A/N Well... this isn't actually a chapter (hence the 1/2) Its more for if you want a little bit more detail than the bits and pieces I've included in the story so far, I wouldn't say it was compulsory, you can get away with not reading this (I'm aware it's quite long). Its mostly from Sirius' POV and quite Sirius-centric, just to see how he would react to Harry's life and well... how he reacts to Harry. I did really enjoy writing this though :) Anyway, enough of my rambling! Enjoy...

Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter or his universe, no matter how many times I wish it, it will never happen. No copyright infringement intended.

6 ½. An Account

Sirius had gone mad.

At least, that's what he had thought when he watched Harry exit the room with a grace that James had been incapable of mastering. He heart sank a bit at that. The two of them were so similar; Sirius had almost thought he'd died and was meeting with his best friend's spirit in the afterlife. His hair stuck up slightly at the back, just the way James' hair used to do. Every feature of Harry's face was identical to James', apart from those green green eyes, and if Sirius unfocused his gaze just a bit, his best friend was there. They had the same thoughtful pose, the same glimmer indicative of curiosity passed through Harry's eyes as it had once done James'.

He almost wept at the memory of it.

But he knew with great certainty that the young man who had presented himself before him was not James. Harry's lips curved with more of a twist than James' had when he smiled, as if he were merely humouring whoever he was smiling at, and, so minutely that Sirius had almost missed it, Harry's eyes sharpened whenever he heard something interesting with impossible readiness. There was also something about him, the way he carried himself. There was the calm sense of self assuredness, a trait that Sirius doubted the boy knew he possessed, that was not birthed from arrogance, and neither was it as egoistical or misplaced, as his father's had once been.

It almost seemed as if Harry was in a different field to James, to Sirius.

The apple had seemingly fallen very far from the tree.

Harry was not his father.

This is what Sirius had gleaned from their first meeting. He would try to find out something more substantial in this one.

The boy was sat in a plush black velvet high backed chair across from him, with trimmings in silver, a small glass table sat between them. Sirius was sat in a chair of his own, though one not of his own design, it too was high backed, but in Ravenclaw colours. Between the green and silver of Slytherin and blue and bronze of Ravenclaw, Sirius refused to use the Slytherin colours.

Sirius wasn't sure, as the boy kept his emotions expertly hidden, but he thought that Harry was watching him with avid interest, waiting for him to do something.

Sirius suddenly felt like a very small caged animal.

"You look better."

Sirius supposed that Harry had gotten bored with his inaction. The words made Sirius reflect, although Harry wasn't James, they shared some kindness. He didn't need to have let Sirius out, give him such a nice room, clothe him, feed him or heal him. So Harry was somewhere in between James and... What? How was he intending to finish that thought? Between James and a Slytherin? No, that didn't sit quite right with Sirius.

"I am: a shower, food and potions really does wonders for you," he answered, looking closely into those green eyes. He saw nothing.

"I'm glad," Harry stated after a brief pause. Sirius couldn't tell whether he was truly sharing his feelings or just going through the motions of polite conversation.

"You seem different today."

Sirius never had been one for tact.

He was rewarded by a slight upward tilt of Harry's lips, "I admit I was... on an emotional high last time we spoke. I must express my apologies; I will not appear as such before you again."

Sirius repressed the urge to scowl; it was quite difficult after thirteen years in a cell with nothing apart from your own thoughts for company. The few things that Harry had given away during their last meeting were relatively safe secrets; Sirius already knew that James and Lily had been betrayed by someone other than him, that Pettigrew was still alive. Wait, Pettigrew was still alive, how had Harry known that? Sirius was sure that even Dumbledore wasn't privy to that titbit of information.

"How did you know that Peter was still alive?" the words were out of Sirius' mouth before he could think of a more delicate way to ask his question.

There was a very slight dilation of Harry's pupils, well, commiserated Sirius; at least he had taken the youth by surprise.

"I have my sources," Sirius tried to keep his face passive; it obviously didn't work as Harry smirked back at him, "and they shall remain my own."

Sirius sighed, that tone left for no argument on the subject. He settled into an uneasy silence, unsure as to why Harry was here. God he wanted a whiskey.

"Surely you are more curious about my past?" amusement shone unchecked in Harry's eyes, "being my godfather and all."

Sirius shivered, partly because he couldn't imagine that someone like Harry needed such a figure in their lives, and partly due to the suddenly overwhelming desire to have a part in refining the boy in front of him. The boy had darker tendencies Sirius had decided, he could already feel the alluring power of the dark, there was so much more that, thanks to his status as a Black, he could teach the boy. Sirius could make him so much better.

No, that was a side of himself that Sirius had put down years and years before he had entered Hogwarts. Harry needed to be guided towards the light Sirius thought to himself firmly.

"Or perhaps not," Harry's clear voice cut through Sirius' thoughts. Harry's eyes had darkened with both displeasure and caution, it was only then that Sirius realised that he had been silent far longer than the question had warranted. Harry looked as if he were about to get up and leave, Sirius had to placate him quickly if he wanted to find anything out.

"No, I beg forgiveness, whilst by physical appearances I look almost fully healed, my mind is still being affected by my spell in Azkaban." Maybe he had been a bit overzealous, Sirius thought as he looked into Harry's slightly curious eyes.

"I understand the difficultly of your situation, if you would like to continue this conversation at a later date then I'm sure I wouldn't mind the delay."

Dammit, how was Harry able to manipulate the conversation in such a way to make Sirius feel indebted to him? Sirius had no choice but to play his part, having played and lost that point without even realising it, "It's not that, I'm unused to..." Sirius sighed, "you said the orphanage was 'hellish'?" he said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Harry visibly relaxed into his chair, preparing for a bit of storytelling, "It was, at least for me anyway. It started off well enough, although I think my earliest memory is when a boy from a visiting family stamped on my feet for walking into him. Anyway, I don't remember feeling decidedly unhappy at my lot in life. That lasted until I was about what... six, seven? Whatever, it started when a boy called Peter Williams started living with us.

"He was a bully; I could see that easily enough being bought up in a house full of children. So I tried to stay out of his way but, for reasons still unfathomable to me: I wasn't the smallest, clever or stupid, I didn't even wear glasses then, he came after me. It was the small things that children do, he walked into my room without permission, he stole scraps of food off my plate when no one else was looking, threw paper at me in class. All quiet little things that would make me seem weak if I tattled about it to anybody.

"He took it to mean that he could get away with more, so he did. Do more and get away with it I mean, by the time McGonagall came to meet me all the kids understood that Peter and I were in a state of open conflict. They had all sided with Peter by then, strange things always happened around Harry Potter. I know now that it was my accidental magic that caused drafts in other people's rooms, fixed things that they broke with the hopes that an adult would punish me, apparated me from a barred closet to my room.

"It did other things too, bought me clothes and a towel when Peter had stolen mine when I was in the shower, repaired my glasses when Peter had yet again stamped on them, floated down my things that had been thrown onto the roof. But no matter what I did, how hard I concentrated, I couldn't make it take revenge for me. So I hid other people's things in other people's rooms, put flower bombs above everybody's door, including my own to avoid suspicion, apart from Peter's, stole other, less valuable items, which they never found.

"All the children knew it was me, but they couldn't tell unless they were going to admit full on to bullying me. Ultimately, I think I won that battle, even though I put up with more beatings, more burning, more punishments and telling off from staff. I made them squirm, I made them more uncomfortable around me than they made me. It's only basic human instinct to not like what you don't understand."

Sirius watched Harry finish his speech with a darkly satisfied light in his eyes. It wasn't the worst upbringing in the world, but it certainly wasn't very good for someone with a responsibility like Harry's. Sirius could quite easily see how Harry could learn to hate muggles, although his last statement gave Sirius hope, he had said 'human', not 'muggle'. It was a small comfort though, Harry had looked delighted with the idea of putting people in their place.

"Burns?" he asked absentmindedly, mainly to fill the silence that had so irritated Harry earlier, "they set fire to you?"

Harry blinked once and pulled his collar down slightly, "cigarettes, I still can't get the damn scars to disappear," Sirius eye's locked onto a small, perfectly circular scar just above his godson's collarbone, he grimaced in sympathy.

"Disgusting muggle invention," he said distastefully.

"On the contrary," said Harry with a raised eyebrow, "I quite enjoy them."

Sirius did his best to look appalled.

Harry gave one short, sharp burst of laughter, "You can't defend yourself, they're easily better for you than pixie dust."

Sirius couldn't help but grimace. He, James and Peter had, against the advice of Remus, had become rather taken with the hallucinogenic substance sometime around sixth year. Until McGonagall had found out. Oh, that had been what Harry was hinting at, he realised belatedly.

Harry grinned at him when recognition flashed through Sirius' eyes, "the school records were very informative."

Harry had access to the school records? No, he had probably broken into them to do a bit of research about Sirius. The thought of it still put Sirius on edge. There were a lot of valuable secrets stored in –

"And I already know about Moony's 'furry problem' as you like to put it. He taught here during my third year actually, but that's a story for later."

Sirius had almost demanded that Harry explain himself before he realised the goad for what it was. Don't take the bait Padfoot.

"You said McGonagall met with you?" he asked instead, regaining control over himself.

Harry seemed to smile with fondness of the memory, "She did," he agreed, "I thought she was mad, the first time I saw her. A joke, some cruel prank that the other children had somehow planned, come to make me believe I was special and above them all. That I had a way out, I could finally leave them all. I thought they'd finally won, you know? Seen that what I wanted most was to just be away from them; obviously, I was less than kind to her.

"When I realised she wasn't lying to me, I was overjoyed. She took me to Diagon Alley, she showed me Gringotts and after that I told her to leave me to it. I went back in and saw to my account first of all, I also got the best explanation of the wizarding world a goblin could give me. The ensuing shopping trip would provide me with far more information. Even then I hated feeling needlessly ignorant and I already enjoyed reading history, so I bought a few extra volumes in Flourish and Blotts and got to reading. I knew about as much as the average first year Weasley when I entered school. That's the point at which I set myself the goal to make you suffer incidentally.

"I was sorted into Ravenclaw, I know you've been wondering, and quickly became the best in my year. I wasn't prepared for the amount of attention that being the best, and the boy-who-lived, apparently warranted me, I didn't like it either. Let's just say that wasn't an ideal place to be if you were hoping to research some particularly nasty spells to duel and punish a certain person with. I no longer wanted to be the best, but a sudden drop in grades would be even more brow raising.

"So I limited myself to curriculum spells, higher level curriculum spells mind you, while I researched a way to achieve my goals.

"I wasn't allowed to do this quietly or as quickly as I liked, unfortunately. Malfoy, whose hand of friendship I had declined moments before the welcoming feast, saw it fit to take up the reins that Peter had abandoned, there was also the strange Professor Quirrel, terrified to meet my gaze and reeking of what I know understand to be a dark aura. I tried my best to ignore or placate Malfoy and befriend Quirrel.

"A troll was let loose in the school on Halloween. I knew for a fact that another Ravenclaw girl, muggleborn called Hermione Granger, had been upset earlier in the day and had fled to a girl's bathroom in the area where the troll had been spotted. I don't quite understand why, but it felt like finding her was the right thing to do. She was lucky I did, I suppose she may have been second academically only to me she didn't have the instinct to fight. I killed the troll for her when I found it trying to squish her with its club.

"The next morning I saw Snape skulking around with a wounded leg, and it was only through a chance encounter that night that I overheard a conversation between him and Dumbledore. They were hiding the Philosopher's stone in Hogwarts, stupid idea if you ask me, that's why a certain corridor had been declared out of bounds for the year, and that Voldemort was trying to steal it. It doesn't take much to put two and two together. I knew that Quirrel was in league with Voldemort, and while I personally hold nothing against the man, I didn't particularly fancy the idea of him walking around again, mostly because you, as what I believed to be his faithful servant, would be much harder to reach if he were alive again. So I decided to stop him.

"So, I spent most of the year learning upper school spells, avoiding Malfoy, researching ways to make my drop in grades credible, trying my best to avoid attention and attempting to get Quirrel to trust me enough to find a way to stop him getting the stone. The first two were quite easy to achieve, but I made no progress whatsoever with the last. I realised later that it was actually because Voldemort was stuck on the back of Quirrel's head, surviving on unicorn blood.

"My researched paid off around halfway through the third term. I was in the restricted section when I came across a spell that witches and wizards of old used to cast on their children, or themselves, in times of war to stop others from trying to recruit them. The spell would superficially reduce the amount of magical power exhibited by a person for an extensive period of time, it works better the younger the subject is; in the same tome were ways to show evidence of brain damage. These spells were not without risks. But I was confident in my youth that I would perform them perfectly. Luckily for me, I did. I made it look like a flying accident and everybody fell for it. People would avoid my eyes after that, and Malfoy stopped with his feuding.

"It was near the end of the year when I finally gave up on Quirrel, luckily I had been grooming Weasley and two other boys in his house to get through the defences surrounding the stone. I'd been down just after Halloween, just to see what was there, I was pretty sure that even Weasley could probably get through it on his own, but I'd been feeding them information on devil's snare and how calming music was to animals throughout the year anyway. Word had gotten around that Weasley was a genius at chess and fancied himself as a Quidditch player. I wasn't worried.

I nudged them in the right general direction and they sorted the problem for me. One of the easiest things I'd ever done. They came out more or less in one piece and the stone was destroyed."

Sirius gaped, if it had been anyone other than Harry talking to him, he would accuse them immediately of lying, but Sirius doubted that Harry was lying about this. Harry let him have a moment to ingest all the information that he had just been given.

"You were in the restricted section when you were eleven?" he asked rhetorically, thinking that saying the words aloud would somehow make it acceptable. He saw Harry nod his affirmative in his peripheral. He looked at Harry properly now.

"You 'restricted' yourself to curriculum spells until you were out of the limelight. When, exactly, did you start on... other subjects?" It seemed to Sirius that Harry was surprised and mildly disgruntled at that fact that Sirius hadn't questioned the credibility of his story a little more. He's gloating, Sirius realised, and he wants me to be in awe of him. He glanced at Harry's face again. There. That was nearly the same look that James Potter had given him when they had met in first year, except Harry's was more cautious, more controlled, not putting too much in so that he could cut his losses and stop at a given moment.

He wanted Sirius to like him.

As quickly as he saw the expression, it was gone again, the boy had mastered the Slytherin mask, "During my studies I realised the importance of mastering at least the basic concepts of each type of magic. As a Ravenclaw, I couldn't leave myself with just the basics. It took me a good part of two academic years before I was happy with the level of my knowledge. It was probably for the best, I hadn't realised how demanding the dark arts, among others, was on your magic."

Sirius had grown up a member of the house of Black, so he knew what Harry was telling him was more or less true. But he did see something that didn't fit.

"And mind magics?" he asked, referring to Occlumency.

Harry's mouth curved up in amusement again, "It quickly became apparent after a meeting that your beloved headmaster could read minds. Naturally, I found a way to defend myself from it as quickly as possible."

"How did you know?" Sirius was feeling a bit uneasy. Dumbledore was a master legilimens; Harry shouldn't have been able to feel it when he slipped into his mind. Harry's eyes grew thoughtful.

"It felt the same as when I was sorted," a pause, "do you not feel it at all?"

Sirius shook his head, a negative. Curious that Harry would relate Dumbledore's probing to the sorting hat, not so strange, Sirius thought after a moment. Harry had apparently been in first year after all.

"Did you meet with the headmaster often?" It was also curious that Harry had taken what seemed to be an immediate disliking to the man. Especially given that Harry's interaction with the wizarding world had mainly been with McGonagall prior to entering Hogwarts.

"He first called me to his office at the end of the first week, under the pretence of welcoming me formally to the wizarding world and explaining what had happened to me when I was one. I felt him try to read my mind when he was telling me. I did the only thing I could think of doing, I feverishly thought the kind of thoughts that I hoped he would be expecting to find.

"They were the wrong ones apparently. He called me up to his office, still does, every couple of months or so. It's become somewhat of a sparring match. He normally calls me up whenever I've had a particularly arduous day or afternoon, usually after my potions lessons with Snape." Harry scowled a little with the name.

"Snivellous teaches potions?" Sirius asked, surprised. He had been fairly certain that the Snape he knew would never have resorted to teaching.

Harry nodded discontentedly, "I don't know why, it's obvious he hates it. He thinks I'm my father as well you know, I wish I didn't have to hide so I could brew a potion properly so I can prove him wrong."

Sirius refused to feel guilty for doing the same, but he did wince in sympathy for Harry, for the acts that Sirius and his father had done to Snape in their childhood, Harry must be paying dearly in memory of them. He was also surprised to know that Dumbledore would try to pry into the mind of one so young, and as new to magic as Harry had been. Dumbledore was the symbol of all that was light and good in this world, or he was supposed to be. Harry looked far too smug; doubtless he was following the same line of reasoning that Sirius was in his head. Sirius knitted his brows together; it was probably what he had planned since he heard the question. No, probably before he had entered the room.

Sirius was fed up with Harry Potter thinking that he was above him. His mood turned dark, he wanted Harry knocked down a peg or two, and then he wanted him gone.

"You said when you entered Hogwarts you knew about as much as the average Weasley, how much would you say you knew now?"

The boy in question took a second before he mused out loud, "Generally? Not as much as Dumbledore, nor as much as Binns about Goblin wars, but definitely more than the average Weasley," he showed his teeth when he smiled at Sirius, "Does that answer your question?"

Harry knew that it didn't, Sirius could see that, "you know as much as the history books tell you," he said with a hint of spite. He was satisfied as the grin faded.

"Perhaps," said Harry mysteriously, but they both knew it was a weak defence, how could Harry know more, books were his only source of information.

Sirius did his best imitation of his cousin Bellatrix's leer and refused to say anything more. Let Harry know that he wasn't without character, that he didn't want him there.

His expression seemed to have the adverse effect on Harry, whose eyes shone with dark mirth and lips curled in a pleased way. He stood up suddenly, abrupt wasn't the word to describe the grace with which Harry moved.

"Another time then, Black," he said quietly, almost seductively, before walking out of the room. The door melted away behind him. The aforementioned man stared at the empty wall where it had been.

Sirius had gone mad.

x ~ x ~ x

It had been weeks since Harry had last talked with Black.

He sighed as he put an abysmally vague, not to mention incorrect, two foot essay on the effects of wormwood in an array of different potions. He consoled himself with a conjured image of Snape's sneer and imagined the professor rubbing his temples as he unwillingly tried to interpret Harry's scrawl. It was only a small act of revenge, but it helped to console Harry just that little bit.

Snape was the only one of the professors to still be setting homework. All the others had stopped in consideration for the second task being just two days away. It would be the best time to go after Pettigrew, Harry had decided. The whole school would be out to watch the show.

While the other champions had been running around trying to make sense of the golden egg they had rescued from the first task, Harry had been running around in the middle of the night, trying to find a spell that would create a doppelganger to take over from him during the task. He was confident that he would be able to face anything that the damn tournament could throw at him, or at least, at his doppelganger.

Harry was waiting for the rest of the student body to fall asleep so he could make his customary trip to the restricted section; he was in his dorm, preferring it to the louder atmosphere of the common room. The others in his year apparently still felt awkward around him, as he was always left to his devices. Tonight was no exception.

"Harry Potter."

Harry looked up, curious as to Dobby's appearance. He nodded at the elf to go ahead.

"Mr. Black is requesting youses presences."

That made Harry pause; he was used to the man asking for books, newspapers and sometimes even a stiff drink or two. He hadn't been expecting Black to ask for him personally. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dobby disappear again. He sank back into his chair, one leg over the other. How... curious. He steepled his fingers together and cast a dark look towards his potions essay before rising out of his chair, casting a disillusionment charm upon himself and slipping out of the common room.

Talking to Black would not be a bad way to waste the next couple of hours.

x ~ x ~ x

Sirius was nervous.

It had been a couple of weeks, and Harry had yet to deny him anything. But he still wondered whether the young man would actually turn up.

His head turned with the sound of an opening door. He let out a small sigh of relief when the familiar face of James – no Harry – appeared through the portal. The boy spared him a glance, noting his position in the same chair he had occupied during the last meeting. A chair appeared opposite him and Harry sat himself down on it. A tense silence filled the air.

Sirius broke it first, "You're not curious as to why I called you?"

Harry gave him a knowing look, "I'm more curious to know why you've waited this long to request my presence."

Either Harry really was impatient, or he had been completely thrown by Sirius' request.

"Care to finish your delightful tale?" he answered, thinking he understood most of Harry's earlier account of his life and now he wanted to know the rest of it.

Harry's eyes lit up, "You're not asking questions about Pettigrew?"

"That is for another time, I want to know who you are before anything else happens."

"And as far as I can see, you haven't tried to escape yet," the suspicion was plain to see.

Sirius did wonder: why hadn't he escaped yet? Why hadn't he even tried? It wasn't like him to just accept his imprisonment. Well, he hoped that Azkaban hadn't made him so compliant. It took only a look in Harry's direction to understand.

The boy fascinated him. He who was so like his father, and yet his opposite. The ice to James' fire, the sky to his earth, the north to his south.

The dark, to his light.

There was no denying it, if you knew what you were looking for, and Sirius did, growing up in the house of the Blacks: Harry's power was aching to serve the dark. Even if he hadn't fully committed himself to it, Sirius wasn't even sure that the boy was aware of it. And for some strange reason, Sirius found he didn't mind. In fact, he wanted Harry to accept the dark, and he himself wanted to follow.

He pondered this realisation, why would he want to follow the dark? He had spent most of his life running from it: all those awkward silences with his family, running away from home, getting sorted into Gryffindor. Befriending James Potter. Surely it hadn't been futile, an immature act of defiance? No, it was what Sirius had wanted to be, in servitude to the light; that was the reason he had been struck off the Black family tree. Until he met Harry.

"I'm curious," he admitted. He saw the boy's pupils dilate slightly with surprise, then constrict with suspicion, "It's true, I want to know exactly what you've grown up to be."

The last statement seemed to appease Harry, who nodded slightly, "Now that you've seen that I'm not my father."

Sirius didn't reply, Harry was simply justifying his earlier explanation, and quite probably reminding Sirius of the same fact. As if he needed reminding.

"It didn't take me long to get tired of the Dursleys, that's where Dumbles sent me to live after first year by the way. They were loud, obnoxious, petty and so weak compared to me. I simply told them the natural order of things. They left me alone for most of the school holiday.

"When I arrived back at Hogwarts it seemed as if Quirrell had left and Dumbledore had hired the idiot Lockhart to teach us Defence. I couldn't stand him; he was like the Dursleys, less cruel, but every bit as ignorant. I thought it quite fortunate that I had covered all of second year defence beforehand; he only seemed interested in teaching us about himself.

"It took a while, but things eventually started happening, things that shouldn't happen. We found out just before Christmas that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Filch's cat had been petrified. I was perfectly content to sit back and watch the scene unfold, then it started getting ridiculous, after a few more students had been petrified good old Dumbles decided that it would be best to have teachers escort us between lessons, to and from meals, and for us never to leave our common rooms otherwise. It got worse after Weasley's little sister had been abducted and taken to the chamber; it was a lot harder to sneak out at night, even with some of the concealing spells that I shouldn't have known. The risk eventually grew too great.

"There was enough evidence in front of my nose for me to realise that it was the work of a Basilisk. It took me considerably longer for me to locate the entrance to the chamber. I had maintained my friendship with the Granger girl after the troll incident, though I full well know that she stuck by me due to pity and some misplaced sense of debt. It was useful though, she had become friends with the very same trio that I had led to the philosopher's stone the year before. They saw themselves as big shot saviours of the school and seemed keen to maintain that image. Naturally, I indulged them. A few innocent little comments for Granger to overhear got her on the scent of the Basilisk; though she did managed to get herself petrified before she could tell her Gryffindor friends.

"A note written in a perfect imitation of her handwriting set that straight though. A few hints about why the groundskeeper Hagrid had been taken away; did you know that he was the one the staff had first suspected fifty years ago when the same thing happened? Anyway, ridiculous as that was, the other three learnt that when the chamber had been opened fifty years previously, a muggleborn had been killed. A muggleborn who's ghost still haunts the girl's bathroom on the second floor. I... arranged for the chamber to open when they arrived there, it was quite amusing to that they had dragged along Lockhart. The rest was just blind luck on their part. I heard they saved the Weasley, somehow obliterated Lockhart, killed the basilisk, shame that really, and got rid of another artefact.

"I don't know what else they discovered down there, their memories of the incident have been locked away by another, probably Dumbledore, and I haven't yet managed to get any of them to willingly tell me what actually happened."

Harry didn't bother hiding his scowl at when he uttered the last sentence, Sirius noted. He didn't bother questioning the story, Harry had already proved how remarkable he was, and... it made sense to Sirius; following on from the rest of Harry's life, the year had seemed comparatively dull.

"Are you still friends with the muggle-born?" he asked and was quite proud of the completely blank look from Harry.

"We're more like... acquaintances now. Her constant mothering got annoying, so I just made every situation awkward for her. She eventually gave up."

"And what of the 'Gryffindor three'?"

Harry blinked, as if the idea had never even occurred to him, "The golden trio?" he said, sneering, "They don't like me any more than I like them. I think it had something to do with Granger. Maybe they feel angry at me on her behalf for some perceived wrong. I think it's more to do with the fact I used to be better than them, and then I wasn't." Harry smiled at Sirius, "Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Gryffindors make excellent bullies, especially to those who are different. I know how you four were with Snape."

Sirius grimaced uncomfortably, that had certainly hit the spot. The sting of guilt was amplified as he felt what the Marauders had done to Snape was echoing through time to what this 'golden trio' was doing to Harry. At least Snivellous hadn't had to worry about an irate teacher making life miserable for him on top of their dispute. He looked to Harry again, admiring the way that Harry's smile didn't seem strained, dark and forbidding yes, but not strained.

"How did you find the chamber?"

Harry smiled, it was almost in fondness, "I had help from an incredibly intelligent, and often overlooked, first year member of my house. A girl named Luna Lovegood. Most people think she's mad, I realised that there was some truth to her logic. She has a knack for understanding magic, though it comes in the form of imaginary creatures talking to her."

"Lovegood? As in, whose mad father runs the Quibbler?"

Harry nodded, he looked pleased that Sirius had recognised the name, "The very same." Well, that was unexpected. He hadn't expected that Harry would want to socialise with the Lovegoods.

"How did you open the chamber?" Sirius asked abruptly, the question had suddenly cut through his line of thought.

"I didn't," replied Harry tartly, "and that's all I'll say on the matter."

"I thought only the heir of Slytherin had the power to open-"

"I said," this voice was commanding and held an unvoiced threat, "that was all I will say on the matter."

Sirius sat back, ignoring the urge to apologise, and held Harry's gaze for a few seconds. He wasn't getting anywhere; Harry had the advantage.

"You had started dark arts within this year?" he asked, mainly to take Harry's mind off the previous question. Harry nodded his affirmative. He couldn't shake the feeling that Harry was hiding something big from him. He was, after all, divulging in every secret other than this one.

"Do go on."

"My third year was comparatively dull." Harry started without pause, catching Sirius slightly by surprise, "Since Lockhart had been reduced to the state of an excitable toddler, really, he wasn't much more to begin with, Dumbledore had hired one Professor Lupin." Sirius felt his eyes widen slightly at that, "he was a good teacher, the best I'd had actually. In fact, I think that he managed to make his lessons enjoyable for everyone. I would have found it enjoyable too, if he hadn't consistently been watching me, giving me indiscernible looks, asking me to demonstrate and so on. So instead of enjoying his teaching, I had to concentrate on not letting my character slip. I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore had told him of my 'incident' in first year, so he apparently remained unconvinced and in a small state of denial.

"I got a rest from him a few days of each month. Though he was swapped out for Snape, I'm not sure whose company I preferred. Snape is a surprisingly good defence teacher, if you're interested. But he was overly intent on teaching us about werewolves. Tie that together with the knowledge that Lupin was always missing during and around the full moon, and that his boggart was a full moon, I'd say it was pretty obvious that our defence professor was, in fact, a werewolf.

"Well, near the end of the year I was well into my studies of the dark arts, as well as a bit of the advanced forms of most other subjects. I left divination and care of magical creatures well alone. I was very well versed in potions at that time, so I always noticed a strange smell whenever I entered the dungeons just before the full moon. It wasn't any combination taught at Hogwarts. I deduced that Snape was also making some potion to tame the wolf, as it were, that would keep Lupin's status as a werewolf hidden.

"I think, it was becoming trickier to hide the lingering dark magic from Lupin, he seemed able almost to smell it. I suppose that comes with him being a dark creature. He was also becoming a bother, always asking me inane questions, summoning me to his office for chats about my parents. He told me the most about my parents. Curious that, don't you think? That a professor introduced to me in my third year in the magical world told me more of my parents than the head of the order which they died for. Dumbledore barely mentioned them, telling me only of their sacrifice and what that should mean to me and the rest of the wizarding world. Up until then, I knew more of goblin wars than of my parents.

So I may or may not have 'accidentally' let slip that the man was a werewolf to some of the more loose tongued members of my house. He left at the end of the year, securing my safe study of the dark arts for this year, or it was supposed to. I don't know how he did it, but Dumbledore made the Tri-wizard tournament happen this year... and made me a part of it. Now I barely have time between lessons, preparation, the actual tasks and the hordes of extra people in the school to carry on my independent studies."

The pause was long enough for Sirius to realise that Harry had finished his account. He raised an eyebrow, "Hordes of extra people?"

Harry's eye twitched in annoyance, "More people ogling me, watching me, making Weasel and Malfoy more jealous of my 'status'," he sighed before brightening again, "he's quite clever actually, Malfoy, and Granger too, they both figured out Lupin as well. It was obvious why Granger hadn't said anything, but I don't know about Malfoy. He's quite intriguing the more I think about it."

Sirius startled, Harry found the son of Lucius Malfoy intriguing? And Dumbledore had told Harry practically nothing of his parents, apparently, the urge to follow Harry was growing stronger.

"Now that I've heard your story, what do you want from me?" he asked, curious.

Harry smiled at him, "Sirius Orion Black: up until a few weeks ago, my whole life has revolved around killing you. I now find myself caring very little as to what actually happens in your life."

It was a lie. Sirius knew it had to be a lie, if he truly didn't care, then Sirius wouldn't be here. He'd be out in the world, making a life for himself, or he could be back in Azkaban, he could have been kissed. The man shuddered at the thought. Soulless. It would be a miserable existence, if you could feel misery if you were kissed.

The ploy was a clever one, subtly telling the truth, hidden by an untruth. Harry just didn't know what to do with him, but was fully preparing himself to push Sirius away.

Well.

Sirius wouldn't let him.

It was a snap decision, not really a decision if Sirius was honest about it. It was the only thing he could do. The only thing that he would let himself do. It's what he had wanted to do since he had met him, if only he had listened.

There was a sense of rightness about his next words and a peace settled in the room after he had uttered them. For the first time, all the tortured voices, of Lily, James and everyone else that had died during the war, they were all quiet. All content. Sirius reflected that it was his own entire mind, the voices were his conscience, his soul, his destiny; and to them, he had finally done right by.

"You may not know what you want of me, but I know what I want of you. I know you are not your father: you are no one but yourself.

"I may not ever understand all of you, but I know what I do is right: Harry James Potter, I will follow you to the ends of this earth, and then beyond it."

A/N Gasp! When I started writing this little filler I didn't expect that to happen! Anyway, I hope that cleared up any questions you've had about Harry's past. If you have any more please please please tell me and I will do my best to answer them in following chapters! :) I hope that Sirius wasn't completely OOC, but it's fair to say he's gunna be a little different than he is in the books. Sharing is caring!

Watch this space...

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