Sorry for all the explanations… I understand it can get heavy, so I'll try lightening things up a bit! This is one of my favorite chapters…

Harry oppened his eyes and saw a blurred world. World that swayed under his aching body. He was still in the train. He turned to his side, and found his glasses, neatly placed about a feet away from his head. Yep, definitely still in the train. The boy could guess the shadows of his suitcase on the wall opposite from him. He sat up, and saw he was covered by a green sheet. Though it proved his teacher was considerate, Harry simply couldn't bare seeing its vivid color stain his vision. He pulled it off, and threw it to the ground. If Thalia found it in such a place, he could blame heat. He was about to fall back asleep, when he realized he was now entirely covered in red. Normally, such a fact would have reassured him. Red represented his House, his beliefs, his friends. And his family. He wiggled himself out of the sheet, until it rested, shapeless, at his feet. His head fell, heavy, back on his pillow. Harry immediately closed his eyes. He didn't want to see its color.

Moments later – they could have been hours or seconds, Harry didn't know, nor cared – voices pulled the student out of his state of relative sleep. He rested in a partial state of consciousness, but he could easily distinguish what happened around him.

"… the other end," he heard Thalia say. His door was suddenly slid open with a rather loud scratching noise.

"Here he is," she added in a whisper.

"Sleeping?" Sirius asked, surprised. "I thought he'd be frantic."

"Yeah, well…" Thalia simply replied.

"Should I wake him up, or carry him to the car?" the man asked after a while.

Harry hated the idea of the two of them observing him in silence, but wasn't awake enough to mention such a fact.

"I guess you can wake him up, they'll be making such a racket when we arrive that he won't have choice once there. And he won't want to miss out on the fun."

"Alright." Sirius made a step forward, but Thalia stopped him.

"Wait, Black. I have to tell you something."

There was no sound. "I… I showed the boy Remus' memory. He was asking a ton of questions, and…"

"And you thought it would be great for James' son to believe his father was a monster?"

"No, actually, that wasn't my objective. He had so many questions to ask. You know, he deserves to be told everything about his past. They hide so much from him."

"It is for his own good. I know you think I'm just some runaway idiot but I know how psychology works. He needs a good Id if he wants a chance to succeed."

"Wow, Freud. You've been reading."

"Your surprise is insulting."

"I didn't mean it that way. Look, I know you're mad…"

"Pissed!"

"… and I understand why. But he wanted to know. And showing him Remus' point of view was the best way to keep things neutral."

"You just wanted to destroy another life. Now get away."

Thalia moved sideways, but Sirius added: "Away from his life. I'll take care of it. I'm the godfather. You're the Death Eater."

Harry was tapped delicately on the shoulder and oppened his eyes. Though he had heard him approaching, he was surprised to find Sirius right by his side, his face inches away from his. "Hey Harry. Ready to rock the night out?"

"Whaa?"

"We're in London. Five minutes away from the Headquarters. Everyone else arrived about an hour ago. The quicker you get up, the quicker we'll join them."

Harry got up and grabbed his suitcase, pulling it out of the net in which it rested, using all of his forces not to drop it on his own foot. Or to make any loud sound bound to wake up up for good. When he had the luggage in hand, it's weight threatening to rip his forearm off, he made a few steps towards the exit. "Erm, Harry, your glasses." The boy froze on the spot. He could guess his godfather was straight behind him. But he didn't want to turn around and recognize in his drawn, old features the face of the young teenager that had let his father commit the unmentionable. He swallowed with difficulty, forced a smile against his lips, and turned around. "Thanks," he said, grabbing the thin metal frame of his eye wear, "I was forgetting." He gave a small nod, and immediately turned his back on the man, his eyes having altogether set themselves on his face for about two and half seconds. He immediately marched out at a rapid rhythm seeing the heavy ball and chain that his suitcase was.

When he arrived outside, the fresh wind hit his cheeks and ignited a small spark of intelligence in his brain, which quickly spread, until his head was buzzing with activity. Harry's breath accelerated: panic was spreading in his body which was unable to deal with all the ideas that raced in his brain. Tears came up to his eyes. He wanted to pause the world outside, and stay alone. He didn't want to see Sirius and Lupin, didn't want to face Thalia, didn't want to be with his friends who would know something was wrong. We could barely swallow. He left the railroad station without knowing it, and found himself in a deserted parking lot. The silence and absence of matter reassured him. He then caught sight of the sole vehicle occupying the lot, a car so old it was probably one of collection. It was in great shape seeing its age. Behind the front window, Harry guessed Thalia's face. He didn't want to walk up to her, and so remained immobile. Sirius wasn't behind him, though normally he should have been following him. Maybe he had guessed his godchild needed peace of mind. Suddenly, the weight pulling down Harry's arm vanished. Though he felt a large wooden handle against his palm, it was as light as a feather. He looked up. Thalia had lifted her wand inside the car. The suitcase gave a little thug forward, insisting, but not violent. Harry let go of it. It flew slowly up to the car. The trunk oppened itself, and the floating object fell into it without a sound. The trunk then fell shut, the lid covering Harry's possessions. The teenager waited. He knew his teacher's action was only a way to relieve him from his burden. She didn't mind waiting for him. He could take his time. The boy looked behind his shoulder. Sirius was also taking an awful lot of time. He understood too. Or maybe he also needed to think. Just like Harry. Just like Thalia. All taking part in simultaneous individual introspections. Harry breathed deeply. He was fine now. The tears had gone, his heart had calmed down. The panic was still there, though it was diffuse. The ideas were still, and the headache that had started to obscure his thoughts was slowly withdrawing itself. He stared at the black, starless sky. He suddenly loved it, with it's total absence of colors. The fresh air was enough to set his mind back on track. He regretted to be the one stuck outside, while both of the adults could reflect in a warm, bug-free environment. The teenager walked up to the car.

He oppened the door opposite to Thalia, silently pushed the drivers seat forward so he could slip past it and install himself on the back seat. When he was done, Thalia pulled Sirius' seat back up. She oppened her mouth.

"Don't say you're sorry," Harry interrupted her before she even had time to speak. "I have nothing to forgive you. I just don't want to hear about it anymore."

"Perfect."

A few minutes later, Sirius was in the car, placing the key in the ignition. He glared at Thalia, and than gave Harry a comprehensive smile. The boy held his stare, but looked away the second he could. The drive was silent, from the train station to the Headquarters. The small cubicle was filled with tension. Finally, when the car was parked, and all it's occupants remained seated, Thalia spoke.

"You have a great car."

"Thanks. I spent the last year putting it back together."

"It's great."

"Thanks.

Harry rested silence, witnessing this strange scene, which he knew was meaningful but didn't know in which way.

"The color's really nice."

"Yeah. It thought black would be good. It's subtle."

"Yeah."

This strange peace offering was a balm to Harry's heart. This twisted reconciliation was what he needed to live through the night.

"Ready to go in?" Sirius asked, finally turning to stare at his interlocutor, having looked straight forward during the anterior conversation.

"I think so. You think it'll be cool?"

"Yeah, it'll be cool."

"I feel like in Pulp Fiction," Thalia added with a smile.

Sirius gave out a small bark-like chuckle. "True. But in that case Harry should fear for his skull."

They both smiled, and finally Sirius oppened his door. Thalia imitated him, and soon Harry was able to leave the confined area of the car.

Sirius handed him his suitcase, which was still incredibly light. This time, Harry was able to look at him. He gave him a smile. The man passed his arms around his shoulders. "I guess I should ask you to forgive me."

"Don't ask me to forgive you for what happened years ago."

"I'd still like to know you forgave me."

"Don't blame yourself."

Harry heard a small bang, and understood Thalia had entered the Headquarters to give them some privacy.

"I'm not to one you should apologize to, Sirius."

"I know. The real apologies are coming. It would be easier if she wasn't with Snape though. Anyways," Sirius said, shrugging, "I also have to ask you to forgive me for not telling you about this."

"Hey, you couldn't have told me when I was twelve."

"Yeah, I know." He hugged Harry harder, and when he loosened his embrace, he added: "Are you glad you know?"

"Yeah, I'm glad I know."

Harry pulled himself away from his godfather. "Sirius, there is no chance this memory could have changed the fact that I consider you as family, family I love."

The man gave him a small smile.

"Mind if I give you your Christmas gift in advance? I planned on doing so before, but now I'm not sure…"

"Hey, you're offering a present. How can I say no?" Harry joked.

Sirius smiled at him, and guided him to the entrance. When he oppened the door, a wave of chatter and yelling hit his ears. "Wo!" Harry let out. By the time the door was closed, he had been infected by the contagious laughter. "What did you do about your mother?" the boy asked.

"Permaglued the curtains to the walls. She's working on it though. We'll only have peace until New Year's. By then, she'll have escaped, and she'll have found a way of preventing us from doing it again. And she'll be more pissed than ever."

"Ouch. Don't want to be there when she manages to get out of it."

"You won't. You'll all have left. It'll only be me and Mama Black. Oh it's fine," he added, seeing Harry's eyes widen with horror and pity, "it'll be a form of company."

He walked by the heavy black curtains, and Harry followed him: he could hear the strangled voice of Mrs. Black coming from behind them. Sirius walked up to the dining room door, from where his friends' voices emerged, but instead of entering it, took his left and marched up the stairs. Harry followed once again.

"You can drop your suitcase here," Sirius said once they reached the third floor, indicating a room which was already filled with what Harry guessed were Ron's, Fred's and George's suitcases. He threw his own on one of the beds, and the returned to the staircase. He finally arrived to the last floor, on which were two rooms. Sirius', and Regulus'. The boy remembered the second one: it was where he had spoken to Thalia for the first time. He wanted to peek inside, for no particular reason, but his godfather stepped into his own bedroom instead. Harry chose to do so himself. He walked in the chaotic room, and observed it was messier than the first time he had visited it, the first time he had been into the Headquarters, last summer. At least Sirius had been busy enough to forget to clean up after himself. The man stepped into a closet so full its doors wouldn't even close, and vanished from Harry's sight. The boy therefore set his attention on the old television that occupied a corner of the room. Besides it, on the wall, was taped a list of each and every victory of the Russian hockey team, from Junior to Major leagues, followed by the same type of list, this time dedicated to the Canadian team.

"Still fond of hockey?" he asked distantly in direction of the closet.

"Oh, you should have seen the final! It was epic, Harry, epic!"

The boy laughed, and Sirius finally emerged from the maze of random objects that filled his closet.

"Here you go," he told his godchild, handing him a large book.

"Thanks," Harry said hesitantly, not knowing what he held in hand.

"Open it, you'll understand."

Harry did so. On the first page, in golden letters that had not been tarnished by the years, were written the words: Hogwarts, 1980-1987. Under the letters was the school's logo, printed in black ink. Harry glanced at his Godfather.

"It might not be the good night to give you that, but I think it might be better, somehow, that you have it now."

Harry raised an intrigued eyebrow. "I don't know why," Sirius admitted, "but I think it's best. And you'll see, in a few years you'll be glad to have it."

"I'm already glad to have it, Sirius," Harry reassured him.

He flipped a few pages, and quickly found a picture of his father when he was about twelve or thirteen. "It's a strange thing," he thought, "to get to see you're parents when they were younger than you are." On the picture, his father was standing besides Sirius and a few other people Harry couldn't recognize. And God, did they look young! Their round, childish faces were shining, illuminated by huge, infant smiles. He flipped the pages a few other times. Group pictures, by house, taken by the side of the lake, followed by a picture of all the students together. Harry couldn't miss his father. He looked exactly like the memory, taking up a big chunk of the photo, his arms spread, in front of the crowd. He switched pages quickly. He arrived on a double-page entitled Young Merlins. It was covered in pictures of fifth, sixth and seventh grade wearing bright green, red, yellow or blue robes. The same robes that Remus had been wearing in the memory. "So that was the contest he was referring to," he noted. It wasn't long that Harry had spotted his old teacher in one of the pictures. He was right beside Thalia, who repeatedly smashed her hand on a big black button and shouted out an answer Harry couldn't hear. The next picture was probably taken the same day – at least it had the same background. The Gryffondors were holding a large trophy, elated. Remus seemed as happy as he had been when Thalia had entered the room in the memory. The woman was there, too. Harry assumed it must have been fifth grade. He smiled. But his smile was soon erased. A few inches lower, a picture was entitled: Seventh grade – Finals. Two teams of four sat each at one table, facing each other. All the students had a large black button in front of them, resting on the table. On one side was Remus, dressed in red. On the other, Thalia, her silhouette lost in a gigantic green robe. She was incredibly thin, emaciated, and the contour of her eyes were darkened, tired. She looked dead. He closed the school album with a loud clack.

"Thanks Sirius. I'll give it a longer look at school."

The man smiled at his godchild, and the boy could see he was slightly hurt. Maybe it wasn't the good night to receive such a gift, after all. "No," he thought, "tonight I learned more about it, but I'll still know about it for the rest of my life. It's not shock. It's just… truth. And truth can't wear off, even with time."

"Want to go downstairs?" he asked aloud.

"Yeah, good idea. Before they empty all my bottles," Sirius added with a smile.

Right before Harry left the room, the animagi rummaged through his drawers, until he found what he had been looking for: a brand new bottle of FireWhiskey.

"Lets get downstairs, quickly," he told Harry with a wink. "It's time you taste this."

Choosing to play innocent rather than admitting to his godfather that he was already a big fan of "this", Harry ran towards the stairs, throwing his present on his suitcase as he passed the third floor. Within seconds, he found himself before the dining room door. Excitement ran through his veins. He could feel it buzzing in the tips of his fingers when he kicked the door in (adrenalin was probably responsible for that) and joined his friends. The main table was covered with about a dozen plates, so big Harry believed they belonged to Hagrid, filled to the very edge with foods of all sorts. There were no utensils to be seen: instead, every inch of the table which was not covered with food was covered with bottles or glasses. "Harry!" Ron, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill chanted when he entered the room. The boy let out a loud laugh, and joined his friends, some he had not seen in years. They were gathered around a small table, on which rested a clear bottle without any label, surrounded by six small shooter glasses, and Harry was glad to be able to talk of meaningless subjects with them. Only, after a while, the boy started looking around, his old habits taking over. Molly was at the other end of the dining room, not exactly at ease. She threw worried glances here and there, mostly focusing on her boys. Only, Arthur suddenly emerged from the kitchen, and grabbed his wife by the waist. He whispered something in her ear, probably urging her to calm down, and so she did. She sat down on a chair by his side, and suddenly stopped caring about the amount of alcohol in her progeny's blood. Hermione and Ginny were together, laughing loudly, both with a simple Butterbear in hand, not far away from Remus, Tonks and Thalia. The two women were chatting with animation, while Remus rested silently in a large armchair, and Harry thought it was the right moment to talk to his old teacher.

"Hey, Remus!" he said, as he arrived beside him.

"Hey Harry! Merry Christmas!"

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "That. Well, Merry Chritmas to you too, best wishes."

"How was you're year up to now?"

"Erm… full? It's not important. Look, I have to leave soon, I can't let the other guys get ahead in the number of drinks (on that Remus laughed) but I wanted to tell you myself, while I'm sober… I saw your memory. The one of what happened right before Thalia was attacked." He had prepared in advance, knowing just what words to use. "I want to talk to you about it, someday. Not tonight, but… Yeah."

"Alright Harry. You're brave, you know. And so mature for your age," he pointed out. "Ah, I guess tonight isn't the right time for compliments from an old man. Go and destroy your liver."

Harry laughed loudly, and left. When he had reached the other end of the room, he saw, firstly, that Thalia had left, and secondly, that Tonks was now sitting on Remus' lap, her head buried in his neck, both of them talking as if in their own world. Harry's eyes suddenly grew wide. And suddenly, he was happy, happy for this man he considered family. Filled with joy, he decided he was now ready to gulp down whatever that clear bottle contained. He quickly walked towards the gathering of boys: he could see they were getting impatient. Still, as he passed close to the kitchen, he saw Thalia and Sirius were talking. He felt the urge to slow down.

"It was for me, right?" the woman asked.

"Of course it was for you! Who else knows about hockey in the bloody Order."

Thalia laughed.

"And what did you mean?"

"You know what I ment. You're smart."

"I ment… how did you find out? Exactly."

"With everything that goes on under this bloody roof I'm bound to find out a few things… Dumbledore dropped by a few weeks ago…"

Harry walked away, at the beginning of Sirius' tale. The mystery of the letter had been resolved. It was now time to drink. He sighed in pleasure. I was great to be able to leave his mind on the shelf once in a while to be a sixteen year-old boy. He finally reached the table.

"Finally!" Charlie cried. "I wanted all you boys to taste this."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"It was once commercialized under the name of Northern Lights... But then was removed from the shelves, being considered as too strong."

Charlie poured out some of the transparent liquid, and as it hit the sides of the glasses, small flames appeared in it. They remained there, bright and orange, floating at the alcohol surface.

"Where d'you get it?" George said, eagerness piercing through his voice.

"Home made," the eldest Weasley brother replied with a large smile.

"Hey, is that Lights?" Sirius asked as he passed by. "Hey, Rem, want to bring a few memories back to life?"

Remus arrived rather quickly. "Wo, Northern Lights! Who learned to make some?"

As Charlie raised his hand, Remus shouted: "Thalia! Remember when you had brewed a whole cauldron of Northern Lights?"

"Yeah…" she shouted from across the room.

"Why don't you come and see if this one can measure up!"

She was by the table in seconds. As Sirius magically summoned three other glasses, she asked Charlie. "Mind if I taste?"

"Of course, I didn't know we had an expert with us tonight," he said with a wink.

She smiled, took one of the glasses, and quickly gulped it down. She then banged the glass on the table. "Wow!" was her first comment. "That is great for your age. It's as good as the one I do now..."

"Why, thank you!" Charlie said rather honestly.

"But save it." As she spoke, she took out her wand, and transferred the content of the glasses back in the bottle. "What if I told you that I happen to know England's best Potions Master, and that he has recently refurnished our personal reserve?"

The boys, adults like teenagers, were staring at her with wide, shiny eyes. She snapped her fingers and a large flask appeared on the table. She poured some in each and every glass, and above each pool of clear Northern Lights were burning, well, northern lights, entire curtains of colorful flames.

"So. Ready to taste real fire?"