone think he did?"

Harry seemed hesitant as he leaned back on his bed and unwrapped another piece of chocolate. He didn't look away from the wrapper, as if he found something fascinating about how its design. "Can you keep a secret?"

Clark smiled, remembering what he'd said the last time someone asked him that, though it hadn't been in very bright circumstances. Forming the words in his mind, Clark found himself reciting them again. "I'm the Fort Knox of secrets." A smile flickered on Harry's face and he looked up to lock eyes with Clark for a brief moment.

"According to everyone else," Harry began with a sigh, getting up from his bed and going over to the window, to gaze at the street outside. "He was a murderer. Killed thirteen people, they say. There was…an explosion and the a….authorities found him there, laughing like a maniac."

"And you don't believe this?" Clark watched as Harry slowly turned around. His eyes were full of a fresh memory, a painful one too. He slowly shook his head.

"I've seen and heard the truth. Everyone thought he killed a certain man named Peter Pettigrew along with the rest of the people, but it wasn't true. Peter set off that explosion, he's the reason…" Harry paused, something dawning in his eyes. It looked almost like he feared what he was about to say.

"Reason for what, Harry?" Harry seemed to shake out of whatever thoughts he had with a jolt. With his eyes cast to the ground, he quickly moved to the door.

"Er, I should go see what Aunt Petunia wants me to do today. She'll be furious if I don't finish my chores before this evening." Harry rushed out of the room before Clark could protest. Clark just sat there for a moment, thinking over what he'd just heard from Harry. He believed everything Harry said about his godfather being innocent. Harry was still keeping things locked up tight though.

Well what did you expect, Clark? Him to sit on a couch and spill out his entire life story to you, Clark scolded himself. In a way, that's exactly what he'd been hoping. Clark wanted Harry to share his story with him, thinking that if he could just find one person with a secret like his then he could share his too. He'd tried this with others that he'd encountered that were affected by the meteor rocks, but those attempts had been unsuccessful or the person left. Now, he'd scared off another chance to not be alone in the weirdness of the world. He shouldn't have asked so quickly. Now he'd never gain Harry's entire trust and wouldn't be able to solve the mystery of the items under the stairs and Harry's bed.

With a sigh, Clark pushed himself up and off his bed. Mr. Dursley had mentioned taking him out with Dudley to some popular British site, and had said that they should leave soon to avoid traffic. He was tempted to go ask Harry if he wanted to come, but feared that he'd scared the other teen a little too much for the morning and didn't want to worsen it.

Would anything in his life ever go completely right?

Harry rushed downstairs, as soon as he exited his room. His list of chores was already set on the kitchen, longer than usual. Quickly grabbing it, he checked to see the first thing on the list before heading outside. He had to weed the back garden, one of his least favorite chores. But, at least it helped him avoid Clark for the moment.

He'd been stupid, he knew it. Why was he tempted so much to tell a complete stranger his secrets? Sure, Harry had altered the story a bit to a more muggle version one but he'd nearly told Clark about how his parents died. The Dursley's would have been furious if they'd heard even half of the conversation that went on between him and Clark.

Harry sighed, pulling on a particularly stubborn weed. He'd have to be more careful from now on. One slip and Clark may become suspicious. In the back of Harry's mind something was telling him that pouring out his feelings and secrets to Clark may not be such a bad idea though.

What do you expect, Harry? , Harry thought to him sarcastically, Just to come up to him one day and say, "Well, Clark you know that guy Peter Pettigrew? He's a wizard, and so am I and he was a servant of the monster that killed my parents. Oh, yeah and they were wizards too."

Harry took out his frustration on a few weeds as he crushed them in his hands after yanking them roughly out of the ground. No, he couldn't do that. He'd probably scared Clark enough with tales of his godfather.

He was listening though.

Why would he want to listen, he was probably just trying to be polite.

Harry shook his head. If he kept thinking like this he'd never make any decisions. He focused instead on his chores, vaguely wondering if the weeds in this garden were in any way related to mandrakes. He could have sworn he heard a little squeak when he pulled out the last one.

A/N: Done! For now that is. Next chapter will probably be up as soon as this one's up actually. I plan on editing a lot at once.