A/N: Annnnnnd Uni is done!... For now. That being the main reason this took so bloody long to post, but eh, here we are, all along for the ride!

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A Path Seldom Trodden

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His knees buckled infinitesimally under the weight of his exhaustion.

Since Hermione had pulled Sirius out of the front door, he'd been throwing spells around in the incredibly dank cellar of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The idea had been to increase his speed and power, and silent casting, while also to test out how well his 'Duro' on the far wall held up to the onslaught. When in reality he was trying to keep himself busy enough so that he would not think upon the girl that had just left. Not-to-mention the way she'd frowned and pouted asymmetrically at him. Or maybe she always did that when the need arose?

Either way, they hadn't left things on the best of terms either.

Don't think about that, focus. He took a breath to centre himself, raising his wand higher than normal and concentrated hard. "Aqua Eructo!" A glistening cone of water roughly the same size as himself appeared out of thin air as he had imagined. With a determined flick up he growled out; "Glacius." and the water construction froze solid. Quickly, without a word and a sharp jab with his wand, he banished his creation towards the wall where it embedded itself with a crash and a shower of rubble. He sank to the floor in exhaustion, he'd lost count of the amount of tries that single attack took for him to achieve. Most of his attempts had failed with the freezing spell not working on the shape he'd create, leaving it ineffective against his hardened wall.

The sound of his panting filled the room, until a chuckle drowned them out. "Not trying to bring down my house are you?" Sirius said jokingly, leaning against the door to the stairs that lead into the kitchen. His eyes twinkled with something Harry couldn't place. It was like he knew a secret and found it funny that no one else did.

At least that's what he assumed, his godfather found quite a few things funny.

It was certainly a change in pace to floo here rather than take the train and endure the inevitable and awkward car ride back to Privet Drive. Sirius had a boundless energy that always seemed to cheer him up, no matter what. Some might have found it odd that a teen and a thirty-something year old man had such a kinship, a brotherly bond. But it was there, whether it was because Sirius seemed to believe that he was his father reincarnated, or that fact they'd fought together, or something else, he didn't know.

What he did know, was that they co-existed extremely comfortably, like he'd known the older man for years. Something that his nearly two year old self seemed to remember innately, or maybe it was because Sirius had bought him his very first broom? Who knows.

"Am I likely to?" He inquired from his spot on the floor.

Sirius grinned. "Nah, if The Burrow hasn't collapsed by now, you won't be able to hurt this place." He gave the icy wall a glance. "Or bring it down at least. Do you mind fixing that?"

"Let me catch a breath first Padfoot." He stood awkwardly and tiredly. "Actually, I need your help."

Sirius gave an exaggerated cry and stepped forward, spreading his arms like he was on stage absorbing an audience's acclaim. "Finally! He has the sense to ask his godfather how to woo the love of his life! You came to the right person Harry."

He blinked in shock. "What? No, I mean-wait! Love of my life? What do you mean by that?"

Sirius merely smirked. "Best save that lesson for another time then." He then drew his wand. "What do you need?"

He shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts that he'd spent that last hour and a bit trying to ignore. "I need someone to test a shield I've been working on."

Sirius skipped into the cellar like an excited child and faced him. "Go on."

He drew upon some of his lingering strength. "Protego Fianto Duri!" He nearly yelled, rotating his wand in a clockwise direction. The shield that burst from his wand was similar in appearance to the normal spell, but his addition thickened, and extended it in a way that made it look tangible.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and beamed at him before remembering his role and throwing a trio of jinxes at it. All bounced off and impacted the stone walls around him. Sirius then cast again, no less than four stunners were all sent careening wildly away. "Nice one Harry! I only see one problem."

Harry dissolved the shield and peered towards him. "It's complicated?"

"Mmmhmm, it would take you too long to cast it in response to anything."

He almost rolled his eyes at the observation, he wasn't stupid. "That's why I want to get it to a point where I can cast it non-verbally… or something."

Sirius merely stared at him in shock for a moment before grinning again. "I reckon you should stick to deflecting them but hell pup, if you can do that, even Albus will be impressed."

He snorted at the reply, not caring about what the old man thought about him. But his comment about the Headmaster had brought his plans up. "Sirius?"

"Mmm?"

"Would you let me stay with you for the summer?"

His godfather's eyes brightened in joy before hardening once more. "Albus-"

"Fuck Dumbledore." He spat to the shock of the man opposite him.

Sirius looked on the verge of arguing but instead, tilted his head curiously to the side. "You have a reason pup?"

Harry tried valiantly to keep his excitement down. It was imperative he made Sirius understand how things were, and why. "Why do I need to go back to Privet Drive?"

Sirius blinked. "Because of the wards Albus set up, using… using Lily's-your blood."

"Good." He replied, his manner oddly reminiscent of one of his favorite teachers, Flitwick. "How did Voldemort return?"

"Does it really matter? You're alive."

"Yes." He took a breath. He'd thought at this from every angle he could, he wished he was right and he could stay here. But he'd remained as bias-free as he could, at least he hoped. "He used three things to rebuild his body: His father's bone, Wormtail's hand and… my blood."

He simply stood and waited for Sirius to connect the dots, he'd figured it wouldn't take too long, considering he was a Marauder. "He shares your blood… The wards wouldn't work against him anymore?"

"Theoretically he could, but it would be painful for the both of us if he tried it. Even if it still worked against his followers, you really think he wouldn't go through a bit of pain just to kill a house full of muggles and myself?" While Sirius's face took upon a thoughtful look, he continued. "Dumbledore wants to leave it to chance that he wouldn't try it. And I'm not going to sit there and wait and hope, I need to learn how to fight."

Sirius made a conciliatory gesture. "I agree with the first part, but you already know how to fight, you did well enough when I could see you in the Ministry. Enjoy your holidays Harry, we finally have the chance to... as we should have a decade ago." The look of guilt and longing in his godfather's eye nearly made him relent. But he couldn't, the first steps had been taken, he couldn't go back, not now. The battle he'd witnessed in the Ministry Atrium had solidified it in his mind.

He grounded himself, staring his godfather in the eye. "I have to Sirius, I have to get better, I won't be weak! I won't be the Harry Potter that kills his best friend by accident! I. Will. BE. BETTER. Than… him." He hadn't meant to shout, but the words had risen from somewhere deep within, far from eloquent, but instead raw.

Sirius gave a sigh, it fluttered the waves of hair that hung in front of his face. "Alright, alright. But… you can't do this alone."

He immediately thought about Ron being catapulted from the room at the end of his wand, a deep cut in his neck. "It's the safest way-"

"Not for you it isn't!" SIrius snapped. "How do you think that I'm supposed to go on if you die?"

He was stumped by such a simple, brutally honest argument. If he disagreed it would make him a hypocrite, considering how he'd argued against the other's coming with him to the Ministry in the first place. In his mind's eye, he was transported back to Hogwarts. With Ron placing a hand on his shoulder after he'd railed against his friend's wishes to follow him. 'Maybe you don't have to do everything yourself mate.'

Sirius stepped closer, placing a hand upon the same shoulder. "I know what it's like to have no one. I can see how you suffered before Hogwarts, it's obvious to those of us who can relate. We will be stronger together, Yourself and Hermione are even stronger. You can't fight with everything until you have everything to lose, you are everything to me now, and... I will give everything to see you survive. And live."

Harry felt a steady trickle of tears run down his nose as he looked down, anywhere but at the man who had said some of the most precious words he'd ever heard.

The image of the pair was almost identical to a moment in the Christmas holidays when Harry had a moment of weakness in the face of Voldemort's constant legilimency attacks. In the face of the room that held the entire Black Family Tree, reminding him of a family he'd never remember. Sirius's eyes now looked past him in reminiscence. "I knew of a pair similar to yourself and Hermione when I went to school. When they fought, it lit up the room," He smirked. "and more than often, cleared it. When they fought together, they were unstoppable. I always wished for someone with whom I could replicate what I saw."

"Who?" He choked out. The obvious parallels his godfather was drawing between his parents and himself both scared and exhilarated him.

"Your parents! Who else did you think I was going to say?" Harry gave a wet chuckle and Sirius elaborated. "James, like Charlus, had the power of his entire bloodline at his fingertips. But he needed a woman to keep him in line, that woman for Charlus was Dorea Black, one of the few Blacks I loved. James needed Lily, and I can see how much you need Hermione, take it from someone who watched from the front row." He grasped both of his upper arms and crouched to force eye-contact with the teen. "Even if she cannot bring herself to fight like you do, she can protect you, and you her. And I," His grip tightened. "Will protect you both."

The truths that had just been uttered made him feel extremely uncomfortable. Some of the words even put his entire plan into jeopardy, and together, they confused him further. His head, gloating upon its victory, was caught unawares by a heart that had caught its second wind. He had to escape, to gather himself. "I… I need to think." He muttered hurriedly before fleeing from the room, before Sirius could argue, up the stairs and into Sirius's old room.

It might have been his room now, but the permanently stuck-on posters usually made for a distraction upon entering. Not this time however as he strode blindly towards the single window, losing himself in the bustle of the Muggle world outside. Many Muggles were out, walking their dogs and children played in the park without a care in the world. It made him jealous of the simplicity and obliviosity of their lives.

Did I do the right thing? Am I doing the right thing now?

His mind whirred as it analysed what it had previously decided upon. His reasoning for pushing her away had made sense in the beginning, but now he was seeing some flaws. Namely, how unprotected she would be even while away from him. She lived in the Muggle world, and hiding in plain sight would be scuppered the instant anyone checked Ministry records.

A wave of self-loathing washed over him. He'd been a fool. He'd also been fucking selfish.

"Dobby."

The crack and appearance of the elf was instantaneous. "Harry Potter, Sir?"

"If Hermione calls you, please go to her instantly and do what she asks. I'm going to owl her and let her know, just in case she gets an unfriendly house call."

The elf nodded, his overly large ears flapping. "Dobby understands." He then disappeared as loudly as he appeared before Harry could get another word in. It left him to wonder if the elf had just made his feelings known about the subject he was about to bring up. Usually a bonded elf would intuitively understand their master, knowing exactly when they were dismissed or anticipating certain requests.

It seemed Dobby felt just fine being paid a Galleon a month and making his own clothes. Even if he didn't mind if Dobby dipped into his master's funds to purchase clothing.

He sighed and gave himself a shake. He'd left his friend unprotected, and he had a letter to write. After finding what he needed, he began scratching out a letter at the speed of a feverishly-revising-for-exams-Hermione.

Hermione

Look, I've screwed up. Again. Sorry.

Sirius made a good point though and I shouldn't have left you out, you've never done anything wrong by me and I think i've forgotten that. If any Deatheaters turn up, CALL DOBBY and he can get you all away. I'd ask Dumbledore, but I don't trust the old man, it's not like the Order has anyone to spare to guard your place. And Mundungus won't last against Colin Creevey let alone one of those Guy Fawkes wannabe's.

How are the Potions going down? Are you still in pain?

Idiot's regards

Harry

He folded the parchment just as Hedwig appeared at the window, he opened it and the owl fluttered to the top of the chair he'd just vacated. She squawked when he went searching for some string. "Alright, alright. Here you go then." He grumbled, offering her the tightly folded parchment. She took it in her beak, gave a superior sort of ruffle, then took off elegantly into the night's sky.

As he watched his familiar disappear into the darkness, he came to a realisation: He hadn't given Hermione her due. Sure, maybe she didn't have the stomach to fight fire with fire like he did. But did that mean she was something to be merely protected, stashed away and kept out of the fight? Nope. He'd been no better than the moron's around the school that labelled her a bookworm. She'd spilt the blood on more than one occasion and she certainly had more balls than Draco Malfoy.

Imagine what I could've learnt with her help.

Barring the lost sleep caused by training in the Infirmary, it would have been quite a bit. That much he was sure of. Maybe he could have nudged her to learn the same spells, even if she didn't use them. And what had he done instead? Pushed her away, for reasons so noble that they'd become insulting. After sufficiently chastising himself, he had an epiphany:

He needed to think of the future, of what he could be.

Living in the moment was all well and good, well, not that good considering what had just happened. Things had to change, he needed to work towards something. A quite absurd mental image of himself controlling a horde of snakes and Hermione punching the rest of the Deatheaters they faced, forced a snort from him. He hoped Hedwig didn't take too long, for even now, he had no idea where she actually lived. Wherever she did live, he would bet his entire vault that it felt like home.

Not quite the same sort of home as this, but definitely not Privet Drive. That shithole was never home.

The same instant he came to his conclusion, miles away in Surrey, an audible pop was heard. It drew the attention of Arabella Figg, the old lady who lived down the road. She peered through her curtains towards a normal-looking number four.

It also drew the attention of a pair of cloaked and masked figures, flying high in the air as a well-lit house seemed to pop into existence before their eyes.

They descended slowly, their original destination could wait.

In the end, he'd made his way back downstairs after sending Hedwig off to join Sirius for dinner. The conversation may have flowed easily enough, but the Hippogriff in the room had its own place at the table. While he knew Sirius had agreed to ignoring Dumbledore's wish for him to return to the Dursleys, neither mentioned it in case the other had a change of heart.

In the end they both survived the tenseness of dinner and Harry made his way tiredly to his room. On the way he passed the Drawing Room and a jet black grand piano caught his eye but his lack of energy curbed his curiosity. He'd barely gotten undressed before passing out under the covers.

...

The Drawing Room was where he found himself the next morning, the Sheet open at 'Cry Me A River' and a small booklet beside it detailing all of the notes he needed to know. The pedals became something to experiment with as he struggled to comprehend the multiple inputs needed to play something that sounded roughly like music. With each press of a key, his fingertips tingled with the same sparks that betrayed exposure to the Torture Curse.

I wonder if Hermione knows how to play this thing? Who am I kidding, of course she does.

With a flat crack, Kreacher appeared, causing him to pause. "Mister Potter, Master requires your attendance in the Kitchen for lunch."

As he nodded, a thought occurred to him. Dumbledore's belated warning about House Elves had sunk in over time, and he was also curious. "Kreacher?"

"Yes?" The elf grumbled, presumably at the prolonged conversation.

"Do you know how to play this?" He asked, tapping the piano with a fingernail.

The elf fixed him with the oddest look he'd ever seen, remaining silent for some time before finally replying. "Mistress Cissy learnt how to play on it." Before disappearing loudly.

Now with his head swirling with countless further questions, he descended the stairs to find Sirius hunched over the days Daily Prophet, studiously ignoring the lunch that sat steaming before him. His appearance seemed to startle his godfather, who folded the paper and put it aside. "Been exploring have we?"

Harry shrugged. "Never really had the chance to before."

Sirius spread his arms wide. "Well, explore to your heart's content. There shouldn't be anything more lurking around after Moody's gone through it all - apart from that one that you found." He added hurriedly at his godson's raised eyebrow. "Also," He flicked a letter across the table towards him like a magician would a playing card. "You received a letter from your intended."

Harry fought the blush that threatened to spread across his cheeks and said nothing. A memory of Viktor's conversation coming back to him, unbidden. "Vot is there between you and Herm-own-ninny?"

Nothing… I think? The hell would I know anyway? He looked up to find Sirius grinning at him and hastily opened the letter, smirking as he could picture exactly how she would speak the same words to him in person.

Harry

Firstly, Language!

Secondly, Apology accepted. I just want to help you, please let me.

Thirdly, Why don't you trust the Headmaster anymore?

I realise my place won't be as safe as Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, that's why we're going on a holiday for a while. I think my parents still need some time to adjust to the idea that things are actually quite dangerous right now. If I'm going to protect them, then I need to know as much as possible. And I can't do that if you're not open and honest with me!

What happened has hit us all hard, please don't shut yourself off from those that want to help you because of it. All we have is each other now Harry, both Muggleborns in our own way. I'll stand by you, if you stand by me.

Love

Hermione

He looked away, unseeing as Sirius tucked into his Shepards Pie. She had a point, the rest of the 'Ministry Six' as they had been dubbed, were born and raised in the Wizarding World. They already had an intimate understanding of how things worked. She had most likely read up on as much as she could, while he'd done nothing. Did being a Potter mean anything more than being The-Boy-Who-Lived?

That question wasn't terribly important though, he had to learn how to survive first. He put her letter aside and made a start on his own portion. "Anything worth reading in there?" He asked, jabbing his fork towards the prophet beside Sirius.

Sirius placed his cutlery aside, looking mightily uncomfortable. "It's begun, just like last time, and… Here." He levitated the paper over to Harry and set about picking at what was left of his lunch while his godson read.

Muggles Murdered: Harry Potter Missing

Not long after midnight last night, the Dark Mark was found above a muggle dwelling in Little Whinging, Surrey. Senior Auror KIngsley Shacklebolt confirmed the three occupants' deaths as by magical means and went on to note that. "Small scale attacks by You-Know-Who's followers are an oddity as set by the precedent set in the first reign of the Dark Lord."

We at the Prophet, also found this disturbing fact worthy of further investigation and found that one of the Muggles murdered was Petunia Dursley nee Evans, and is the sister of Lily Potter nee Evans. Could this dwelling be where The-Boy-Who-Lived grew up? It was widely known that the last Potter went into hiding immediately after the death of his parents, but no one knew where. If this is the case, where is Harry Potter? The Ministry declined comment.

In light of the attack, the Ministry has announced it will be providing all magical families with Self-Defence Pamphlets created by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Amelia Bones.

He dropped the paper with a sigh, his fears had proven correct in a way he hadn't expected. The wards had failed, and the very last of what he could loosely term as 'family' had died. What's Piers going to do without Big D? He thought without volition. After some further thought, he found the joke surprisingly funny considering both the Dursley's and Dudley's gang had terrorised him for the first decade of his life.

No, what he actually found upsetting was the fact that the Wizarding World thought him missing. Would he need to make a public appearance? Or heaven forbid, a speech? Why do I even care? Fuck. "Sirius?"

His godfather scrutinised him closely from afar. "Yeah?"

"Is there anyone you trust in the Ministry? You were an Auror right?"

Sirius snorted. "Just barely. Why?"

He gestured towards the paper. "It seems I need to reassure the public I'm not dead." He stated, derision dripping from his words.

Sirius visibly chewed on the problem while he went back to his lunch. Eventually he spoke up. "I'd say Amelia, but I haven't really talked to her since the Academy."

"She was at my trial last year wasn't she?" He asked, picturing the stern countenance that thought so little of Umbridge.

"I assume she would have been. Did she argue for the truth?" Sirius asked.

He grinned over his next forkfull. "Umbridge sure didn't like her, and she actually believed me about the Dementors straight off the bat."

"That's Amelia alright-"

A loud reedy voice cut him off from somewhere upstairs. "Oh my great-great grandson!? Are you home you fool?"

"Bloody Phineas." Muttered Sirius. "Be back in a bit pup." He said before bounding up the stairs, leaving Harry to finish his lunch in solitude.

With the overly public announcement of his relatives death, it was slowly starting to sink in that this would now be his home. At least until he finished his seventh year. He glanced around at the dismal, but somehow cozy kitchen, surely Sirius had plans to redecorate the place? It wouldn't be much of a home otherwise, and a home outside of Hogwarts was something he desperately wanted. As much as he loved the Castle, it came with a plethora of memories that tainted his memory of it.

Grimmauld Place may be dank, dilapidated and slightly dangerous. But there were only two residents here now, maybe he could make part of the house his. Figuratively stamping his name on it somewhere.

Speaking of my name…

He was a Potter, he really needed to check if that really meant something. Were they really a quaint family of three that lived in Godric's Hollow? He'd long realised that by the looks of his vault, and how much things cost, that he was actually somewhat rich. Where did it come from? Was it all he had? If so, where were his parents' things?

Hermione would know.

She would tell him exactly what he needed to know, or she would frown at him and look up the answer herself. Reading with her thumb that pushed on her bottom lip just so. Though the instant he thought of this, it brought up the memory of their goodbye. She was away, and couldn't help him this time. Of course he could send her a letter, but the events of the year - with Umbridge intercepting their mail - made it uncomfortable putting something so personal in a letter. He didn't want Hedwig to get attacked again, although he'd already sent mail with her the day before.

Fuck.

The indecision irritated him to no end. After some moments thought, he decided he would look into more privacy enchantments, something that would keep his letters private. With his course of action decided, he attacked the last of his meal in a way that would have made Ron proud. He'd just stood when he heard the sitting room fireplace roar, he changed direction, wand in hand, and paced towards the front of the house.

He entered the sitting room slowly to find the fireplace stretching to accommodate a tall, bearded and extravagantly robed man. Albus Dumbledore stepped lithely into the room, the fireplace shrinking behind him. "Harry, It's good to see you taking such precautions. But this house is only connected to very few others." He said genialy, completely disregarding the wand pointed at him.

"Prove who you are." He spat in reply, half to be cautious, half to hopefully annoy the old man.

Dumbledore scrutinised him for a moment before answering. "You asked that I address you formally rather than how I have been until a month ago."

"Which you forgot to do." He pointed out.

Dumbledore was unfazed. "Old men, such as myself, find it more difficult to alter their habits." Just then, Sirius entered, diverting the old man's attention. "Lord Black, congratulations."

Sirius inclined his head. "Thank you Albus, it's been a long time coming."

"Indeed. Can we be seated? There are a few matters I need to discuss with you both."

With his godfather's nod, they all took a seat on the dilapidated furniture. Well Sirius and Harry did, Dumbledore, with a flick of his wand, transfigured the armchair into something brighter and far more comfortable.

"Well." Dumbledore began. "I believe I understand why you ignored my wishes and remained here, I assume you've come to hear of the consequences of such an action?"

"You mean their deaths?" Harry replied, not caring either way about his so-called 'family'.

"Ah, so you have. Blood is important Mr. Potter, I hope you do not see it eradicated so indiscriminately." Harry frowned at that, it sounded too similar to the dribble that Malfoy espoused. Dumbledore must've interpreted the frown correctly for he elaborated: "Not as in the 'purity' of blood. Blood is, and can be a bond. Be it the family you're given, or the ones you chose, the friends and allies you make are those that will shed blood for you. The Dursleys were-"

"They were NOT family." He interrupted sharply, for such a wise old man, he was woefully uninformed. "It was just them, with me on the side. Although, you wouldn't know, you're not the one who addressed my Hogwarts letter to 'Cupboard UNDER the Stairs'." He finished sarcastically.

The old man visibly aged before their eyes and remained silent for a time, with only the crackling of the fire punctuating the silence.

"The enchanted quill - that is far older than myself - includes the exact information you've just described due to the fact that living in hiding was quite normal for the Wizards and WItches of our past. Minerva did bring her concerns to me, but I felt them insignificant to the danger posed by Tom's followers. If I had known what was going on, would I have intervened? Of course."

"You never checked up on him?" Asked Sirius in an oddly detached sort of way.

"No." Dumbledore answered, a self-deprecating smile upon his face . "Rest assured, mother will string me up by my ankles in the afterlife. That will be for certain." Sirius nodded while Harry tried not to snicker at the thought of Dumbledore hanging upside down like an overgrown purple glittery bat.

Harry meanwhile, finally voiced the question that had plagued him for years. "But why them? The Dursleys?"

Dumbledore formulated his answer for quite some time before replying. "Apart from the blood protections we discussed, and the fact that Tom's followers would most likely continue to hunt you… I did not want you to suffer the introduction to wizarding society as I had." He could see that the facade on the old man was cracking, revealing embarrassment and awkwardness. "You see," He began, fixing his gaze upon Harry completely. "My father was convicted of murdering three muggle children. And while said children carried a certain amount of guilt for what they had done, the fault was carried by all of us. Something father could not handle, leaving my mother to care for my now very sick sister, and myself as future breadwinner of the family. I arrived at Hogwarts as the spawn of a muggle-murderer and spent years working to become my own... person."

He looked almost pleadingly at him before continuing. "I wished to spare you of the same circumstances that hampered myself, I had hoped you would grow up in an environment that would be mundane enough to see your needs met. The Wizarding World was no place for someone of your stature to be raised in. Even in hiding. I threw myself into the arduous task of rebuilding our society, and trusted you would be cared for. Evidently, the same aspect of muggle culture that has affected us both so: a hatred of difference, reached out and affected our lives in terrible ways."

He then looked curiously at him, emotion hidden behind his half-moon spectacles. "In fact, even knowing as little as I know. I am surprised you did not turn out like poor Ariana."

"What do you mean?" Asked Harry despite himself. He had the impression that his erstwhile mentor had never told anyone of this before, and while it did not absolve him of guilt. It gave a motive behind his actions, it made more sense now. That didn't mean the hatred that bubbled under his skin would be placated. "While I do my friend, Newt, little justice with an explanation from a topic he knows far more about. When magicals either choose, or are forced to repress their magic. It can turn inwards, causing them to develop an Obscurus. A force that is perhaps a magnified aspect of accidental magic that is dark in nature. It single-handedly increased the furore of the muggle witchburnings as many magicals developed this condition due to the hiding from fearful muggles."

He took a breath. "It was how Ariana killed my mother by accident, not long after I finished school."

Harry remained silent as did Sirius for a while after that revelation. Could I have developed an Obscurus? "Why didn't I become one?"

Sirius looked at him sharply while Dumbeldore pondered the question somewhat thoughtfully. "I believe it was either your great power, or strength of character, or both. I doubt one could divine the answer to that particular question."

The old man then clasped his hands, obviously believing that topic moot. "Now, we must calm the public, you must be seen."

Sirius cut in, the detached expression receding from his face. "We'd planned to call Amelia over to see for herself."

"Not good enough I'm afraid." Albus replied. "The wizarding community being as it is, some need to see him in person."

"Make a day of it Sirius?" He cut in, giving his godfather a smirk.

The smirk in kind followed an odd look from godfather to godson. "Sounds fun. I'll visit Amelia myself. Tomorrow."

Dumbledore looked a little pained at leaving the organisation in the hands of others before smiling. "Moving on, we have begun warding the Granger residence. They will be safe." He said with a nod to Harry who found his eyes narrowing at the old man before accepting it. He had his own plan anyway.

If he thinks I'm leaving everything to him again, he's going senile.

With that last wry thought, his mind began to wander as Sirius and Dumbledore began to talk about the next Order meeting. He'd yet to reply to Hermione's letter, and the hulking black piano upstairs called to him. Or he could continue training in the cellar, everything he'd seen Voldemort do with a wand against the old man both inspired and annoyed him. He certainly had some catching up to do.

With his plan for the rest of the day decided, he returned his attention to the conversation to find it at an end. Farewells were offered rather stiffly by both occupants of Grimmauld place as they parted ways. When the flames died, he headed upstairs to make good on his plans, not thinking about the man left behind.

He never saw Sirius's thoughtful gaze upon him, before shifting to take in the dreary decor.

As Sirius took in the decor he hated so, old memories sprung up in their place. He could almost see himself and Regulus playing with folded parchment creations that vaguely looked like the birds they modeled. He could see the proud look in his fathers eye as the pair's creations took on a life of their own, darting a swooping past each other. His mother sat, enveloped by a tall armchair reading the day's Daily Prophet, studiously ignoring everything else.

He looked to the Mantle and the image in his mind's eye shifted.

A frail, yet cold old man stood by the fire. His moustache that had outgrown his beard, fluttered as he bristled at something his mother had said. The man looked as if death loomed over his shoulder, yet his voice rang deep, powerful and intimidating. "Quiet you stupid girl! Black tradition is absolute! Including lines of inheritance! I don't fucking care where the boy was sorted!" He flailed an arm in his direction. "Sirius will inherit first, as long as he doesn't marry filth, there will be no argument!"

Sirius would have rolled his eyes at these words, but his grandfather had been ruthless in his time. The last of a historical part of the family that died, seemingly, all around him. The only thing he liked about his grandfather was that they shared a dislike of his parents. Marrying for blood purity was one thing, marrying one's cousin was different.

Either way, he had no wish to become head of a family he despised.

Sirius shook his mind of the past and pondered upon how he felt then as a boy of twelve. His feelings had barely changed over the twenty or so years since then. Even now, as the last Black capable of siring an heir, he hated it. There were so very few things about his family that he respected, even less liked. But as he stood in the same Sitting Room that had seen centuries of Blacks and their lives, he realised he could use it. He wasn't entirely sure how, but he could, and he would.

As he gave the room one last glance, a final memory sprang into his mind, overlaying his current field of view. The room was full of people, most of them with dark curly hair. The day was his fourteenth birthday, but what would normally be a momentous occasion for him had been superseded by another. Arcturus Black was dead, and the day had reminded them all of the self-importance of the man. The funeral had been lavish, culminating in a gathering in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place.

Sirius would have not come - something his mother would have been quite happy to accommodate - but while he would never shed a tear for the man, he respected him enough to attend. Though he wasn't alone in his lack of tears shed; only his father and first cousin Dorea had noticeably shed a tear. His father's grief made sense, Dorea's didn't. But that was nothing compared to the tension that permeated the room.

One of Arcturus's final acts was to seal a marriage contract between Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy, and both were in attendance. Narcissa still with her darker hair that matched the rest of the family, and a regal looking Lucius chatting with one of Sirius's uncles. Bellatrix and Andromeda stood apart from the rest of the family, locked in a quiet argument. The image was capped with his father, a broken look about him, halfway through a bottle of amber liquid and sitting in an armchair that looked to almost swallow him whole.

To think it would be only another year or two until he would leave the broken family forever.

Or so he thought.

With a quiet snort, he turned away from his past and made his way to the study. He had a prank to plan after all.

-The Next Morning-

Sirius awoke with a fire in his belly that the mire of waking up couldn't extinguish. There was nothing like planning pranks, and with enough imagination anything was possible with enough planning. It gave him direction. This direction got him out of bed and through his morning ablutions while adding a touch of flair here and there. He decided to tie his now longer hair back and keep the longish stubble, to give him a roguish look of course. He would have to be at his best today.

As he arrived in the kitchen half an hour later, he found his godson and Kreacher in a conversation that died as soon as he appeared. He decided not to comment however and sat across from the only other occupant. As he sat, Dobby popped a mug of coffee in front of him and disappeared again. He blinked at the startling noise but didn't react, things had sure changed with Harry now in his everyday life.

"Sleep alright?" He asked his godson.

Harry gave his typica shrug, his face its usual neutral. "Pretty good."

"Any plans for today while I'm gone?" Of course he knew one of them, he'd asked Remus to stay with the boy while he was gone. But what else Harry would get up to, he didn't know for sure. But he could guess.

The boy's face lit up ever so slightly. "I'll probably work on my quick casting, and keep searching for that shield spell."

Sirius took a sip of his coffee, shuddering a little when it hit his throat. "Nothing else?"

Harry looked at him blankly, giving him cause to shudder again. No child should look like that.

"I've noticed you've been experimenting with that Piano." Sirius led, intending his godson to elaborate.

Harry shrugged again, with a tinge of red upon his visage. "It's fun, and distracting I suppose."

Sirius thought about poking a bit of fun at him, but thought better. He had to act like a guardian on occasion. "Everyone needs a hobby Harry, everyone knows what mine is." He winked, causing Harry to smirk.

"I'm sure all of Hogwarts knew that." Was the boy's reply.

"Oi!" Exclaimed Sirius in mock outrage, glad that Harry was having some fun. "Going to be writing any... letters today?" He asked him slyly.

Again, the boy's cheeks gained the slightest of red tinges. "Maybe."

A breakfast of bacon and eggs appeared in front of them both, his godson tucked in almost immediately, while Sirius formulated his teasing reply. "I can hear the wedding bells now."

Harry's reply was quick and dripped with sarcasm. "When are YOU going to start seeing someone o' dear godfather? It's been a while hasn't it?"

Sirius snorted. "I'll have you know that I have other priorities right now. Otherwise…" He waggled a finger at his godson who snorted richly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night Padfoot."

With the banter finished, the conversation turned to the training Harry would go through while he was visiting the Ministry. Sirius watched as the red tinge and awkwardness faded from his godson's person, replaced by a fire in his eyes that Sirius had seen every time training came up in conversation. It was the same fire that he'd seen in a thirteen old wizard that attacked an adult and demanded the truth from someone he only knew as a mass-murderer. The same fire that he'd seen in the Department of Mysteries as he threw unforgivables at his enemies like confetti.

Sirius had made sure to keep an eye on him after his stay under Madame Pomfrey. He had accidentally killed one of his closest friends after all. The one problem was that he never opened up about it, and his carefully blank look kept Sirius from divining his true feelings upon the matter. But after observing him for long enough, Sirius felt that the boy was furious beyond belief, most likely at himself. He had told him that he'd never had friends before Hogwarts, so surely taking the life of one would have left him disconsolate?

He really needed more information about his godson's earlier years in school. But Harry was cagey at least, defensive at most.

"Have Remus cross wands with you when he gets here." Suggested Sirius as he dropped a slice of lemon into his second black coffee of the day. "He can teach you a few Marauder tricks of our trade."

Harry looked at him skeptically for a moment. "Something to do with underpants I suppose?"

Sirius brightened as the unexpected reply jolted a memory loose. "Not where I was going originally, but there was one time… Tim? Thomas?..."

The kitchen door opened revealing a worn-looking ex-defence professor. "Thomas Bardthwaite? The Great Undergarment Incident?"

"That's it." Sirius answered and looked ready to launch into a story before he realised who had spoken. "Remus!" He called as he rose and greeted his friend with a slap on the shoulder. "How are you old man?"

Remus smiled slightly, visibly relaxing. "Tired." He then turned to the boy. "Morning Harry."

Harry, who it looked like, had been watching the interaction closely. Smiled wider at the greeting. "Hey Moony."

Sirius, while finding the interaction interesting, had a story to tell. "Sit Remus, and fill in any gaps I miss." Once both were seated, Harry with a look of exasperation on his face, and Remus with a veneer of curiosity on his, did Sirius begin his tale.

When the chuckles had died down, he cast a quick Tempus Charm. Exclaimed at the time, and left Remus and Harry to it. Covering his shoulders with an ornate three-quarter length coat, he stepped out into the frigid morning air and disappeared.

As he appeared in an alley across from the bright red telephone that hid the visitors entrance to the British Ministry of Magic. He pondered his decision to not take the Floo instead. Mainly, it was for the change it provided and to stick it to the Ministry as a free man. His incarceration gave him a new appreciation for the world, he amused himself by finding all of the changes that had occured since then.

To his surprise, the Muggle world had changed drastically. Mostly in ways that defied his understanding but that wasn't unusual for the average non-muggleborn wizard or witch.

When he reached the Atrium Guard, he found that there were now two. And both regarded him warily, their wands conspicuously visible on their belts. "Wand." The older one grunted.

Unable to help himself, Sirius presented his wand with a flourish and a grin. "Busy day lads?" He asked them jauntily.

The older of the guards raised an eyebrow at him. "Aye."

When his wand was weighed and returned to him. He set off towards the lifts, aware that his progress was being watched by many of the bustling Atrium. This is what he lived for. While it wasn't really a prank, the varied expressions of those around him amused him constantly. A smirk adorned his features for the entire trip to the Auror Office. He'd been called a showoff by many an irritated peer, but these perceived insults merely stoked his ego. He couldn't really help it, it just amused him greatly, and always would.

After striding past what the American Muggles would call a 'Bullpen', he reached his destination and found a spectacularly ugly secretary. Despite this, Sirius applied his best charm and smiled at her. "Sorry, but would Amelia have a minute or two for a former convict?"

She remained unmoved, batting away an errant memo that darted past her. "I doubt it, why?" She replied gruffly.

"Because I have information about a missing person." He gave her a significant look, to which she finally nodded and tapped her wand on a small piece of parchment stuck to her desk. The quill attached to it scratched out a short message. He didn't have long to wait before the quill came to life again and he was directed to the door behind her.

He didn't wait for an invitation, striding into the office with a wink at the secretary. "Thanks luv." He called over his shoulder before refocusing his attention upon his destination. Which, he found, had a severe looking woman glaring at him from behind a desk. It was easy to see how she made Head Girl. Although she'd caught the at-the-time young and inexperienced Marauders many a time, her glares rattled them as boisterous first-years more than anything else.

The same glare was directed at him once more. "Black, take a seat."

He grinned in the face of her disdain and took the offered seat. "Bones, you certainly haven't changed."

She pursed her lips. "Maybe, but I am busier now, so out with it."

"Well, I've been reading all of this speculation in the Prophet about a certain Boy-Who-Lived." He began in-airs of telling some great story.

The woman opposite him was not amused. "That sort of…" Her jaw tightened. "Wasn't appreciated when you were my recruit, and it isn't now."

Sirius merely smirked at still being able to get under her skin so easily. "So Harry Potter is thought to be missing and you neglect to ask his godfather where he is?"

She relaxed very slightly. "So he IS with you. I'm afraid I shall need to see that myself."

"I'd already figured that 'melia. When can you visit?"

She negligently flicked her wand towards a muggle-style flip calendar which flipped itself through the days until it settled upon a date he couldn't see. "Tomorrow evening, Susan will be at the Abbott's by that time. Address?"

Sirius grinned, knowing his answer would irritate her. "Sorry, can't divulge that. I'll have to accompany you."

True to form, her eyes narrowed. "If this is some elaborate attempt at getting me to go on a date with you Black, I'll remind you that I have even less inclination now than when you asked me in your first year."

He spread his arms wide in innocence. "A harmless prank, we wanted to see if anything rattled you. And yes, I'm very serious about this. I'll meet you here?"

She visibly sized him up. "Alright, be here at eight pm."

Sirius sprang to his feet. "It's a date." He exclaimed before bounding out of the office, smirking when he heard a snort from behind him.

On his way out, he glanced around the mess of desks and grumbling Auror's that he'd very nearly joined all those years ago. It was the closest he'd ever come to a job, and he still felt he was far too lighthearted for it. No doubt Amelia would have fired him before he'd even got started, no matter how good with a wand he was. He pissed her off too much, and he enjoyed every second of it. He doubted very much he could ever go back to it, there was no way he could handle the paperwork.

On his way out though the Atrium he passed the Prophet vendor and saw the face of his godson on the front page. After looking a bit closer at the paper he noticed Harry's 'smile', a rare photograph indeed.

When Harry smiled, it was something that took him by surprise when he first met the boy. For almost all of the time, he kept a neutral facade up almost constantly. It certainly was not hereditary, that much he was sure. His parents had been some of the most emotive people one could imagine. And while he did have his mother's temper and his father's sense of fun on occasion. Most of the time his face was that of stone, and you really had to look closely at his eyes to determine how the boy felt. That irked his godfather, it was not the way a teenager should act.

Nor should a teenager be as independent as his godson. While it was granted that he hadn't spent much time with him, he could tell that the independent streak ran deep within him. Of course, it being the signpost of adolescence in normal teens highlighted just how different Harry was. Even as he'd run away from home, the boy Sirius had glimpsed before his trek north was one that was deliberating the next course of action. He looked all the world to be fully committed to whatever he was going to do or go. There wasn't a longing glance at the warmth of home, there was a resignation that this was now his lot, and he would deal with it.

Even in the letters he'd received from him during the Triwizard Tournament, he requested advice. Not asked him to fight to get him out of the contract, he didn't even ask how he was bound to compete. And while he accepted help, it was only when he was truly desperate. Only after speaking with Hermione while he was in a coma did he find out that Harry fully intended to go alone. That tidbit alone worried him. Ron's death may provoke a spike of independence in a boy that let his friends venture into mortal danger with him. While he hadn't seen anything so far to cause alarm, it added another layer of worry.

He had to get Harry to let him in, to let him help.

It was all he had left if he was quite honest with himself.

He decided a detour was necessary, and headed towards the Floo's.

One slightly nauseating journey later, he stepped out of the fireplace into an office that he'd seldom visited as a student. The Headmaster looked up from a stack of paperwork and peered at the visitor. "Sirius. I would have thought that you would never return once you had finished your schooling." Dumbledore said as a way of greeting.

Sirius didn't have as much time for the old man as he used to, but still respected the man enough to reply properly. "Albus, I just hankered for a chat with Minerva. Is she here?"

Dumbledore peered at him curiously. "She is. She is reviewing plans for next year's Seventh Years as she likes to keep things updated in her field." Sirius nodded but a curious glance towards the pile in front of the headmaster drew a sigh from the old man. "Once more, I must fill a post for Defence. A task that gets more difficult with each passing year. I may have to take... drastic measures this year." He mused to himself, seemingly forgetting that Sirius was there.

He merely nodded at the Headmaster and left him to his business, treading the extremely familiar steps to his Head-of-House's office. All the while, reminiscing here and there as he passed a spot where a prank had taken place over the years.

When he arrived, in a show of maturity - and most likely fear - he knocked politely as he could upon the Deputy Headmistresses office door. The wrought iron lion-shaped doorknocker flicked him on the nose with its paw before the door itself swung wide. Surprised, he chuckled and entered the office to find her reading a copy of Transfiguration Today.

"Minerva," Sirius greeted with a grin. "I'm glad you're in."

She placed the publication on the desk and raised an eyebrow at him. "Should I be worried about that? As I recall you were never very glad I was... in."

"Only after we got caught." He countered. "We liked you otherwise."

A rare, thin smile lit up her face. "What brings you here then Sirius?"

He took a deep breath, he had little plan of how to continue, and he felt a certain amount of trepidation at what was to come. "I've come to talk about Harry, you see, due to my own mistakes, I don't know much about the lad. Apart from his rather extraordinary abilities when dealing with… shit."

She pursed her lips at his inelegant vocabulary before looking thoughtful. "I assume he's not missing, and with you?"

He nodded.

She nodded tightly in return and replied to his question. "I agree with that assessment of his abilities. If anyone had told me that we would be the most Gryffindor of Gryffindor's I have ever seen I would not have believed you. You see, he came to me in his first year, absolutely certain that Severus was attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Of course, I dismissed such a notion, but in the end, he was mostly correct and went down with Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to do our job for us. If I had an inkling of how he was brought up, maybe I could have done more." She sighed. "That is why he hasn't fully trusted me since, and why we haven't been as close as we perhaps should have been."

She leant back in her armchair. "I will attempt to answer your questions, but realise that I am not as close to him as I am to, say… yourself."

Sirius nodded as he thought over what he'd just heard. "What's he like in the classroom?"

"As average a student as one could be, slightly shy but will answer questions when called upon. It's a shame really."

He looked at her curiously.

"One can tell he's actually quite gifted, and not just at Defence. I believe that he only excels in that particular class, is due to necessity, and while I haven't been able to find out for sure… I'd say he's been the target of bullying in the past, he struggles to ask for help, even with the simplest of things. It's rather vexing to teach, even if he will pick up whatever the spell is eventually. He is easily as talented as his father was, and Fillius raves about his Charms skills. One example would be his Patronus, a fully-fledged corporeal one at the age of thirteen is nothing to joke about. The examiners all commented upon the ease of casting it during his OWLS."

"It saved my life." Sirius observed quietly. "He just never seems to be happy, properly happy. He's only ever satisfied when he's picked up a new spell, even at home he's training. Creating huge spikes of ice and banishing them within a couple of seconds."

That got MInerva's attention. "That is NEWT level casting." She observed.

"Self-bloody-taught to boot." He grumbled. "He's always experimenting, the other day he hardened a shield charm to easily repel four stunners." He ignored the further raised eyebrows across from him and looked out the solitary window. "I'm worried, it's almost as if he's using it as an escape from guilt. I can see how much he hates himself, and he uses it as motivation. I don't know what to do."

Minerva looked troubled at this. "Indeed, Mister Weasley's death would have affected him greatly."

"And Hermione will follow him to the ends of the earth, I worry about what would happen to him if she were hurt. Apparently it was a contributing factor to Ron's death, according to Neville."

"Those two are quite devoted to each other aren't they." She deadpanned. "It is probably the best thing for him though, he trusts her quite implicitly."

"They'll be together forever, I'd stake my family fortune on it, whatever is left of it."

She observed him for some time before replying. "If you want to help him, be useful to him, guide him. Don't try to force him into anything, I'm sure you'll work it out."

Sirius gave a self-deprecating smile. "I sure hope so."

The elder woman looked at him curiously. "Whatever your decisions you have made up until now are in the past. James picked you to be godfather for a reason, and you know whatever decision he made was vetted by Lily."

He couldn't hold in the snort at her very accurate depiction of their relationship. "Thanks. I think I needed that." Was his earnest reply.

He was earnest, because of the relationship he'd forged with her decades ago. There weren't many he could turn to in the face of the estrangement from the family he'd been raised by. Even when he wasn't in trouble, he'd spent many an hour in the very same office hashing out his problems. While he knew she had a fondness for James due to his excellence in her area of domain. Sirius would be one of her quiet favorites. It seemed incredible that he was in basically the same position as his teenage self.

All these years later.

A resolve settled within him. Family estrangement would not be something his godson would ever go through.

...