Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you so much for all your support on the last chapter. I'm sorry that this next one took a little longer to come out than normal. It turns out that my husband and I, along with a mutual friend, went to my parents' beautiful little vacation house to spend several days there. Readers of my other story already know this, but I wanted to tell all of you - I honestly didn't realize how much I needed to refuel and recharge. There's just ... something about that place that makes you want to let everything go for a while.
And, there's something extra about it that I'll tell readers of this story. Where I went has been written about - in chapter 59. As a matter of fact, my husband and I sleep in the room occupied by Healer Dixon, while my parents sleep in the room occupied by Dumbledore. Our mutual friend slept in a third room. I had to incorporate that place into the story because ... how could I not? It deserves mention. There's nothing quite like it.
Anyway, my muse has come back stronger now, and I'm ready to write about what happens next. There were so many wonderful comments about the last chapter. I'm so glad you enjoyed Sirius finding out about Regulus. I'm glad that Sirius finding the stories he once wrote for him, and Regulus's furious letters to Voldemort, added to the story. I thought that would paint a better picture of Regulus's character. I'm really happy with the way it turned out, and all your reviews were wonderful.
I hope you enjoy this next chapter as Harry and Sirius have another heart-to-heart conversation.
xxxxxxxxxx
Harry was tired after a rather strenuous lesson with Emmeline. She definitely put him through his paces as they worked on wand-to-wand combat. Even though she still beat him every time, he was getting better. Emmeline, even though she worked him hard, acknowledged that he was doing well at developing his skills.
He couldn't help but feel worry wriggle inside him - when Sirius had told him what he, Moody, and Bill were doing today, he hadn't liked it one bit. He appreciated Sirius's honesty - there would be many adults that would think he was too young and fragile to know about any of this, and therefore would keep the truth from him. Sirius, knowing what Harry had seen in his life and realizing that honesty was the best policy, had reassured him that he, along with the ex-Auror and cursebreaker, knew what they were doing and there was no need to worry.
But Harry couldn't help it. He didn't like the thought of them dealing with dark objects. Sirius had forbidden Harry from touching them, knowing what they could do to him - and Harry was more than happy to listen. He shuddered when he recalled his brief experience in Knockturn Alley. That place had been thoroughly unpleasant and he didn't ever want to relive it.
Sirius spoke of what was contained in this house with such bitterness and anger - it was clear that he had detested his parents and wanted nothing more than to get rid of any remnants of them. Harry understood completely what that felt like. Obviously, there wasn't any object at Number Four, Privet Drive that could physically hurt him, but the memories associated with the table in the kitchen, the sink, the other things he was forced to clean ... it still amazed him that Sirius was willing to stay in this house for Harry's sake. Would he be selfless enough to stay on Privet Drive? He'd like to think he would do that for someone he loved, but he honestly wasn't sure if he could bear it.
He tried his hardest not to be distracted during his lesson with Emmeline, and he had more or less succeeded. It was all he could do to defend himself from the constant barrage of spells she threw at him. And he'd gotten the talk from all three of his duelling instructors that if you were distracted during a fight, it could cost you everything. Harry took this to heart, hearing the importance of their words. Not only could it cost him - it could keep him from shielding an innocent bystander, or, Merlin forbid, someone he loved who was standing within the line of fire. He couldn't afford to not be focused during a duel.
Still, he was relieved when the lesson was over. It meant that Sirius, Bill, and Moody would be finished with their unpleasant task, at least for now, and Harry would be able to talk to his godfather. He hoped he could offer some comfort, too, as he figured that Sirius would not at all be in the best of moods after handling those sinister objects.
"Sirius?" he called once he'd said thank you and goodbye to Emmeline, and she'd left through the fireplace. "Sirius, are you okay?"
Walking past all the rooms downstairs, he saw that Sirius didn't occupy any of them. He tried to keep back the worry that pierced his heart like icy cold water. He trusted Sirius. The man wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing. Not only that, but he had Bill and Moody with him, who were both very advanced in their field of work and would make sure that no danger befell them.
He must be upstairs, Harry thought, and as he plodded up them, he took several deep breaths as he tried to remain calm. "Sirius?" he repeated, cursing himself as his voice rose an octave in worry. "Sirius, where are you?"
He passed several rooms with doors that were closed, until he came upon one that was wide open. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized whose room this was - he'd never seen this door open before. He'd never tried to enter this room - he knew it had belonged to Sirius's little brother, Regulus, who had died in 1979.
If there was one topic that Sirius had never really discussed with Harry, it was Regulus, and the boy had never questioned him about it. He knew all about burying demons deep inside, about not wanting to burden anyone with them, even those he loved. He trusted Sirius more than anyone else in the world, yet there were things about his life with the Dursleys that, as much as he wanted to tell him, he just didn't have the courage yet to say out loud. There had only been once when Sirius had mentioned Regulus to Harry, and the pain in his voice, buried beneath layers of anger and resentment, was deep and intense. All Harry knew was that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters and had apparently been killed by one of them when he got cold feet and wouldn't follow an order. For all intents and purposes, Sirius hated Regulus, and he thought the other man deserved what he got.
But Harry somehow didn't think it was all that simple, although he never brought Sirius up on it. This was Sirius's pain, Sirius's demons, and Harry would never force him to talk about anything he didn't want to, as Sirius did for him. If he never brought up Regulus to Harry again at all, he had no problem with that.
The fact that the door to this room was open now ... was Sirius actually in here? Harry didn't want to pry. He stood outside the door for a moment, wondering what he should do.
But then, he heard a noise, and it was all too clear what it was. It was the sound of soft weeping. That was the deciding factor - Harry's heart broke, and he couldn't just stand there and listen to his godfather crying. Maybe it was none of his business, but he knew Sirius would do the same for him if Harry was in a state like this. After all, how many times had Sirius come to him after he'd woken up from a nightmare of Cedric's lifeless eyes, or after he recalled his parents coming out of Voldemort's wand and they'd told him to hold on?
Without a second of hesitation, Harry entered the room. He did not glance at the walls or at the decor - all that was in his mind was Sirius. He rushed to the man's side; he was kneeling on the floor by a desk. Scattered on the floor beside him was a sheaf of parchments, which Harry didn't look at either. This was obviously something very private to Sirius.
The sight was heartwrenching. Tears were streaming down Sirius's face as he stared into space. He looked like he'd just discovered something earth-shattering. He looked incredibly small and broken at that moment, and Harry felt his own heart hurting just at the sight of him.
"Sirius?" he whispered, laying a gentle hand on Sirius's shoulder. "What ... what happened?"
Harry's voice seemed to break through, and Sirius looked up, his eyes suddenly widening and filling with guilt. "Harry ... oh, Harry. I'm ... I'm so sorry. Are you ... are you okay? How long have you been looking for me?" All his senses seemed to be on alert.
Harry was forcibly reminded of a time shortly after his birthday when he and Sirius had been listening to music together. Harry had called his name, wanting to ask him something, but Sirius had been deep in thought and didn't respond. It took several tries for Harry to get his attention, but it had eventually worked. When Sirius had come out of his trance, he had been horrified at the fact that Harry had been attempting to get his attention and he hadn't answered. He seemed to take it very personally, and endlessly chastised himself for being so stupid.
Harry had never held it against him, but for the rest of that day, Sirius made it a point not to get lost in his thoughts, terrified that Harry would need him and he wouldn't answer. It broke Harry's heart at how guilt-stricken Sirius was over such a minor thing - what Harry wanted to ask him had been so insignificant, but Sirius hadn't thought of it as such. It was one of those times when Harry despaired that Sirius would never be able to recover from the guilt of his past. Harry swore there and then that he would prove to Sirius every day that he was a wonderful guardian, and to never doubt himself again.
Yet now, Harry saw the guilt in the man's eyes again and felt his heart ache, just as it had then. "It's okay, Sirius. Please ... please don't feel guilty. I was only going to ask you how ... how cleaning out the attic went, but ..." Harry trailed off, completely lost as to where to go from here. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" he whispered, although he was loathe to do so.
"No." Sirius gazed at Harry with haunted, tortured gray eyes. "I ... I'm glad you came in here. There's a lot you should know."
"Sirius, you don't have to," Harry said, knowing that whatever his godfather had found in this room was causing him immense agony. "You don't have to talk about this. I shouldn't ... shouldn't have come in this room - it's none of my business. I just ... heard you in pain and I ..."
"Shhhh, kiddo. I'm not angry with you for coming in here - I would have done the same if it were you." Gently, with a tenderness that surprised Harry and yet didn't, Sirius picked up the sheaf of parchments, opened a drawer in the desk, and placed them inside it. Again, Harry didn't ask any questions, knowing what was contained on them must be sacred. "Let's go into the drawing room," he said gently. "There's a lot that I have to tell you."
xxx
Sirius and Harry sat on their customary couch, Sirius with his arm around Harry as he spoke quietly. "I'm ... I'm sorry you had to see me like that," he whispered.
"Don't, Sirius." Harry smiled softly. "How many times have you comforted me when I've been in a bad way? It's like I told you before we went to Diagon Alley. Just because you're the guardian and you feel like you have to take care of me doesn't mean I can't do the same. I'm here for you just as much as you are for me, Sirius. You must have seen something ... awful in there."
Sirius's eyes softened, like they so often did when he looked at Harry. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "You really are amazing, you know that?" he asked shakily.
Harry smiled. "Not as amazing as you." He relaxed into Sirius's hold as the man began stroking his hair, as much for his own comfort and reassurance as for Harry's. "Really," he said softly, "you don't have to tell me anything. I'm just ... surprised you went in ... in Regulus's room."
Sirius sighed. "You deserve to know, kiddo." He tightened his arms around Harry. "And this ... this is very important. It concerns the war against Voldemort."
Harry was taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Slowly, Sirius revealed what he, Bill, and Moody had discovered about the locket. "Bill's dark detector was going nuts," he said. "Destroying it ourselves was out of the question - Bill knew it was far too dangerous. It got taken to the Ministry so it could be examined further and destroyed by those who know how to do it safely."
Harry was horrified. "And ... your parents had it in this house?" he breathed. "No wonder you ran away."
"That's the thing," Sirius said. "I'm not clear on exactly how it came to be here. We asked Kreacher about it, and he said he couldn't tell me. He told me that ... that Regulus ..." Sirius choked on his little brother's name, and Harry heard no anger in his voice, only grief, regret, and a bone-deep sadness. "... That Regulus told him to never tell me. That elf knows something about that locket, but he's been ordered to stay quiet about it."
"So you went into Regulus's room to see if you could find out anything," Harry surmised as he put the pieces together.
"I was being a coward," Sirius said, clear self-loathing in his voice. "I had too much hate and resentment in my heart for Regulus to discover the truth. If I'd found this out earlier ..." His voice faded, his gray eyes full of remorse.
Harry was shocked. "You're not a coward!" he exclaimed. "Of course you were mad at Regulus - he was a Death Eater, while you turned away from that life. I never thought you hated him, though, even when you said you did the one time you mentioned him to me. I just knew the subject was painful for you, and I didn't want to make you relive the bad times."
Sirius looked stunned. "Was I that transparent?" he whispered. "I tried to convince myself I hated him," he said painfully. "I was extremely angry with him for years, and was sure that he had died as a coward." His face crumpled for an instant, making Harry's heart break again. "All that time in Azkaban, the bitterness only grew. But I ... deep down, I never hated him, Harry. It was today I truly realized that."
Harry sat in silence, not interrupting as he waited patiently for Sirius to say what he needed to in his own time. He saw the raw grief on Sirius's face and knew what he felt for Regulus was far from hatred.
"He didn't die a coward, Harry," Sirius said quietly. "He ... he died trying to destroy Voldemort."
Harry couldn't help but gasp in shock. "How?" he breathed. "What happened?"
And Harry listened in horror as Sirius explained exactly what a Horcrux was. Disgust and revulsion churned inside him as he recalled something the monster had said in that Godforsaken graveyard. Harry remembered the agony of staring into Cedric's lifeless face, the profoundly fearful expression etched into his handsome features as Harry lay on the grave of Tom Riddle, Sr., the cruel, malevolent voice hissing out sinister words as he was unable to escape his bonds. He'd spoken about going further down the path of immortality than any wizard before him, the smile on his face vile and twisted.
That night had been such a horrific blur of sounds and images that he hadn't much thought about those words, but now they came back to him with crystal clarity. He'd have liked to think that Voldemort was just bragging, posturing in front of his enemy before he finished him off for good, but now it seemed like he'd been telling the truth. Lord Voldemort had created a Horcrux, and Regulus had somehow found out about it. And he'd died going after it - and he knew he would. Apparently, he'd asked Kreacher to destroy it, too, but he'd been unsuccessful.
"Those parchments you saw ... they were letters to Voldemort," Sirius said shakily, pulling Harry tighter into his warm embrace. "In the end, Harry, he despised him. He wanted nothing more than to destroy him." Harry watched with an aching heart as tears filled Sirius's eyes again.
Harry held onto him tightly, everything that he had learned swirling around in his head. He didn't say anything as he allowed Sirius to grieve for a brother that he now knew the man had loved. Circumstances had torn them apart, but Sirius now knew the pain and regret Regulus had harbored for his choices, and his determination to put them right had killed him.
Finally, Sirius lifted his head from Harry's shoulder. "Thanks, kiddo. I'm ... I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Don't you dare apologize." Harry's voice was firm but gentle. "He was your brother, Sirius. You don't have to be strong all the time." He smiled gently at his godfather, taking his hand.
Sirius laughed quietly. "You sound like me when I'm talking to you," he said softly.
Harry's smile widened fractionally. "Where do you think I get it from?" he teased gently before his face grew deadly serious with the implications of what this meant. "Do you think the Ministry will be able to destroy the Horcrux?" he asked.
Sirius's expression matched Harry's. "Merlin, I hope so," he breathed. "If not ..."
"Voldemort can't die," Harry whispered, and he couldn't help but feel fear invade his being at that. "That's why he didn't die when my mum sacrificed her life for me, and the spell backfired when he tried to kill me," he said in realization, and Sirius's nod was all the confirmation he needed. Looking into Sirius's eyes, he saw the same terror in them that he felt at this discovery.
"Don't, Harry." The boy could tell that Sirius was trying to be brave. "That's not going to happen. Voldemort will be defeated." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Harry.
Inadvertently, Harry thought of the horrific dreams where he had, in essence, been Voldemort. He remembered pointing his wand at all those people, the exhilaration that radiated from him as mothers and fathers screamed as their children were tortured and murdered. He remembered a man on his knees sobbing as his wife was brutally robbed of life in front of him. He recalled the rage the monster felt as Professor Crewer defied him to his face. He shuddered at the recollection of Voldemort's triumph as the green skull and snake, the Dark Mark, was shot into the sky, the cackles of the Death Eaters making him feel wildly alive inside. Not realizing he was doing so, Harry began unconsciously rubbing his lightning-bolt scar.
"Harry?" Sirius's concerned voice brought him back to the present. "Your scar's not hurting, is it?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "Just ... it's nothing. I'm just remembering when ... when I was ... was him."
"You were never him, Harry." Sirius tilted the boy's chin, looking deep into those vulnerable emerald eyes. "You were never him, kiddo. You felt his emotions because you're connected to him in a way that can't be explained. But you ... you are your own person, Harry." His eyes were so soft and tender in that moment. "You were never him," he repeated quietly.
"I know." Harry knew this was true, but there were times when he struggled to accept that simple fact. The memories from that awful dream continuously haunted him.
Suddenly, Harry stared at Sirius, his eyes wide. "Do you think Dumbledore knows about the Horcrux?" he asked.
Sirius's face darkened at the mention of the Headmaster. He didn't say anything for several seconds, and Harry knew he was trying to think of how to answer. "I think," he said eventually, "that Dumbledore knows more than he's ever told us. Before I went to Azkaban, Harry, I have to say that I put him on a pedestal. I looked up to him. When I was eleven years old and was Sorted into Gryffindor, he smiled at me. When I was invited to join the Order, he made me truly believe that I was worth it. He believed that I wasn't like so many in my family, and I wasn't going to sell my soul to Voldemort. He welcomed me into the fold, and I knew the cause was worth fighting for.
"Before I escaped from Azkaban, I began to have my doubts. Why did he never come to visit me? Wouldn't he have wanted to know why I'd supposedly betrayed your parents ... and you? Wouldn't he want to know why I apparently killed Peter and all those innocent Muggles? Yet he never came. Not once.
"Then, the first time I saw you after I escaped ... you were running away from Privet Drive. You looked so miserable, and I frightened you something awful when you saw my Animagus form. You know I didn't mean to scare you so much that day. Now, I know why you ran away, but at the time I would have given anything to be able to talk to you. It was awful that I had to content myself with watching you at Hogwarts - do you have any idea how difficult that was?"
Harry gently squeezed Sirius's hand - he could only imagine how excruciating that had been.
"But it was then, when I offered for you to come and live with me ..." Sirius's eyes were stricken now as he remembered. "You were so ... quick to agree, when only minutes earlier you thought I'd betrayed your parents to their deaths. And ... I know we've already discussed that night, but ... I can't imagine your first impression of me was a good one, yet you jumped at the chance to leave the Dursleys to come with me." His gray eyes were dark, and Harry knew what he wasn't saying. At that point, he'd known that Harry's living situation wasn't a good one - not at all.
"But then, I had to go back on the run. It was awful, being away from you. I did anything I could to try and distract myself, to make myself feel better. I told myself I was overreacting. I told myself that you were just enthusiastic at the thought of my innocence being proven and that you'd have another family member. But deep down, I knew I was fooling myself all along."
Sirius's face held a look of such raw intensity as he gazed at Harry that it made the boy's breath catch in his throat. "And then, the night of the Third Task ..." He clenched his fists, closing his eyes in pain. "It was then that I knew Dumbledore didn't truly have your best interests at heart, even though he claimed to. Do you want to know why?"
"Why?" Harry asked quietly, thinking of the old man that he'd looked up to for four years.
"Because he asked me to do the worst thing I could ever have done," Sirius whispered, shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "He asked me to leave you. He asked me to leave you, when you'd been through something absolutely horrific. You were scared and traumatized and grieving, and above all, you felt guilty. And you still do, even though you've tried your best to live your life again. You feel the same guilt over Cedric that I still do over your parents, even though the two of us have helped each other immensely. That guilt will always be there - and we understand it more than anyone else. And Dumbledore ... he asked me to leave you at a time like that. And the worst thing about it is ... I think you would have accepted it if I'd left."
Harry looked at Sirius sadly, nodding. "I would have," he agreed quietly. "Because I know how important fighting Voldemort is."
Sirius pulled Harry close again, his heart in his eyes. "And that, Harry, is what Dumbledore banked on." There was anger mixed in with the sadness in his eyes. "He said you were strong, and your friends could help you through it. And you are strong, Harry. Stronger than anyone should expect of you." He stroked Harry's hair gently. "Dumbledore never understood that it's okay to fall apart sometimes. He never understood that you needed an adult in your life who truly loved you, who would always put you first. He never understood that as much as fighting this war is important, being a child is, too. Dumbledore never allowed you to be a child, Harry. He wants you to be a soldier."
Harry looked at Sirius, feeling his own emotions rising within him. Inexplicably, a memory rose to his mind - it was at the end of his first year, after he'd awoken from his three-day coma after fighting Quirrell and Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone. He remembered asking Dumbledore why Voldemort wanted to kill him as a baby, and the old man saying that he couldn't tell him yet.
Did Sirius know? Did Sirius know the reason why Harry had always been a target of Voldemort's, why the monster was, for some reason, completely obsessed with his destruction? Sometimes, Harry couldn't help but notice the way Sirius looked at him - it was with an infinite protectiveness and sadness. As the summer had gone on and the two had only grown closer, there had been occasions when Harry had seen this ... endless look of guilt behind Sirius's eyes.
He'd told himself it was for all the reasons he knew his godfather already felt guilt over him. But there was something more to the looks, something more to the emotion. And to be honest, Sirius wasn't the only one who thought he'd been a coward. Harry had been one, too - he had a feeling Sirius was keeping something from him. But ... Merlin, this summer, with everything that had happened ... he hadn't wanted to know.
And unlike other adults who had kept things from him, there was something pure and honest about Sirius's secrecy, as strange and contradictory as that sounded. How Harry knew this, he didn't know - it was some kind of instinct. Sirius had kept Harry from drowning this summer, and if there was one thing Harry knew, it was that he couldn't be angry with his godfather for keeping whatever it was a secret from him.
But at some point, he knew he had to ask. He had to know. Because it wasn't just the way Sirius looked at him, either. Whenever he was learning how to duel with Emmeline, Moody, and Sturgis, something about it struck him, too.
He'd said he wanted to fight in the war - and he did. He knew that Voldemort would always target him. But there was this feeling of ... something extra whenever they trained him. It was in the way Sturgis spoke to him. It was in the way Moody's magical eye assessed him. It was in the way Emmeline worked him so hard that sweat practically poured off him, and she only worked him harder.
"Harry?" Sirius spoke gently. "What's on your mind?"
"You let me be a child this summer, Sirius." Harry smiled tremulously at him. "And Dumbledore ... I kind of understand, you know? I don't like that he made me live with the Dursleys. I hate that he ... that he never visited you in Azkaban." He sighed. "I really don't understand that at all, Sirius. But ... with me, he knew that Voldemort would keep coming after me. I guess he wanted me to learn to fight on my own." He smiled sadly. "I'm glad you didn't leave when he told you to," he admitted quietly.
"I'll never leave you again, kiddo." Sirius said, and Harry knew he was being completely honest. "Never."
"I know." Harry closed his eyes, knowing he was being a coward again. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Maybe tomorrow, I'll have the courage to ask Sirius the question I know I need to ask.
But for now, he asked a different question. "Is there any way that we can get Kreacher to tell us what happened to Regulus when he ... he died?" he asked slowly.
Sirius was deep in thought. "I can't say I paid attention to many of the lessons I learned about house-elves," he said quietly. "And Regulus ordered Kreacher not to tell me anything."
"Is it possible for you to ask him to tell someone else?" Harry asked. "Let's say, you order Kreacher to tell me what happened to Regulus, and you leave the room so he's not telling you. Then, after he's told me, I can tell you so that the information isn't directly relayed to you from him."
"You know," Sirius said after several seconds, "none of us thought of that. Not me, not Bill, not even Moody."
"It's okay," Harry said comfortingly. "You were shocked by what he had to tell you."
Sirius nodded, his eyes far away. "I can try," he said quietly. "That's all we can do."
"Do you think ... do you think that we'll be able to ask Dumbledore what he knows about the Horcrux as soon as he's fully recovered, and we hear from him again?" Harry asked softly, still horrified at the thought of what had befallen the old man while being questioned at the Ministry.
"We will," Sirius said fiercely as he let Harry rest his head on his shoulder. "He can't hide things from us anymore. He's going to have to work with us."
And Harry saw, right there in Sirius's eyes, that that was a promise.