Chapter 17

"You've been sitting here for a while, Harry," said Hermione.

"You should be in class," Harry replied.

"So should you."

Harry was sitting on the edge of Black Lake, just looking at it and the surrounding hills. He'd read the paper that lunchtime, another special edition, and just wanted to be on his own. It was a lot to think about. The Daily Prophet had printed all of it, including the court transcript. Skeeter's article wasn't too bad. There was enough sensation without her needing to make up any more.

Two Death Eaters had conspired with a barely human Voldemort to capture Harry. The subsequent Auror mission had ended in three deaths. People had died so that he, Harry, wasn't taken by Voldemort. That was no small thing.

Sirius had been proven publicly innocent. But he'd spent twelve years in Azkaban before that. It didn't bear thinking about, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"I," said Hermione smugly, "Have permission to be here. McGonagall saw me heading out here and told me to take my time."

"Oh, good, she's got me down as a charity case," said Harry with a snort.

"She's got you down as someone who needs a break. I saw their faces at lunch. Dumbledore's not even back yet. I don't think they expected the newspaper so soon. I think she's guilty about you reading it all in the paper."

Harry shrugged.

"So, what are you thinking in that busy head of yours?" she asked.

Harry picked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers.

"He's different now."

"Who is?"

"Sirius. He's not the same as last year."

"How so?"

"Well, last year he was keen, energetic, positive. But now he's quieter, serious somehow."

"Harry, last year he'd been on the run for nearly a year with little to no human contact, imagining how wonderful it'd be to be innocent. He's spent this year trying to prove that innocence. That's hard. He was a bit nuts last year to be honest. On edge. Highly strung. Any laughter was nervous, not genuine."

"I was so happy last year, my Patronus, the thought that I'd be going to live with Sirius. And now, I don't know. He doesn't scare me, but… I realised I don't know him."

"I know what you mean," replied Hermione quietly. "Intense. That's how I'd describe him."

"Totally better than the Dursleys, but at least I know where I am with them. I just don't want to be there."

"Yeah, I get that. Perhaps Professor Lupin will help him. Skeeter reported him there at the trial. Not that the Ministry would allow you near Lupin much any more," she added.

"Mmm, yeah, that was a cloying bit of journalism," said Harry, thinking about what Skeeter had written about Sirius' and Lupin's reunion. They sat in companionable silence for a bit.

"You wanna go back inside?" asked Hermione.

"Who's lesson are we missing?"

"Binns."

"I think I need a little longer," said Harry, lying out on the grass.

"Ron will hate us for this," said Hermione with a chuckle.

"Mr Potter," said Snape, "Your choice for the evening. We can talk about anything you like, or go over some school work. If you don't want to talk about anything right now, that's fine. Take your time. The Headmaster may wish to speak to you tomorrow, I believe."

"What about?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What about, sir? Sorry."

"This and that. Why is it you can't just do as you're told? Why does everything need an explanation, Mr Potter. Do I need to start docking points every time you ask why?"

"Sir."

"Or say 'Sir' at me."

"Sir."

"Half a point from Gryffindor, Potter," said Snape.

"Can I ask you about a bit of the article in the Prophet? Some people in the common room are making a thing of it, even Ron and Neville, but they aren't really explaining."

"Does it involve Professor Dumbledore?" asked Snape, perceptively.

"Yes! What does everyone know that me and Hermione don't?"

"Something even Miss Granger doesn't know! I'm surprised." Severus lost the snark and continued.

"Potter, there's something you should know about public apologies in the wizarding world." Potter's expression said, 'Really, another thing I don't know?!' "They aren't seen positively. That is, the wizarding world is ultimately about power. An apology is seen as a weakness. We all know the Headmaster is a very powerful wizard, one of the strongest in centuries. His power makes him so. Everyone always subconsciously compares themselves to others. People in the ministry who share offices are around each other long enough to know who is more powerful than who. It creates a pecking order. People are often promoted due to their raw power over their competence. Are you with me so far?"

Harry nodded, this was interesting.

"There are odd exceptions, particularly gifted people in a certain field that doesn't rely on raw power. There are other ways to be promoted in the ministry, just look at Um…, I digress. There is also power derived from being a pure-blood, I take it I don't have to explain that?"

Harry shook his head, not wanting to interrupt Snape.

"So, if you use Arthur Weasley as an example, pure-blood, powerful wizard, ancient family with a seat on the Wizengamot, he can do whatever he likes without people making a fuss. He has chosen to work with muggle enchantments because he wants to. When he does it, it's quaint, amusing, eccentric. However, if, for example, Mr Seamus Finnegan did it when he comes of age and gets a job, he'd be openly ridiculed first and fired second. Status matters."

"What's this got to do with an apology?" asked Harry. "The Daily Prophet prints apologies and retractions for stuff all the time. People say sorry if they bump into each other in a corridor."

"They are simple day to day things, Mr Potter. Inconsequential. In the wizarding world, an official apology to mark a serious wrong and accept a loss of status is a different thing. For that, someone bows their apology, a physical act to lower oneself in the eyes of others."

"I've seen people bow at the beginning of duelling matches," said Harry, "And at the end."

"Observant, Potter, but both participants bow. They bow at the beginning as a mark of respect to the other, an acknowledgement that they will be equal opponents until one or the other loses. An acknowledgement that both are very publicly putting each other in the spotlight. At the end of the duel, if you watch very carefully, the loser bows slightly lower or for slightly longer than their opponent. A sign that they lost, but they retain their status. In contrast, a bowed public apology loses social status."

"The Headmaster bowed to Sirius Black as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He openly and publicly admitted the Wizengamot was wrong, and stands in error. That, Mr Potter, is a very rare thing. The reason your friends didn't want to talk about it, is that there are nuances that they don't understand in the middle of a very awkward topic. I'm sure that now I've given you an introduction, Miss Granger can entertain herself in the library. Anything else?"

"Not about that, sir, no. Would you mind going over my last Potions essay, please, sir?" Harry just wanted a bit of normal for an hour.

"Certainly, Mr Potter," said Snape, resuming his usual Professor demeanor.

"Are you sure you want me brewing in your lab outside class?" asked Harry as he and Snape entered the lab.

"Given you now understand why your last attempt at Aging Potion was abysmal, Mr Potter, it only seems reasonable to see if you can also implement your newfound knowledge."

Snape waved his wand at the board, his usual instructions appeared. Harry headed towards his usual workbench at the back.

"Potter, I have no interest in raising my voice on an evening, use the bench at the front like any sane person. I don't bite."

Harry turned and came to the front looking slightly sheepish.

"The instructions are on the board, you know where the ingredients live. Get on with it," said Snape sitting behind his desk, reaching for a pile of marking.

Harry hadn't moved. He was still looking at the board.

"Mr Potter?"

Harry came back to the present. "Um, sir?"

Snape sighed. "Um, yes?" he replied with added tones of 'get on with it'.

"May I sit at the front in class?" asked Harry politely.

"Because you can't bear to be far from me, Potter?" asked Snape sarcastically.

"No," said Harry awkwardly, "So I can read the board."

Snape looked at him in frustration. "When did you last go to an optician, Potter?"

"A couple of years ago after my glasses got broken while I was playing in the park," semi-lied Harry. Harry Hunting wasn't playing, but the rest was true.

"It is a couple of weeks until Easter. Make sure you remember to ask your aunt and uncle to take you. And yes, you may," said Snape.

"Thanks."

"If you sit at the back of other classes, ask your professors to move you."

"Sir."

"Another half point from Gryffindor, Mr Potter."

On Thursday at dinner Harry received a note. Would he come up to the Headmaster's office at 7:30. He wasn't in trouble. Harry was glad the note specified that. Even with Snape's advance warning, a summons to Dumbledore's office wasn't exactly a pleasant proposition.

At 7:31 Harry found himself plied with lemon drops.

"No, thank you, sir." Even though Harry wasn't in trouble, he was nervous. Too many worrying things had happened to him over the years for him to think being in Dumbledore's office was a good thing.

"Less people seem to want them these days. Never mind, more for me," said Dumbledore, popping one in his mouth. Harry waited.

"I have a letter I'd like to show you, Harry. It's easiest if you read it and then we discuss it." Dumbledore passed Harry a letter. It'd been sealed using wax and a signet ring. Harry snorted.

"Yes, he's doing it because he can," agreed Dumbledore, seeing what Harry had noticed.

Dear Albus,

Thank you. I don't know how to express that much gratitude. I'm finally free. I was an idiot back then not to have protested, and then it was too late.

Thank you also for not letting anyone kill me. I can't imagine the Aurors were too pleased with you.

And my wand. It's nice to have an old friend back.

I'm rambling. I've been doing that a lot recently. Lots to process. I was approached by St. Mungo's to check in for a week or two for them to make sure I'm fine. Physically I'm okay but could be better.

I've been talking a lot too. Apparently that's a thing. I've talked about Harry a lot. I'd like to see him. I didn't know if I should write and ask him, or write to you to ask to see him. I've chosen the latter. It's my new responsible side. Actually, it was Remus strongly suggesting I don't do anything stupid. I suppose I should do what the prefect says!

I'd love to see Harry. May I visit the castle? I am his Godfather, and now I am able, I would like to get to know my Godson more.

I hope Harry would like to get to know me too.

Please let me know if/when I can see him,

Yours, most gratefully

Sirius Black

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

P.S. I just can't help myself. The bank contacted me with my signet ring now that my status has been restored. I feel I need to write to Narcissa just to annoy her with the sealing wax.

Harry laughed. "Mrs Malfoy might flip."

Dumbledore smiled. "She certainly wouldn't see the funny side, no."

"Of course I want to see him," said Harry immediately. "May I?"

"My boy, of course you can. I will invite him up to the castle."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Harry, I'm good at reading people. What's your reservation?"

"Nothing, it's just that he's different. He was super keen last year for me to stay with him, but he's had a year hunting Pettigrew. I don't really know him. I don't want it to be awkward."

"Would you like Professor McGonagall as your head of house to, ah, chaperone you?"

"That'd be nice, yes please," replied Harry.

"If it gets awkward, the Professor could always ask him for a homework assignment he didn't hand in back then." They both laughed.

"Thank you for asking Professor McGonagall and not Professor Snape, sir."

"I like my school standing, Mr Potter," said Dumbledore with a twinkle.

The floo flared in Professor McGonagall's study. Not her everyday office, but her study. It was comfier there. It was the room she often met other professors in when they needed longer discussions. It was where she met with parents, and was where on those few occasions as Head of House or Deputy Headmistress she had news to break to students a softer touch was needed.

Harry was sitting on a sofa. There were tea and biscuits provided. He had a chocolate digestive and was nibbling the edges nervously. He had no idea why he was nervous. It was just Sirius. He wasn't a mass murderer or anything.

He'd met him three times before that he could remember and exchanged countless letters. Yes, the man was a stranger, but it hadn't felt that way last year and it hadn't felt that way earlier this year in the Shrieking Shack. But something was making him nervous.

Sirius stepped through. The first thing Harry noticed was that he looked well. The picture in the paper the day they exonerated him hadn't been bad. The editors had chosen one that didn't make him look like a convict, but he'd looked tired, thin and pale.

His face looked less gaunt now. He had on a set of very nice wizarding robes in deep blue. Soft, expensive. His hair had been trimmed, as had his moustache and beard. His fingernails were clipped and clean. These were the details Harry noticed that he hadn't seen when the man had been in hiding.

Amusingly, Sirius noticed him noticing.

"May the ex-tramp have a hug?"

Harry coloured, rose off the couch quickly and crossed the room to give Sirius a hug. That was like last time. They both needed it.

"Surprised, are you?" asked Sirius, taking Harry by the shoulders and stepping back to look at him.

Sirius turned to McGonagall and bowed, deliberately flamboyantly. "Professor McGonagall, ma'am, your humble servant."

"There's never been anything humble about you, Mr Black," she said with a smile as she gave him a nod. "Come on, take a seat, there's plenty of tea and biscuits to go round."

Sirius laughed. "I've never been invited for tea and biscuits in your study before, Professor, I always seemed to end up in your office."

"I'm sure there's an outstanding homework I can call on you to explain if you wish, Mr Black."

Harry choked on his biscuit trying not to laugh.

"In all seriousness, Mr Black, you look well," said Minerva. "I… I'm sorry. Like everyone else, we thought we knew a different truth."

"Professor, I didn't disabuse anyone of that notion either. I did not demand a trial. I did not protest my innocence. What were you meant to think? And please, ma'am, call me Sirius."

"Thank you, Sirius. And you know it's Minerva."

Sirius turned to Harry again and smiled. "Harry, thank you for seeing me. I know everything has been awkward for you. Mass murderer, to convict on the run, to person in hiding. I know I'm a stranger to you. I'm glad Minerva is here with us."

"I know what you mean," said Harry, relieved that Sirius had the same concerns Harry had. "I just hope Professor McGonagall doesn't ask me about my current Transfiguration homework," Harry added. That broke a lot of the remaining tension. They all sat down and McGonagall poured Sirius a cup of tea.

"I watched you play quidditch last year, Harry. You're brilliant! Up there at that distance, I could have mistaken you for James. You're not," he said hurriedly, seeing the look on Harry's face. "I take it you get that a lot?"

"Yeah, just a bit."

Sirius chuckled.

"Your parents would be proud of how you've attempted this tournament," said Sirius. "I know Skeeter ran that article last week about you not being chosen, but that you were the only member of a fourth school set up by Crouch so you were chosen by default, but that's Skeeter for you. I can devote some thinking time to that now that you're safe."

"What's this?" asked McGonagall.

"Oh, we were just debating where Skeeter gets her information from," said Sirius.

Sirius caught a look from Harry and knew to keep quiet in front of teachers.

"Yes, there was that article about Sybil too," said McGonagall, her features darkening for a moment.

"So, Harry, my life and times have been dragged through the press. Tell me something about you. What's your favourite subject?"

"I think it might be Charms," said Harry, "Although I kind of like Potions. The concept, not necessarily the lessons though."

"I presume that's Professor related," said Sirius quickly.

Now that was awkward. Sirius was right. Snape in lessons was still a git, especially when he was in Bat of the Dungeons mode. But if Harry asked him about Potions in his mentor sessions, Snape was a normal human being. And Snape as a mentor, Harry would have to admit, was actually nice.

Harry looked to McGonagall for help. She came swiftly to the rescue.

"I don't think going there is appropriate, especially seeing as you're talking about one of my colleagues, do you?" she said.

"Fair enough, fair enough, but I know what you mean, Harry," said Sirius with a wink.

"I love charms. Can I tell you about making my pineapple dance?" said Harry with a grin.

"Oh, you'll love this, Sirius," said Minerva.

So Harry talked in detail about the first task. He'd given a brief synopsis before, but he told Sirius the details and what he saw and thought and felt. Sirius laughed. It was a good tale.

"Charms really are your thing, aren't they?" said Sirius.

"Filius gave him twenty points on the spot for that dance," said McGonagall.

They talked for a good couple of hours. Harry really wanted to tell Sirius about the dragon in first year, but even a brief allusion to it brought a frown to Minerva's face. So he told the story about the troll in the dungeon instead. That brought amazement to Sirius' face.

Then he told him all about the idiot Lockhart. Even Minerva joined in on a bit of Lockhart bashing. The man had been an imbecile.

"Harry," said Sirius eventually, with a slightly more serious tone. "I said last year that I want to be your Godfather. I meant that. While I accept that right now, this instant, it's probably not viable, I admit Azkaban will take some getting over, I am your Godfather. You have no idea how sorry I am now that my first action that night was revenge and not your safety. Things could have been very different now if not for that. Look, I don't know about life with your aunt and uncle, Lily never said much about Petunia, but it wasn't exactly positive. But I want to support you anyway I can, or you can visit, or even if you want to live for time in the wizarding world, I'd love you to stay."

Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"Okay, now look what I've done," said Sirius, exasperated with himself. "Think about it Harry. Talk to people about it. I will always be here for you if you need me."

"Okay, I'll think about it," mumbled Harry, unsure what to think.

Minerva coughed, sensing the awkwardness. "Sirius, it's getting late. Mr Potter has classes in the morning, and while I don't send the Gryffindors to bed, Mr Potter needs his rest."

"Of course," said Sirius standing up, taking the hint. "I can have a hug before I leave though right, Harry?"

"Absolutely," said Harry, collecting a hug.

"Thank you for your kind hospitality, Minerva," said Sirius with a slight bow.

"You're very welcome, Sirius. Perhaps if you visit again, during the Easter holidays if Harry wants, you could bring Mr Lupin with you?"

"Oh, yes please!" said Harry enthusiastically.

Sirius laughed. "Which one of us is the Godfather, me or Mooney?"

"But he's so much fun," said Harry. "You should have been in his lesson on Boggarts. Hilarious, especially Neville's solution, it was…"

Minerva coughed.

"Oh, you know about that?" asked Harry, abashed.

"It was the talk of the staffroom for a week, Mr Potter," said Minerva.

"But only when someone wasn't there, I bet," said Harry.

"On that note, it is time for Sirius to go," said Minerva, her eyes betraying her sterner voice.

"Goodnight, both of you," said Sirius, stepping through the floo.

"Goodnight, Sirius," said Harry and Minerva.