A big thank you to Ambush99 for her wonderful betaing skills.

Chapter 23

Sirius closed his eyes briefly and leant his head against the cool glass. Mr. Potter had left a while ago. He had mentioned something about going to Hogwarts to update James and Regulus or something. To be honest, Sirius wasn't overly sure. Mr. Potter had asked if he wanted to pass on any messages to James, or Regulus, or Remus or anyone else, but he couldn't. He wasn't worthy of their affection or time. The sooner they forgot him, the better. He hadn't mentioned this to Mr. Potter, but he remembered hearing Mr. Potter's words. Something about his friends were worried about him. That they would want to support him. But he knew differently. He was evil. He had sold Remus down the river, for what? Just because he was weak? Because he couldn't keep his bloody mouth shut? The truth was, he wasn't worthy of their support. He was a useless, evil git. He should have let that man kill him. He should have let his parents kill him. He should have just laid down and died. He was worthless. Everyone hated him.

Sirius slowly opened his eyes and watched the sun slowly make its way under the horizon. The golden light reminded him of happier times: sitting on the rooftop of 12 Grimmauld Place with Regulus, laughing and joking, free from their parents and rules. He thought of playing Quidditch with James until the sun set, James trying new moves and him sitting on his broom laughing so hard he nearly fell off it, then returning to the Potters' to a lively debate with James' parents and a wholesome meal. He wiped his eyes. The happy times of his life. The times he used as a memory to form his patronus charm, but they were fading. They were being consumed by his dark thoughts. His parents' high teas. Bella laughing and talking of the dark lord. The killings of random and innocent muggles. The fear. The pain. The darkness. Sirius shivered. He just wanted it to stop. He closed his eyes for a moment. Why was this happening to him? He knew he was worthless. His parents had told him on multiple occasions. He was a waste of space. He was an oxygen thief.

"Sirius?"

Sirius shook his head, as he tried to pull himself out of his thoughts. "Err, umm, Mr. Potter?"

"Are you okay in there? Can I come in?"

"Sure, umm, yeah sure, of course," Sirius stammered out.

"Hi Sirius," Fleamont said with a smile, as he pushed the door open. He thought of adding, 'How are you?' but he knew Sirius wouldn't be forthcoming with the truth, and it would only make him feel uncomfortable, so what was the point?

"Did you have a good day?" Sirius asked, his eyes travelling over the packages Fleamont was holding.

"Yes, I did. I went to Hogwarts."

"Oh," Sirius managed, before looking down.

"James and your brother say hi."

Sirius frowned. "They do?"

"Yes, they do," Fleamont said, as he set the parcels down. "They are worried about you."

"They shouldn't be," Sirius replied quietly, as he started to distractedly plait the tassels on the blanket.

"They are independent people; you and I can't tell them or control what they think," Fleamont said gently. He reached forwards and patted Sirius's shoulder. "So, yes they are worried about you. I think they feel a bit better now, knowing you're going to be alright."

Sirius shrugged. "I guess," he replied, still avoiding eye contact.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Sure, I just, well, I just sat here."

Fleamont nodded. "Did you read anything?"

Sirius shook his head. "I didn't feel like it," he lied.

"Sirius, you know you can talk to me if you want. You can talk to me about anything."

"I know, thanks. But I'm okay," Sirius mumbled, as he pushed the blanket over the cracked armrest.

Fleamont frowned, and then found a small, encouraging smile. "It happened again?" he asked gently.

"I'm so sorry Mr Potter, I'll leave!"

"Why would you do that?" Fleamont questioned.

"Because I'm dangerous!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Why do you think you are dangerous?" Fleamont pushed. He cocked his head to one side and watched Sirius for a moment – the tense body, the eyes darting around, refusing to make contact.

"Because the healers said I was!"

"What did they say exactly?" Fleamont asked gently.

"That I was dangerous!" Sirius snapped, as he pushed back, trying to distance himself from Fleamont.

"Or did they say you had the potential to be dangerous?" Fleamont countered.

"I-I, I, it's the same, isn't it?!"

"No," Fleamont replied, shaking his head. "Every one of us has the potential to be dangerous. That doesn't matter if we are a wizard, witch, pure blood, half-blood, muggle born, squib or muggle, we all have the potential to be dangerous."

"But they choose to. I don't have a choice!"

"Why don't you?" Fleamont pushed.

"Because I'm doing stupid accidental magic and it's only a matter of time before I kill someone!" Sirius said desperately, his head in his hands.

"Accidental magic," Fleamont said slowly. "I hate that term. Accidental magic is the innocent form of magic: when a young witch or wizard grows their hair because they don't like how their parents have cut it, or they vanish their vegetables."

"Yeah, mine is more sinister. It's more dangerous!" Sirius snapped back, tears filling his eyes.

"Yes, and no," Fleamont started slowly. "Your form of 'accidental magic' does come from a darker and more sinister place but it's not because of you, it's the place you were forced into. Which I'm guessing was a pretty dark, frightening and sinister place. You are doing defensive magic more than accidental magic."

"What does it matter?! I'm still going to hurt someone," Sirius almost sobbed.

"I've done defensive magic," Fleamont offered.

"What?!" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yup. Some wizards think it's their wand operating of its own accord, but it's not. It's the wizard."

"I don't understand," Sirius replied, frowning.

"When I've been in a duel and I've been backed up in a corner, thinking I'm going to lose. Then all of a sudden, my opponent is lying spread eagled, flat on their back, all because of some complicated hex I've performed, yet I've no idea how I've done it," Fleamont explained.

"But how's that related to me? You were in a dangerous situation. You got rid of the danger. I'm not and I'm just wrecking your house!" Sirius sobbed. "And sooner or later, I'm going to hurt you."

"No. No, you're not," Fleamont said, as he leant forward and hugged the trembling boy. "I think your memories and mind get confused. Your magic thinks you are in danger."

"How fucked is that? Then I should be locked up in Azkaban!"

"Sirius, what has your defensive magic done?"

"Destroyed stuff. I blew up a bloody classroom! James and Remus could have been killed!"

"Yes, but they weren't. What did Professor Flitwick say about it?" Fleamont pushed.

"He said it was the worst case of accidental magic he had seen!"

"He did," Fleamont replied, nodding. "But what else did he say?"

"I don't know. I'm dangerous!"

"No," Fleamont replied, shaking his head. "He also said it was the most controlled piece of accidental magic he had ever seen. You blew up that whole classroom, but no one was hurt."

"I still blew it up!"

"Yes, you did," Fleamont replied calmly, as he gently stroked Sirius's hair. "But I think at that point everything had got too much and it came out as an explosion. Have you ever done defensive or accidental magic in the past?"

"No," Sirius replied, shaking his head.

"It's bloody terrifying, isn't it," Fleamont replied, watching Sirius carefully. "The first time I did it was when I was nineteen in a duelling competition. I thought I was going to lose, I was scared of my opponent and then bang, they are out cold, and people are congratulating me. But I was terrified. I didn't understand what had happened. I, like you, thought I was dangerous. I thought I was losing control. I remember sobbing to my mother, who was a champion dueller at the time. She explained to me about defensive magic. It still didn't make me any less scared. I didn't enter a duelling competition for at least a year after that."

"But you-"

"I hurt someone, you didn't."

"But you were in a competition!"

"I still thought I was being attacked."

"But I wasn't being attacked."

"But you didn't know that. When you've done some defensive magic, what happened before?"

"I can't remember okay! I can't," Sirius said desperately.

"It's alright Sirius, no one is going to hurt you here. But I'm guessing you did some defensive magic after you had a confused memory that you couldn't understand." Fleamont watched Sirius nod before continuing. "I can only begin to imagine how scary it is. I know you think you are losing control, but you don't need to be embarrassed about it. Mrs Potter and I just want you to feel safe. We don't care if you destroy a whole room, just as long as you are safe and unharmed."

Sirius took a shaky breath. He wondered what he could say, but he didn't know how to put it. There were flashes of memories. His parents. That man. The dark lake. The blood. The murders. The monsters. None of it made sense. If it didn't make sense to him, how was he going to explain it to Mr Potter? What if Mr Potter thought he was crazy and sent him to St Mungo's? Surely the healers would lock him in there for the rest of his life. "I, I don't know," he finally managed.

"It's okay Sirius. If nothing makes any sense, it's okay. If things are too confusing, you can write them down, or talk to me or Mrs Potter, or a teacher, or whoever else you would like to talk to. But we'll figure it out. You're not alone anymore," Fleamont reassured.

"It's just, I, I don't understand what is happening. I think I am going mad," Sirius choked out. "What do you think?"

"I think you've been through a lot and your mind has tried to shut out the worst of it. I think you were stressed beyond what you could take before your altercation with Mr Snape. Then you were suspended and, added to your stress, you felt scared and abandoned. Then there was whatever happened to you over the holidays. When you finally made it back to a place that you thought would be safe, you were abandoned again," Fleamont explained.

"I guess, but it wasn't James' fault he shunned me."

"No, it wasn't. He did try to talk to you after you two spoke that night, but he couldn't find you."

"He did?"

"Yes, he felt something was wrong. Something was off with you, but he was so confused with everything he had been told."

"It's not his fault," Sirius said tiredly.

"No, it isn't, and nor is it your fault," Fleamont said kindly. "Do you want to see what your friends have given you?"

Sirius frowned. "Sure," he said hesitantly.

Fleamont pulled out the parcel. "I have no idea what is in it. James gave it to me. He said it was stuff from him, Remus and Pete, as well as your housemates and team." He watched as Sirius slowly took the parcel from him.

"James gave this to you?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"Is he okay?"

"He misses you. I think he's bored without you. I get the impression Remus and Pete are not quite as adventurous as you and him."

"Yeah," Sirius said with a small smile. "Remus enjoys studying and Pete, he's not stupid or anything, but he lacks confidence. So, he messes up in class and the teachers always give him extra lessons. Quite often it's just James and me."

"And you find studying as boring as James does?"

"A bit," Sirius said with a shy smile. He looked down at the parcel. Various cards, sweets and stuff. A large card signed by the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team. Two tickets to the England v Wales five nations game. A thick package which appeared to be several folded pieces of parchment, with James' untidy handwriting. Hesitantly he opened it.

Hi Sirius!

I don't know why I'm not sure what to write, we never stop talking, so why should this be any different?! I know a lot of crap has happened, but can we put it behind us? Dad said you would probably be out of school for a bit. He suggested I write to you. Weird right? But here goes. I'm not really sure what to write but I suppose I could write a diary. Here goes (again)

Monday 15th January

I hate Monday!

Bloody, stupid divination and potions. Yes, I know. Divination is a waste of my time, but you take 4 hrs to do an Ancient Runes essay, it takes you 15 minutes to do my Divination essay. Please don't tell dad! Anyway, I'll continue. The common room is the same, although the biscuits are drier. Mate. We need to have a small chat with the house elves. It's harder to get a good supply of food and the portions are smaller. Or maybe they're not, maybe it's just me. I don't know mate.

Sirius smiled as he leafed through page after page of James' untidy scrawl. James seemed to have written about every single minor detail of his day, but it made Sirius smile. It made him think of the good times, the happier, less complicated times.

Sirius! Lily, she smiled at me! What did I tell you?! She secretly loves me! I think I'm going to ask her out or something. I don't know. Maybe she will let me talk to her.

Sirius found himself chuckling at the page and half of the ramblings of James' love for Lily. He shook his head; James really was obsessed with the girl. She wasn't Sirius' type, but he could see why James had fallen head over heels for her.

Fleamont found himself smiling as he watched Sirius read the letter from his son. He doubted James had ever written an essay half, or even quarter, as long as this letter. But what did he care? Both of his boys were happy.

"Sirius? I've got something from Regulus."

Sirius looked up and frowned. "What?"

"Regulus wanted me to give you this," Fleamont said, as he handed over the roll of canvas.

"How was he?" Sirius said, as he took the canvas hesitantly.

"I don't know him, but he seemed okay. Quiet."

Sirius nodded. "He is quiet. He likes to read. He did like to paint and draw, but-" He stopped and looked down for a moment. "Because I started acting out, he became the favoured son. My parents saw him as the heir. They never liked him painting or drawing, they saw it as, well, not befitting a Black. When they turned their attention to him, they forced him to stop."

Fleamont wrapped an arm around Sirius' shoulders. "Sirius," he started in a serious but gentle voice. "Do you think Regulus is safe?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes, well I think so. He's quiet but he tows the family line."

"Is he happy?"

"I don't know, I think so." Sirius stopped again and looked down at the canvas. With trembling fingers, he slowly unrolled him. Tears filled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. It was a beautiful painting of Hogwarts in the early spring. Snow still covered some of the ground, but flowers had begun to filter through. It was his favourite time of the year. In the sky there were two boys on broomsticks: broad smiles, wild black hair whipping around their faces, one in green, the other in red.

"He's very talented," Fleamont observed.

"He is," Sirius said quietly.

"I can frame this if you want. I would be happy to hang this anywhere in the house."

"Yeah," Sirius said distractedly, his gaze never leaving the painting. Confusion played on his mind. He knew how much Regulus loved to paint. He knew how much Regulus loved to express himself. But he was worried. He didn't want his parents to find out Regulus was painting again.

"As far as I am aware no one knows about this painting. Regulus handed it to me, and I didn't tell anyone."

Sirius nodded slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired. He was so unbelievably tired. He just wanted to feel normal again. Reading James' letter made him realise he was so far away from being normal.

"You will feel normal again, Sirius. I know you don't know. I know you are worried, but it is going to be okay," Fleamont reassured, as though he could read Sirius' mind.

"Will it? Will it?"