Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Fifteen | Reconciliation, or Something Close to It

I'm currently trying to read. Trying being the operative word. I should be learning runes right now, scouring over a book on elder futhark and the proper syntax to use when utilizing the alphabet for warding.

Instead, I'm pondering why my life is so fucking insane. Honestly, that's the best way to describe it. Purely and simply insane. I'm sent back in time by a God, I find out that I was never supposed to be a man, I kill two professors, one of them for the second time. To add to all that, just last night I found myself in the middle of a conversation with a thousand-year-old snake that has the mental capacity of a six-year-old and the attitude of a golden retriever.

These aren't exactly things that I expected to happen in my life, and I don't believe anyone who has ever lived has expected to have them happen as well.

So why the hell does this insanity seem so damned normal to me? My guess is because it's a constant. My whole life has been a series of ridiculous, absurdly dangerous, or otherwise uncanny events all tied together in a way that makes me remarkably pleased to find that I'm still sane. At least, I think I'm still sane, or as sane as one could be after living through all that.

Is it sane for me to be dabbling with the eldritch? To be so comfortable with the use of Deaths gift when a few months ago I was terrified of even the idea of it, distancing myself from the recommendations and half assed teachings of an actual God? My first thought is no, I'm not particularly sane. My second thought is that I'm doing remarkably well, all things considered.

An evil old wizard hellbent on my destruction? A senile old man attempting to fashion me into some sort of hero? These two leaders of opposing factions pulling me from both ends until it feels like I'm going to split, torn apart like some sickly medieval execution? I think they used to do that at least. Tie a guy to two horses and let them play tug of war? Eugh. Not a great mental image.

I'm thrown out of that line of thought by someone knocking on the side of my head.

"Helene… hey, Helene? You awake in there?"

"Yeah? Daphne? What's going on?" I ask, looking at her in confusion, closing the book I've been ignoring. I notice the worry radiating off of her, everything about her looking pinched. Tracey stands behind Daphne, her eyes crinkled at the edges. She avoids eye contact when I look at her. I wonder what that's about. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything is fine," she deflects, shaking her head. "I just wanted to see how my sister is doing. What are you studying there?" She smiles at me as she points at my book, the curve of her lips not quite reaching her eyes.

"I'm doing great, just studying some runes right now… well, I'm trying," I say, tilting my head to the side. Should I press the issue? She really doesn't seem well. "Can't seem to focus right now for some reason. Daphne… are you sure everything is alright? You're looking a bit pale. Same with you Tracey, are you both feeling fine?

Daphne huffs, rolling her eyes in exasperation while Tracey just scowls and doesn't reply. "It's private, alright?" She argues, holding her hand out for me to stop. "Please… just, don't push the two of us on this, okay? This is our problem to worry about."

"Alright, alright." I put my hands up in surrender. "Forget I asked. Just… talk to me if you need to, alright? I'm here for you if you need me."

Tracey nods, her scowl lightening as Daphne smiles back at me, snorting quietly. "Thanks Helene… I just…" Daphne pauses, staring at her hands as she rubs them together nervously. "Thanks."

"Any time," I reply, rubbing her shoulder. "So… how's uh- you alright?"

"I already answered that."

I rub the back of my head awkwardly. "Forgot about that."

We sit for a few moments, staring at the table before Daphne starts to chuckle quietly. Soon enough Tracey and I are laughing along with her, the three of us slowly devolving into a laughing fit, guffawing loudly and startling the other students in the library. Pince angrily hushes us, causing me to have to hold back even more laughter.

Daphne looks up at me, another chuckle sneaking out of her lips as she makes eye contact. She wipes her eyes, grinning like an idiot. "I don't even know what was funny," she smirks, holding a hand to her heaving chest.

I rub my sore cheeks. "That's what makes it funny, is if its not funny at all."

"That really doesn't make any sense," Tracey adds, shaking her head. "It's not funny, so it is funny?"

"Like laughing at a funeral."

"Weird analogy, but it makes sense… I think," she adds, wiping her eyes once more as she leans back in her seat. She rests her hands on her lap, arms crossed lazily.

"What house do you think Astoria is going to end up in next year?" Daphne asks, changing the subject.

"Huh. Well, she'd be a great fit in any house apart from Hufflepuff," I think aloud, scratching my head. "I'd put it down to Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but there's a good chance she'd be in Gryffindor."

Daphne shakes her head. "Astoria in Gryffindor? The Lion's would lose their minds if a Greengrass was sorted into their house." She snickers again, pulling my book over and glancing over it, before pushing it back to me. "I'm just excited to have the whole family here. Even if I do have to put up with her in Slytherin," she adds with a playful grimace. "It'll be good to have everyone here in one place."

I turn to look at Tracey, who's turned silent again. I frown, wondering what's going on with her. She's had a bit of an attitude problem lately, but I'm not as close to her as Daphne is, so it would be rude of me to press the subject. "I know what you mean." I sit back and think for a second, derailing my train of thought and marveling at how quickly I've gained so many friends. The extent of my circle in my last life was exclusively Hermione and Ron, with Ginny, Neville, and Luna sort of shoehorning themselves in because of the D.A. Not exactly something to boast about.

How many friends does that make in this timeline? Four from Ravenclaw… two-, no, three in Slytherin. Wait, no, five in Ravenclaw counting Luna. Shit! I just realized I haven't really chatted with Ginny. Didn't she start writing in Voldemort's diary because she was being ignored by her friends and family?

Alright, making a mental note to approach Ginny and induct her into the group.

"I never imagined I would have so many friends," I say absentmindedly, the two girls looking at me curiously.

"Why not?"

"Most people want to be friends with the Girl-Who-Lived, not Helene," I explain, shrugging. Daphne nods in understanding. "It's pretty frustrating trying to figure out whether someone is interested in being friends with me because they want to get to know me, or if they want to use my status. For me to have such a large group of friends… genuine friends. It's fantastic."

"I never thought of it that way…" Daphne trails off, deep in thought. "I can't imagine how awful that would be. I sort of understand that juggle, trying to find out if someone wants to know me for me because of being heiress, but you must have to deal with the same problem a thousand-fold."

"So that's why you don't talk to the Slytherins outside of the two of us?" Tracey asks, gesturing towards herself and Daphne.

"Pretty much. Most of them are just interested in using me in one way or another. It drives me mad how we're twelve fucking years old, and people are already politicking." I shake my head in incredulity. I jab my thumb at Daphne. "I know you know how to have fun, but are all the other purebloods not allowed to enjoy their childhoods or something?"

Daphne blushes at that remark, knowing I'm poking fun at her calm and collected attitude. "Sort of? The really zealous types like Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson are brought up to act in a certain way when in public. People like me… we're given a bit more leeway since we're neutral. It really just depends on how the family wants to present themselves, be it more traditionalist like the Malfoys or more progressive like my family."

I nod, that does make sense. Doesn't mean I don't think it's stupid.

Our little conversation continues for a while, with Tracey occasionally jumping in to speak, but not too often.

Somethings wrong with her. I don't know if she's sick, if she's stressed, or if she's mad about something, but something is wrong. Every time I look at her it seems as if she's holding back a scowl, like she wants to smack me for even being near her. This is all stupidly confusing because she's probably one of the friendliest people I've met in my entire life, and for her to be this mad about something, mad about me, means I've probably done something horribly stupid and nobody has told me.

-::-

"Hello Helene. The usual?" Severus greets me in his usual drawl as I take a seat in front of his desk.

"That would be brilliant, thanks," I reply, tentatively sipping at the steaming drink he hands me.

"So, what would you like to discuss today? I feel like we've made good progress in our last couple of talks and want to leave things open to you."

I lean back in my seat to think. What should we talk about today?

I've been feeling better about the whole Lockhart deal lately, not that I feel good about it, but I understand that I did what most others would do in the same situation. Lash out. So, what should we talk about? The biggest problem on the forefront of my mind is my studies into Necromancy and other assorted unmentionables. Would Severus understand? Probably. Would he freak out? Yeah, a little. If anyone can help me understand this, it's him.

"Our oath still holds, correct?"

"Yes, yes it does," Severus replies, one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Why do you ask?"

Sighing quietly, I run my hands over my legs, pulling lightly at my robes. "I've been teaching myself lately," I begin, fidgeting nervously with my hands. "Combat magics and the like. There are other… fields that I've begun to dabble in that I think will be extraordinarily effective in the coming fight against Voldemort. There's a prophecy about me…. it uh- it details how I, and only I will be the one to put an end to him."

Surprisingly, Severus doesn't react rashly to my statement apart from a slight quirk of his eyes and his cheeks being sucked in.

"I… I know of the prophecy," he admits. I raise my eyebrows at that. "Not in it's entirety, but I know the gist of it. It's a terrible burden to bear, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm sorry you have to deal with such a thing at your age."

"I am curious. What do you mean when you say, other fields? The only 'fields' I can think of off the top of my head that go past standard combat and warfare spells are Light and Dark magics."

"Light magics?"

"Well, if there is a dark there has to be a light, correct?"

"I guess." I pause to scratch my head. "I never really thought about it before."

"Then I presume we're not discussing the lighter fields, and are instead discussing the dark? Would I be wrong in that assumption?"

"No, you're not wrong at all," I reply, sheepishly averting my eyes from his inquisitive gaze.

"I'm not judging you Helene, I'm not going to condemn you either, I'm simply curious as to how you concluded that the dark is involved in your road to defeating the Dark Lord, as opposed to the light," he says, reaching across the table to lightly grasp my hand. "You can always speak to me. Understand? Always. I just expected you to be a Light Witch, as opposed to a Dark Witch, seeing as you're a Potter."

"What do you mean?" I inquire, genuinely confused as to what he's saying.

"Well, everyone's magic is different." He taps his fingers against his desk as he thinks. "Some are light, some are dark, and a rare few are gray. That simply means that you're naturally inclined to certain fields and practices. I myself am dark, although I imagine you won't find that much of a surprise. The reason I assume you're light, is because your family is renowned as producing only light witches and wizards."

"No, that makes perfect sense," I grin. "Merlin forbid you be a light wizard, the whole school would lose their mind!"

"I do believe that would be the case," he quips, smirking back at me. "Unfortunately, the dark has long been vilified due to many of the more well-known fields that have a basis in the dark being quite unsavoury. Parselmagics, Blood Magics, all have their roots in the dark. It's confusing for some people, because dark doesn't mean dark, in the literal sense. It's just a way to describe the difference between the two dichotic fields of magic. Light gives, dark takes, and they can both do good and bad in equal measures."

"Really? So… a vanishing spell is the epitome of the Dark Arts?" I ask, Severus shaking his head in reply.

"It's a dark spell, but it's not a Dark Art. The Dark Arts are those aforementioned fields that people find unsavoury. Parselmagics, Blood Magics, both of those are dark fields, but they're also Dark Arts. They perfectly fit the definition of magic intended to maim or kill."

"Well, that explains a lot. I must be as dark as they come," I scoff, shaking my head.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I'm a parseltongue for one," I explain, Severus raising his eyebrows as I count down on my fingers. "Not to mention I'm slightly experienced in Blood Magics."

"My, oh my," Severus intones, nearly dropping his mug of tea. "A dark Potter? You learn something new every day." He steeples his fingers, a look of consternation on his face. "I will recommend you extend extreme caution towards your practices as a Blood Mage, many a talented witch or wizard has been… snuffed out before their time sticking their nose into impossible rituals."

Not something to worry about on my end. What am I now, Death's apprentice? Not much of a teacher I will admit, but he is one hell of a motivator.

"I understand, I research every ritual I even so much as think about extensively. The reason I asked you about all of this is because… well- I uh… shite." I scratch my head nervously. How the fuck do I explain this to him?

"It's alright Helene. I can't imagine anything that you say could shock me anymore than my little romp through your mind," Severus says comfortingly. "Not too often that you meet a time traveler."

"You sure?" I ask, relief flooding me when he nods back at me.

"Alright… here goes… I'm- I'm a Necromancer," I whisper, so quiet as to be imperceptible.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that," Severus says, leaning in and frowning.

Fucks sake.

"I'm a Necromancer," I blurt, loudly this time, causing Severus to drop his mug. I instinctively flinch away from the crash and grip the arms of my chair tightly.

"A… a Necromancer?" Severus repeats quietly. "An honest to god Necromancer?"

"Uh… yeah?"

"Circe preserve me," he groans, ignoring the shattered mug at his feet. "A bloody Necromancer she says! Does the impossible mean nothing to you?"

Huh?

"The impossible? I thought it was just, you know- dark magic? How is it impossible?" I flinch, realizing that I have my hands in my hair, tugging anxiously (and painfully) at the crimson locks.

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. "Well, let's gloss over the fact that the last confirmed Necromancer lived somewhere around… I don't know, a millennium ago?" He exclaims, arms held up high. "How in Circe's name do you keep surprising me so? I should just expect you to break the laws of magic on a daily basis at this point. Necromancer she says!"

"Woah! Wait a minute here! I don't know what the hell you're going on about, so could you please explain why you're freaking out?"

Severus places his head in his hands, groaning quietly. "You really don't understand how big a deal this is, do you?" He asks, peering through his fingers.

"I'm afraid I don't. Muggle-raised, remember?" I say, shrugging. "I'm still absolutely clueless when it comes to wizarding history or anything people think I should already know."

"Alright… well. How to begin? Necromancy is a… touchy subject, as you can imagine. It's Black, with a capital B, and about as esoteric and morbid as any magic can go since it's directly involved in death. What many people think is Necromancy actually isn't… do you know what an inferius is?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Never heard of one."

"An inferius is an animated corpse, created via a very arduous and quite disgusting ritual. The Dark Lord was renowned for using them in the war, flooding small muggle villages with mobs of the creatures and killing the residents without even lifting a finger."

"That sounds horrible," I gasp, imagining the absolute carnage that would be wrought by such a force, no matter how small. "Wouldn't those be zombies though? Corpses that attack people? God, I hope they don't eat brains too."

Severus shakes his head in confusion, probably wondering what in the hell I'm talking about. "What? Brains? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, it's a muggle thing. Horror movies and stuff like that."

"Well, they're not too far off the mark with that," he mutters, grimacing at whatever thought just popped into his head. "No, an inferius isn't a zombie, nowhere close to it. See, an inferius is a construct. A flesh-golem powered by runes. They're not more effective than a regular golem, considering they're made of flesh as opposed to stone, but the psychological effect of facing a corpse in battle is undoubtable effective. A true zombie on the other hand, they're conscious, self aware, they are sapient, alive in all but body."

"But they're dead! How can a zombie be alive?"

"Just because its heart is not beating does not mean it's dead. Like I said, it is mentally alive, it has a physical body, it thinks and acts according to it's thoughts, does that not mean it is alive? A zombie is a resurrected human, or other sentient creature, fully aware and cognizant. They have their memories, they have their feelings, they have their body. That is the difference between true Necromancy, and what others believe to be Necromancy. Necromancy dabbles in life and death, while the practice of creating an inferius and other similar rituals and spells are an imitation."

"Well fuck me," I blurt, my mind racing wildly.

No… it couldn't be possible. Could it?

"Could I bring my parents back? Could I…. could I actually bring them back?"

"No!" Severus thunders, shooting out of his seat. "Never, ever try and resurrect your parents, do you hear me? It's torment for someone to be brought out of the afterlife, the worst torture imaginable. Do you know where the muggles brain eating idea comes from?"

"Err, sort of?"

"The undead, the true undead can only abate their pain in the most unwholesome of ways. They feast on the living, and it's documented as bringing momentary respite from whatever hell they have gone through. That is where the idea comes from."

"Holy mother of all fuck," I murmur, horrified at the idea. "How do you know all this?"

"I'm… well educated regarding every kind of magic I can get my hands on. I won't even attempt to cast half of the spells I learn, but it doesn't hurt to have knowledge. I can counter many a curse that others would be lost attempting to heal, as an example. It does help that I was and am, I imagine, well trusted by the Dark Lord. As much as I hate the monster, he does have one of the most incredible libraries I have ever laid my eyes on."

"Well, that changes a lot," I say, trying to wrap my head around everything I've just learned. "So, what does this mean? What can I do as a- a Necromancer? All I've learned so far is offensive spells, rotting curses and the like."

Scratching his chin, Severus eyes me, obviously mulling over our discussion. This is one hell of a therapy session. "I only know of the primary spells that Necromancy is famous, or rather, infamous for. Resurrection is the focus of the field, but there are many spells to do with control of the underworld. Shadow travel being the most famous one that I can recall."

"The only spell I've cast that has anything to do with the underworld left me feeling a bit… well, a lot queasy," I grimace, vividly remembering the conjured pig being torn to bits. "What's shadow travel?"

"It's a method of travel you dolt, it's in the name," Severus clips. "You know of apparition, correct? Well, shadow travel is similar to apparition, at least the end result is. The method involves the caster moving from one point to another via the afterlife, specifically the underworld."

"Well that sounds absolutely fucking horrid."

"Quite. Unfortunately, that's all I know about the practice."

"Thanks Severus," I say, suddenly becoming very embarrassed. I blush, scratching my forehead sheepishly. "Sorry for uh, throwing all that at you."

"It's quite alright Helene, just try to keep your… more violent talents secret for the time being. I would prefer to not see you burnt at the stake after doing so much to help you. It would be a waste of all my good work."

"Thanks Severus, what would I do without you," I reply snidely, his dry sarcasm beginning to rub off on me. "But honestly, thank you. I was expecting you to burn me at the stake yourself."

"I can't particularly imagine where I gave you that idea. Really, you should expect better of me. I seem to recall you dubbing me a big softy in our last chat."

I laugh, still in disbelief that I got away with calling him such a thing. "Er, sorry about that. I guess I'm just paranoid is all."

"Even if you're paranoid, that doesn't mean nobody is out to get you," he smirks, yet his tone still quite serious. "Do be careful, alright?"

"Can do Severus," I reply, waving at him as I leave his office.

I stop to lean against the wall a few corridors down, my head swimming.

Wow.

So, that's what all this means huh? I have power over life and death? Actual power over it? Fuck. Me. Running.

What am I supposed to do with this knowledge? This responsibility? Probably blackmail the hell out of some people for one, most likely Fudge, but that's just my inner marauder speaking.

Wow.

Is that really the first thing I can think of? Using my apparent ability to resurrect the dead to blackmail someone? How fucking lame is that? I mean, it's not like I'm about to go out and attempt to conquer Britain, but there's got to be something more interesting that I can do with this.

Could I potentially kill Voldemort outright without ever having to go and fight him in person?

What can I do with this?

That's probably the most important question right now. What is the limit? Where does this power stop and start, what are its weaknesses? I'm going to have to start some experiments… as soon as I'm no longer disgusted by the idea of resurrecting somebody.

"Holy shit, my life is fucking insane," I whisper quietly, wandering back to the common room.

-::-

January flows into February, which in turn changes to March. The months zip by, the weight of the first semesters traumas slowly diminishing through my talks with Severus.

Sirius has refused to go and apologize to him since our discussion, citing that he has 'no real reason to go and apologize to him now, as Severus will never accept it.' I've sent him numerous letters detailing that this is a ridiculously stupid reason for him to not apologize to Severus, but each letter that he's sent back to me has been more heavily charmed than the rest.

After having my hair dyed neon pink, I've kept to scanning every single letter he sends me to make sure that he hasn't jinxed the rest in some childish effort to pay me back for requesting that he act like a goddamn adult.

Needless to say, I'm getting incredibly frustrated with Sirius.

Thankfully, the rest of the final term passed by without any fuss. A suite of tests interspersed with my standard training regiment, as well as a couple rituals I deemed important enough to undertake.

The first ritual that I completed should really have been done earlier in the year. Greater resistance to poisons and venoms sounds like it would have come in handy if my talks with Magna, I still can't believe I almost went with her first idea of 'Miss Snakey', went tits up. Sure, I had a rooster on me, a pocket rooster to be exact, but that's not something that really provides me comfort. I still haven't come up with a better name for that. So, the resistance ritual is a bit of a 'hindsight is 20/20' gesture, as it would have probably kept me going if I was bitten by Magna. Better safe than sorry though, and I'm happy that I've gotten it done.

The second ritual I undertook focuses on physical stamina. Superior strength doesn't do me any good if I get tuckered out after five minutes of running, jumping, or anything else that's remotely strenuous. Sure, working out would improve stamina, but it would take an inordinate amount of exercise to bring my endurance up to speed with my strength. It's way simpler to just magically mutilate myself and call it a day.

The year ends on a low note, thank the gods. No mysterious disappearances, no (more) deaths, no possessions, hauntings, attacks, monsters, or any other ridiculous, inane bullshit that tends to follow along in my path. I'm convinced I'm cursed, but at least it knows when to let up for a little while. Everyone needs a little bit of breathing room. Fingers crossed that third year isn't as insane, emotionally scarring, or otherwise terrible as this school year.

-::-

I run my hands through my hair and over my face, groaning in frustration. "Yes Sirius, you have to apologize to him… No! No ifs, ands, or buts about it! You're going to go and apologize to Severus for being a little homicidal monster when you were fifteen! You can't keep putting this off!"

"But Helene!" He whines petulantly, stomping his feet.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing loudly. Gods preserve me, I just may kill this man after literally dying to make sure that he didn't.

"I don't care about your ego at the moment! Stop acting like a man-child! You've got to at least try making amends with him!"

Scowling through the mirror, Sirius nods childishly, blowing a strand of hair away from his face as he pouts. Petulant mutt.

"Seriously. Hey! No puns! You've got to start growing up a little Sirius," I reprimand, astonished that my godfather can't even understand why he should apologize for nearly killing someone due to a childish feud.

"What do you mean I've got to grow up? I'm an adult!" he argues, hands waving. "I can't believe I'm being chewed out by a teenager!"

"Sure, sure you're an adult. You're thirty-three years old and you're less mature than I am! Physically, yeah, you're an adult. Mentally? Not too sure. Emotionally? You're a teenager," I assert.

Sirius' childish attitude has been incredibly concerning. First it was funny. The guy runs around, plays a couple practical jokes, everyone laughs, end of discussion. Right?

No. He acts like a pre-teen every fucking day.

I don't know if this is the result of Azkaban wasting away what was left of his brain cells, or if he was always this way. Octavius says that for the most part, his behaviour is normal, at least, normal for Sirius. That's what I find concerning, is that his inability to take anything seriously is a sign of something greater. He's dealing with something, and I don't know what it is.

I remember him saying to me that things didn't necessarily feel 'real' to him, like what he was experiencing wasn't actually happening to him. This sort of… disconnect, so to say, can't be good for him.

"Sirius, I'm worried for you. Your refusal to apologize, even after you promised me you would apologize, is indicative of a larger problem."

"I just don't understand what the big deal is!" Sirius argues, deflecting the conversation away from my little intervention. "We were both children, and it happened a long, long time ago. Almost two decades ago Helene! Why does this still matter?"

"It doesn't matter how long ago this happened," I state firmly. Christ, am I his bloody mum? "Listen, I love you to bits Sirius, but you're acting like a spoiled teenager. You have to realize that stuff like that just doesn't go away on its own. If anyone should understand that, it's you."

"What?" he asks, perplexed.

"How would you react if Severus came up to you this minute and apologized for how he treated you in school?"

"Well, I'd be a bit stunned to be honest," he says, eyebrows knotted together as he thinks. "I'd probably uh, well- I'd probably apologize to him as well," he continues sheepishly, dragging out the 'o' in probably.

He scratches his head, shrugging plaintively. His eyes suddenly bug out as he connects the dots, his expression slowly morphing from embarrassment to mild horror. "Oh shit," he groans, hands knotted in his messy hair.

"Yeah, you get it now?"

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit," he continues, squatting awkwardly and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

"God damn, I'm an ass."

"That's exactly what I've been telling you for the last fifteen minutes Sirius."

"Fuck."

"Mmhm," I echo, once again reaffirming that yes, he is an ass.

"So, uh. I guess I better go and apologize to old Sev' huh? Do you know when he's free?"

"Please, for fucks sake, don't call him Sev'. He's likely to render you into potions ingredients right then and there if you even think about calling him that." I clasp my hands together, enunciating every other word with them.

Sirius shakes his head in genuine confusion, making me lose just a little bit more faith in him. "You sure? I used to call him that back in school. At least I'm not calling him Sniv-"

"Yeah, don't call him that either," I sigh, kneading my temples as I try to get through to the stubborn, idiotic, and lovable idiot that is my godfather. "Just… no names, alright? Call him Snape, be respectful, and for the love of all that is holy, do not call him Snivellus."

"Can do, can do," he murmurs, lost in thought again. "Wow, life is weird huh? If you told me when I was fifteen that I was even thinking about apologizing to Snape I would have probably had an aneurysm then and there."

"If you told me that I would be having this conversation with you, I would have probably suffered the same," I reply. "Also, I know Severus is free on Sundays between lunch and dinner, so you can probably get a hold of him then. Try flooing him maybe?"

"Sounds like a good plan kid," Sirius nods emphatically.

"No pranks."

"Aw come on," he whines. "You're no fun at all!"

"No, afraid I'm not," I assert, grinning at him. "Someone here has to act like an adult, and apparently that's me."

"Pfft. You just watch, I'll be so incredibly mature it'll blow even Minnie's mind."

"Don't call her that either."

"Aw, come on."

"Sirius, listen to me for a moment, alright?" I hold one finger up, asking him to be silent. I exhale slowly, not at all anticipating the next part of this conversation.

"Think of this as an intervention. Your behaviour over the last two years has been funny, there's no argument about that. You're a great guy and you've got a wicked sense of humour, but you're too old to act that way all the time." He smiles weakly at me and I return the gesture. At least he's not arguing with me about it. "It's starting to become a problem, and I hate to be the one to come out and lecture you, but I'm sure you'd rather it be me than Octavius, or God forbid, Terra."

"Oh. That would be awful."

"Yeah, she scares the hell out of me too," I say, shuddering at the idea of Terra on a warpath. "Just… your constant prattish behaviour isn't healthy, and it's not you. Sure, you may act like that occasionally, when the mood fits, but all the time? That's not good for you Sirius, and I'm worried that it's a way for you to distract yourself from something."

Sirius bows his head like a shamed dog, his ears drooping slightly. "Shite… I'll do my best to reign it in. It's a little hard after, well- Azkaban."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," I breathe. "I really shouldn't be so intense with you about all of this. This isn't an attack on you, alright? I love you, and I want to see you get better. I want to see my favourite rapscallion of a godfather grow to be proud of himself. You helped me, I want to help you. Does that sound good?"

"That sounds good to me," he repeats, a smile tugging at his lips. "I think that… I think that I'm going to go back to see the mind healers. They helped me a lot right after my release, and I think they can help me with my current, er- emotional problems." He covers his mouth with his fist, embarrassed that he has to even see a mind healer. He's just like Lisa it seems. He would rather try to deal with things on his own than have others maybe think he's crazy.

"You want me to pencil you in with Severus this weekend?"

"Cheeky little shit!" he objects, grinning briefly before returning to his previous somber mood. "Thanks for the kick up the arse Helene."

"Any time Sirius, just make sure to do the same to me if I need it, alright?"

"Absolutely, you can always count on me to kick you in the arse. I'll make sure to get one or two kicks in a day during the summer. That should keep you on your toes."

"Oh, piss off. We just talked about this."

"Love you too kid."

I leave Sirius and walk over to the gardens, hoping to get a relaxing stroll in to ease my mind after what was a very stressful conversation.

I admire the sheer array of different plants and flowers that are found in the Greengrasses gardens, the impressive display being quite apt for their family name. A myriad of colours shine out at me, from pastels to neon, and every single shade of green under the sun, the back yard more closely resembles an oasis than a greenhouse.

I sit down on soft grass, closing my eyes and sighing, tension leaving my body as I listen to the steady roar of a nearby waterfall. I find that the sound of the rushing water soothes my mind. It's not a tranquil sound by any means, but the heavy cascade somehow resonates with me, like it reflects my inner thoughts.

My thoughts being a constant turmoil as of late. I'm weighing over different options, approaches for how to tackle my many problems.

What do I do about the current Death Eaters running around Britain? Do I remove the politically or physically, and if I do decide to assassinate them, what consequences will that bring?

Secondly, I now apparently entertain the idea of assassinating my enemies. Killing Lockhart changed me intrinsically. The sheer ease with which I struck his head from his shoulders… it scared me, but I now find that I feel surprisingly comfortable about it. Will I still hesitate when it comes time to kill again? Will I still feel that same rush of self-hatred? The confused anguish that accompanies the ending of another human's life?

I don't rightly know, but what I do know is that I need to start pondering what I'm going to do with Dumbledore.

From what I can tell, he's decided to stand back and see how things play out, ignoring me while having McGonagall check in with him occasionally to make sure that everything is well. I don't know if I should be worried about his attitude, as I expected him to come down on me hard after our last argument.

Either something has happened to dissuade him from harassing me and carrying on with whatever ridiculous plan he has for me, or he's been thoroughly distracted. A distracted Dumbledore is good for me, and it's the most likely, as I doubt he would ever let up in his obsessions with my future.

I frown, tilting my head to the side as I hear people approaching. I open my eyes to see Daphne and Tracey taking a walk together, the two of them chatting amicably, enjoying a warm summers day.

Daphne perks up when she sees me, waving excitedly. She notices my half-asleep, relaxed state, carrying on with her afternoon stroll and leaving me to my imminent nap. Tracey on the other hand, scowls heavily when she notices me.

Seriously, what is that girls problem?

Do people just turn on me when they feel like it? Is it immature for me to be so thoroughly frustrated with a thirteen-year-old girl being inexplicably pissed off at me?

I smile at her, ignoring her deepening grimace as I focus on just trying to kick back and take an after-lunch nap.

Edited, 07/06/18.