A/N I know, I know, I'm late, lol. Sorry all. I wanted to post yesterday, but I found myself being dragged along on a haunted hayride. It was fun, but I've been coughing and sneezing all day!

Thanks, as always, to all of my readers and reviewers. You guys make my day!

*****************

The exquisitely cut crystal dish taunted him.

Filled to the brim with the pale yellow sugary rounds, it served as a constant reminder of the life of duplicity that he had been forced to live every single day since he was a young boy of ten years old.

Only on truly dark days did he allow himself to remember the defining event of his youth.

Only on the days when the web of lies and deception that he forced himself to be shrouded by practically choked him in their constraints, did he spare a moment to remember the day when he first found himself capable of burying strong personal emotion for a greater good.

The day when his young carefree existence came to a crashing halt. The vicious attack on his small baby sister.

Arianna.

Just the mental recollection of the name caused him to gasp audibly, bile rising up into his throat, as he choked back a sob and vomit.

Even now he could still recall, with perfect clarity, the manic look of shock and horror in her pale blue eyes that appeared after her attack and remained right up to the moment that their father was imprisoned in Azkaban. After that day, the precious blue windows to her soul became vacant and hollow. Even in the throes of hysteria, her eyes never showed a hint of emotion ever again.

He had been old enough to realize what had happened, both to his sister and then to his father. He knew what Azkaban was, and was even familiar enough with the spectre of the horrors awaiting the inmates there to realize the enormity of his father's sacrifice.

******

When the aurors had come to collect his father, he had been unable to let go of the man, his small arms gripping frantically around his father's waist even as his mother stood dry eyed and strong while his younger brother kept Arianna quiet in her room. They couldn't afford to let the aurors see the little girl in her fragile state.

That would undue all of Father's efforts.

Finally, his mother had pried his arms away, never once looking her husband in the eye. As the little boy watched his father be led off down the small cobblestone path of their garden, he managed to summon up enough strength to pull away from his mother's resisting grip.

"It's not too late, Mummy!" he had whimpered. "Just tell them!"

He didn't make it to the door before his mother caught him again. With firm arms wrapped securely around his chest, she had practically dragged the protesting child back to the table in the corner of the small parlor. She had pushed him firmly down into a chair and fixed a hard glare at him.

"No."

She didn't show any emotion as her son pleaded with her with his own piercing blue eyes, glazed over and swimming in unshed tears.

"No, my darling. We cannot ever speak of this again. We must protect Arianna," she had said, her eyes blank, her tone flat.

"But Father," he had started to protest.

"Is doing what he must for her, and we need to do the same," she had insisted, a small spark of fire flickering on her face.

He swallowed the rest of his argument. He had felt lost, drowning in disbelief. What had happened to their happy little family?

His mother had stood up then, her face determined as she meticulously smoothed out the small wrinkles in her robe and stretched to her full proud height. Crossing the room, she stood in front of the fireplace and absently swirled her finger around the contents of the small crystal dish.

"You know what you have to do, Albus. You know what you have to say now," she reminded him in a voice that no longer sounded like his mother. She turned then and affixed a hard glare at her eldest child.

He had nodded sadly, his mouth twitching in anticipation of the deception that he was being forced to participate in.

He watched as his mother strode determinedly back over to where he was sitting hunched over in his chair.

"You are a good boy, Albus," she had assured him. "I know that you will do what you need to do to keep your sister safe. Her safety is worth the lies you must tell, my son."

He had stared at her, as if he had never truly seen her before. Behind him, he could hear the sound of his baby sister's bedroom door opening. Turning, he looked into the face of his little brother, seeing nothing but confusion on the small boy's face. Before he could offer any words of comfort, the silence of the house was shattered by the piercing scream coming from Arianna's pink rosebud mouth and, with that, he knew that his mother was right.

Turning back around to face his mother's expectant glare, he stood up and squared his shoulders.

"Alright, Mummy."

His mother had shown no emotion over his acquiescence, the only outward sign of her relief being the almost imperceptible release of the small breath she had been holding in. Holding out the small crystal dish she had been carrying, she offered it to her son, shaking it slightly.

"Life can be bitter, my son," she had said in an almost sing-song voice. "Sometimes we need something to take the taste out of our mouths."

Even as he began to hate his mother, he kept his emotions tucked in. Sparing a quick glance out of the corner of his eye for his younger siblings who were now truly dependent upon him as the man of the house, he reached forward and plucked one of the yellow rounds out of the dish.

Popping it in his mouth, he sucked on the sugary yellow tang of the sweet and returned his mother's hard glare as he felt his childhood die.

****

That had only been the first of many times he had found himself forced to perpetrate a lie.

Over the course of a long and eventful life, he had been required to manipulate and deceive on a regular basis in his quest to wage a war for the light. Not that it was any excuse. The lies never came any easier, no matter how long he had told them, no matter how much he needed to tell them.

The day he had found his own face on a chocolate frog card, he had laughed humorlessly, cruelly reminded of just how appropriate it was that he, the master of lies and deception, should find himself so prominently represented on the sweets he so heavily relied on to keep the bitterness of his life out of his mouth.

As he sat at his desk, he absently noted the soft trilling of his familiar on his perch, probably an attempt to comfort the old wizard. He spared a brief moment to absorb the lilting sound, a soothing balm on his blighted soul. He gently traced the cut grooves of the little crystal dish, like an addict who reverently stroked the implement of his next fix.

The soft chimes of his clock sounded, all too soon heralding the sharp rap on his heavy wooden door. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

"Come in," he said quietly, desperately trying to inject some welcoming softness in his voice.

The door opened, and he unwillingly opened his eyes to take in the furious glare of the enraged man. Swallowing hard, he pushed the little dish aside. He would not partake of his crutch today. Today he would speak only truths.

"Hello, Sirius."

*************

Harry groaned a little as he flexed his writing hand.

Glancing at his watch he realized, with dismay, that they had been working for almost two hours. He sneeked a quick peek at Professor McGonagall and was immediately cowed by her withering stare. He gave her a small grimace of apology and returned to his parchment. Dipping his quill in the slightly battered inkwell, he sighed and began to write again.

I will refrain from constantly transfiguring myself into a danger magnet.

Over and over and over.....

As he repeatedly scratched out the words onto his parchment, he sighed deeply. Leaning slightly to the left, he lifted his left elbow onto his desk and propped his head against his elevated hand. On either side of him, Ron and Hermione suffered the same repetitive exercise, Hermione still blushing furiously from enduring a detention.

He should have known when Sirius said that he wasn't going to punish him, that it had been too good to be true. While his godfather had not placed any restrictions on him, as well as refraining from placing anything else on him, Sirius had not been above cheerfully ratting out Harry and his friends to their head of house.

Harry had stood disbelieving in the residence, his eyes wide with betrayal, when Sirius informed him that Professor McGonagall would see him and his mates after their last class of the day for a detention for putting themselves into harm's way.

As the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva knew about the ruse with Fletcher, although she had been wholly unaware of Sirius' ingnorance of the matter. Upon hearing the tale, she had been less than amused with the trio's constant penchant for danger and her ire with the headmaster was such that she fervently wished she could have ordered him to her classroom to sit detention with the three little miscreants she currently had in front of her.

Even when Harry had pointedly reminded his godfather that he was a Marauder, a breaker of school rules, Sirius had merely crossed his arms and stared coolly at the boy's indignant face. Yes, he was a Marauder, Sirius had admitted, but now he was a parent first and a professor second.

Continuing to posture for a moment, as he thought a fourteen year old boy should, Harry had been too inwardly touched by Sirius' firm declaration of his position of parent first to stay mad at his godfather for long and he had allowed Sirius a longer hug than usual as they left the residence for the day.

Now with his stomach beginning to growl in complaint, he gritted his teeth in hopes that his professor would take pity on them and let them leave for dinner soon.

****

"Have a seat, my boy."

Sirius glared at the headmaster, making no attempt to hide his extreme displeasure over the man's duplicity. Only in deference of the long standing respect he had held for Dumbledore, had he deigned to give the old wizard this one chance to explain his actions and rectify the situation before Sirius packed up his godson and returned to the relative safety of Celestial Court for good.

Summoning all of the well bred manners that had been beaten into him, Sirius walked calmly over to the chairs in front of the large imposing desk and gracefully settled himself into one. Resting his elbows on the armrests, he crossed his long elegant legs and stared expectantly into the cool blue eyes of the older man. Eyes that were conspicuously missing their trademark twinkle.

With his honed habit of observation, Sirius noticed the slight twitch of the headmaster's hand towards the ever present sweets dish although, he realized somewhat shocked, the old wizard refrained from making his usual offer. The absence of this set the younger man on edge, even as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

"I would imagine that you are quite displeased with me, Sirius," he noted sadly.

"Very."

Sirius wondered if Albus knew exactly how hurt and betrayed he felt by the man's actions. He was even more upset by the blatant lies to his face regarding his godson's safety than he had been by Dumbledore's inaction in freeing him from his false imprisonment.

Dumbledore leaned back into his large Gothic chair, his index fingers steepled against his bearded chin in thought.

"I'm not sure if there is anything I could say in my defense that would convince you that my actions were done in Harry's best interests," he stated sadly.

Sirius was surprised by the man's tone. He had never heard the old wizard sound quite so defeated. It almost made him feel badly about the way he had treated him yesterday.

Almost.

"Albus," he began, struggling to maintain his composure, "when we spoke over the summer about my reluctance to allow Harry to come back to Hogwarts, you assured me that you were making the appropriate arrangements to secure his safety." He paused, sparing a quick second to acknowledge the small nod of agreement by the other wizard.

"You told me that you had arranged for Alastor to come out of retirement in order to provide a deterrent for any death eater attacks. You knew that my respect for him was such that I would agree to his presence here as enough of an assurance." Sirius found himself struggling to keep the hurt out of his voice. He knew that the headmaster had clearly heard it.

"Yes," Albus admitted quietly. "I did what I had to do to ensure that Harry returned this year. It is of vital importance that he continue his education. You know that as well as I do. However, I give you my word that I did secure Alastor's consent to teach here this year. I was quite honest with you about that."

He paused, waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass to allow Sirius to take in his words before proceeding.

"It wasn't until after we spoke that I came across a unique opportunity to weaken Voldemort's position should he ever find the means to resurface. Alastor's participation was crucial to the success of the operation."

At this, Sirius had to restrain himself from shooting up from his chair in surprise.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Albus?"

Dumbledore paused, in quiet contemplation. It was troubling. In a perfect scenario, the fewer people that knew of Alastor's quest, the better. He would have gone himself and eliminated the need to inform anyone of his discovery if he could have found a way to be as absent as the journeys would require him to be. It was better suited that he stay at the castle and tend to the intellectual pursuit of the next location and leave the physical search and destroy tasks to the highly capable auror.

As Sirius waited, his impatience growing exponentially as the seconds of an unanswered questioned ticked by, the old headmaster could see that wishes were not horses today. He drew a deep breath, attempting to formulate a carefully worded response, but apparently Sirius had had enough. The younger man made to stand, a hostile expression splashed across his handsome face.

"It's clear that we are just running about in circles, Albus. Harry and I are going home." He turned to leave but was stopped by the quiet voice behind him.

"Sirius, have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"

********

Ron's writing hand didn't suffer so much damage that it interfered with his ability to shovel heavily laden forkfuls of food into his mouth at an indelicate pace. Hermione, daintily cutting up her chicken, shot disapproving glares at the redhead who was inhaling everything within stabbing distance. From his side of the table, Harry snorted in amusement, enjoying the ability to eat dinner with his mates in the Great Hall for the first time since term began.

Sirius had excused him from family dinner tonight, explaining his need to prepare the room where he would be giving Harry his first practical offense lesson after the meal. Too excited about the evening's upcoming event to eat, the good humored boy just sat at the table enjoying the companionship. His lack of enthusiasm for the meal did not go unnoticed by the bushy haired girl sitting across from him.

"Harry, you need to eat something before your lesson tonight," she scolded him in a very Mrs. Weasley type of voice.

In truth, Ron and Hermione were both suitably impressed with Sirius' willingness to teach Harry some practical offense. Secretly, they were hoping to be the recipients of some second hand instruction from Harry as well.

Rolling his eyes at the overtly mothering tone, Harry good naturedly complied by stuffing a large chunk of the roast chicken in his mouth. Hermione nodded in approval and then giggled, knowing that Harry was just humoring her. Ron didn't seem to notice, other than to note that the more Harry ate, the less there was for himself.

Mouth full, Ron practically spit at them as he spoke.

"Your godfather is wicked, mate. I can't believe that he is actually going to teach you how to attack someone." The tone in Ron's voice was one of admiration and it immediately drew Hermione's displeasure as well as Harry's protests.

"It's not like that, Ron. He's really doing it for defense, but he said that a good defense wasn't worth anything unless you had a strong offense to go with it. If I ever had to duel someone for real, I couldn't very well just stand there and deflect the spells and do nothing else to diffuse the situation."

Harry had found himself getting very defensive, but he need not have worried. Ron agreed to his answer as it nothing else would ever make more sense and Hermione had simply nodded sagely.

"Will you show us what you learn tonight when you get back?" Ron asked as he loaded another mouthful of au gratin potatoes. Harry grimaced and Hermione glared at the oblivious redhead.

"I can't," Harry grumbled unhappily. "Still grounded, remember?" The very thought of Malfoy's obnoxious little face made him want to punch the annoying Slytherin again.

Immediately, Ron's face went as red as his hair. "Sorry, mate. I forgot."

"Well, Harry shouldn't be hitting other students anyway," Hermione admonished both of the boys. At their twin indignant looks, she smiled craftily. "That's my job."

Her words had the desired effect. Snorting in amusement, all three drew curious looks from the rest of the Gryffindors, some of whom thought that it was nice to see the members of the Golden Trio in such good moods together again.

"Brilliant, Hermione," Ron gushed, full of genuine affection. "That's why we love you so much."

The words were barely out of his mouth before his face flushed the deepest red that either of his friends had ever seen before. For her part, Hermione became noticeably flustered and both the redhead and the brunette immediately took pains to look in different directions. From the safety of his vantage point, Harry smirked.

"All I ask is that you two don't snog in my face all day long. Alright?" His eyes and voice were teasing and the embarrassed couple turned back to first stare at him and then at each other. Damning the consequences, Ron reached out tentatively and took Hermione's hand in his under the table, causing the suddenly shy girl to break out into a beautiful smile.

"Alright, mate. We'll keep it to a minimum," Ron assured him, silently thanking whatever deity was listening for his best friend's easy acceptance of the abrupt change in their relationship. He turned back to Harry when he heard his friend clear his throat, the black haired boy's facial expression becoming very serious.

"Also, I'm putting you on notice that I think of Hermione as my sister so, if you do anything to hurt her, it won't be Malfoy that I'm punching," Harry stated very firmly.

Ron looked at Harry's face carefully, trying to find any sign of teasing or ribbing in his position. He was a little horrified, as well as strangely a little relieved to find that there wasn't any. Harry was dead serious in his warning.

"I won't mate," he promised, just as sincerely as Hermione looked firstly at Harry, surprised by his protective stance and then at Ron, surprised by his acquiescence.

An only child with no experience with brothers, she wasn't sure whether or not to be offended by the idea that she needed protecting. Straightening up on the bench, she raised one eyebrow and attempted to assert herself.

"Thank you, Harry. But I'm sure I can handle Ronald," she stated in an imperious tone.

Amused, Harry hid the smile that threatened to break out and settled for nodded agreeably. "Of course you can, Hermione." His words of assurance smoothed her feathers and she returned her attention to her pudding, not catching the look Harry threw Ron reaffirming his earlier position.

*********

Sirius had just returned to his office for a brief moment when a sharp rap on his door preceded the arrival of unwelcome company by mere seconds.

"I want a word with you, Black!" the familiar and all too detested voice spat out.

Sirius restrained his initial impulse to transfigure the intruder into slug and contented himself to merely rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Lucius," he greeted coldly, never taking his eyes from the parchment on his desk. "It's not nice to see you, so I don't feel the need to lie about that. To what do I owe this unexpected and thoroughly unwanted intrusion into my office?"

"Your godson broke my Draco's nose!" he hissed, the inflection in his voice pronouncing godson as if it were profanity. "I demand that he make a formal and public apology for his attack on my son."

Sirius sighed deeply, the level of his participation in this particular conversation bordering on nil. While he certainly did not approve of his godson's actions, he felt that he had dealt with it fairly. More than fairly, he thought. It was time to end this little charade, especially as his head was still aching monstrously from the reveal during his meeting with the headmaster.

Raising himself slowly to his full height, he assumed his most haughty pure blood air and looked the pompous fop directly in the eyes.

"My godson was defending the honor of a lady as well as that of his head of house," he drawled, relishing the sneer that appeared on Lucius' face at the invocation of Hermione's role in the altercation.

"But, if you insist, I will make him apologize."

At those words, the sneer on Lucius' face grew into epic proportions, but Sirius was not nearly finished with the upstart.

"Harry will apologize to Draco, just as soon as Draco apologizes to both Miss Granger and myself." Watching the blood rise into the pale blonde's angular face, Sirius bit back a snort before continuing. "Formally and publicly."

Lucius began to snicker and looked at Sirius as if the younger man had gone daft in the past thirty seconds.

"No son of mine will ever apologize to a filthy little Mudblood for anything, I assure you," he replied in his most haughty manner.

Sirius had reached his limit on patience however. He was already tired and he was about to be late in meeting Harry for their first lesson. Besides which, this little farce of a power play had effectively run its course as far as he was concerned. Squaring his shoulders, he glared menacingly at the other man, subtly reminding him of his stature as the head of the Black family.

"This has gone far enough, Lucius," he seethed, barely keeping his temper in check. "I would remind you that the Malfoy name is not as grand as it once was. You only enjoy your current comforts in society because of your wife's family name, which, coincidentally enough, happens to be mine."

He had Lucius' attention now, but the long haired snake refused to show an ounce of acknowledgement to the thinly veiled threat. As such, Sirius decided to pull the veil off completely.

"Due to the constraints on my time currently, I have not been interested in seeking out my rightful positions as head of the Black family." Sirius was gratified to see that Lucius had just acquired a slightly paler shade of nervousness.

"At this time, I do not find that I have any inclination to join neither the Ministry's Oversight Committee, the board of Gringott's nor even Hogwart's Board of Governors," Sirius continued, enjoying the increasing pallor on Lucius' face.

"I know that, since Regulus' untimely death, and what with dear Rodolphus' unfortunate incarceration, you have shouldered the mantle of the Black family seats of these institutions," he simpered mockingly as he clucked his tongue. "What hardships they must be."

Lucius could recognize a threat when he saw one. Everything that was issuing forth from Sirius' mouth was the absolute truth and it sickened him to feel a sudden sense of unease over the potential loss of his lofty positions in the wizarding world. The Malfoys had once been a proud family, beyond reproach family.

Unfortunately, Lucius' father possessed both a mean streak and a drinking problem. Not many outside the small inner family circle knew that Abraxas had systematically drunk away the family fortune. It was only Lucius' auspcious marriage to Narcissa Black, along with the unforeseeable chain of events that left the Black family without a male member to represent them in the higher order of social standing that had allowed Lucius to regain his family's tenuous grip on respectability.

Now that Sirius was out of prison, his good name cleared, he posed a distinct and immediate threat to the comfort of the Malfoy family's recently regained wealth and privilege. He could, at any time, reclaim his rightful seats.

It would be Lucius' ruin. Even his allegience to the Dark Lord did not outweigh his allegience to himself and the prosperity of his family.

Sirius enjoyed watching the other man squirm as the wild and disturbing realizations coursed through his mind. However, all fun must come to an end. Checking his watch, he noted that he was soon to be late in meeting Harry so this little encounter must come to an end.

"Relax, Lucy. I'm not looking to unseat you today. You are more than welcome to sit on the various thrones and continue to profit and judge," he said with a smirk.

Lucius glanced at him, as if not truly believing his good fortune in his cousin by marriage's generosity. His elation at this unexpected turn of events was put on hold the moment he saw Sirius' eyes go from pleasant silver to steel gray.

"But," Sirius said warningly, his tone deadly dangerous, "if I find that you, your wife or your son are involved in plotting anything against me or, more importantly, my godson, I assure you that I will knock you off your pedestal so fast, you will never even know what had hit you. Before you do anything foolish, think about whether or not you would like to see me use my position as head of the family to insist that Narcissa divorce you, even as I take custody of your son."

Lucius seethed at the words. This was no idle threat and they both knew it. As head of the Black family, Sirius certainly had that power in the wizarding world. Lucius didn't acknowlege the threat, preferring to turn on his heel and prepare to stomp out of the classroom.

"Oh, Lucius," he heard Sirius call from behind him. "I should tell you that I don't like your kind of language to be used in my classroom. Since you are so concerned with how I curb my godson's behavior, let me give you a little demonstration of what I would do if he had your foul mouth. Scourgify!"

Lucius' eyes went wide as he felt his mouth fill with foul tasting soap bubbles. Sputtering and enraged, he reached into his cane to extract his wand, only to feel the tip of another pressed firmly against his neck.

"Ah, ah, ah, cousin," Sirius snarled quietly in his ear. "Manners matter. Remember what I have said this evening.

Livid, Lucius could only glare as the spell ended. He would extract payback. If not today, then certainly another day. He turned abruptly and stomped out leaving a grinning Sirius behind.

*******

Harry was standing patiently in a seventh floor corridor. Bored, he was studiously examining the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy that his godfather had told him about. Cocking his head to the side, he felt a little sick from the visual images stitched into the massive fabric.

From down the corridor, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, along with his godfather's good natured greeting.

"Hey, there, kiddo. Sorry I'm late."

Sirius watched in amusement as his godson's face scrunched up as he analyzed the carefully embroidered artwork. "Are those trolls, Sirius? Dancing ballet?" Harry asked in horror.

Sirius snickered as he bent down and planted a kiss on top of Harry's black spikes. "Unfortunately, yes," he answered with a laugh. Such was Harry's concentration on the unusual art subject that he didn't even notice his godfather walked back and forth in front of the tapestry three times, a look of intense concentration on his face.

It wasn't until he felt, rather than actually saw, the wall melt into a doorway that he paid closer attention to his surroundings. Harry's mouth made an 'o' of surprise as he stared at the newly forming portal. To his side, Sirius grinned, remembering what it had been like when the Marauders first found the opening for themselves.

When the door finished its transformation, Sirius put a hand on the small of Harry's back and edged the boy forward. Harry, curious as always, needed little prompting to investigate a new wonder of Hogwarts. He pushed forward, finding himself in a large room filled with exercise mats, partitions and large, randomly placed padded rocks. Turning back, he caught the look of amusement on his godfather's face.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement, Harry."

Sirius continued to smile as he fully entered the room. To Harry's amazement, the door that had formed vanished, leaving a seamless wall in its place.

"I love magic," he exclaimed quietly, his godfather grinning like a madman to see the boy's delight.

Sirius strode to the center of the room and clapped his hands together. Withdrawing his wand, he muttered a quiet incantation and Harry watched as the thin stick of wood glowed white briefly before returning to normal.

"What did you just do?" he asked curiously.

"I cast a spell to ensure that all hexes and jinxes that I direct at you tonight act exactly like I intend them." He reached his hand out. "Let me have your wand. I'll do the same for yours."

Harry reached into his pocket and drew out the long thin holly wand that was like an extension of his arm. Willingly, he handed it over to his godfather who immediately frowned.

"Rule number one, Harry. Never give another wizard your wand. You don't know who they may be," he admonished the boy who had gone a deep shade of red from the early rebuke. That being said, Sirius flicked the wand, giving it a jaunty little swish at the end.

"Meditatius!"

Immediately, Harry's wand glowed a bright white and then returned to normal. Sirius handed it back to the bemused boy, who was now holding it gingerly. Harry had half expected his wand to be hot to the touch or feel differently, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just as familiar as it has always been.

"Why did you do that?"

"It's like a safety feature for your wand, Harry," Sirius explained. "When we come here to practice our dueling, I want you to be able to become familiar with casting more and more powerful spells, hexes and jinxes. What I have done is to make your wand respond to the spells being cast correctly. If they are done correctly, there will be physical contact, but nothing harmful to either of us."

He saw the look of confusion on his godson's face and tried to clarify. "All advanced spells need to be practiced before a wizard casts them for real. Merlin, Harry. You didn't think that aurors in training went around hexing each other's limbs off, did you?"

Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather's teasing. "No, I suppose not," he answered sheepishly. "So, when I hex you, you won't actually feel anything?"

"No, I didn't say that. You'll feel the hex, but it won't have any of the dangers for actual injury associated with it. Just think of it as a reminder that your guard was let down enough to allow you to be hit. It's only practice, after all."

Sirius took a formal stance in the middle of the room, motioning for his godson to join him. Feeling slightly cocky about his dueling abilities, Harry swaggered over to where his godfather was standing and turned around, pressing his back to Sirius' much larger one. Having once been a part of Lockhart's ill fated dueling club, Harry was confident in his abilities to recall all the niceties and protocol of wizard dueling.

For Sirius' part, he noticed immediately, the overconfident manner of his godson's presence and smiled wryly. Harry had no idea what he was in for. If he did this right, he would be teaching his headstrong child more than one kind of lesson tonight.

Whipping their wands up in front of their faces, Sirius counted off the paces as they each strode away from the other. Clenching his jaw shut, he pushed back any feelings of guilt he might have and forced himself to turn before the count was up. Spinning around gracefully, he lifted his wand and fired off half a dozen jinxes at his unsuspecting boy.

Halfway across the room, Harry was jerked to abrupt halt by the stinging nettle-like pain that was spreading across his backside. In horrified surprised, he awkwardly spun around and threw his godfather a nasty glare, absently rubbing the assaulted area.

"What are you doing?" he cried. "You didn't finish the count. How was that fair?"

Sirius inwardly winced at the hurt tone in the boy's voice, but he couldn't afford to back down. "No, it wasn't fair," he admitted. "Lesson number two, little one. Death Eaters don't play by the rules. Never turn your back on an opponent."

Harry seethed at his godfather's words. He became more determined than ever that he would show Sirius exactly how good of a fighter he was.

"I'm not going to teach you the etiquette of dueling, kiddo. There is nothing eloquent or elegant about fighting for your life. You must be constantly on your guard, constantly aware of your surroundings and advantages. Constant vigilance," he intoned firmly, no longer upset with the actual Moody.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at the reference. His anger receded a little and he stood patiently, awaiting further instruction. Sirius looked at him sadly. Harry was so young. Too young to have to face the worries that had brought them here tonight. He needed to make a strong impression on the boy as to just how unprepared he was for the fight he had ahead of him.

"I know we taught you the shield charm over the summer. Remember to try to use it and, if you feel comfortable with it, try to hex me at the same time. Don't worry about the hexes you throw right now, none of them will do any real damage, I promise. Just see if you can get my attention. But remember, I'm going to be attacking you as well."

Harry nodded determinedly and steeled his posture, his wand gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were slowly becoming white. He wasn't going to let his godfather get the best of him this time. At Sirius' inquiring stare, Harry nodded curtly, signaling his readiness to engage once again.

Sirius allowed Harry to shoot off one jelly legs jinx that he neatly side stepped before he began his assault. With blurring speed and unwavering accuracy, he fired off hex after hex, his method and techniques honed by years of auror training and determined practice over the summer. Harry cast a shield charm which was enough to block the first few hexes, but Sirius had cast dozens and the boy was soon running for the cover of one of the padded boulders, desperately trying to get out of the path of the stinging hexes that seemed to be finding their way onto his bottom with surprising accuracy.

Sirius had been hoping that his particular method of spell delivery would ignite a fight or flight reaction in his godson and he was gratified to see that Harry was at least trying to act defensively, even if his offensive skills were non-existent.

Scowling behind the boulder, the heaving boy gritted his teeth as he psyched himself up to go back on the offensive. When he perceived a lull in his godfather's spell casting, he shot his head up and fired off a disarming spell, but once again, Sirius was too quick. He deftly ducked the spell and, with rapid fire precision, he cast a couple dozen more hexes, eliciting a disgruntled yelp from the child who had left the safety of the boulder to run quickly over to shoot behind one of the partitions.

Sirius waited a couple of minutes to ferret out the boy's next move. Moving cautiously around the obstacles, he perked his ears up to see if he could hear any telltale sounds of an approaching attack. To his dismay, all he heard was the nearly silent sniffling that was coming from behind the partition closest to the door. His shoulders slumped in sadness, he made his way over quietly and found Harry standing with his back against the partition, his face red and his arms crossed over his chest.

"I thought you weren't going to punish me," Harry muttered in an accusing tone, his eyes cast down to the floor, his bottom burning as if he had sat on a lit stove. All the excitement of learning how to fight was washed away with the belief that his godfather's attempt to teach him offensive moves was, in reality, nothing more than a magical paddling.

Sirius sighed, his heart heavy with guilt, but his methods had proved effective.

"I didn't punish you, Harry," he replied matter-of-factly. "I dueled with you. You lost."

Harry raised his head and glared daggers at his godfather's audacity. "That's rubbish! You can't do that. It's not right."

Sirius reached out and took Harry's chin in his hand. "Is it any different from you promising me that you wouldn't go inside Moody's classroom, only to skirt around the actual words of your promise by staying just outside of it?"

Harry gave his godfather a poisonous look and tried to jerk his chin out of the man's grip, but Sirius held firm.

"A man's word is his bond, Harry. I want you to grow up to be a man of honor, like your father was. I don't want to see you become someone who manipulates his words, relying on their literal interpretation to get away with things that he shouldn't."

Harry winced, feeling slightly guilty about his deception, but he refused to come out and admit it.

"It still wasn't fair," he pouted, more than a bit put out by his godfather's lesson. "You were an auror. I can't cast spells as quickly as you can. I thought we would start slowly. Isn't that how a student learns?"

Sirius shook his head sadly. "That person masquerading as Alastor could have been a death eater, Harry. Some of them are just as skilled, if not more so, than an auror. A death eater would not have stood by and only cast one spell at a time waiting for you to catch up. Do you understand now how unprepared you were? How scared I am for your safety when you tell me that you don't plan on curbing your determination to rush headlong into trouble?"

Harry watched, thunderstruck, as Sirius crouched down and shot him a pleading stare, his gray eyes pained and troubled. "If it had been an enemy in Moody's classroom, you could have been killed in an instant. You don't know what you are up against. I'm not going to lose you like this, Harry. I won't."

Harry looked away, crushed with helplessness and sadness. He was a failure. Seeing his distress, Sirius stood back up and pulled him into an embrace.

"I meant what I said, Harry. I'm going to teach you how to fight. It's important for you to learn. But it is equally important for you to learn that, even though you have the heart of a lion, you are still just a boy. You are not invulnerable. No matter how much you want to believe that you are."

Harry wrapped his arms around his godfather and pressed the side of his head against Sirius' chest, taking comfort in the sound of the man's beating heart. It soothed him for a moment, calming the raging storm inside of him that threatened to lash out with his tumultuous emotions. He understood what his godfather was trying to say, but it was so hard knowing how little he could actually do against a real threat.

"Are you really going to teach me?" he asked quietly.

Sirius hugged him tighter in response and Harry felt comforted by the firmer embrace. "I am," Sirius promised. "When we come back the next time, we'll do this for real. We'll start slowly and I won't even use my special little hex to get my points across," he teased. Giving the boy a last quick squeeze, he held Harry away from him a bit and stared firmly into the green eyes.

"But Harry, there will be no more running off into danger recklessly. My lessons are not to encourage you to try to find ways to use them. The next time you pull a stunt like the one you did yesterday, there will be repercussions. No matter what you think your role is in this fight, you are still my responsibility until you become of age. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Harry nodded and gave his godfather an apologetic look. "Yes, sir."

Sirius exhaled heavily and threw an arm around his godson's shoulders. "Let's go in for the night. If we hurry, I might be persuaded to make some more cocoa and tell you about one of the best pranks your mother ever pulled before you take your bath."

Harry snorted and allowed his godfather to lead him out. "Who did she prank?"

Sirius squeezed him tighter and dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Why, your father of course. Come on, little one. I'll tell you all about it."

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