A/N Okay. About Sirius' obsession with Harry's use of profanity. Every parent has their pet peeve with their kid's behavior. Usually, it's something that the parents do themselves and they subconsciously feel guilty about it so they fuss when they see their kids doing the same thing. I picked profanity because I can see Sirius as the type that would swear like a sailor, but at the same time, he gets on Harry's case about it just because he thinks that that is what a good parent would do. It's just their quirk.
There you go, Aimael. Just for you, lol.
It seems that, no matter how hard I try, I can't find the time to write until Sunday. For now, at least, looks like I'll just be updating once a week. Not that curlybean has not been trying her hardest to keep me on my toes, lol! For now, I'll just try to make up for the infrequency of posting by making the chapters long enough to be worth the wait.
jogger made a very astute observation last week to me in a PM that we really didn't have enough of a bonding scene between Harry and Sirius after last week's angst and I found myself agreeing with her. It is with that in mind that I wrote the opening scene of this weeks chapter. Originally I was going to to mention this conversation in passing, but I enjoyed presenting it more this way.
Iva, I enjoy all of your reviews. Please feel free to criticize if you don't care for something. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I may not always agree with you, but I respect your right to express it.
Enjoy
**********
Sirius lay in his bed, absently twisting the blanket with his hands. His mental state was vacillating between anger over the potential presence of an enemy inside the walls and worry over his godson's safety. There were two ways that the meeting with possibly-not-Alastor could go tomorrow. Both of them with a large element of fear and relief attached to them.
If Harry's DADA professor turned out to be someone other than Alastor Moody, the discovery would alleviate Sirius' unease over the behavior of the man that he had known well during his years of Auror training. Additionally, removal of said person would decrease the current danger that his godson might be in and potentially give them a strong lead towards anyone else plotting against Harry. Of course, this would also lead to a worry regarding the imposter's ability to catch the real Alastor in such a compromising position in the first place in order to impersonate him. Whoever it was would have to be a formidable opponent to get the upper hand against a wizard of Alastor's caliber or, at the very least, have accomplices who were highly accomplished.
If Harry's professor really was Alastor, then the fear of it being a death eater was significantly decreased, but the worry became two-fold. One, was there something truly wrong with Alastor that was impairing his judgement and what that could possibly be and, two, what if Alastor had willingly gone over to the other side, taking his power and skill with him? That would truly be a huge blow to the side of the light.
Sirius wasn't necessarily worried about his ability to subdue whomever it was in the DADA professor's office. If there was one thing he had confidence in, other than his love for his godson, it was his ability to duel with the best of them. He worried that he didn't always see what direction danger was coming from but, once he saw it, he was a fierce warrior that very few wizards could best in a fight. His years away in Azkaban had made his skills a little rusty, but over the summer he had taken great pains to re-acquire his speed and accuracy and was, once again, as deadly as he ever had been during his auror days.
His godson's wellbeing was at risk. It was a most powerful incentive to practice.
He glanced over at the clock on his night table and groaned at the time. It was well after one in the morning and he couldn't afford to be tired and restless if he was going to be in top form for the meeting. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and found his slippers. After he had left school, whenever he couldn't sleep at night, he had fallen into the habit of making a cup of cocoa. Sirius didn't know if it was the comforting temperature of the sweet liquid, or soothing atmosphere of a quiet kitchen, but the remedy had never failed in lulling him back to sleep. It was a habit he had fallen back into after his release from prison and, whether by effectiveness or nostalgia he didn't know, even after all of these years, it still worked.
He pulled on his paisley night robe and slipped, as quietly as he could, into the living area. Turning towards Harry's room, he was tempted to check on his godson but frowned when he saw a thin beam of light coming from underneath the door.
Against Sirius' better judgment, Harry had been sent to bed at ten o'clock, his usual bedtime. Usually Harry's bedtime when grounded was the ridiculously early hour of eight o'clock as a measure to reinforce consequences for childish behavior. However, after seeing his godson's resigned demeanor as the wall clock chimed eight and Harry reluctantly excusing himself from the game of wizard's chess he was playing with Remus, Sirius relented. In the interest of keeping Harry's school work from suffering, or at least that is what Sirius used as an excuse, he gave Harry the choice between early bed or two hours of studying ahead in his lessons.
Sirius had almost bitten his tongue off to keep from laughing at the look on Harry's face, resembling one as if he had just taken a sip of really spoilt milk, the boy's mind unhappily pondering the attraction of choices between looking forward to two hours of homework as if Christmas had come early or being put to bed like a sodding five year old. In the end, not wanting to look a rundown gift horse in the mouth, Harry had obediently put away the chess game and pulled out his Divination charts.
Sirius kept his gaze firmly directed towards the fireplace so that his godson wouldn't see the smirk that refused to leave the older man's face. Sirius and James had been four years younger than Lucius while at school to do any real mischief to the older Malfoy, although they had pulled off one or two truly brilliant pranks before Lucius graduated. In return, they had been on the receiving end of quite a bit of torment. At least Harry was on a physically as well as an educationally level playing field with Lucy's little whelp.
Even though the Marauder in him would have given almost anything to see the look on the little blond ponce's face when Harry broke his nose, the guardian had to maintain a sense of discipline. Besides which, Sirius had given his godson a very firm lecture on bullies who use their fists instead of their words and Harry had winced guiltily, remembering how much he had despised Dudley and his motley band of thugs.
The real issue at hand was Harry's safety, not little Malfoy's stuck up and apparently broken nose. Sirius knew it and Harry knew it. While the concerned godfather had no qualms about ordering the boy to keep to their quarters in the tower while there may be an issue of a potential threat on the staff lurking about, he didn't see the need to go any further than that with a chastisement. Ten o'clock for bed was just fine.
But Sirius knew better than to think he actually went to sleep then. Once Hogwarts students were back at school, away from their parents' watchful eyes, they generally kept odd hours just because they could. The Marauders had done most of their finest work in the darkness of night. However, one a.m. was a bit too late for his fourteen year old to still be awake on a school night, especially when the boy had already been granted one reprieve.
Rapping softly on the door, he pushed it open to find a very wide awake Harry sitting up in bed reading by the light of his wand. Frowning, he made his way quickly over to the side of the boy's bed.
"Harry, it's late. What are you still doing awake?"
"Couldn't sleep," Harry muttered, closing his battered copy of Quidditch: Through the Ages.
Sirius allowed himself a small smile at the condition of the well loved book and made a mental note to buy his godson a new one. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he leaned over and gently eased the book from Harry's grasp, placing it on the nightstand.
"Bad dreams?" he asked, concern evident in his narrowed eyes.
Harry shook his head and stared down at the hem of his sheet, absently tugging at it with his left hand. Sirius reached over and picked up his right hand, giving the injured limb another examination. He was pleased to see that the bruising was well on its way towards healing, the cuts and scrapes already knitting. Harry was quiet and he looked tired. Sirius wondered what it was that was bothering him so much.
"I was just going to make a mug of cocoa. Would you like to come out and join me for a bit?"
Harry lifted his face, a small smile peaking out that warmed his godfather's heart, and nodded. Sirius leaned over and ruffled the short black spikes fondly.
"You have to promise to go to sleep after you have had yours, though. Alright?"
"Alright," Harry agreed, taking Sirius' outstretched hand and allowing his godfather to hoist him out of his bed.
Sirius led the way out to the living area with Harry shuffling along behind him. The fire was out, making the room a little on the chilly side, so Sirius used his wand to relight it, shooting red sparks that ignited cosy, roaring flames.
Harry made his way over to the sofa and curled up at one end, tucking his legs up beneath him. In his thin t-shirt and pajama pants, the damp air cut into him and he shivered slightly. Noticing this, Sirius pulled a ridiculously colored throw blanket, a gift from Molly, from the back of the chair closest to him and wrapped it around his godson's small shoulders. Harry shot him a put out look, but inwardly he smiled over his godfather's fussing, enjoying the attention.
Snuggling into the hand knitted warmth, he leaned into the back of the sofa, resting his head in the corner and watched idly as Sirius raided his small cold cabinet for the necessary ingredients and then poured two mugs of milk before adding a square of Honeyduke's best to both. With a flick of his wand, two spoons began to stir and a moment later steam slowly rose from each cup. In no time, he was joining Harry on the sofa, handing him a warm and delicious smelling treat that the boy took gratefully.
Sirius let a quiet couple of minutes pass as they sipped and enjoyed the pleasant heat from the blazing fireplace. Harry was very tired looking, his small face pale and the hint of circles forming under his brilliant green eyes. The concerned godfather knew without asking that the boy's sleepless state was definitely more mental than physical.
"What's bothering you, little one?" he asked, leaning forward to lift Harry's chin up. "Are you still upset about what happened today?"
Sirius was truly worried that Harry was more put out by everything than he was letting on. Harry was so much like his father in that regard. The difference was that James would show the world a happy and carefree face when he was bleeding inside. When his son kept everything tucked away, he had a tendency to brood.
"No," Harry responded, shaking his head slightly. "I'm fine with all of that. Really."
Sirius frowned as he leaned closer to the boy who had once again dropped his gaze down to his lap. "Then what is it?"
He waited for a moment until Harry drew in a heavy breath, held it for a second and then exhaled deeply.
"I want to go with you tomorrow when you see Moody..or...whoever it is," Harry said rapidly, his eyes flickering between Sirius' face and the throw rug next to the sofa.
"Absolutely not." Sirius sat straight up in agitation, his face going positively livid. "I do not want you in that classroom tomorrow, under any circumstances. Do you understand me, young man?"
Harry raised his head and shot a pleading stare at his godfather. "I could help, Sirius. You know I could."
"You could also get hurt, Harry. Unnecessarily. Remus and I can take of it ourselves," Sirius said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
"But Sirius.."
"No." Sirius frowned sternly at his godson until Harry dropped his head back down in defeat.
Softening somewhat, Sirius reached over and lifted Harry's chin back up to stare into the hurt green eyes.
"It's not that I don't think that you are capable, Harry. You have proved yourself to be quite talented over the years," he assured the boy kindly.
Harry huffed and avoided his godfather's gaze, a petulent pout on his face.
"Doesn't matter though, does it? You still don't trust me," Harry pouted, wounded by what he saw as his godfather's lack of faith. "You just see me as a child."
Harry turned his face away in frustration and disgust. "Don't you know who I am?" he asked, his voice heavy with poisonous sarcasm. "I'm the Boy Who Lived. The Savior of the Wizarding World." Harry turned back towards him, his eyes desperate and pooling with tears. "Right?"
Sirius' eyes blazed over the use of the unwanted monikers for a brief second, but sadness overtook him as he took in his godson's slumped shoulders and tortured face.
Too much, he thought. His child had just too much expectation dumped on him. Deciding that Harry could use a good dose of teenager remonstration to divert his focus away from the very real possibility of a short future, Sirius frowned at him firmly.
"Well, right now you are acting like a child, aren't you?" he asked pointedly. His tone had the desired effect as Harry's ears flushed red.
They sat quietly for a moment, Harry refusing to make eye contact and Sirius not willing to force him to. He could tell that there was something still off in his godson's demeanor other than his zealous desire to jump into the thick of things.
Again.
Reaching over, he cupped the side of Harry's face, rubbing Harry's temple with his thumb soothingly.
"I trust you, Harry. I think you are already one of the most gifted wizards I have ever known, and that is really saying something. But, you're right. I do see you as a child."
At this, Harry shot him a dirty look but it didn't deter Sirius from finishing his statement.
"However, never forget that, in my eyes, you are not the Boy Who Lived. In my eyes, you will always just be Harry, our little boy, no matter how old you are."
Harry's face was a seething mass of indignation, which only made Sirius smile indulgently.
"Can't help it, kiddo. It's no reflection on you or your abilities, I assure you. But, to me, you'll always be the little rugrat that chased Padfoot around the house, pulling my tail while you were learning to walk."
Harry rolled his eyes and a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Is that like a dad thing?" he asked, the words flying out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. The moment he said them, his face flushed red and he turned away nervously.
As time had passed, Harry couldn't help but think of Sirius as his father in all the ways that mattered. But fear of rejection, in the event that Sirius didn't share the strong and intimate sentiment, coupled with the guilt of replacing his real father, the man that had selflessly sacrificed himself for Harry's life, weighed heavily on the boy's mind.
Sirius' breathing hitched and he blinked rapidly, the innocent question bringing a flood of emotion coursing through him. Regaining his composure quickly, he gently pulled Harry's face back to look at him. "Yes," he answered, his voice shaky and watery. "That's definitely a dad thing."
Harry stared at him for a moment, his piercing emerald orbs a kaleidoscope of confusion, hope, hurt, love and sadness. He leaned forward and laid down sideways across the length of the sofa, resting his head in Sirius' lap and mumbling something that his godfather's ears couldn't quite make out.
"What was that, Harry?" he asked, noticing uneasily the way the question made the boy fidget. He waited patiently until Harry was ready to respond.
"I don't want anything to happen to you, too," Harry finally answered quietly, breaking his godfather's heart in half.
Oh Sweet sweet Merlin
Sirius took a deep breath and held it as he stroked Harry's hair. "Nothing is going to happen to me tomorrow, Harry. I promise," he soothed, exhaling deeply. "Whoever it is, they are no match for both Remus and myself, so don't worry. Alright?"
Harry heard the words and knew he should draw comfort from them, but it was hard. He wondered if Sirius knew how difficult it was for an orphan who had just been given a brilliant new father to watch that father walk into a dangerous situation while Harry was expected to sit back and do nothing to help.
Sirius could tell that Harry wasn't likely in the mood to be further convinced, but he needed reassurance.
"Promise me, Harry, that you'll obey me and stay out of Moody's classroom tomorrow," he demanded. "I can't concentrate properly on what I need to do if I have to worry about you showing up and putting yourself in danger."
Harry said nothing at first, enjoying the feel of Sirius' long fingers massaging his scalp, the gentle motions already lulling him to sleep. He didn't like the feeling of helplessness that accompanied the promise that Sirius was trying to extract from him. On the other hand, he knew that Sirius would risk his own life to save Harry's and Harry knew that he could not afford to serve as a distraction for his godfather's concentration. Reluctantly, he finally nodded.
"I promise."
Sirius relaxed visibly. He trusted his godson to keep his word. He felt his godson snuggle closer to him, clearly not ready to go back to bed. Smiling, he patted Harry's shoulder.
"I'll make a deal with you. If you promise to close your eyes and rest, I'll let you stay here with me for a few more minutes and tell you about some of the pranks we pulled on Draco's father."
Harry snorted, his good humor returning in small increments. "Deal."
Sirius summoned a couple of pillows and a warmer blanket. He wedged one of the pillows under Harry's head on his lap and pulled the thick comforter over the boy's slight frame. Taking the other pillow, he propped it into the corner of the sofa and leaned back into it tiredly.
"Now, what you have to remember about the lads in the Malfoy family is that they tend to squeal like three year old girls..," he began, eliciting a snort from his godson as he encircled his arms around Harry protectively.
The next morning Remus found them fast asleep cuddled on the sofa and he refrained from waking them until he absolutely had to for breakfast.
********************
After Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall from breakfast, they ran down towards the Forbidden Forest for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Slightly ahead of them on the winding path, they recognized the messy head of black hair. Exchanging nervous looks, they simultaneously picked up speed to catch up with Harry. Ron, with the advantage of his significantly longer legs, reached him first, Hermione scurrying behind them.
"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted him, his voice uncertain and shaky.
Harry turned to the side, his eyebrows knitted in thought. "Hey Ron." He twisted his head around slightly and acknowledged Hermione's presence as well. "Hey Hermione." Greetings out of the way, he turned back around and focused on the ground in front of him as he continued towards the lesson area.
Ron grimaced at the short words and shrugged when Hermione jerked her chin towards Harry, insistently encouraging the fumbling redhead to persist in approaching their friend. Both of them felt miserable about what had been happening between the three of them. After his conversation with Remus the previous afternoon, Ron had wanted nothing more than to go and apologize to Harry for any misunderstandings, but Remus had told him that Harry and his godfather were having a serious discussion and Ron would have to wait.
"Look, Harry," Ron began, his face blushing furiously with nerves, "we....we feel really.....bad about everything," he stammered, not knowing what to say. In frustration, Hermione huffed and elbowed her way in between them.
"What Ronald is trying to say is that you are our best friend and we don't want anything to get in the way of that," she stated with her usual air of authority. Softening her gaze, she dropped her eyes. "Please don't leave the tower just because you are mad at us. We really miss you."
At the tone in her voice, Harry looked up from the ground, confusion on his face. "What?" He stopped walking for a second and took a careful look at his two friends as if he had not seen them earlier. Taking a second to process their desperate faces and the words they were forcing out, he finally realized what they were trying to do and a small grin appeared on his face, confusing the stuttering couple.
"I'm not mad at you," he assured them. "I didn't come back to the tower last night because Sirius grounded me for a week for punching Malfoy."
Hermione looked as if she might cry from the sincerity of Harry's words. Ron, on the other hand, lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You punched Malfoy?" he asked, incredulously.
Harry chuckled at both Hermione's face and Ron's question. "Yeah, I did," he shrugged. "I broke his nose," he added, looking sheepish.
Hermione stared at him disapprovingly while Ron punched his shoulder in appreciation. With enthusiastic prompting from his redheaded mate, Harry quickly told them the whole story while the rest of the class assembled. As the two of them listened intently, they each were vacillating between relief that Harry stilled cared enough to defend Hermione, even while they were on the outs, and guilt that he was now under house arrest as a result. Shrugging off Hermione's attempt to apologize for being the object of the argument, Harry assured her that he didn't regret it, as well as pointing out that he was defending Sirius also.
During the lesson, Ron and Hermione couldn't help noticing the fact that Harry still looked overly distracted by something other than the antics of the Nifflers that Hagrid had searching for treasure. While there didn't seem to be any tension between Harry and the two of them, they wondered if he actually was uncomfortable with the idea of them being more than friends but just didn't want to let on.
Harry's distracted demeanor didn't improve during the rest of that class, nor the one following it, and he was still barely acknowledging their presence even as they ambled towards the Great Hall for lunch.
Sitting at the immensely long oak table amongst the carefree chatter of the other Gryffindors, Ron and Hermione couldn't help noticing how Harry had gone from quiet introspection to nervous twitching, his eyes spending more time studying the professor's table than the bubble and squeak on his gold plate. Although they didn't know what he was focusing all of his attention on, they could clearly see that it wasn't on them.
"What is going on with you today, Harry?" Herimone finally spat out, her patience gone and her nerves shot.
Looking at her in surprise, Harry finally noticed the obvious concern and confusion on his friends' faces. Observing them carefully, as if he had not fully seen them properly in a long time, Harry relaxed slightly. This was Ron and Hermione. His two very best friends, closest confidants and usual partners in crime. Although things may have been strained between them all lately, he knew, without a second of hesitation, that he could always put his faith and trust in them and a genuine smile of appreciation spread out across his whole face.
Glancing around at their immediate area, Harry was convinced that he could speak without being overheard. Motioning them closer, the three bent their heads together conspiratorially and Harry began to speak. At the professor's table, Sirius was too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice what was going on at his godson's table.
If he had been more observant, he might have realized that Harry was up to something.
**********
In the DADA classroom, the professor hobbled over to the desk and propped the fake leg up on the stool he had been keeping close by. This disguise was more trouble than it was worth. If he wasn't so scared of refusing the powerful wizard that had ordered him to Hogwarts, there was no way he would have ever agreed to do anything so painful and time consuming.
Leaning back against the battered chair, he moved his neck around, the audible clicks associated with tense popping joints reverberating around the otherwise silent room. He glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed, with a grimace, that it was time for another foul dose. Swearing quietly to himself, he reached into the pocket of his ill fitting robe and extracted the silver flask. With a flick of his thumb, he pushed back the stopper, the foul stench of the lumpy liquid inside assaulting his senses.
For the umpteenth time, he forced back the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him. Squaring his shoulders, he mentally chastised himself for being so weak. It was just a silly potion, he reminded himself. He had been forced to consume far worse things in far worse places than this. It was just one part of the job that had been assigned to him, albeit, an extremely important part, and he would suffer through it until the job was done.
Years ago he had made his choice, his commitment to follow the charismatic and powerful man that now demanded that he prove his loyalties. It was a lifetime obligation. Only the weak changed horses in the middle of a race.
He was many things. A criminal, morally bankrupt, a lunatic always more attracted to the darkness and shadows than his father had ever wanted to admit to. But, one thing he was not, was weak. No matter what anyone else ever thought of him.
He would see the job done.
It didn't make ingesting the putrid potion any easier to do, however. Mostly because he didn't trust the brewer. Why his master ever thought he could trust that self congratulating berk Snape, he didn't know. He certainly didn't trust Snape. Most of his off time in the castle was spent spying on the potions master at every turn. So far he had to admit that he had not seen anything suspicious enough in Snape's behavior to report as an outright betrayal. He wasn't foolish enough to go spouting off at the mouth without proof. False accusations had dire consequences for the accuser
He may be at Hogwart's at someone else's bidding, but he had his own score to settle, and, when the time was right, he would.
He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and extracted a nearly empty bottle of fire whiskey. Pulling out the cork, he tipped it back and took a long swallow, shuddering slightly as it burned its way down his throat. He had found that he could almost stomach ingesting the potion if he had a nip of whiskey before and after. It was comfort that could only be enjoyed in the privacy of his empty classroom or quarters. Too bad he couldn't just whip out the bottle during the day and indulge, but he couldn't let the brats see a professor doing such a thing after all. He had his marching orders.
Groaning, knowing that time was growing short, he reluctantly lifted the flask to his mouth and was just about to take the hourly dose when the doors of his classroom flew open.
"Stupefy!" "Expelliarmus!"
The last things he saw before falling unconscious were the furious faces of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.
**********
Peeking around the corner, Harry watched his godfather and Remus approach the DADA classroom. It was lucky that he had been watching Sirius' movements with the Marauder's Map, otherwise he would have been late. Sirius and Remus were heading towards the confrontation twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Behind him, Ron was quietly arguing with Hermione about the merits of coming along with Harry. After Harry had explained everything to them over lunch, she was of the mind that Sirius was quite right in asserting that he and Remus would have the situation well in hand.
Ron, on the other hand, was happy to be allowed back into Harry's confidence, relieved that his best mate's recent unhappy state of mind was not solely his doing, as well as eager to help flush out a possible death eater. Ron was nothing if not brave and loyal to his friend.
As the soft bickering continued, Harry whipped his head around and threw them a scathing glare. If Remus, with his enhanced sense of hearing, caught them, all of Harry's plans would go down the drain. They got the hint and quickly hushed up.
Harry wasn't sure what the plan was. Sirius had not been willing to share the details with him and Harry had not wanted to arouse any suspicions by asking. But even he was surprised to see the two men throw the doors open and immediately send out the debilitating hexes. As he watched them plow forward, he waited until they were completely inside and then sprinted forward himself, motioning for his friends to follow.
He couldn't afford being seen, so he kept them far from the door. This turned out to be a fortunate measure as he immediately heard the door slam shut. Listening for anyone approaching, he waited a brief second and, once sure that they were alone, he pulled out his wand.
"Fortis Fenestrus!" he hissed insistently, flicking his wand as he spoke.
To Ron and Hermione's amazement, a three meter square window appeared in the wall between the classroom and the corridor. Shooting Harry looks of incredulity, he smiled smugly and motioned for them to watch and listen. They could clearly see inside the DADA classroom where Sirius was shooting ropes out of his wand that were snaking their way around the man that appeared to be Professor Moody as Remus was summoning a wand that had been flung across the room.
"Bloody Hell, Harry," Ron murmured in amazement. Harry just shrugged, blushing slightly and trying to ignore the scathing glare that Hermione was shooting him. "How did you learn to do that?"
"Sirius showed me over the summer," Harry answered quietly, not wanting to give away their presence.
After his first Occlumency lesson with Snape, Harry had wondered how Sirius was keeping an eye on him. In an effort to convince Harry that he was indeed safe, he had shown Harry the spell that he used. Harry was sure that his godfather would not appreciate the way he was using his education at this particular moment. Although, technically, Sirius had only warned him at the time that if he was ever caught using the spell around the girl's dormitory, it would be a very long time before he could sit comfortably again.
Hermione crossed her arms in agitation. She didn't approve of what they were doing, but, knowing that she was not going to be able to talk the boys out of it, she came along anyway, unwilling to deprive them of her assistance if they found themselves in true need.
"How very Slytherin of you, Harry," she scolded.
Harry and Ron both ignored her and trained their full attention on the window. It wasn't long before the man tied in the chair began to shake violently, the spinning vivid blue eye popping out of its socket and bouncing across the room, the hobbled leg forcing the prosthesis away from the foot growing out of the stump. Just a scant moment later, an entirely new and completely unfamiliar man appeared where the man they knew as Alastor Moody had just been. So rapt was their attention that they didn't even notice the arrival of Professor Dumbledore at the door.
*************
Inside the classroom, Sirius had concentrated his efforts on securing the impostor while Remus retrieved the deprived wand. Making his way over to the bound prisoner, Remus thrust his hand out to grab the ornately carved flask. Putting it up to his nose, he immediately recognized the telltale odor. Giving Sirius a curt confirming nod, Sirius raised his wand and pointed it at the prisoner.
"Rennervate!"
In short response to the spell, the bound man woke up abruptly, struggling in the ropes as he took in the sight of a wand being pointed at him by a man he knew to be a powerful and skilled dueler. He choked back a wave of fear and tried to keep his dignity intact, but was failing.
Sirius glared at him, his gray eyes icing over in his rage.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice growling with menace.
He never got a response. The next dose of potion had become overdue and, against his will, the bound wizard starting to squawk as he felt the transformation coming on.
***************
Sirius and Remus stared in horror as the transformation took place, the various replacement body parts popping and stretching as real parts asserted themselves and took their rightful places.
Wand drawn, Sirius held his breath, waiting in enraged anticipation to see the face that had bested Alastor and had been allowed in close enough contact with his godson to pose a real threat to the boy's life.
Whoever it was, they were going to pay if it was the last thing that Sirius did.
As the facial features cleared, Sirius had to fight to keep his composure.
What the bloody hell?
Too shocked to speak, he could feel Remus tense next to him and ask the question that was poised at the tip of Sirius' tongue but was refusing to come out.
"Fletcher?"
"Indeed," came a voice from behind them that Sirius knew to be Dumbledore.
Whipping around without lowering his wand, Sirius threw an icy stare at the placid headmaster. "You knew?"
Dumbledore nodded, clasping his hands in front of him as he glided forward. With a flick of his little finger, the ropes that Sirius had bound Mundungus with flew apart and allowed the man to regain the precious circulation in his arms. He scowled at Remus who was still holding him at wand point, but he wasn't stupid enough to try to stand up. The werewolf looked positively livid.
"Mundungus is here at my request, Sirius," Dumbledore stated calmly.
A lesser man would have run after being on the receiving end of the former inmate's furious glare. He had to restrain himself from throwing a hex at the headmaster, knowing as sure as his own name that, as good as he was, Dumbledore was better. It didn't relieve any of his anger, though.
"You had better have a very good reason for this, Albus," he threatened, his wand hand shaking in fury. "What happened to the real Alastor?"
Dumbledore strode slowly and easily over to the two enraged Marauders, moving cautiously so as not to spook either one of them into doing something harmful to the man that was now whimpering in the chair.
"Alastor is fine, I assure you," he said silkily. "I needed help with a very important project, someone with Alastor's superb skills and knowledge."
Sirius' face had gone positively red, his blood pressure escalating scarily.
"You promised, Albus. You promised me that Harry would be safe if I let him come back this year. You knew that I only allowed it because I thought that Alastor would be here watching out for him. You knew that I only agreed because I thought that any death eater would have second thoughts about attacking if they knew that there were two former Auror's keeping watch!"
"Indeed, Sirius. I did. I'm truly sorry to have deceived you this way. The fewer people that knew what was going on, the better. I assure you that the ruse was necessary, if only for Harry's benefit. With Mundungus here impersonating Alastor, it was a double reward. Alastor's presence would, as you said, deter the idea of attacking Harry at school. It would also mean that no one would be looking elsewhere for him, because he was known to be here, leaving the real Alastor to carry out his mission in a higher degree of security and anonymity.
Sirius was shaking with rage and Remus finally had to put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. Turning hard topaz eyes on the headmaster, Remus seethed with all of the bestial hostility he had in him.
"This is unacceptable, Albus. And it certainly does not end here."
Dumbledore nodded his head sadly, but he directed his eyes over to where the trio were still standing behind the charmed window, watching the proceedings.
"I am sure that it doesn't, Remus. But, I should tell you that we are not alone."
Sirius frowned as he followed the direction of Dumbledore's gaze and his anger bubbled over with realization.
"Harry James Potter! Get in here this minute, young man."
From behind the enchanted window, Harry turned to his partners in crime and winced.
********
In the shadows of the darkened corridor, the dark lord's servant struggled to keep from cackling madly. It was all too easy to hoodwink those idiots at the apothecary into believing that they had approved authorization for all of the potion ingredients he needed. He had never had much use for Slughorn during his years at school. It was only his master's superior wisdom and instruction that allowed him to learn to brew the complex polyjuice.
And no one even suspected anything.
And why should they? He knew the castle as well as he knew his own face. Ha, he chuckled to himself. His real face, not the sallow mask that he had worn since before the beginning of term.
Dumbledore. What a joke. How could anyone ever believe that that self satisfied fop was a great wizard when he was harboring an enemy in his nest with absolutely no clue?
Of course no one would suspect a thing. It was the reason he had picked the target that he had for impersonation. A shadow, a ghost. Someone who was never even noticed or paid any attention to.
Someone almost invisible.
It was perfect. The perfect disguise and with the ability to be in the perfect place at the perfect time to implement the next stage in his master's plan.
They would all pay for dismissing him so easily.
***************
Sirius stood in front of his godson, his eyes a symphony of fury.
He had managed to keep his tongue firmly in his mouth as Fletcher and Dumbledore floo'd back to the headmaster's office and Remus herded the other two Gryffindors back to their dorm, but his patience was spent now and he was on the verge of an explosion.
"I trusted you, Harry," he snarled, his voice shaking in rage. "You promised that you would stay away from here today."
Harry squared his shoulders and remained perfectly still as he withstood the fire raging across his godfather's face. "I kept my promise, Sirius," he insisted. "You made me promise that I would stay out of the classroom and I did until you called me in here."
Sirius narrowed his eyes and sent his godson a scathing glare. "I don't find the humor in that, young man. You knew exactly what I meant."
Harry let out a sigh, but he maintained eye contact, somehow managing to stay intact even though any other fully grown wizard would have yelped and withered under the penetrating blast of Sirius' gray eyes.
"I wasn't trying to be funny, Sirius. I understood exactly what you said and I agreed with you. I just wanted to be close by in case you needed me. I wasn't going to let myself be seen if you had to fight unless you were in trouble."
"HARRY..." Sirius began to yell before he caught himself and forced a semblance of calm to come over him. He would not allow his temper to get the better of him now. It would only lead to him doing or saying something he would regret. He took a deep breath and was about to try to speak in a quieter tone when Harry walked over to him slowly and pressed his face against Sirius' chest, wrapping small arms around his godfather's waist.
Sirius was too stunned for a minute to do or say anything. It wasn't like Harry to seek affection when he was being scolded. Reflexively, he put his own arms around his godson and was scared to realize that the small body was beginning to shake. Putting aside his anger, he pulled Harry closer to his chest and tightened his grip.
"It's alright, little one. I won't let anything hurt you. I promise," he soothed, thinking that the bizarre turn of events had frightened his godson.
He lifted a hand to stroke the back of Harry's head, but was stopped when the boy abruptly pulled away from him.
"I'm not worried about anyone hurting me, Sirius," he insisted. "I'm worried about someone hurting you because of me."
Sirius let out a sigh of defeat. Exactly how many times were they going to have to have this same argument?
"Harry, it's not...," he began.
"My job to protect you," Harry finished agitatedly. "I know, Sirius."
Sirius rubbed his eyes tiredly, his head throbbing with tension. He just had no idea how to get through to his godson. Nothing was working. He tried talking to him, scolding him, reasoning with him, punishing him and still Harry could not get it through his head that he wasn't supposed to be the protector.
"Sirius, I'm not going to stop."
Those words snapped Sirius out of his momentary funk and brought him back to attention.
"What do you mean, you're not going to stop, young man? I'm your guardian and I am telling you that you will stop." Unconsciously, Sirius had put his hands on his hips and was doing a fair impersonation of his own father as he towered over Harry, staring down at the boy menacingly.
Harry didn't shrink back in fear, or even acknowledge that he was at all cowed by the words spewing from the older man's mouth. Instead he just held his ground and shook his head sadly.
"No."
Sirius' face went white with rage. He mentally began to count, trying to regain his composure. If he acted on his anger, he knew there was a very good chance that he could seriously hurt his godson and that was the absolutely last thing that he ever wanted to do. Harry saw his godfather struggling and took advantage of the man's silence.
"I love you, Sirius," he said simply. "And, even though you may not believe it, I do respect you. More than anybody else." Harry rubbed his head absently as he took deep fortifying breaths. Sirius would never know how much courage it was taking for him to speak to his beloved godfather this way.
"No one has come right out and said it, I think everyone is too afraid of scaring me, but I know that Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry expect me to destroy Voldemort some day. I'm young, Sirius, but I'm not an idiot. I know my place and my destiny. And there is no punishment you can give me that will change my mind."
Harry let his eyes drift down to the stone floor for the briefest of seconds and Sirius was unnerved by the first sign his godson had shown of wavering.
"I won't resist," Harry continued, trying to reassert his earlier confidence. "Do what you have to do. I'll understand and I'll accept it, but it won't change anything."
Sirius began to object, but Harry shook his head, wordlessly asking to be allowed to finish uninterrupted, and Sirius, not wanting to upset him further, allowed it.
"It's okay, you know. I don't mind. I owe him for my parents. But, if I'm expected to do what I have to do to save the entire wizarding world, you can't just expect me to sit back and let the only father that I've ever really known get hurt protecting me."
Sirius watched sadly as a single tear escaped Harry's eye and drifted south. His mouth went dry and he felt like he was drowning, helpless to comfort and care for the child standing in front of him, his young life already mapped out and accepted without complaint.
"I've already lost one father, Sirius. Please don't ask me to lose another one without a fight."
Sirius stared down at his godson and saw the determination on the boy's face and could hear the sincerity in his words and his heart jumped into his throat. He had never felt more fear than he did at that moment. Holding out his arms, he waited for Harry to come forward and then held on to his child as if for dear life.
He was drowning in anxiety, unsure of what he could do or say to prove to the boy that his own life meant nothing if it was given to save Harry's. No matter what, he had to find a way to protect his child from himself and his skewed notions of responsibility.
***********************
"I thought I would find you here."
Sirius didn't bother to look behind as he heard Remus approach. He had barely even noticed the passing of time when the sun set earlier. Even the encroaching chill of the night air had failed to garner his attention and his lips were almost blue.
Remus shot three balls of light into the air around them noticing, with dismay, his friend's physical state. Just looking at Sirius' shivering body made Remus feel positively glacial in sympathy. He quickly cast a warming charm over his friend and the soothing heat enveloped Sirius, helping to stir him out of his motionless state.
"How did you find me?" Sirius finally asked, his voice raspy from the damp night air.
Remus slid onto bench, sitting next to Sirius closely enough to share his body warmth with the chilled man.
"It wasn't too hard," he said, with a small chuckle. "I used the map," he admitted with a mock conspiratorial tone in his voice. The gesture worked. Sirius snickered slightly. Remus reached an arm around Sirius' shoulder and gave his friend a comforting squeeze.
"I didn't want to go back to your residence. I thought that you and Harry might need some privacy to address what happened earlier. But I checked, just to make sure that you were both inside and okay. Imagine my surprise when you weren't there."
"Is Harry okay?" Sirius asked quietly, trying to hide the hitch in his voice as he spoke.
"He's upset, although he is trying very hard to hide it. Dobby gave him his dinner earlier. He was studying when I left."
Sirius let out a deep sigh and leaned his head against the back of the bench. Far off in the distance, they heard the telltale splashing of the giant squid as it propelled itself across the lake. Neither one of them spoke for several minutes, the tension in the air was palpable. Finally, Remus slapped his thighs and stood.
"I'm going to apparate home. I don't want to embarrass Harry by staying over while you are punishing him. If you need anything, just floo me. I'm not planning on going anywhere for a while."
He turned to leave but was stopped by Sirius' voice.
"I'm not going to punish Harry, Remus."
Remus spun around and struggled to speak for a second.
"What?"
Sirius sat up straighter and looked Remus directly in the eyes.
"I'm not going to punish him."
"I don't understand, Sirius. He directly disobeyed you today. What if it had been a death eater and not Dung? He could have been kidnapped or killed!"
Sirius glared at his best friend, his eyes frosty.
"I'm well aware of that, Remus. Merlin, don't you think that I know that?" His tone rose several decibels in volume as the fear took over again.
Remus shook his head in disbelief. Nothing was making sense.
"Then, I don't understand, Sirius. How can you just give him the impression that it was okay?"
Sirius' dropped his shoulders in defeat, a sad cloud passing over his face. He looked as if he had aged ten years since that morning.
"He knows that it wasn't okay, Moony. He didn't need me to tell him so. But he's a smart boy and a very brave lad. Definitely Prong's son." Sirius leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.
"I just hope it doesn't wind up getting him killed. I can't lose him, Remus."
"Then, stop him, Sirius. You're the adult. Make sure he realizes that he can't do such foolish things." Remus' face was a mask of confusion as he tried to make sense of Sirius' inaction. He wasn't prepared for Sirius to turn on him in anger.
"I know that I'm the adult, Remus. You don't need to remind me. I have to act in my godson's best interests. I know that."
Remus shook his head. "Then, I don't understand, Sirius. What are you going to do?"
Sirius glared at him, full fury back in his eyes. "I'm going to do what Albus should have done years ago. The only thing I can do to protect him."
The enraged godfather turned away and gazed off into the distance at the dark sky, the lights of the castle twinkling innocently beside them, masking the dangers that could lurk in its corridors.
"Will you help me?"
**********
The residence was dark and quiet by the time that Sirius made his way home. He had half expected to see Harry still sitting at the table where Remus had left him, but a quick glance at the clock revealed that it was well after ten and he inhaled a sharp breath. He had had no idea that he had been gone that long.
His talk with Remus had taken a lot out of him. Although he was becoming increasingly more comfortable with his decision, the reason for having had to make it was still gnawing at his gut like a disease. He could only pray that James and Lily would understand why he had made the choice he did.
What else could he do?
He knew his godson well enough by now to know that Harry wasn't bluffing earlier. Sirius had seen the blatant honesty and determination in is godson's face and posture to know, without a doubt, that he would continue to put himself in harm's way to protect those he loved.
It was a bitter pill for a loving godfather to swallow. No, he corrected himself, it was a bitter pill for a father to swallow.
Harry was his son. Of that, he had no doubt.
As much as it stuck in his craw to admit that to himself, it was true. The very idea of it shamed him as he thought of his best friend, his brother. Harry was James' little boy. Sirius would never forget that.
Ever.
But, he knew that James was gone. As much as it pained him to admit it, it was the truth and there was no way around it. He couldn't be a father to Harry. A scared boy, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, could not be hugged and comforted by a few pictures in a photo album.
It didn't change the fact that James would always be Harry's father. Sirius would make sure that Harry remembered and respected his father for everything that he was and everything that he had done. Neither of them could change the past though.
Sirius was here for Harry now, in all the ways that he could be. He was here to be a father for him, with all the difficult decisions that it entailed.
Including this one, which was possibly the hardest one that a parent ever had to make for a child.
Would James understand? He didn't think that Lily would. In the back of his mind he half expected and half hoped that the fiery redheaded witch would find a way to rise from the dead, just so that she could kick his arse for even being willing to contemplate such a thing. James might understand, though. It was only for Lily's sake that he had agreed to go into hiding when he would much rather have stayed and taken a stand.
He slipped off his outer robe and hung it up on the hook by the door. Dobby had left some sandwiches for him on the table, he saw, but he bypassed them quickly. He had absolutely no appetite. With a flick of his wand, he reignited the fire again. He would have to speak with the house elves about making sure that it stayed lit. He didn't want Harry to catch a cold in the drafty atmosphere of the tower.
There was no light underneath Harry's door and he was surprised by that. He hadn't thought that his godson would be able to sleep easily after today. Frowning with concern, he slipped quietly over to the door and gently pushed it open.
Harry was asleep on his bed in the darkened room. Sirius could seen the distinct outline of the boy's form underneath the large down comforter that kept him warm in the chilly air. Harry was laying on his side with his back to the door and Sirius watched the slow rhythmic motion of the blanket moving up and down with his breathing.
He moved silently over to the side of the bed and gently sat down on the edge. Taking a moment, he reached out a tentative hand and softly brushed Harry's cheek with the backs of his fingers. In his sleep, his face peaceful, Harry looked more like the sweet baby he had been rather than the determined hardened teenager that he was becoming.
Harry's earlier stance had frightened him in its steadfast determination. Frightened him because he knew, without a doubt, that the boy he loved was starting to grow up. Harry would be a fine man someday. Sirius just felt wretched that circumstances may result in him having to grow up sooner than he should have had to worry about.
Perched next to his godson, who was hopefully resting easily, he could have sat there all night. But, he had work to do, plans to make, so he stood up and turned to leave. Before he got to the door, he heard Harry turn over.
"Are you still mad?"
Turning back around, he saw his godson, obviously awake, and cursed himself for not just letting the boy sleep. His heart broke as he took in the sad sorrowful look on Harry's face, half buried in his pillow. Making his way back across the room, he took his earlier position on the bed, leaning over to kiss the top of his godson's head.
"I'm not mad, Harry. I'm disappointed."
Harry winced and his face fell even further than it had just been. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he whispered.
Sirius rubbed his godson's small back, trying to soothe him, the look on Harry's face cutting him like a sword.
"I'm not disappointed in you, Harry," he assured the boy. Harry looked unconvinced. "I swear," Sirius stated a little more forcefully.
Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the comforting feeling of having his back rubbed. Earlier, he had been so scared that his godfather was just going to give him up as a disrespectful lost cause that couldn't be managed properly. He had wanted to be able to promise Sirius that he would obey him, that he would promise to be good and do what he was told. But he couldn't do that honestly when it came to protecting those he loved. He could never make that promise.
The soothing motion slowed and Harry opened his eyes to see his godfather staring down at him sadly. Harry felt wretched that he was bringing so much grief and anxiety to the father he loved so much. No matter how much Harry justified his position earlier in his own mind, he knew that he had disobeyed Sirius and it tore at his heart to have done it. He wouldn't change what he did, but it bothered him just the same.
He had been deeply upset when Sirius had not come back to the residence for dinner. No message, no note. Just Dobby popping in to bring him a tray of food, telling him that Sirius was out for a while and for Harry to go ahead and eat without him. Dejected, Harry had just pushed his food around on the plate for awhile, ignoring Dobby's disapproving look when he had come back to get the dishes.
Even Remus didn't know what Sirius was doing, leaving Harry sitting at the table alone and confused, not knowing how badly he may have alienated his godfather with his behavior.
He exhaled deeply now, both happy that Sirius had returned and was treating him just as lovingly as he always had, but also knowing that he needed to put his money where his mouth was. Propping himself up on his elbow, he steeled his resolve and looked straight into his godfather's eyes.
"Are you going to punish me now, or in the morning?" he asked, his jaw firm, but his voice wavering. He was hoping to just get it over with. He hated having to wait.
Sirius continued his gentle ministrations, trying to keep his godson from getting too worked up. The boy had already had quite a day.
"I'm not going to punish you, Harry." He paused, taking in the confused and disbelieving stare on his child's face.
"I'm going to teach you how to fight."