Today, I skinned my knee while slipping off of Sirius's skateboard. He was there with an elastoplaster, and covered my bleeding knee with it. I tried not to cry; Sirius never cried. Not when Father hit him. Never. I want to be like Sirius when I get older. I want to be handsome, smart, fun to be around. I want to make friends that I would die for, and that would die for me.

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The hours dragged on. No one from the Order had come for him yet. How had this amnesiac known he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix? He had a tattoo on his left forearm. It was of a phoenix rising from a cup. The mark of the Order. Like Voldemort and his Dark Mark, Dumbledore had devised a plan, using the Protean Charm. Sirius had seated himself outside the building in which he was staying. He had a cigarette gently held between his fore and middle fingers, and it was nearly finished. He had creeped the hell out of a passing teenager when Sirius had said, "Can I bum a fag?" Regulus's notebook was still in his lap. He had no idea Regulus had looked up to him. He sighed, as he kept on reading.

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Sirius spoke of running away today. Mother and Father had gone out with the Minister of Magic and her husband. Sirius had invited his girlfriend over, and they are in his bedroom. I can hear her giggling a bit, and him laughing. He's sixteen years old, and girls have been known to throw themselves at him.

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Sirius couldn't read any more. He looked up at the American woman who had given him his brother's journal.

"When was I found?" he asked softly. She looked back at him.

"About three days after the English Ministry of Magic declared you dead, and your name cleared. See those bruises?" she pointed to Sirius's arm, where, in the crook of his arm, were bruises. He nodded. "You were in a coma for almost a year. You must have had a very nasty fall. When you came out of it, we gave you the journal."

"I... I keep seeing this boy whenever I close my eyes." Sirius said quietly. "I can't remember who he is, but I know he's very close to me. He has black hair, like James..."

"Do you think maybe you're imagining him?" Maureen asked. Sirius shook his head.

"No. I can't be. He seems so real. I can hear him saying my name. Right now, even. Whenever I concentrate hard enough, I can feel his presence..." His voice cracked. "I feel incomplete without knowing who he is..." He looked away from Maureen.

"I'll try to help you, Sirius." she said softly, standing up. She walked inside the building, taking one look back at the man who apparently didn't even know his own history.

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Why must Sirius be so stupid? He put his foot in his mouth, again, and he is currently lying passed out on our bedroom floor. I look over at him, and think that he should never have been born a Black. Father is violent, and gets drunk easily. If Sirius has so much as a hair out of place, it irks Father, and he'll hit Sirius. Sirius always fights back, screaming out random obscenities. I wonder if Potter is the one who made Sirius use so many obscenities. No. Sirius always was obscene. I fear one day, Father will wind up killing my older brother.

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Sirius continued reading Regulus's journal, feeling bad for treating Regulus badly when they were teenagers. Needless to say, that feeling rapidly passed. As he read, he noticed a pair of rather shiny dress shoes, and a pair of battered trainers paused in front of him.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but could you please move? There isn't much light, and I'd like to continue reading." Sirius murmured, taking a drag from the cigarette bummed from the American boy. A slender hand, not unlike Sirius's own hand, reached down, and took the cigarette gently from Sirius. Sirius immediately recognized the silver and turquoise ring on the hand, and looked up as the cigarette thief took a drag on Sirius's cigarette.

"Smoking is a dirty habit, Sirius," the man said. Sirius broke out into a grin. He couldn't help it! His favorite relative ever was standing in front of him.

"I can think of worse, Uncle Alphard," Sirius replied, trying to snatch his cigarettte from his uncle, Regulus's journal falling to the ground. The boy- well, you can't really call him a boy now, can you?- picked up the journal, and held it out to Sirius, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Here, Sirius," he said in a hollow, dead voice. Sirius looked at him. It was him! That face!

Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!

Sirius reached for the notebook, seeing the depression, and slight amount of hope in the boy's eyes. Instead of taking the book, he hugged the boy.

"We thought you were dead," the boy murmured, holding on to Sirius for dear life, as if he never wanted to let go. "Hermione and Ron told me I should let go, but I never stopped hoping!"

"Who are you, though?" Sirius asked softly. "You look familiar. I wish I knew who you were, and why I know you." The boy backed slowly away, towards Sirius's uncle. Professor Lupin had told him to expect amnesia. But not to this extent. It hurt.

"He's Harry, Sirius." Alphard said softly. "Your godson."

"James's, right?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded, dejectedly.

"We're going to take you home, Sirius. To the United Kingdom." Alphard said. "I've no idea what its like being with these ghastly Americans for so long." Harry managed a weak smile. Though he had only known Alphard Black for less than a week, he had grown rather fond of the elderly man. He could see how Sirius had gotten his joie de vivre, or joy of living.

"I want some tea," Sirius said. "Our kind. Every time I ask for tea here, they put ICE in. That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen ANYONE do." Alphard merely grinned at his nephew.

"You don't even like tea, Sirius!" he said, laughing. "When he was younger, my brother would often show guests how adorable Sirius was." Sirius made a 'tutting' sound. "He would give Sirius some tea, and Sirius would just open his mouth after tasting the tea.. When Sirius was old enough to tell his father off, Lesath stopped." Harry laughed.

"I wasn't adorable," Sirius insisted. Harry finally brought himself to look at Sirius, who was watching him intently. Harry felt almost bad for the man standing before him.

"Lets go home," Alphard suggested, taking both Harry's arm, and Sirius's. He Disapparated back to England.