Oh dear...I've made ya'll wait almost a month again. Ugh. Bad me, bad.
BrennQT: Thanks, I'm glad you like her name. I don't think I've ever heard of someone with it, and I either pulled it from my hind quarters or Either way is good for naming characters.
Gohan Hugger: I don't know what a cahoozle is either, but it sounds legit.
LinSetsu: haha, the chasing his tail part had me so happy...until I re-read OotP and discovered I wasn't so original after all. :(
Paige-Rossi-Black: well, if you hug him, it might hurt his poor sore middle, but I think he'd forgive you. Well, abt Peter and Remus, I do plan on bringing that issue up, perhaps in the next chapter or so. Look for it, it will be there!
Llailin: I'm glad I'm keeping you sane. Writing these keeps me sane, b/c JK killing off all these sweet characters is NOT doing a very good job of it. Everyone I love dies! Perhaps I should begin to love...Bella...yes, then she will perish in a fiery ball of fire! Muahaha! That was a terrible description. And (sniffs) Ron will be next! AHH!
Lil Smartass: have I told you lately that I still love your name...cause I do. And I'm really sorry that I'm mean to him, because I really do love the little pup.
Jojo: It was a shocker...how could she do that! WTF!
Anyways... go frolic through the fields and then you may read (and REVIEW) this dear little story.
Chapter 10
Sirius bit his bottom lip. From where he and Kaelin stood on the path from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, they could easily see the towering castle. As Kaelin continued pushing his wheelchair down the path, Sirius felt his stomach growing heavier and heavier. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this. It was one thing that the Potters knew. It was quite another thing for a thousand other teenagers and some twenty odd teachers to know.
"Remember you don't have to tell anyone what really happened," Kaelin was saying. "It's none of their business. They have no right to pry, so don't let it bother you." Sirius nodded his head once. She looked down at her watch as they came upon the castle doors. "They should be in the middle of dinner now." She quietly asked, "Do you want to go to the Great Hall or to your dorm?"
"Dorm," Sirius said quickly. He did not want to get caught in front of all those people. He wanted as much time away as he could. Kalein understood and nearly jogged her way to the Gryffindor Tower. Sirius muttered the password, and the portrait swung open. Both Sirius and Kaelin ignored the Fat Lady's questions.
At the edge of the stairs, Kaelin wrapped her arms around Sirius in as tight a hug as she dared. "Well, dear, since you're here, I need to be going. Do you have all your potions? And your broom?" Sirius smiled. Both were in plain sight. "You remember that you can't fly at least until summer, right?" Sirius nodded. "Good, and you aren't to try walking for another three weeks, all right dear?"
"I know, Momma," he said.
She nodded and suddenly began fussing over his hair. She frowned viciously at the still evident cut on his cheek. "It's okay, Kaelin," he said softly.
She wrapped him in another hug. "Oh, Sirius, dear," she whispered. "I just wish something had been done sooner. You didn't deserve this. I—"
"Please don't worry about it," he said.
Kaelin stood back wiping her eyes. "Of course, dear," she said. "I—you'll be fine. You're a strong boy." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Do be good, Sirius. Study hard. And please try to not cause so much trouble." Sirius offered her a cocky smirk. "Oh you," she said ruffling his hair, knowing just how much he hated it.
Sirius set his chair to hover up the stairs as Kaelin left her old common room. He entered the dorm and immediately climbed from his chair and to his bed. He tossed his now useless broom over by his trunk. He pulled the bag full of potion bottles from the back of the chair and placed it on his bedside table.
He was just stretching out on his bed, wishing very much that he could pop his back without extreme pain, when James and the others burst into the room. "Sirius!" Remus and Peter cried. James was torn between beaming at seeing his friend again and casting worried glances at the other two Marauders.
"What happened to you," Peter asked immediately. "Is you leg broken?"
"No, Wormtail," Sirius said sarcastically. "I just like to have it encased in plaster from time to time." Peter looked slightly hurt. Sirius didn't bother to apologize.
"So this is why you've been out," Remus asked. Sirius nodded. "What happened?"
"An accident like you wouldn't believe," Sirius said nonchalantly. "Broken leg, ribs, bruises and cuts like nothing else, too much to heal magically. I have to do most of it the Muggle way."
Peter cringed. "How long do Muggles take to heal bones?"
"I'm stuck in this cast for another three weeks at least," Sirius said boredly. "Ruddy ridiculous, all this. With all that magic can do, it can't heal all of this at once." He made quotation marks with his fingers. "'Your body would go into shock. You could die.'" He rolled his eyes. "Bullshit, if you ask me. They just want more of my money."
"Well that's not fair," Peter said. Sirius shrugged. "Whatever. Not like I can't afford it." Sirius looked over at James. The messy haired boy was throwing cautious looks at Remus. The werewolf was eyeing him with great suspicion. Sirius resisted the urge to bite his lip. Remus was a master of creating excuses for absences. If it could get past him, it could get past anyone.
Something told Sirius that his story would never fly with Remus. No matter how much he insisted he was telling the truth, Remus would always know that there was something else going on. Sirius felt a bit bad. When he and James had come to the conclusion that Remus was a werewolf, it had been Sirius who demanded that Remus fess up. Was it hypocritical of Sirius to not tell his deepest secret after force Remus to tell his?
Whether or not it was, Sirius didn't care. Remus would not know. No one else would know ever.
"So what have you been doing?" Peter asked.
"Sitting in bed bored out of me ass," Sirius snapped. "The most exciting moment of the holiday was Exploding Snaps."
"That sucks," Peter sympathized. "Where did you stay?"
"In a hospital, Wormtail," Sirius sighed.
"When did it happen?"
"Christmas Eve."
"Oh no! So you didn't get to have Christmas morning," Peter cried in angst.
A dull throb was beginning to form behind Sirius's left eye. He rubbed his temple and said as patiently as he could, "No, Wormtail." Why was he asking such idiotic questions? Who cares if he was awake on Christmas morning when his leg was in pieces and he couldn't breathe on his own. The throbbing was growing and spreading.
James noticed and snapped, "Wormtail, shut up." Peter looked very put out. Remus, for once, did not even offer James a glare.
"Peter," he spoke up, "are you still hungry?" Peter's eyes lit up. He was always hungry. "James, can we borrow the cloak?" James nodded, very thankful for what Remus was doing.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Sirius buried his face in his hands. James sat down beside him and placed a comforting hand on his back. "Dammit," he muttered after a few minutes. "I shouldn't have come back. It was stupid."
"No, it wasn't," James said. "What else would you have done? Dropped out? I know you got a lot of money from your uncle, but even that's not enough for the future, especially if you want a family."
"Who says I want a family," Sirius snapped.
"You might not now," James said. "But we're only like seventeen. You could change your mind."
"I don't like kids," Sirius said.
"You like Nymphadora," James pointed out.
Sirius countered, "Dora's my cousin."
"You're just trying to be difficult now," James said with a smirk. Sirius shrugged.
"You know," Sirius said after a few moments, "I wouldn't be having to worry about any of this if I had just not gone over to your house."
James frowned. Not this again. "No, you wouldn't," he said. "You wouldn't be worrying about anything because you'd be dead." Sirius blinked in confusion at James's icy face. "Dead, Sirius. If you hadn't managed to get over to my house you would have died on a hard wood floor. And you know it."
Sirius leaned on his hand. "Would it have been better," he asked. James's shoulders dropped. Why could he not make Sirius see that his life was worth something? Why did Sirius always blame himself for things? Why did he have to act so defeated about this? He had survived, and he'd never go back to the Black house again. He was safe now.
"Sorry I'm so difficult," Sirius said a few seconds later. James rolled his eyes.
"You're not difficult," he said. "Wait," he said with a joking air, eager to steer Sirius's attention from the current topic, "yes, you are. What other person has the nerve to flirt with his best friend's love interest?"
As James had hoped, Sirius forgot about the previous topic. He never passed up an opportunity to rag James about Lily. "It's only an interest from one point of view, my friend," Sirius said. The two friends laughed and bashed at each other until Remus and Peter returned from the kitchens. It was not much longer before they each drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Sirius pulled himself out of bed stiffly and eased into his chair. James was already awake, Remus was gone–as sure sign that he had gotten to the shower first–and Peter was still snoozing. Sirius stretched as best he could without pain shooting down his back. "You ready for today," James asked.
"As ready as I can be," Sirius said tiredly.
"What do we do about the teachers?"
"Your mum sent a letter to Dumbledore. Nothing specific, but a plausible excuse." Sirius ran a hand through his bed messed hair. He honestly did not want to do this, but it was now or never. He couldn't put it off.
"I meant to ask you earlier," James continued, "but what about everyone else. Rumors are going to fly like mad. Hell, they already are."
Sirius sighed. "Just let them run. Don't say yes or no to anything," he commanded. James nodded. "I'm not going to lie, but I won't tell anyone the truth."
"Um, about all that truth telling," James said hesitantly. "Narcissa pretty much knows." Sirius looked up at James with a sharp glare. James held up his hands in his defense. "I didn't tell her. I wouldn't even let her start guessing. But she's a smart girl. She'll take one look at you and know everything."
"Bloody great," Sirius muttered. "Who won't know now? You and your family, Regulus, Narcissa, and Andromeda. Andromeda probably told Ted. This is just peachy." Sirius wished very much to curse something right then.
"Sirius," James said leaning over and placing his hand on the other's shoulder, "it's going to be okay. I know you don't think so, but I know that you're strong. You can overcome this. Just believe in yourself."
Sirius shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. "If this was any other matter, I'd laugh right now. That was too corny, Prongs."
"Well, Padfoot," James said with a shrug, "sometimes the best way to say something is corny."
"Agreed."
James waved his arm towards the door. "To class, then?"
"I think you should put some pants on first, Prongs."
When the Marauders walked/rolled into Transfiguration class, they–they meaning Sirius–were met with shocked looks. Sirius offered each of them his best haughty glare and moved to his seat. James shot a nasty look to anyone else who continued to gawk at his best friend. Sirius moved from the wheelchair and into his desk, propping his leg back in the seat of the magical chair.
Sirius frowned deeply when the bell rang and Professor McGonagall did not move from her desk. She merely sat there, gaping at him like the students. Sirius let out a little attention catching cough, and the older woman was jerked from her trance. She began the lesson in her normal brisk manner, as if she had never noticed Sirius's return. Of course the teachers would have been told that he would be absent until this point, but Sirius was positive that none of them had expected him to come back like that.
When the lesson was over, McGonagall called for Sirius to remain behind. Remus walked out of the room with Lily, and James lingered behind, shooting McGonagall distrustful glances, despite that she was undoubtedly his favorite teacher. But favorite teacher or no, Sirius always came first.
McGonagall noticed him and snapped, "Mr. Potter, I was under the impression that Mr. Black was sixteen years old and that you were not his mother. You have a lesson to attend, if I am not mistaken, and tardiness will not be excused." James narrowed his eyes and left the classroom, albeit muttering nastily under his breath.
Under normal circumstances, Sirius would have either smirked smugly or openly laughed at McGonagall's comment, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind James's retreating form, a sense of dread washed over Sirius. Get a grip, Padfoot! he mentally chastised himself. This is McGonagall, head of your House. She's practically your surrogate mother, after Momma Kaelin, of course.
Sirius swallowed and moved his chair so that he was sitting in front of her desk. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on his knees as her sharp eyes studied him. He wished she would just say whatever it was and get it over with.
When the Transfiguration professor did finally speak, her voice was the gentlest Sirius had ever heard it. "Sirius, none of the staff members, including the headmaster, were offered an explanation as to your absence."
"Sorry if this sounds rude, Professor," Sirius said softly, "but you won't find one today either."
She nodded. "I thought as much, especially when James refused to say anything, as well." She stood from her desk, and walked around to kneel in front of Sirius. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, "Sirius, I know we aren't supposed to say things like this, but you truly are one of the best students I've ever had the pleasure of teaching. Despite all the trouble you cause, you and James are like my little pets. I want you to know that it has been a great honor not only to teach you, but to have you in my House. If you ever need anything–even just to talk–I'll always be here."
Sirius was at a loss for words. He had never even heard of the overly strict professor saying such things. Sirius felt his heart tugging. Could she ever possibly know how much her words meant to him? Sirius did not know how he could thank her, so he did the only thing he could think of. The young man leaned forward and hugged her.
The older woman had not been expecting that reaction, but after a brief second, returned the hug. She patted his back in a motherly fashion before pulling back. She smiled at him and handed him a pass. "The Headmaster wishes to see you. The password is Sherbert Pops."
"Yes, ma'am," Sirius said, before turning to leave the room. Just as he shut the door, McGonagall ran a hand quickly over her eyes.
Sirius moved his chair down the hallway, thankful that the bell had already rung and no students were wondering the hall. He came upon the stone gargoyle and said the password. The statue jumped to the side to reveal the rotating staircase. Sirius hovered his chair over it and was carried up to the headmaster's office. He knocked on the door and entered when beckoned.
Sirius couldn't think of a time that he had ever entered the headmaster's office so quietly. Ever other time he was either laughing at his clever pranks or loudly denying that he had had any involvement.
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, fingertips touching and eyes sparkling in the candlelight. His pet phoenix was sitting on its perch, eyeing Sirius curiously, as it did every time he was in here. The portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses were staring openly at him, including his great-great grandfather. The office was the same as it was every time Sirius was sent there, except for the fact that Dumbledore had no trace of amusement in his face.
"You wanted to see me, sir," Sirius asked.
Dumbledore nodded, but did not say anything. He merely kept his piercing gaze on Sirius's form. The young man–had he been raised differently–would have shifted nervously. But Sirius held the old man's gaze until he finally spoke. "It is good to have you back with us, Sirius." Sirius nodded.
With a sigh, Dumbledore said, "I wish I could have inquired about you having a good holiday." Sirius's face hardened. What was the old man thinking? Sirius was sitting before him in casts and a wheelchair. Did it look like he had a good holiday!
"But," Dumbledore continued, "I can see that you did not, a result of whatever accident you were involved in. Perhaps, though, you would be more communicative than Mr. Potter or his parents."
Sirius swallowed hard. Of course, this would be what Dumbledore wanted to know, the truth about what had happened. As if it wasn't so obvious, Sirius thought resentfully. He had left his home over break for the Potters and when he did return, he was beaten up, with the Potters keeping his secrets. It wasn't exactly under lock and key that Sirius held great disdain–one that was returned ten fold–for his family. And anyone who had ever heard Sirius speak of the Potters knew that they were like family–he did call Kaelin Momma after all.
Sirius could feel eyes on the back of his head and frowned when his ancestor said, "Dumbledore, isn't it painfully obvious?" Dumbledore sent a harsh look at the portrait, but something like that would never shut up a Black, especially not one who could not really be harmed. "Besides, the boy is a Black. He's too stubborn to say anything he does not wish to say. And judging from his prolonged silence, I suspect it shall remain so."
"That will be quite enough, Phineas," Dumbledore said. Sirius's dark eyes grazed over the portrait of the Slytherin headmaster. He felt strangely thankful for the portrait basically telling the headmaster to lay off. When Sirius turned his eyes back to the headmaster, Dumbledore was attempting to stare through him again. Sirius showed no outer emotions.
How strange this was! Sirius detested his family. He detested their belief of superiority, their unjustness, and their manner of being. But here he was, using that same manner. He was doing exactly as his mother had always told him to do. Sirius sat there seemingly devoid of feeling, and, although he hated his family's way, he was using it as a defense mechanism. He was programed.
Dumbledore seemed to understand that Phineas was right, considering the next time he spoke, he said, "Have you heard, Mr. Black, of the strange phenomenon that occurred on the train ride back from Platform 9 3/4?"
Sirius's face hardened. The mist...James was required–lest he face the wrath of his mother–to send an owl after he arrived at Hogwarts. No matter how old he got, Kaelin always worried about him. James had mentioned the dark mists seeping through the compartments and the splitting headache he had received when it washed over him. Kaelin had let Sirius read the letter.
Sirius took a deep breath. He couldn't not tell the old man. "It was a spell. Mother sent it to find me. She must have wanted to know if I was on the train or still at the Potters'."
Dumbledore nodded. "Do you know why, then, it had effects on only Mr. Potter?"
"James knew where I was, and he stood up to my parents. The spell is connected to the caster. She would have felt his presence, and her anger attacked him," Sirius said. He wasn't completely positive if that was correct, he was sure there was nothing else it could have been.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Very well, Mr. Black. You will have missed most of your lesson, so you have permission to head back to your common room." Sirius nodded and turned his chair to exit the room. "Oh, and Sirius," Dumbledore called just as Sirius had pushed the door open. "I suspect that you have already had people say this to you, but if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."
Sirius did not turn to look at the elderly headmaster. He bit his bottom lip and nodded curtly before closing the door behind him.