Consciousness returned slowly, like cool honey dripping from a finger onto an outstretched tongue. It started as a sensation of warmth on his skin and a seeping sense of antiseptic and cool sheets.
His dreams were chaotic and strange, full of fire and ice and – strangest of all – a man and a woman separated by an invisible barrier but unable to touch or hear each other, both furious, both heartbroken.
He coughed himself awake.
A warm hand touched his brow, gently pressing him down, preventing him from sitting up.
"Take it easy now," a man's voice said, familiar but unrecognisable to his sluggish brain.
His throat was agony – a dry, cracked and papery thing. Without his glasses the world was a mass of shifting patterns and indistinct shapes.
"Water." He coughed and the rim of a glass touched his lower lip a few seconds later.
"Easy, not too much."
The water was cool and seemed to rush through his battered body, bringing it back to life.
"Could you pass me my glasses?" He asked, relaxing back onto his pillows.
The man, little more than a dark outline in a bright room, moved and took something from his bedside table and handed Harry his glasses.
The curtains were drawn around his bed and the man was-
"Sirius?" Harry said, trying to sit up and wincing against the pain in his chest and abdomen.
It was Sirius – unmistakably to Harry – but he looked different, enough so that anyone else only familiar with his Azkaban headshots wouldn't recognise him. Instead of his cascade of wavy black curls, he had short, severely trimmed ash blonde hair and his grey eyes a bright sapphire blue. For the first time – for Harry - he was clean-shaven and wearing neat, dark grey robes. He had gained weight and colour during his time on the run.
He raised a finger to his lips and shook his head. "Keep it down. I've put a neat little silencing charm around us as that's more or less the reaction I expected, but we can't be too careful."
Harry slumped back against his pillows, excitement warring against the sluggishness of his exhausted and battered brain. "What're you doing here, Sirius? It's not safe."
Sirius smirked. "So sayeth the fourteen year old taking part in the bloody Triwizard. I've taken precautions as you can see," he gestured to his radically changed appearance, "I doubt if my own mother would recognise me, the awful old cow. I'm actually here under the name Elric Snow – Dumbledore swung it for a few hours. Anyway, I've been out of the public-eye for a while now, the hysteria has died down."
He was speaking quickly, excitedly and Harry absently wondered how many conversations Sirius had had recently – other than with Buckbeak.
"How're you feeling, kiddo?" Sirius asked after a few seconds of silence.
Harry shrugged with a great effort. "I don't know. I feel terrible. What happened to me?"
"A few broken bones, a bit of internal bleeding and you were pretty badly burned-out. The first two are nothing to any wizard with their head screwed-on and Poppy had you fixed in no time, just a few bruises. The burnout is a different matter – not much can fix that outside rest, re-centring and it might be worth getting you some acupuncture when you're let out of here."
Harry had heard people talk about burnout from time to time over the last few years; the idea of summoning and channelling more magic than the body could handle in too short a time.
"You did an amazing job though, Harry. Bloody dazzling, the way you demolished those grindylow. And the judges were being polite when they said you were the fastest through that wishful thinking enchantment – you were by far the fastest. The Beauxbaton girl was a screaming wreck by the time she got out of it – poor thing looked like a slab of chewed meat. She's still being treated now."
"Really?"
Sirius made an affirmative sound and took a chocolate frog from Harry's bedside table, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth whole.
Harry spent a few seconds just staring at the ceiling. It looked like a bright and sunny day outside, like someone had finally reminded the world that the sun did need to come through the clouds from time to time.
He felt awful, worse than after battling Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone, and even moreso than the three days of recovery it had taken to shake the last effects of the basilisk venom. He felt hollow, like his limbs were filled with stale, hot air. The task and afterward were patchy in his mind, more of a random assortment of still images than real memories.
"Have you seen Pansy?" He asked when Sirius was done with a second chocolate frog.
"Ah, the Parkinson girl." Sirius said with a wide grin. "I hear you've both fallen pretty hard – or that's what I gathered from Minnie when I saw her."
"Minnie?"
Sirius' grin turned into a laugh. "You'll figure it out. I got the full rundown from her while you were out. Been a pretty boring couple of days otherwise."
Harry dragged his complaining body to a sitting position and Sirius helped move his pillows behind his back. "A couple of days?"
Sirius nodded. "That's right. You were a bloody mess, Harry. If you hadn't been so saturated with potions it would have been easier to get you right, but… well let's just say you've earned your stripes with that one."
"You were watching?" Harry said, pulling up his pyjama shirt and inspecting where his wounds had been. The only remaining sign of the whole task seemed to be a small, slightly bumpy scar on the side of his neck where the grindylow had bitten him.
Sirius nodded, "It was supposed to be a surprise for after the competition, I was in one of the observation boxes with a bunch of preening VIPs who were too important to stand in the rain."
"I don't even remember seeing a box like that. It's all a bit hazy. What about Pansy?"
"Ah yes, well she's in detention for another day or so. She really ruffled some feathers, blasting that Weasley lad into the lake then threatening to, what was it, 'blast the fucking face off' another one of the champions?" He laughed his bark-like guffaw, "I was gobsmacked, let me tell you when Minnie told me. I like the sound of this girl, even if she is a Crouch."
Harry winced and took a chocolate frog Sirius offered him. "She's amazing, Sirius. She's just…"
Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically. "Here we go again, 'she's amazing Sirius, she's just so great. Her hair, it's red like a sunset and her eyes are like jade stars'. Don't worry about it kiddo, it seems she feels the same."
"What're you on about?" Harry said, swallowing uncomfortably.
"That was your old man, mooning on about Lily from the day he bloody met her. Drove me and Moony mad."
Warmth spread through Harry's chest at the mention of his mother and father. "Maybe it runs in the family."
"I'd say so, your grandparents were the same, apparently. They were disgusting together, even… toward the end." Sirius tailed off sadly.
Harry knew next to nothing about his grandparents on his father's side. "What were they like?"
Sirius smiled, his eyes going to memories from long ago. "They were amazing, two of the nicest people I've ever met, Charlus and my great-aunt Dorea. I was always welcome at their place."
Harry frowned, "Your great-aunt was my grandmother?"
Sirius nodded, "Yep, that's right. Most of the old wizarding families are pretty well knotted-together. I'll tell you all about them when I get my name cleared and you come and live with me, yeah? Over pizza, I reckon."
"Pizza?"
Sirius nodded, "Absolutely, my favourite food in the world, pizza. I started eating muggle food to piss my parents off to start with, but then I fell in love with the stuff. I was supposed to go on the old grand tour with your dad and the others, but the war put paid to that."
Sirius was full of surprises. "Sounds good," Harry said, "I could go for pizza now."
"Well you'll be hard-pressed to find it around here mate," Sirius said, grinning, "nearest muggle town is about… fifteen miles away and it amounts to about five houses and a pub. I doubt they've ever heard of pizza."
They settled into another comfortable silence while Harry ate two more chocolate frogs – getting Ptolemy from the last one and committing to give it to Ron – and sipping at his water.
"Sirius?"
"Hmm?"
"Your hair is awful."
Sirius burst out a laugh. "I know, bloody terrible. But it's a good cover and nice to not have any grey for once."
"How've you done that? It's not Polyjuice."
Sirius withdrew a wand from a pocket in his robes, "I am a wizard you know, I just did a bit of transfiguration. Easy enough when you know how and you've got the reserves to keep it up."
Harry felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. "You did that to yourself?"
Sirius nodded, "Like I say, it's not that hard. You just need deep reserves to keep it up for any time. And my reserves – much like yours – run very deep indeed."
"I don't feel like they run deep. I didn't do much and I've been unconscious for two days." Harry said bitterly.
Sirius shrugged. "It's just a muscle that needs exercising – actually forget that, that's a terrible analogy. Anyone who knows anything can see how deep your river runs, you just need to learn to tap it better. I burned myself out a couple of times when I was young and each time, you can go deeper and do more afterwards as long as you're careful."
Harry nodded, the idea of ever trying to do so much as comb his hair with magic again seemed ridiculous at that point. "They've taught us about burnout in classes, mainly just warning us to not go too far with things, 'know your limits' Flitwick is always saying when we try something new."
Sirius scoffed. "Flitwick is such a worrier. You don't do anything in this place worth doing until your OWLs – though you picked up on expelliarmus which is properly useful – the whole curriculum is set up to stretch all of your legs to let you get into the deeper stuff. That said, the majority of wizards don't have the power to do anything beyond the basics. You'd be amazed at how few grown and qualified wizards can't string two spells together or put up a decent shield. But I guess that's not important for someone who just wants a cushy job in the Ministry…"
He paused, his nostrils flaring slightly, brows drawn down in frustration.
"It's no wonder the Death Eaters and Voldemort almost destroyed the bloody world. But I think that's a rant for another day."
Harry had never heard Sirius – nor any wizard, for that matter – discuss magic and wizards like this. He rested back against his pillows and let Sirius carry on. When the silence between them had hung for what felt like too long, he found he couldn't look at Sirius.
He sighed. "What am I supposed to do, Sirius?"
He could almost hear Sirius' brow furrow, "That depends."
"On?"
"Well, depends on two things, really. First, are you talking about Voldemort or the third task? Second, it depends on what kind of man you want to be, Harry."
Harry lay back again. His mind, hollowed-out as it felt, was abuzz. He thought for what felt like a long time but the image of the grindylow's skull collapsing under his fist kept coming back to him. "I killed a grindylow."
Sirius didn't respond.
He didn't know how he felt about it, "I crushed it – I ended another thing's life. I mean, a grindylow isn't a person, but… they can think, can't they?" He looked over at Sirius imploringly.
Sirius nodded. "They can. Now, I'll never lie to you, Harry. There were some people in the crowd that didn't like that you killed the thing, but they don't really matter as they just do. Not. Understand. They cannot, really now –"
"Have you ever killed anyone?"
"Yes, I've killed nine people." Sirius answered without hesitation. Without emotion.
Harry had no response. It didn't change anything; he had wondered for a long time.
"I couldn't have without the strengthening potion—"
"Are you sure?"
"What?" Harry asked, turning to face his godfather again.
"Are you sure you couldn't have crushed that nasty little beast's skull in your hand without a strengthening potion?" Sirius asked, his voice without inflection – just a simple question.
Harry paused and frowned. "Of course. It was one of the potions I made with Hermione in DEletepreparation."
Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "That's what I'm asking. Did you need the potion or did you have the power in you all along to destroy your foe? After all, all you really did was put a little of yourself into that draught and stick a stopper in it."
Harry was suddenly back in the water, remembering how the sense of righteous anger had filled him as he had been mobbed the by little demons. Had it been the potion or something else that granted his arm that… power?
Sirius' mouth extended into a smug smile like he knew what Harry was thinking.
"So what do you want, Harry Potter?"
Harry paused, thinking again.
"I want to destroy Voldemort. I want to make Pansy's dream come true - to make a world where everyone – muggles, wizards and whatever else – can live free and without fear of…" He tailed off. He had been about to say 'without fear of anything' but that wasn't true. Every time he had been terrified beyond belief, he had found a way to survive and overcome whatever was facing him. Without the pain, without the fear and without overcoming them, he wouldn't have been able to combat the horntail or survive underwater for an hour or had the strength to love Pansy.
"It's a hard question." Sirius said without criticism. "I was asked the same question when I was about your age by the best man I ever met. Why do you want to destroy Voldemort?"
Because he killed my mom and dad. Was the first phrase that came to mind, but that wasn't it. That wasn't enough.
"Because… he took everything from so many people. He stole my parents from me, my brothers and sisters that could have been, he stole twelve years from you and you from me. Almost anyone you talk to can name a friend or family member that died as a result of… whatever he did. Have you ever noticed that no one seems able to actually say what Voldemort wanted?"
Sirius smiled sadly and nodded.
There was a diffuse heat starting in the pit of his belly, an ache that felt somewhere between arousal and anger. It was a sensation similar to the light that filled him every time he was with Pansy, every time he smelled her hair or felt her lips against his. The heat spread, coursing through his veins and coating his bones until he could almost feel every inch of his being, like looking at some rainbow-bright x-ray of his soul.
He took a long, shuddering breath and felt something – some primal energy – fill him, like the world was pouring into his veins, filling the gaps left by the burnout. He sat up, shivers coursing up and down his limbs. The pain of his healed bones and the blackness of the bruises covering his torso was forgotten like they'd been scrubbed away.
Sirius was standing next to his bed. "It's okay," He said, "don't lose it."
Hot tears were pricking Harry's eyes. "He took from me and I don't know why. I should have grown up with them, with my brothers and sisters and you and Remus and your families. You or dad should be the head of the fucking Magical Law Enforcement or the Minister for Magic, not that useless bastard Fudge. It's not right."
His hands made fists, curling into the bed sheets and he was dimly aware of a burning smell. "It's not right."
There were crackles across his vision, arcing across the arms and rims of his glasses. Strange, spectral lights and waves wove through the air all around him.
Then there was a hand on his cheek: a rough, thin and calloused hand that was turning his face.
Sirius was Sirius again, his grey-streaked black hair tumbling to his shoulders. "I know. You're right, Harry – It's not right. But we can put it all right in time. it's okay, come back now."
His face was so thin, lined and old before his time. "It's not fair, Sirius." Harry said, his voice breaking and the tears spilling down his own cheeks.
Then Sirius' arms were around him, hugging him, holding him close.
Like a brother, like a father. Like someone who understood.
The burnout was gone, scoured from his body and soul, replaced with a new depth of self-awareness, a new height of understanding.
"I've got you, it's okay."
Then Harry cried.
