Decided to update a bit sooner given the horrid state I left our friends in...

alix33: "Cheese tower" doesn't actually involve cheese, sorry to disappoint ;) It's what my Dad used to build with me and my sister when we were little, using all our Duplo (that big lego; not sure if the English name's the same) bricks to try and get as high as possible without it crashing. To make them reach further it had to have lots of holes, which is where the name came from. Probably not a general concept, but I figured it would work even better if you could actually use magic.

katmom: Is Andromeda a healer in Canon? I've read it a lot on here, but I couldn't find any 'official' information.

CaseLC: Thanks! I quite enjoy writing the Marauders, so I might do more flashbacks in the future...

harryislife: Glad you think it was realisitc! :) (Fortunately) I never had any real life experience with mental trauma or abusive drinking, which is why I wasn't sure if I had portrayed it convincingly.

LunaReader6127: I think there's a difference between Kreacher and the Dursleys, actually. House-elves are not just physically bound to their family, but also sort of brainwashed to believe whatever they think. Whereas the Dursleys have free will and mind, and they treat Harry the way they did out of pure spite and hatred. (Or Vernon and Petunia do. I still think that Dudley's kind of a victim too, with parents like that)

Amber: Thanks! :) I sure am. This story is, as I mentioned, nearly over, but I've got plenty ideas for follow-ups, so don't worry ;)

Boxum of Dark Magic: Harry sort of threw himself in front of Kreacher to shield him from Sirius, that's why the wand's pointed at him. (This might be AU, but don't think that'll keep Harry from trying to save anyone and anything at any opportunity)

Also thanks to all the other reviewrs; twenty reviews for the last chapter alone...you're incredible! :D


Family Breeds Contempt

„No!"

Harry stared in horror at the man standing in front of him. He barely recognized his godfather. The wizard's face was contorted in a grimace of hatred, his long black hair flying about his face in a tangled mess, unlike the usual groomed appearance, and his eyes...his eyes looked like that of a madman, bloodshot and red-rimmed, his pupils dilated and full of so much fury that he looked barely human.

For the first time since he had known him, Harry felt genuinely afraid of Sirius.

But he stayed where he was, even when every fibre in his body wanted to run and hide, to crawl under his covers and hope that everything was just a terrible nightmare. Behind him Kreacher was cowering below his desk, probably just as afraid as Harry was.

"Don't hurt him, please!" he cried, feeling tears rush into his eyes.

Sirius' wand dropped immediately, and some of the madness fled his eyes. But his anger stayed. "Get away from him, Harry," he pressed through gritted teeth, "Who knows what he's doing here."

Harry's heart pounded so madly that it threatened to burst his chest, but he stayed where he was. "No!" he protested, spreading his arms to shield Kreacher from his godfather. "He's my friend! I allowed him to be in here!"

He was surprised by his own courage, and so, apparently was Sirius, for his stance faltered.

"He...what!? Harry, do you know what he is? He's a filthy little git, who likes nothing more than hurting people. He-"

"He didn't hurt me!" Harry protested. "His name's Kreacher, and he's held captive by some evil Master! He makes him hide, and hurt himself, and he has to live in a cupboard!"

Sirius stumbled backwards, all his anger fled from his face. He looked dreadfully pale now.

Worried, Harry quickly continued: "And he helped me. He...he helped me find out that you lived here, you and your family."

He paused, worried how Sirius would take this. Would he get angry again? Would he attack Harry for real this time? But his godfather only went paler, swaying on his feet now and grabbing Harry's bedpost to support himself.

"You- know?" he finally managed, sounding as if he was about to be sick.

Still rather frightened, and not daring to go over and help Sirius, Harry nodded. "Yes, I...I saw your room. And then I checked the tapestry in the drawing room, and found your name on it, and then I read the paper to find out your last name, and it's Black, and...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone up there, but I was so curious, and I didn't know why you wouldn't tell me, and...please don't send me back to the Dursleys! I promise I won't do it again, I won't even leave my room!"

Panic gripped him. Sirius had looked so angry, so furious...would he throw Harry out? Would he even bother bringing him back to the Dursleys, or would he just leave him to the pirate? Harry couldn't decide which would be worse.

Sirius didn't answer immediately, his face now looking distinctly greyish.

"I can move into the cupboard if you want me to. I will be really quiet, and I won't come out!"

Finally, Sirius moved, his wand clattering to the floor as he let himself fall heavily on Harry's bed, burying his face in his hands. "You won't have to leave, Harry. I'm not mad at you," he muttered quietly, barely discernible through his trembling fingers.

Harry breathed with relief, though it was a slim one. Sirius still looked shaken – whether scared, angry or sad, Harry couldn't decide, but it was clear that something was horribly wrong.

For short while – it couldn't be more than a few minutes, though to Harry it felt like hours – his godfather was silent. Then he finally lifted his head from his hands and spoke, fixating the floor in front of him. "Go upstairs, Kreacher."

His voice was quiet and subdued, like that of a man who had accepted a horrible fate. And while Harry was still wondering what it all meant, there was an answer behind him. And answer that let his blood run cold.

"As Master wishes."

For a few seconds, there was silence, as Harry stared at the spot where the Oompa-Loompa had vanished. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened, struggled to acknowledge the words he had heard.

No. It can't be, he can't be...

"Harry, I-" Sirius began, his voice hoarse, a hint of desperation in it.

But Harry barely noticed. "You-" He stared at his godfather, this stranger that he had thought he knew. But he had been wrong. How could this man be the same...

Unable to bear his presence any longer Harry ran from the room, not caring where his feet led him, his only wish to get away as fast as possible, away from the person he did not know anymore.


"Harry?"

There was no answer.

Sirius sighed, resting his head against the dark wooden door and wondering how to proceed.

It had to be past ten in the morning already, but there had been no sign of the boy so far. He had fled to the study last night after the horrifying incident and Sirius, too abhorred and ashamed by what had happened, hadn't dared follow him, settling for waiting in the hallway instead, his mind buzzing with regret and self-hatred.

The fear that had shown in Harry's eyes...

You raised your wand against him. You threatened him, you almost cursed him...

He shuddered at the idea of what James would have to say about that.

And now he's in there, scared and confused, and he'll see the empty bottle, and the burnt carpet...

What would Harry think of him? Would he even want to see him again?

He desperately wished for Remus to be awake, healthy. Remus had always been better at dealing with things like these; Remus surely would know what to do.

The look on his face as Harry had realized who Kreacher's Master was...

Could it be true? Could he really have struck up a friendship with that vile creature?

Thinking back to the lurking, malicious house-elf from his childhood it seemed hard to believe. But then, Regulus had always been close to Kreacher, and had never received any of the subversive hostility Sirius had been met with.

But why on earth would Kreacher feel loyal to Harry? He wasn't a pureblood, as Kreacher had to know, and he certainly didn't express any pureblood views. And given his slavish devotion to Bellatrix and the whole Death Eater branch of the Black family, it seemed more than a little odd for Kreacher to feel anything but contempt for the boy who had ended Voldemort's reign.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that Harry fears you, and that he thinks you are some sort of monster. For which you gave him more than enough reason.

He sighed, rubbing his throbbing head with his free hand. The alcohol had worn off, but the lack of sleep had not helped with a raging headache.

Guess I deserve it.

"Harry?" he tried again, without much hope. "I...I understand if you don't want to talk to me. But you must be hungry. I made you some breakfast; I can leave it in front of the door if you'd rather not come out while I'm here." There was still now reply, so he simply sighed again and gently levitated the tray towards the ground. "I'll check up on Remus for a while, okay? Don't worry; I'm not trying to trick you."

Not that he would have needed to – it would have been the simplest thing in the world to magically unlock the door and force Harry to face him. But he didn't want to, having already betrayed the boy's trust too much. So he simply turned around and slowly walked upstairs, forcing himself to look ahead even when he heard the door open behind him.

At least he won't starve himself.

It was a small comfort, but all that he could hope for right now.


Remus was still lying motionless when Sirius entered the dimly lit room, but some colour had returned to his face. He was still deathly pale, but at least he didn't look like a corpse anymore, and his breathing was sounding significantly less laboured.

Sirius let himself fall into the chair next to the bed, his chin resting on his hands.

"I fucked up, Moony," he muttered quietly. "I fucked up good this time."

Predictably, there was no answer, but he still kept talking. It helped, somehow.

"I guess you were right. I should have told him about the house earlier. And about Kreacher...He said he knows about the Blacks. But who knows what it is that Kreacher told him... How did I not notice it? Am I that bad a guardian?"

Judging by what had happened earlier, the answer was pretty clear.

He sighed once more, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Moony," he winced, feeling desperation wash over him. "I don't know how to fix this."

For the first time since he had escaped Azkaban, he felt truly helpless. Up until now, there had always been some sort of plan, a way forward, be it ever so difficult. He had faced obstacles, but he had always now which direction to go, how to move past them. Now, however...

Would Harry be afraid of him for the rest of his life? Would he still trust Remus, even? And, more importantly, would Remus still be there?

"Is Remus okay?"

Sirius froze. At first, he didn't even dare turn around, too frightened that maybe he had just imagined the voice. But when he finally did, it really was Harry standing in the doorway, his clothes rumpled, his face blotchy, and a scared and worried look in his eyes.

Sirius felt relieve wash through him at the sight, be it ever so pitiful. Then he remembered that Harry had asked a question.

He's fine; he's just sleeping.

The lie was on his tongue already, but he stopped himself at the last moment.

You've lied to him enough. Lying is what got you into this mess.

"I-I don't know," he finally managed. Harry's face grew paler, but Sirius forced himself to go on. "He lost a lot of blood, and he hasn't woken up yet. There was a fever, too, but that's gone now. I don't know what's wrong with him."

Harry took a hesitant step forward, clutching his stuffed deer. "But...but you're a wizard. Can't you make him better like you did with my knee?"

Sirius winced at the confusion and fear in the boy's voice. He started to wonder if honesty had been the wrong way to go, but it was too late now.

"Werewolf wounds are different," he explained, almost grateful that they were talking at all, despite the horrible topic. "They are cursed, which means that they heal badly. That's why Remus has so many scars. I did what I could – there's a potion that helps against blood loss – but I'm no trained healer. There's not really anything else I can do."

"Oh." Harry's gaze drifted across the sleeping werewolf. There was a thoughtful frown on his forehead, but apart from that his expression was unreadable.

For a while they were silent, Harry watching Remus while Sirius watched Harry. He wondered if he should say something, if he should try to explain what had happened the night before, but he couldn't bring himself to do so for fear of scaring Harry away again.

Some Gryffindor you are.

In the end, it was Harry who broke the silence.

"Why do you make Kreacher live upstairs?" His eyes never left the bed, but his posture visibly tensed.

Sirius swallowed. "I- I am sorry for what happened, Harry," he managed, wondering if it was the hangover that made his voice so scratchy. "And for lying to you."

Harry didn't answer, so he was forced to go on. "This house...it did belong to my family, and I did grow up here. But I hated it. The portrait down in the hallway – that's my mother. The Blacks were purebloods, and not the nice kind like your Dad's family. They thought they were better than muggles or muggleborns – like your Mum – and they thought that wizards should rule."

For the first time, Harry looked at him. "Like Voldemort?"

Hesitantly, Sirius nodded. "Yeah, like him. They...a lot of my relatives joined him when he got powerful, actually. But even those who didn't thought he had the right ideas."

"But how can they be evil when you're not?"

"I-" Sirius winced. He wished nothing more than to hug Harry, to hold him close and to tell him – and himself – that everything would be fine. But he knew that he couldn't do that yet, that there was a reason Harry was standing on the other side of the room, with Remus' bed safely between them. First, he had to win back the boy's trust.

"Not all parents are nice, I'm afraid," he said hesitantly. "Like I said, I hated it, and they weren't very fond of me either. I left when I was sixteen."

Harry's eyes grew big. "You ran away from home?"

Sirius nodded. He hated thinking about any of this, and he had almost never talked about it, but somehow with Harry it was alright. "I went to your Dad's. His parents took me in until I could get my own home. James was my brother, and the Potters were more parents to me than my own ever had been."

Harry didn't answer for a while, and Sirius knew that the real problem had not been breached yet.

Kreacher. He knew for some time that this was your home, but it didn't bother him. Not until he found out you're a slave master to his friend.

He dreaded to talk about it, but he knew that it had to be done.

"Do you know what Kreacher is, Harry?"

As expected, Harry's expression immediately closed. "He's my friend," he said defiantly, adopting a stubborn tone that reminded Sirius very much of Lily.

"I know," Sirius nodded. "But his kind are called house elves. Has Remus ever mentioned them in your lessons?" A short shake of the head. "They are magical creatures who live to serve wizards and witches."

Harry looked up sharply. "Like slaves?" he challenged.

Sirius winced. "I...yes, in a way. It's not very nice – medieval, actually. They are magically bound to a family and forced to obey any command a family member gives them. If they don't, they have to punish themselves."

Harry stared at him, aghast. "That's horrible! Why do wizards do that? Can't the government forbid it?"

"I...They don't want to. The strange thing is, house elves are generally quite happy to serve. To them, freedom is dishonourable. Most of them love the family they serve, and they generally adore anything they do. Which is why me and Kreacher never got along. He loved my mother – still does, actually – and he shares her views."

Harry was silent for a while, looking stunned. Then, he frowned. "I don't believe you," he said, defiantly meeting Sirius' gaze. "Kreacher is nice. He's not an evil person, and he doesn't like Voldemort."

"I...maybe he has changed," Sirius offered. He very much doubted that, having heard enough of the house elf when they had first moved in here, but he didn't want to quarrel with Harry again. "When I was a child, he was horrid to me. He kept stealing or destroying things that I owned, and he crept into my room at night to snoop around. That's why I got so angry when I saw him in your room. I thought he was trying to hurt you."

Harry didn't seem very convinced. "Is that why you locked him away up there? He said he wasn't allowed downstairs."

Feeling guilt prickle on his neck, Sirius nodded. "Yes, I...I thought it would be best if you didn't see him, that he might scare you – he scared me when I was younger – so I told him to stay out of sight before you got here. I would set him free if I could, but he knows too much about us. He'd go straight to my cousin, and her husband is a Death Eater who would gladly sell us out to the ministry."

"He wouldn't do that!" Harry cried immediately, but Sirius could see doubt flicker across his eyes.

"Maybe not," he agreed, not wanting to push the matter, "But it's not a risk we can take."

They were silent again.

"I am sorry for what happened last night," Sirius said again, wondering if his explanation had done anything to redeem him in Harry's eyes. "I did a lot of things wrong, and I nearly hurt you in the process. It will never happen again. I promise."

"Can't you...can't you try and make up with Kreacher?" Harry asked hesitantly, hope shining on his face. "He's a bit odd, but he can be really nice. He gave me a button for letting him stay in my room during the full moon!"

He took something small and silvery from his pocket and held it out for Sirius to inspect. "That's...that's very nice," Sirius said, feeling tears of guilt and emotion well up in his eyes. Not because of the button – if he wasn't mistaken, it was from one of his great-uncles old dressing gowns – but the fact that Harry had actually cared enough about Kreacher to worry about his safety.

Sirius hadn't even spared a single thought for the house elf, much less wondered if he would know how to avoid the werewolf.

"I will," he managed. "I'll be nicer to Kreacher from now on, I promise." He very much doubted it would be reciprocated, or even that he himself could do it – Kreacher was, and always had been, a vile, sneaking vermin – but he knew that he had to try if he wanted any hope of reclaiming Harry's trust.

Finally, a smile spread over the boy's face. "Thank you, Sirius!" He ran forward and flung himself in Sirius' arms.

"Anything for you, Prongslet," Sirius muttered, holding Harry tight as tears of relief threatened to break free of his eyes. And he knew that for Harry, he would befriend a thousand revolting house elves if he had to.

Their embrace was interrupted by a third voice, even hoarser than Sirius' had been.

"P-Padfoot? What's going on?"