Chapter title from "Name" by Goo Goo Dolls. Adapted excerpts from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by J.K Rowling; song lyrics quoted from "Back in Black" by AC/DC.

Battle of Hogwarts
POV: Sirius Part II

The moment the Resurrection Stone hit the chilly ground, Sirius felt himself slip fully back into the bruised and bleeding shell that was his current body. His mind clamored to go back to Harry, but it was impossible. With the stone dropped from the boy's grasp, their already shaky, wispy tether was severed beyond repair. A sob emanated from Sirius's chest, damp and raspy from the dewy early morning air.

The Invisibility Cloak had been the first to fall, a faint rustle on the tall spring grass. Sirius had caught a glimpse of Harry's desperate expression, such a complex mix of resolve, terror, and the keen appreciation of one who was seeing the corporeal world for the very last time. The boy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of his fear, and Sirius only saw the split second where the Resurrection Stone separated from Harry's palm, like the moment when orange flame gives way to final gasps of smoke.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Broken moans turned to an angry shout, and Sirius jostled his aching body to standing position, immediately leaning into the cold stone wall for support. His battle injuries were compounded by his mistake of sitting still for too long, crouched in the tiny spot at the base of the secret Hogwarts staircase. He needed to get moving again to numb the pain with purpose, so he began hobbling up the winding, seeming endless ascent.

Harry had to be gone by now. The contemplative Dark Lord had been at the center of the waiting Death Eater hoard, Bellatrix humbled at his feet, two enormous giants flanking the ranks and ready to act. The rest of the black-robed mass had faded into a blur of masked and not, a few key players like Dolohov and Yaxley at the forefront, along with Lucius and Narcissa, both pale and gaunt and completely drained. Sirius knew the minute the cloak hit the ground that the Killing Curse was imminent. Voldemort wouldn't waste time grandstanding this time, not when he'd already suffered so many failures.

The moment for which Sirius had longed for nearly two years had passed him by. Sure, he'd done what Remus had requested: "Dying?" Sirius had clarified with his trademark cavalier confidence. "Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep." And he could indeed say that confidently, for it had been. Death wasn't something to be feared by the one bound for its clutches, only by those who were left behind. The pain Sirius felt now was worse than anything inflicted by his sadistic cousin or the Veil into which she'd sent him stumbling. Missed opportunities with Harry, Remus and Tonks now gone - those things were far worse.

The breath had left Sirius's stinging lungs by the time he reached the crest of the stairs, for it took far more exertion than normal to lumber through exhaustion and injury. He then began a descent down the grand staircase toward the Great Hall, struck by the silence of the castle around him as well as the strangeness of walking through its majesty as a free man once again. It was still grand despite its bloodstained destruction. Sirius could see through the tall arched windows that a brilliant sunrise was now lifting itself across the sky.

His heart grew enormously heavy as his thoughts drifted to Remus and Tonks again. He scurried toward the Great Hall, hoping to find others who would share even an inkling of the emptiness he felt. He recalled Remus's instructions to remain focused on his wife and children, and for a moment Sirius wondered if he should make his way to the Shack instead. But that shrill grating voice resounded once again, and the decision was made for him as he reached the scene of mourning in the Great Hall. None of the grief-stricken and battle-weary crowd paid Sirius any mind, as they all raised a trepidatious gaze toward the front of the castle as they listened.

"Harry Potter is dead!" the voice began. And it spun through the air like magnified chalk screeching on a board, relishing its victory. How? Harry made the sacrifice, so why was the agonizing voice still plaguing their ears?

"...Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we will build together."

Sirius was a changed man. He wasn't the cocky and restless Gryffindor he once was; he was a man who put his family's well-being at the forefront, who knew how to humble himself when truly needed, and who knew how to forgive. But he was a still a Gryffindor, and even if it bought some semblance of peace for his family, he would never surrender.

Remus, forgive me, he thought, once again remembering his friend's "family first" warning. Colleen, if she survived, would hopefully forgive him too. She loved him, after all, which meant she understood him, more than anyone ever had.

Being tucked away against the wall of the Great Hall caused Sirius to be swallowed by the throngs that swarmed to the castle entrance. A quick look at their faces told Sirius they too would not surrender but would continue to fight. He joined the rear of the crowd and waited. From his vantage point, it was mostly murmurings pierced with the occasional shriek as the Hogwarts fighters learned that their hero had fallen. Their reaction surprised Sirius at first, until he realized that everyone else who had shared the knowledge of Harry's death and sacrifice was either dead or a Death Eater. He heard Neville's name drift through the hall among spectators; apparently the boy had done something magnificent out there on the grounds. Soon after, a high pitched scream of anguish came from Voldemort, followed by an eruption of utter commotion that sent the crowds moving back into the castle.

The ground beneath them shook; the giants must be on the move again. The sounds of the crowd escalated as if hundreds had joined the fray, and new faces began to filter into the castle. Streams of light once again began to fire as the next skirmishes ensued. Hooves clattered against the stone floors of the entrance hall, and mighty centaurs sent arrows flying into Voldemort's minions. Sirius had his own jets of light to dodge now as black hooded figures slowly began to recognize him, not seeming surprised in the least to find him alive. Every once in awhile he would encounter an ally who was struck dumb when they saw his long-forgotten mug, and Sirius would respond by giving them a wink as he sent hexes through the air and dodged others like an acrobat swirling through circles of flame. His pain was now numbed by thrilling adrenaline.

...I've been too long, I'm glad to be back
Yes, I'm let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging about
I've been looking at the sky
'Cause it's gettin' me high
Forget the hearse 'cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cat's eyes
Abusin' every one of them and running wild
'Cause I'm back
Yes, I'm back...

Muggle rock music once again narrated Sirius's dance through the crowds, at least in his mind, and his brown leather boots pranced about to the mental clang of electric guitars. It helped him focus in the midst of chaos, and it kept him from wallowing in the pain of losing Remus, Tonks, and now Harry. His tune was interrupted when a door blasted off its hinges, revealing an army of angry house elves, armed with kitchen implements of all kinds. At their helm was none other than Kreacher. Sirius smiled as his eyes fell on Regulus's imposter locket, huge and dangling against the elf's tiny form.

"Fight for my master, defender of house elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"

"In the name of brave Regulus!" Sirius echoed, and he stepped into his next waltz across the floor, only to feel a foot fall atop his own with a thud. He jumped and looked down, but nothing was there, like some invisible being had collided with him and then bounced back into the fray. Sirius didn't have time to dwell, for he was now face to face with Colleen's ex-cousin-in-law, Felix Middlesworth. He'd never met the Death Eater, but Colleen's recount of those last few flashes she'd seen of his face the night he'd attacked her in her office, along with Severus's less than flattering descriptions, clued Sirius in well enough to the man's identity. The man looked stupefied, not by a spell, but rather like it was his natural countenance.

"Middlesworth," sneered Sirius.

"Black!" the Death Eater chuckled in return. "Finally meetin' ya face to face."

The roar in the entrance hall continued around them, but their attention was focused on one another as they backed into a nook by the staircase.

"Let me guess, Middlesworth— I have you to thank for being unceremoniously driven from my home last night, don't I?"

"Guess you could say that, Black."

"Then perhaps I should inform you that I don't take kindly to those that would keep me from a good night's sleep in my own bed!"

"Or Severus Snape's, right?" chortled Middlesworth. "Although I guess you can sleep in it all ya' want now and have some more room, seein' as he ain't around no more."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

A snicker escaped the man's crooked teeth. "Dark Lord killed him. His pretty wife flew away like some big angry bird. Quite the show."

Sirius felt punched in the gut. Not Severus. No. Sirius was hitting the limit of what he could take...drowning in pain...and anger. How was it that some of the greatest wizards who ever lived were gone, yet Felix fucking Middlesworth stood in front of Sirius with that simpering grin?

"Dente extractionem!"

Middlesworth's eyes grew wide, and every one of those cracked and crooked teeth bounced onto the stone floor, causing another Death Eater to slip and hit with a thud as he sailed past. Yet another Avada-inducing moment has been evaded; Lizzie would be proud of him.

"Don't think you needed them anyway, eh, Middlesworth?" Sirius goaded him. "Liquid diet, right?"

The toothless idiot responded with a hex that sliced Sirius's long, curly locks effectively in half, sending them flying then landing atop the extracted teeth.

"WHAT THE—?"

Voldemort's shrieks once again filled the air before Sirius could enact his revenge for the loss of his gorgeous hair. This time Voldemort's sounds hit Sirius with a familiar punch that seemed to echo the feelings in his own gut— the raw grief of so many losses. Sirius looked in the direction of the sound to see Bellatrix frozen, eyes bulging, just before she toppled to the ground to her death. Just to her left was Molly Weasley, sweat covering her flushed face, red hair wild, satisfaction running rampant across her face.

Sirius let out a loud whistle of approval, his thirst for revenge allowing him a brief respite from his sorrow. Voldemort's sorrow, if it could be called such, was lit anew, for with one curse he sent Minerva, Kingsley, and Horace Slughorn sailing through the air. Voldemort then rounded back on Molly, prepared to avenge the death of his best lieutenant, the mother of his second child. But he was interrupted by a loud "Protego!"

Sirius gasped, but it was only one intake of breath among a chorus of hundreds. Out of nowhere Harry Potter had emerged, very much alive.

The tumult of the crowds following Lord Voldemort's defeat was too much for Sirius— too loud, too rushed. Harry was exalted now, up on a much deserved pedestal of admiration that rendered him far too busy for a reunion with a long-presumed-dead godfather. Sirius took advantage of the boy's victory celebration to sneak out to the Whomping Willow and check on Colleen, his stomach a bundle of nerves even though their bond had not sent him any red flags. There was always the possibility the bond hadn't taken the way it should, the way Snape had intended it when he'd brewed the potion. Clearly the man was off his game lately— failed Fidelius Charm...getting himself killed...

Sirius wiped away the tear that formed in the corner of his eye. He refused to cry over Severus Snape. When he made it to the end of the tunnel and hoisted himself inside, Sirius was shocked to find the Slytherin wizard lying on the slatted floor, black jacket and white shirt mostly unbuttoned, his face at peace, eyes closed, his head resting against Colleen. In his surprise at seeing Snape, it had taken Sirius a few moments to realize that his wife held the man, her curls falling in front of his chest as her head rested on his. She was asleep.

Merlin— did she fall asleep when Snape had still been alive? Does she not realize she's holding a corpse? Wait— how did Middlesworth know Snape was dead and not say anything about Colleen? Had Middlesworth or the Dark Lord decided to spare her? No, that was impossible...

"Oh, gods!" Sirius cried out, and he rushed over to his wife, his fingers immediately seeking her pulse. If she was gone, that was it. Life didn't exist without her. He let out another cry, this one of relief as Colleen stirred at his touch. Her angel eyes filled with confusion as she woke.

"Oh, thank goddess," Sirius breathed, his lips meeting hers, desperate to feel her warm and alive against him. In his haste, he'd almost forgotten Snape's body between them.

"Sweetheart," Sirius began uneasily. "He's dead."

Colleen's eyes grew wide, her voice a whisper of dread. "Who, Sirius? Who's dead?"

Sirius blinked and offered her a comforting hand. "Severus, my love."

"Yes?" a low, droll voice said in reply.

Sirius jumped back with a shout. "You fucking bastard!" But then he leapt forward and embraced the wizard with zeal.

"Watch the neck, Black!" Severus reprimanded him sharply.

Severus regaled Sirius with the tale of how Colleen had stolen him back from Death's grip, brilliantly and tenaciously, and Sirius loved her like never before. Severus seemed markedly different now— lighter— like heavy weights had been lifted out of his body. Death did some strange things to the mind, Sirius had to admit.

"Your hair, Sirius!" Colleen exclaimed once they'd had a chance to catch up.

"I know," Sirius said grimly. "You can thank your ex-cousin-in-law for that."

Colleen made a sad face and buried her nose in what was left of her favorite thing in the world.

"I can make you a tonic, Black," Severus offered.

Sirius shook his head. "Nah. I'm ready for a change. I think I'll finish cutting it."

Colleen looked pained.

With the news of victory and the accompanying sad news of the lives they'd lost, Colleen and Severus rose to make their way to the apparition point in search of Rhiannon. Sirius chose to return to the castle. He'd given the merry victors time to honor their hero, and he'd respected Harry enough to give the boy time to reflect with his closest friends. But Sirius couldn't just leave and let another night go by with the boy thinking Sirius remained beyond the Veil. Their meeting had to happen today, so Sirius's next move was to seek out Minerva.

"Yet another one of Albus Dumbledore's secrets," the witch said upon spinning around to see Sirius Black's cheeky grin staring her in the face. The whole room had already learned the great secrets the former Headmaster had kept regarding Severus Snape, thanks to Harry's revelations just before Voldemort's demise. Surprisingly Voldy himself hadn't seemed all that shocked at Snape's betrayal, instead dismissing it rather quickly out of embarrassment at having been foiled and manipulated for so many years. Sirius had made a mental note to ask Harry exactly how the boy had learned about all that.

"Yes, perhaps when you run this ship, Minerva, you could be a bit more transparent with your crew," Sirius suggested, and the two walked arm in arm as they discussed the best course of action for reuniting Sirius with Harry.

"He keeps mentioning to all his well-wishers that all he wants is a long nap and a sandwich," Minerva told Sirius with a smile. "So I expect he'll be along shortly."

"Thanks, Minnie," Sirius said with an extra special wink— the one he'd always reserved just for her, where he exaggerated the smirk at the end just a bit. McGonagall sighed and headed back to supervising the continued chaos downstairs — part memorial, part celebration, part clean-up effort. Since everyone was distracted so, Gryffindor tower was deserted. McGonagall had told him which of the giant four-poster beds with its scarlet and gold brocade belonged to Harry, and Sirius perched on a nearby trunk to wait. He gazed into a mirror surrounded by lion carvings and felt like the cliché guy in the comedy films Colleen liked to watch— the one who stands in front of the mirror and rehearses what he's going to say. Only he had no idea what to say. As with most things in life, Sirius was going to wing it.

While he waited in front of the mirror, Sirius took his wand and experimented with some haircuts, finally deciding on a messy, spiky look that had an air of intentional carelessness. It was rather sexy and model-like, if Sirius was honest. He'd just have to work extra hard to convince Colleen, but he was already feeling up to the task.

By some stroke of fate, Harry entered the dorm alone. His hair was scraggly, his footsteps light like they'd become accustomed to making as little noise as possible. The boy actually made it halfway into the room before he looked up. Sirius expected him to reach for his wand, but he didn't. He realized Harry's mind probably wondered if the power of the Resurrection Stone had followed him, and if Sirius was just a Patronus-like figure there to watch over him as he enjoyed a well-deserved sleep.

"Hey there," Sirius said with a nervous wave. He stood, assuming it was right for everyone to stand now in Harry's presence.

"Sirius?" Harry fumbled in his pockets now, most certainly looking for the stone.

"Master Potter," a gravelly voice said, and Kreacher entered with head bowed, carrying sandwiches on a tray. When he lifted his head to set them upon a small table, he paused with the tray in midair. "Master Black? Not 'Master,' no..." The elf looked to Harry, confused. While an heir to the Noble House of Black lived, Kreacher's loyalty was clear. But Sirius could tell the elf would much rather be in Harry's service than his.

Sirius shook his head with a small smile. "I'm not your Master, Kreacher. I am alive, but I am no longer heir to House Black. I have my own home now."

"That will be all, Kreacher. Thank you," Harry said kindly. "Please charm the door against further entry on your way out."

The elf did as asked, and the bedroom door closed with a click.

"So, how are you feeling?" Sirius asked casually.

"How, Sirius? How is this happening? I don't understand."

"Perhaps you should start by asking me something only I would know the answer to," Sirius suggested, a hint of godfatherly warning already entering his voice.

Harry thought for a moment, a shaky hand finally closing over his wand. "What did you give me as a present when I said goodbye to you at Grimmauld Place? The thing I forgot all about and never used, and if I had, I likely could have saved you from dying?"

Harry's words were coming out frantically — the trauma of the day causing him to tremble at the recollection of a memory that obviously haunted him. Sirius made a move to hold him, but Harry stepped backward, his eyes falling to the floor.

"A mirror," Sirius said softly. "But it's no matter. The past is behind us, and we've been given a new chance."

"How?" Harry's voice was more insistent now, more demanding.

"Rhiannon," Sirius said simply.

The boy responded by moving to his bed, huffing as he flopped down, beginning to resemble his old teenage self as he thought of the female Professor Snape with disgust. Harry had addressed the crowd earlier, during his battle with the Dark Lord, and had expressed an understanding for Severus and his motivations. But Sirius could see Harry still harbored resentment regarding Rhiannon. Sirius felt a tiny burst of pride that the boy still had his back in that fateful love triangle.

"She was there, Harry, when I fell into the Veil. Remember her birds? She used their power, somehow, to bring me back. But we have all the time in the world to talk about that." Sirius took a seat beside Harry and gave him a nervous pat on the knee. Harry didn't pull away this time, but he also wouldn't meet Sirius's gaze.

"You don't seem all that happy to see me," said Sirius, trying not to sound as crestfallen as he felt. He'd spent almost two years fearing it would be this way, but he had dared to hope in the last hour that if he could just keep it cool, easy, and casual, then all would be forgiven.

"I'm sorry," Sirius added quickly. "I'm a real wanker, Harry, making this about me right now. I can go if you like."

"No, Harry said just as quickly. "I just...I need to know why. Where were you? Why weren't you helping me?"

Sirius felt his breath catch. His instinct was to go through a list of everything he'd accomplished in the last twenty-four hours, plus the Horcrux hunt, Potterwatch, and the night of the Polyjuiced Harry Potters...but he refrained. "I was following orders from Dumbledore," he finally answered. "But that's no excuse."

And it wasn't. He should have been there for everything. Dumbledore be damned. Sirius was a grown adult who had chosen to cower down in a therapist's chair and get piss drunk in nightclubs. Then he'd decided to play house in a mansion by the sea while Harry slept in the cold wilderness, terrified for his life. Sirius deserved the consequences of that choice, whatever they may be.

No, don't do this to yourself, Sirius'smind argued. This is the trap Colleen warned you about. Take your focus off the past. You needed that time to heal and rebuild. The man you've become is what Harry needs now.

Harry was silent. Sirius knew he probably had a million questions regarding Dumbledore's motives and Sirius's acceptance of them.

"Listen, Harry," Sirius began again, "We have plenty of time to talk about the last couple of years. But you're tired, and we'd be better suited talking about the here and now. After you've rested, you'll be making a fresh start. And I'd like to be part of it in whatever way I can. I know it's hard to wrap your head around things like home, or family, or happiness after you've gone through years of turmoil. It's hard to believe that you deserve to be happy, when others have suffered. But I'm here to help you with that, when you're ready. At the very least, I can be a place to hide, when you need to get away from the strain of it all. You're welcome in my home, and to be part of my family."

"Family?" Harry repeated softly.

Sirius beamed and held up his hand. "Yes, I'm a husband now. And a dad. I adopted my wife's little boy. She's a Muggle, but he's a wizard. We can already tell. The boy's brilliant."

Harry offered a smile this time, but Sirius knew it was still tempered by the plaguing question of how Sirius had managed to accomplish all this while Harry was out saving the wizarding world. Sirius felt like a complete arse again.

"That's great, Sirius. Really. You deserve to be happy," Harry finally said. Their conversation hit a brief lull again, until Harry made an attempt at a lighter topic. "Hey, did you see Buckbeak out there? He plucked the eye right out of a giant or two."

Sirius chuckled. "That's fantastic!"

"Yeah." Harry dug into the tapestry rug with the toe of his shoe after trailing off thoughtfully again. "Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"Did you hear me talking to...Voldemort? About Snape?"

Sirius nodded.

"Snape's actually not a bad guy, Sirius. I...I was there when he died. When Voldemort killed him in the Shrieking Shack. Before he died, he gave me some of his memories. And...there were a lot. And a lot were about you."

Sirius bristled, but then he realized Snape was smart enough not to give the boy those memories, surely.

"A lot of things in my life and Snape's, well, overlapped, if you will," Sirius began carefully. "And you're quite right, Harry. Snape is not a bad guy. Well, any more than rest of us I suppose. Not you of course— you're a hero. But the rest of us...old, gray, full of mistakes..."

"Gray? You're thirty-eight!"

"And look!" Sirius pointed to a tuft of hair in his new, shorter coiffure that turned unfortunately ashen in harsher light. Harry laughed.

"But Harry," Sirius began again, "Snape's not dead. I saw him, after you defeated Voldemort. He's alive. He was saved by my wife."

Harry blinked. "But you said your wife is a Muggle?"

"She is. The brightest, kindest, and most beautiful of Muggles. I can't wait for you to meet her."

"But why would your wife want to save Snape? Why was she with Snape? How—?"

Sirius raised a finger to Harry's lips and shook his head. "All questions to be answered another day. But for today, know this: we're really not that different— you, me, Snape- even Voldemort, really. All grown-up orphans, in some way. The world didn't make it easy on us to find love, to love, or to be loved. But somewhere along the way, the three of us proved everyone wrong. And that's the difference between the three of us versus the Dark Lord — he never could see or understand love, even when it stared him right in the face."

Sirius's mind drifted to Rhiannon, and he felt a pang of worry knowing she was the only one left unaccounted for. He felt around in his brain for Colleen to see if she and Severus had found the witch yet, but he remembered from Snape that the messages weren't all that clear across distances unless it was a significant emotion or urgent need. Not feeling anything had to be a good sign, he assumed.

Harry was suddenly sad again, burying his face in his hands. When Sirius put an arm around his shoulders, he was met with a weary sigh.

"You said orphans, and I was thinking of Teddy," Harry said somberly. "Remus and Tonks died for me, Sirius. And Fred."

"Fred? Oh, no..." It was Sirius's turn to hang his head. The boy's life had barely begun, and poor George...

"How can I look Teddy in the eye, as his godfather, Sirius, and tell him his mother and father died because of me?"

The question stabbed Sirius in the heart like a blunt wand tip. He swallowed. "The same way Snape and I will look you in the eye and tell you that your mother and father died because of us. With regret, and humility, and the hope that we can help you now, even a little. Teddy's lucky to have you, Harry."

Downstairs a dinner bell rang through the castle, a jolting routine sound in the midst of a day that was anything but. The two wizards sat in silence again. It was awkward, yes— but it also felt good. Silence could say a lot between two people who loved each other. But Sirius was never one to stay silent for long.

"Hey, Harry— I have to ask— lighten the mood a bit, you know? Have you shagged Ginny yet?"

The boy's face morphed to match the bold Gryffindor comforter upon which they sat. "No!" he exclaimed, sputtering. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, I'm your godfather, Harry. It's my job to orient you properly to such things...see if you have any questions...make sure you know the proper potions and spells."

"I took Professor Aspenfell-Snape's class last year, remember?"

"Ah, yes. Then I'm sure you're more than prepared. I should think it will be rather soon, now that you're a hero."

Harry snickered a little. "The way she hugged me downstairs earlier...the look she had in her eyes...I think you may be right."

Sirius grinned and patted his godson on the back.

"But then she looked back toward the spot where we'd laid Remus and Tonks and Fred," Harry continued, "And, well, it just seemed too sad. Not quite right to think about, you know?"

"Do I ever," Sirius reassured him. "Shagging your way through guilt is a specialty of mine. But I can tell you with confidence that both Remus and Fred would like you to get properly shagged as soon as possible. And my cousin was a firm believer in love overcoming tragedy— that's how she and Remus ended up married last year, remember? Finally talked him into it, after all that time. But don't waste another minute, Harry. Get some sleep, then start living your life. Promise?"

The light and admiration Harry once held in his eyes for Sirius was starting to come back, and Sirius felt a missing happiness begin to swell once again within his heart. He stood and pulled Harry into a hug, realizing they hadn't stood this way since Christmas at Grimmauld Place over two years ago. There had been no Colleen then, no Ben. He'd hated Severus Snape with every fiber of his being, and their battle for Rhiannon had resulted in Sirius's crushing defeat. The Dark Lord had been building an army, and the greater war had no end in sight. There had only been Buckbeak, trapped and miserable in a dusty old master bedroom, his mother's incessantly screaming portrait, and his firewhisky bottle. Yes, today's hug was glorious compared to that one.

"Hey, Sirius? I felt my forehead downstairs, and...I think my scar is gone."

Sirius pulled back and ruffled the boy's messy hair just to make sure, and indeed, the lightning strike had faded completely. "All gone," Sirius confirmed. "To the eye, at least. But scars are souvenirs in a way; even the ones that heal. Their memory makes us a better person. I told you once that the ones that love us never really leave us, and it's true. But the same holds true for the scars. We may no longer be disfigured, or in pain, but we're changed."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Sometime when I'm not so tired, I need to tell you how I did it. How I came back. I don't even really understand it, but it had something to do with my mother. And her love."

"Ah, yes— love. That's how I was brought back as well. And Snape. I suspect we've all three been beyond the Veil, in a way. And that's a scar in and of itself. I suppose that will give us much to talk about when we're all three together again. Lunch a week from today?"

"Lunch with you and Snape?"

Sirius laughed. "Yes. And our wives. And my son. At my house on the coast, here in Scotland. It's a lovely place, Harry. Many places to wander, explore, get lost, and appreciate what matters. I hope you'll love it as much as I do. And bring Ginny, all right?" Sirius made his way to the door with a devilish wink. "Assuming the two of you can find time, of course."