Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to the authors, producers, and companies with whom the material in question is affiliated.
A/N: Hello all. Sorry for yet another long absence. Some very frustrating and busy work things, then holidays, then work again, and then the continual struggle with chronic depression. Good news: new chapter, and I've gotten back to working on my original novel, so that's one step closer to freeing myself of mind-numbing office job completely devoid of creativity! Bad news: posts will continue to be sporadic, but this crossover is outlined all the way out to the end of book seven, so I promise there's more to come.
As always, thanks for your support, comments, faves, and follows thus far. I love you all.
Chapter Thirteen: Interlude
4 November
"Say 'Ah,'" the Doctor directed.
Harry squinted against the blue light shining into his eyes and opened his mouth obligingly, imitating the sound. His father frowned thoughtfully as he ran the humming screwdriver over Harry's forehead. The Time Lord's dark eyebrows pulled together, and the device disappeared with a flick of his wrist. The wand followed, and Harry blinked as yellow and white swirls danced around his head. A flavour a little like honey washed over his palate.
"Any pain?" he asked lightly after tucking the wand behind his ear.
The Slytherin shook his head and yawned hugely.
"Still hearing that hum?"
"No," Harry mumbled tiredly, rubbing his shadowed eyes. "Bad dreams, still, and the castle still sounds the same, but it's not that really sharp buzzing from before."
He caught his mum biting her lower lip from over his dad's shoulder and shifted uncomfortably while they exchanged a long, worried look.
"I'm not Jenny," he said quietly when neither offered an explanation for their silent exchange. "I can take it, whatever it is. What do you know?"
Rose smiled apologetically and swept forward to engulf him in a hug. Harry let her, taking the time to enjoy the smell of her hair and the familiar warmth always surrounding the woman.
He inhaled and the familiar taste of Hogwarts faded beneath the more prominent flavour of the Doctor's magic, woven through their quarters in every extra gadget and feature specific to his design.
"We don't know anything, yet," she said gently. "We just got some really odd readings off you from that night, and it's bizarre that it's just disappeared. We're worried, that's all. We'll tell you as soon as we know anything."
"Right," he hummed in resignation.
Harry glanced at the window and couldn't stop himself from wincing as a particularly harsh gale blew a shotgun splatter of heavy raindrops against the leaded panes.
The Doctor paused fiddling with his sonic to give him a sympathetic smile.
"Quidditch practice again?"
His mum made a noise of irritation.
"Yeah," the Slytherin confirmed. "Still fun as ever, being blown off my broom and plummeting out of the air two hundred feet up."
Something large and metallic clanged against the flagstones in the small kitchen, and both the Doctor and his son jumped.
"You can quit anytime," the man suggested with waggling brows.
"But where'd be the fun in that?" Harry argued, pulling himself to stand and re-shouldering his bag. "Isn't that the draw of fun things? Fly on broomsticks, maybe fall to your death. Travel time and space, definitely run for your life at some point- It's always a bit risky, yeah?"
His dad grinned, and Harry crossed to the doorway.
"Seriously though," the Doctor whispered conspiratorially after ushering his son into the corridor. "Don't die. Your mum'll murder me, and then Jenny'll kill me all over again."
8 November
Amelia Bones' steel-grey eyebrows twitched, and the man sitting across from her crossed his legs. The director of Magical Law Enforcement still was not quite sure how the young muggle before her came to be there, or why he insisted on winking and smiling rakishly at her whenever she paused in her perusal of his credentials.
"So, the Doctor sent you," she clarified after examining the references on her desk.
"Indeed, he did. He told me you had an extremely delicate inmate in need of housing in the interim before his trial who wouldn't be tempted to off him or assist him in escape, binge drinking, orgies-"
Amelia's brow twitched again, and the man's grin broadened.
"-Basically keep him out of trouble," he finished with another wink. "So, what you do say, Amy?"
"Madam Bones, if you would, Captain Harkness," the director glared.
"Oh, yes, I would, Madam," he smirked. "I live to please."
The quill in her right hand snapped, and the wand sitting casually on the desk between them twitched as if in response.
"Do you flirt with everything possessing an orifice or should I feel flattered?" she deadpanned, her eyes glinting. "Either way, I suggest you abstain from further innuendo, or I'll have to give Rose my apologies on your sudden and inexplicable disappearance."
Harkness' lips pulled into a pout.
Amelia rolled her eyes and flicked her wand at the door. A moment later, the glass shuddered to admit an auror with bubblegum pink, spiky hair completely at odds with her pressed scarlet robes and polished badge.
"Auror Tonks, this is Captain Jack Harkness-"
The captain rose smoothly to his feet to take the Auror's hand.
"Pleasure to meet you," he grinned.
"Stop it," Bones snapped.
The muggle officer affected an indignant look, which she met with a sharp glare.
"I'm just saying 'hello'," he protested.
"You and I both know the truth of that."
Auror Tonks giggled, glancing between the two with an impish smile.
"I don't mind, Director," she assured her. "And I like you, Harkness. You've a rare gift to get under her skin so quickly. Moody'd like you too, I bet."
Her senior officer smacked her hand on her desktop, making Tonks, but not the Muggle, jump.
"Enough. Go to Saint Mungo's, get Black, go to the safe house, and if I so much as hear a hint of any funny business between you two-"
She gestured vaguely between the pink-haired witch and the tall brunette.
"Or you, Harkness, and Black, or anyone else on my team, for that matter-"
The captain held up his hands in surrender, though his chiselled face held supreme disappointment.
"-I swear I'll turn you into a rabbit and let you loose in a tiger enclosure at the London zoo," she finished, ignoring him. "Now out! And keep him away from any reporters who aren't Williams!"
Ministry 12 Years too Late
by Wilhelmina Williams, Senior Reporter for Ministry News
Nov. 9, 2013 - Minister Cornelius Fudge formally released Sirius Black (35, London) from maximum security facilities at the Ministry of Magic last night after St. Mungo's mind healer and expert witness Professor Herbert Spleen examined him at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's request.
"Mr Black still has a long way to go before he's mentally hale as the average wizard, what with 12 years of his life locked up in that hell-hole," Spleen said. "But he's in no shape to fight or escape anyone. He's not deranged, nor is he any madder than any of us. Really, he's a bigger danger to himself than anyone else."
Authorities transferred Black to a private residence yesterday to convalesce before the first of several hearings leading up to the criminal trial scheduled for Jan. 1st. The ex-inmate opened up about his experience inside the notorious prison and his feelings following his subsequent release during transit.
"I keep thinking I'm dreaming," he said hoarsely. "Someone told me once that you can't have good dreams in Azkaban. That's only half true."
The man paused to shift his position and held out his arms. Bite marks criss-crossed Black's arms from thumb to elbow.
"I'd dream good things - dream I was out and with Harry, pushing his pram and singing rude songs just to wind Lily up," Black said after tucking his arms back beneath a hospital-issued blanket. "And then all of a sudden, I'd feel this horrible cold, and whatever good thing I was experiencing would change into something awful, something horrifying, and you can't tell what's real anymore. Harry… The baby would melt into a pool of blood, or I'd hear Lily screaming, or James accusing me. That's how I got these [scars]. Made sure I wasn't dreaming anymore. Made sure I could still feel something aside that terrible cold."
Black stared at the ceiling for several minutes, and the transit stopped at its destination. The Healer, mediwitches and auror accompanying Black quickly settled their patient into his new lodgings
"It's hard," the former inmate said after the medical professionals quit the room. "I'm starting to realize I'm not just dreaming,and maybe I'll be able to see my godson and be happy again, but then I think how long I've been locked up, and it's like I'm still there in that cell, in my head. I'm not the same as I was when I went in, and he [Harry Potter] doesn't know me any more. I don't think he'll remember me, he was so little, and that hurts almost as bad as that cold."
Black declined to comment further on his prospective relationship with Harry Potter-Smith (12, Hogwarts); however, many have made their own opinions clear in respect to his future guardianship.
"What was done to that man and that poor boy is repugnant," Diagon Alley solicitor Colleen Ketteridge (42, Suffolk) said. "The Ministry should put them together immediately. Mr Black needs that boy to help him heal, and young Harry needs the guidance of an experienced British wizard now that he's returned from wherever those government swots had him hidden away."
Potter's peers disagreed.
"His mum and dad are perfectly lovely," said Slytherin yearmate Daphne Greengrass. "The Doctor [Professor John Smith] has completely revolutionized the history classes at Hogwarts, and Professor Smith [Professor Roselyn Smith] has given Muggle Studies new life. Howgarts may actually make international rankings for those OWLs thanks to them."
Greengrass said the professors' unique and enthusiastic approach to teaching has created a very nurturing family unit, despite the Smiths' claiming no blood relation to Potter.
"The Doctor and Professor Smith are very concerned with Harry learning everything he must about his heritage, and they've done everything to get him caught up since returning to England," she said. "Harry trusts him with more than that, though. They love him dearly, and he loves them. It'd be wrong to stick him with his godfather at the cost of losing them. Someone should definitely pay for the injustice done to Black, but Harry and the Smiths shouldn't have to suffer for it."
...
Muggle Turned Professor: the Real Roselyn Smith
by Rita Skeeter, Investigative Correspondent
Nov. 12, 2013 - The Smiths took Hogwarts by storm this past September when Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore announced the creation of a new class and the overhaul of not one, but two Hogwarts courses: Muggle Studies and History of Magic. He reportedly spent several minutes during his opening speech lauding the professors' respective accolades and qualifications; however, he left out a very important detail in his allegedly ostentatious introductions.
Mrs Roselyn Smith cannot perform any magic herself. According to Ministry records, Mrs Smith lived as a muggle until her marriage to Professor John Smith several years ago. Prior to returning to England, purportedly at the behest of her allegedly magical, but unnamed parents, she raised Harry Potter (12, Hogwarts) in a muggle dwelling outside Sydney, Australia.
"No one actually likes her," an anonymous fifth-year student said. "She's a squib, and she's jealous of us because she can't do magic on her own, so she makes us do dangerous muggle experiments in class."
The fifth-year continued his explanation after pointing out a group of students on the lawns building an unrecognisable muggle contraption.
"It's horrible," he said. "She dared them to make a flying machine without any magic at all and had the other half of her students make one with magic, and she's going to put her daughter in there to test them out. She's only six!"
The student declined to make further comments, saying he was too disturbed at the horrifying prospect to continue, but a seventh-year student made a point to share her perspective.
"Jenny Renette's the sweetest little thing," she said with a smile. "She's adorable, and everyone can tell she's going to be just as powerful as her dad and brother [Harry Potter], but that Mrs Smith hates her. She found some way to take the governor off Jenny Renette's training broom, and she's letting her fly those mad muggle flying whatzits, too. She's a danger to her children and her students. The Doctor's just too bewitched by her to see the truth."
...
Smith v. Black Custody Battle Pending
by Rita Skeeter, Investigative Correspondent
Nov. 14, 2013 - Tensions rose last night during an emergency Wizengamot meeting when the august body met to discuss the Black's first pre-trial hearing, which will occur Nov. 20th before a panel of Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Wizengamot members. Rather than argue over legalities related to witness or evidentiary issues, however, members debated the question on everyone's minds:
What about Harry Potter (12, Hogwarts)?
Concerns regarding Potter's current guardians, the suspicious manner in which he disappeared, his sudden re-entry into British magical society, and Potter's own safety have called the issue of custody into question. Dependent on the outcome of the final trial to be held Jan. 1st, Black may be reinstated as a full member of British magical society. In that happy event, Black would regain his right to guardianship over Potter as the boy's legally appointed godfather.
In a Daily Prophet One-Day Poll, 62% of participants expressed worry in regard to Potter's current guardianship.
"The Doctor, Professor John Smith, is fantastic," a Hogwarts student and polling participant said. "But he's really blind when it comes to that Roselyn woman. She's dangerous and violent, and weirdly possessive of Harry even though everyone knows she doesn't like him because he's a wizard and she's a squib."
Approximately 27% of participants polled felt Potter should be transferred to Black's custody immediately.
Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge (57, London) weighed in on the matter in her capacity speaking for the Minister's office. Although she said there are concerns in light of disturbing allegations by Hogwarts students and staff, the Ministry will act as the law dictates.
"Minister Fudge and I wholly support any legal action which leads us to the truth in regards to both Sirius Black's case and the validity of the Smiths' custody over young Mr Potter," she said. "It is our sworn duty as lawmakers, as stewards for our children's happiness and safety, to ensure their care comes first above all other things. Minister Fudge intends to pursue this matter with the utmost attention to its conclusion, no matter what that may be."
15 November
The headaches had gone and the strange voice hadn't resurfaced, but that was the most positive thing Harry could say about November thus far. In addition to the litany of reports disparaging his parents, criticizing the ministry, and rehashing the details of the Potters' gruesome murder, the month brought with it more rain than Harry felt he'd ever seen, which he might have thought extremely impressive given his life in London and the previous year at the castle. It rained when he woke up, and continued raining, misting, or drizzling long after he went to sleep. Sheets and buckets drowned the dying grass carpeting the grounds and created rivers of mud that flowed endlessly into the murky lake.
At least, he thought, the atmosphere matched the mood.
In the wake of Mrs. Norris's attack and the release of Sirius Black from Azkaban, the castle had descended into a gloom wholly unnatural for a school full of magical children, the Doctor, and (on weekends) a very excitable six-year-old; however, most of the pleasures the children usually enjoyed had suddenly evaporated, and too few substitutes remained to alleviate the boredom and fear.
A good portion of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team had been involved in 'the great spot eruption,' as many called it, so the first game of the Quidditch season had to be rescheduled for the end of the month. Practices continued, of course, but with the weather being what it was, very few people thought them much fun. They were especially difficult for Harry and Draco, because though they could fly extremely well, their size worked against steady maneuvering during inclement weather. The harsh gusts tried hard to blow them off course, and the boys had to compensate by pouring more magic into powering their brooms to correct for it. The gales, however, were unpredictable, and it only took a moment of stillness for a previously straight-flying player to shoot off in the wrong direction while riding top-of-the-line racing brooms. For older children, Hogsmeade visits became more trouble than they were worth. For everyone else, the sweets and entertainment items usually owl-delivered during the cold months couldn't make their way through the tempest. Even progress on the dirigible had halted since the components were long since finished, and assemblage required a larger workspace than the indoors could offer. To top things off, the twins had not been able to breach Lockhart's latest wards and could not be found between or after classes to discuss alternate plans of attack. Even the Doctor and Rose could offer little relief with the mystery of the undetectable petrifier swallowing up their time, leaving Harry at loose ends.
He went to class. He studied. He played board games with his friends and sister. He worried over the frequent hum in his ears, the ache in his head, and the sensationalist stories splashed across the Prophet. So when the morning of November 15th arrived cold, dark and dreary, Harry couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect of having something to break up the monotony, even if the ceiling at breakfast rumbled threateningly overhead and the cause for his break of routine twisted his stomach in another way entirely.
The young Slytherin paced back and forth in the entrance hall, casting impatient glances over his shoulder at the grand staircase and smoothing his sweaty palms over the perfectly pressed planes of his best robes. When he did not pace or battle imaginary wrinkles, he tried in vain to force his ever-present cowlick into submission. He punctuated his nervous grooming with glares at the face of his fob watch, which stubbornly counted the minutes much, much slower than they usually passed.
Eventually, though, The Doctor and Rose appeared on the first floor landing with Jenny walking between them and Professor Snape following behind.
"Don't let her boss you about," the woman smirked with playful poke at her daughter's ribcage.
The little witch (whose control of her not-so-accidental magic improved daily under the Doctor's guidance) clicked her fingers to make a tickling hex race up and down her mother's back, prompting her father to laugh at his wife's squeal and the dour professor walking in her wake to grimace.
"I am the foremost potions master in Britain, not a child minder," he griped in clipped tones.
Jenny glanced up at him over her shoulder but seemed utterly unimpressed by Professor Snape's baleful glare and intimidating expression.
"Which is why we appreciate your help all the more while we're away," the Doctor interjected before the little girl could give what promised to be a very cheeky response. "I can think of no one better to keep an eye on Jenny Renette in our stead while we've got unknown beasties about."
Harry cleared his throat loudly, and all four met his gaze. His mum smiled apologetically at him, turned to press kisses to her protesting daughter and Professor Snape's respective cheeks and took her husband's hand. Harry's impatient expression disappeared behind one of amusement at his head-of-house's obvious discomfort. The Doctor relinquished his hold on Jenny to her companion for the day, pushed the doors open with a wave of his wand, and ushered Rose and Harry before him onto the damp grounds.
"Sorry if you had to wait long," Rose said as soon as the doors closed again, wrapping her arm around her son's shoulders. "Severus had some things to say on the subject of our meeting today."
The boy didn't have to ask for further elaboration. The Doctor continued his wife's train of thought seamlessly despite casting heating and drying charms on the path ahead of them. Beneath his influence, the deep mud hardened enough to allow their passage without having to dig themselves out again.
"He knew Black in school," he said a little exasperatedly. "He seems wholly convinced of his guilt, but to be fair, we all know how well he can hold a grudge, so that may not mean much."
Harry leaned into Rose's side unconsciously. It seemed time had sped again, and they covered the grounds much faster than he wanted to. The wrought iron gates stood only a few hundred yards away, now.
"We really haven't talked about it, but are you sure he couldn't…"
His mumble trailed off, and he took a deep breath to force the rest out.
"There's no chance I'd be taken away from you, right? I mean, assuming the trial goes the way we think it will."
"Legally, I'm sure he could technically make a bid for you," the Doctor answered matter-of-factly. "Realistically, he'd have to get through your mum, first."
"Yup," Rose smiled and tightened her hold around her boy. "You're stuck with us."
The knot in Harry's stomach loosened noticeably, and he found himself enjoying the remainder of their walk to the edge of the castle's wards. As the imposing black gates squealed and swung open, he took his father's hand, and with his next breath, found himself in front of a house he hadn't seen since he stood a good foot or so shorter.
The red brick row house looked much smaller than it had when he was a kid, but the TARDIS-blue door and shutters still seemed as welcoming as ever. The familiar hum and tang of a perception filtering ward registered as the door swung open, and a woman with bright pink hair waved from the top step.
"Smiths! There you are," she grinned.
"Hi, Tonks," Rose smiled back. "How have you been?"
The woman rushed forward and laughed as she caught the younger woman, who had tripped forward off the front step on her way in for a hug. The Doctor snorted, and Harry smiled.
"You know me," Tonks grinned, her eyes glinting as she to greet the remaining arrivals. "So you're Potter, yeah?"
The Slytherin sniffed inquisitively and frowned as the auror's hair shifted between bubblegum pink and lavender.
"Are you a metamorphmagus?"
"Jemmy," Rose scolded, unable to hold back an affectionate grin. "That's no way to greet people. Don't be rude."
"No worries, Rosie," Tonks snorted, and her nose scrunched until it looked identical to a pig's snout. "You're lucky I like cheeky boys. Come on, then. I suppose you're here to meet your godfather, right?"
Harry cast a look over his shoulder to find his parents' encouraging smiles. He breathed deep and released it slowly through his nose.
"Yes. Is he-"
Before he could continue his inquiry, the door slammed against the interior wall and Harry yelped as two large hands hoisted him under the arms and spun him in a circle.
"There's my favourite nephew! Where the hell have you been, kid?"
The boy laughed, and Jack pulled him into a bear hug despite his struggles.
"Your mom's been so cruel," he complained, pressing an over enthusiastic kiss to Harry's crown.
He fought harder, unable to breathe.
"Oi, no squishing my kid," the Doctor grumbled from the door, his heavy brows drawn down in disapproval. "You're so-"
"Handsome? Dashing? Irresistible?"
He dropped Harry to pull the Doctor into an embrace, and his teeth flashed in a rakish smile. Harry smirked and thought Lockhart could benefit from learning at the elbow of a true master in the art of charm.
Rose smacked the dimpled man's shoulder, only to have it caught and kissed.
With the adults properly distracted, Harry wandered down the hallway, wondering at the sense of nostalgia overcoming him. He passed the doorway leading into the kitchen, where plastic glow-in-the-dark stars marked his growth against the warm oak moulding. The floor creaked loudly as he turned the corner, just as it always had. The air, however, smelled wrong.
It no longer felt like home, and Harry was not sure how to feel about that.
The smell of disinfectant assailed his senses just as strongly as it had during his last visit to Saint Mungo's. He tasted the herbal earthiness that came with healing magic and a thrum of powerful wards not unlike those around Harry's home in Sutton. He came to a stop in the small sitting room. A witch in a white pinafore and lime green robes stood nearest, bent over a floating work surface as her hands efficiently chopped away at an ingredient he didn't recognize. She barely spared him a glance as he passed her, but the other sitting room occupant turned to stare openly at him.
"You-" he rasped, and several emotions Harry could not name passed over the man's features before settling into a watery smile. "Hello, pup."
The boy beside the microfibre loveseat, his face held carefully blank as he stared back.
The man consisted of barely more than skin and bones. His dull black, limp hair hung at his shoulders, framing a gaunt face with deep-set grey eyes ringed with shadows dark as bruises. His skin looked sallow, clammy despite the comfortable temperature, over the clear outline of ribs visible in the vee of his dressing gown and against his white knuckles and thin fingers, which clenched at the arms of his chair as if in restraint.
He looked like a prisoner of war.
Harry gulped and forced himself to take a step forward, breathing a little too fast in an effort to move as much air as possible over his palate.
"Hello," he finally said, extending a hand with a nervous smile. "I think we've probably met, but I don't remember."
The alleged criminal slowly grasped Harry's hand, his expression pained, and shook it weakly.
"My fault," he admitted miserably. "Should have seen to you rather than go after the bloody rat."
"Language," the Doctor scolded lightly, strolling in and plopping down on the loveseat while Rose and Captain Jack remained out of sight.
From the sound of his mother's laughing, Harry guessed they had settled in the kitchen to catch up.
"Good morning, Doctor," Sirius grinned crookedly.
The lines around his eyes crinkled, and ten years seemed to drop off his face.
"Are we still wading through the seas of awkwardness in here?" the Doctor hummed, waggling his eyebrows. "Or have we got to hugs, yet?"
"Er-" Harry felt himself reddening.
"I'll take that as a yes to the former," the duster-clad Time Lord laughed. "So! Jemmy, this is Sirius Black, notorious murderer and Death Eater."
Sirius rolled his eyes, his shoulders relaxing, while Harry looked on in confusion.
"Well, we're not not entirely sure about the murderer part," he amended. "Well, sort of. We're fairly certain he didn't kill Pettigrew, anyhow."
Black sighed and chuckled. It sounded more like a cough to Harry's ears.
"Doctor-" he tried.
"Could still be a murderer, just not the one everyone thinks he is-"
Harry laughed and felt his insides untwisting, his tension fading in the face of his father's rambling explanation.
"Dad-"
"That and I'm fairly certain he's not a Death Eater, either, based on our standard interrogation procedures, but-"
Both the dark-haired man and boy grinned as Rose joined her husband on the loveseat, tugged his tie steal a kiss, and stemmed the prattle. Harry's nose wrinkled slightly in mild embarrassment at the display.
"You've got great parents," Sirius snickered at Harry, while the Doctor fixed his wife with a besotted smile. "I'm glad they found you, even if you won't be with me after my name's cleared."
Harry frowned.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, staring at his knees. "I really am."
Another awkward silence passed between them, which Rose prevented the Doctor from filling by clapping a hand over his mouth.
"Sooo," the boy tried again. "What exactly happened to you? Madam Bones dug up your arrest records and officially looked into the violation of due process, and everything, but we're still not sure about how you ended up in that situation. Fudge's statement said you confessed at the time of your arrest."
The smile fell from the man's face, and his haunted eyes looked away from Harry's steady gaze.
"I'd just lost-" he sighed bitterly. "James had been like my brother since we were 11, and your mum... I was a bit distraught. Do you know about the Fidelius charm?"
Harry's eyes glazed a bit while he recalled what he knew about the topic.
"It's hiding the secret of a location in a human soul, right?" he offered, nodding slowly. "So you told the wrong person, or-"
"Yes," Sirius growled. "James and Lily wouldn't have died that night if not for me."
Harry tried not to flinch at the fury written over his features.
"It was me, at first, but I switched with someone I considered one of my closest friends," he continued. "I was being targeted, and if I'd been killed, the secret would have fallen to everyone I already revealed it to. It wasn't that many people, of course, but we were sure there was a spy among our ranks, so we recast the charm with someone more inconspicuous, even innocuous, as the keeper."
The second-year watched his godfather's face as it transformed into a study of harsh lines and hollows that spoke of pain and loss. He glanced to his parents, who observed with quiet sympathy, and sighed. Carefully, he took the last steps forward and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the trembling man.
"It's not your fault," Harry murmured. "It's his. You trusted him. My mum and dad must have trusted him, too, to let you switch. It's a slippery slope, blame. If you hold yourself responsible for others' actions, you'll drive yourself mad. Dad says I have a tendency to do that, too."
Bony arms engulfed Harry, and he felt himself being pulled into the man's lap and crushed against his chest. He would have been embarrassed had any of his friends been there to see. As it was, the man who might have raised him had begun weeping bitter, harsh tears, and Harry could not bring himself to wriggle free.
It took a long time for Sirius Black to regain control of himself, and a little longer to release his godson, but when he did, the awkward tension blanketing their introduction had given way to tentative hope. Captain Jack lured the attending nurse from the sitting room, and Tonks rejoined them with a levitating tea service floating in her wake. She took up the tale of Sirius' arrest while the man himself sipped his tea and stared at his godson, who, though uncomfortable beneath the constant observation, understood his need to do so.
"Black says Pettigrew snitched to You-Know-Who," Tonks related. "And You-Know-Who-"
Rose rolled her eyes, and the Doctor frowned.
"Voldemort," Sirius snapped almost tiredly. "Don't turn him into the bogeyman by fearing his stupid moniker. He's a man like the rest of us."
Tonks flinched but continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.
"-and when everything was done, he lured my idiot cousin, here, away to a great big crowded street where he accused Sirius of being a traitor, blew everyone up, and disappeared," Tonks huffed. "Theory is either he left Britain, or the other Death Eaters offed him for getting their boss killed, as we haven't found a trace of him anywhere since that day."
"That's awful," Harry softly said. "And you got all this from one veritaserum interview?"
Tonks nodded, and her pink hair bled to dark purple.
"Yeah, well, we found out he'd never had one, so we were pretty thorough," she grumbled. "My boss is going to take a few heads for that, if she can help it. Course, we don't have much physical evidence as to the events that day aside from Sirius' testimony and a record of his memories, but they're not considered solid unless they can be verified by at least one other person. We're pushing for acquittal based on the gross miscarriage of justice in his case. Unfortunately, that won't clear him of the reputation he's already got."
"Justice," Sirius snarled the word like a curse, "would have been killing that rat, but I'll go along with anything to get me out of Azkaban for good. In any case-"
He smiled gently at the boy seated beside him.
"I've got a godson to get to know all over again."
Harry turned his teacup in his hands, idly rubbing his thumbs over the chipped rim, and frowned into the dregs at the bottom.
"Do you have anywhere to stay after you're free?" he asked, glancing between Sirius and Rose, whose face looked it might crack for the breadth of her dimpled smile.
"Well, your parents' generosity has me set up here, for now," the man frowned. "I'd like to be closer to you, if that's O.K. with you lot."
"Hogsmeade!" the Doctor interjected. "You can stay in Hogsmeade, and I'll bring you up on the weekends to get to know Harry, or vice versa."
Sirius scrubbed the stubble across his sharp jaw as he evaluated the boy's face.
"All right," he finally said. "I'll stay at Hogsmeade, and we can meet up whenever you'd like. I'd like to see you fly, too. James was a right menace on a broom, and I hear you're better."
Harry couldn't quite hide his smile at the compliment.
"I don't know about that, but I haven't lost a match, yet."
He felt a warmth fill his chest at the pride reflected in Black's lined features, and soon, the two were engrossed in tales of James' Quidditch exploits, talking as if they'd known each other for years.
The Doctor and Rose watched from nearby, smiling in a self-congratulatory way between half-hearted attempts to rein in Captain Jack's flirtations with a giggly mediwitch, content to let the two wizards heal without their interference.
A/N: Thanks again for reading and for your patience while I compose chapter 14. You're all wonderful.
Love,
Forensica X