A/N: I won't be dealing with horcruxes in this story, at least in the 'scavenger hunt' manner. That's the main reason I started it at the end of fourth year, the other being Sirius is just too good a character to not have along for the ride. This chapter goes a bit into my fix for Harry's scar and Lily's sacrifice, but I'm worried it may be a bit confusing. If it is, I'll address it again in an upcoming chapter, or just in an author's note. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 7
July 9, 1995
Harry was enjoying a lazy Sunday with Sirius and Remus, leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on the kitchen table, eating a bowl of ice cream. Remus sat across the table, reading the Daily Prophet, which still hadn't been given permission to write about the happenings of the Wizengamot. Sirius was sprawled on the floor of the den, books and notes spread all around him. Harry couldn't help but smile, appreciating that this would be his new 'normal'.
As if Fate could read his thoughts, the fire in the den flared to life. Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames, and Harry rushed over, leaving his ice cream to melt.
"Professor, what's happened?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Nothing bad," the old man replied serenely. "I've just had a bit of a breakthrough, and wondered if I could come by and share it."
"Of course, sir."
Albus' head was quickly replaced by green flames, and the man himself followed shortly after. "Harry," he said with a smile. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all. We decided Sundays are for all things unimportant, and you're always welcome to join us for that."
"Thank you, my boy," Albus said sincerely.
"Oi!" Sirius shouted indignantly from the floor, not having looked up from his work. "I'm doing something important!"
"Would you like to tell the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW just what is so important, Padfoot?" Remus asked, having returned to his paper.
"TV…" the man grunted, shuffling papers around.
Sirius had decided he wanted a movie room, but was flummoxed by getting muggle technology to work in such a heavily warded house. Judging from the mess his calculations had made with no success, Harry was pretty sure the man was round the bend.
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes were at full effect, while his mustache quivered suspiciously. "If I could intrude on a moment of your time, Sirius, I think you'd like to hear what I have to say."
"Just a mo'," Sirius responded, still not having looked up.
Harry shook his head in embarrassment for the man, gesturing the snickering Headmaster into a seat at the table.
"I figured a runes expert like yourself could have figured that out for him by now," Dumbledore said softly to Remus.
"Of course I did, Albus," the man whispered in reply. "But he's been at it for hours, and it's entertaining for me."
Albus laughed out loud, something Harry realized he had rarely heard. Harry served the visitor a bowl of cookies & cream, and the three men chatted lightly while they waited on the final member to join them.
When he eventually did, Remus slid a slip of paper with hand-written instructions on them in his direction. Sirius studied it for a minute before glaring at his friend.
"Six. Hours." he seethed.
"But look at how much you've accomplished!" Remus gestured wildly to the random pieces of paper and books scattered about.
"Harry, please pass me a silver fork."
"No killing friends on Sunday," the boy replied dryly. "Greet your guest, Pads."
"'Lo, Albus," he said shortly, still glaring at Remus.
"Hello soon-to-be-Lord Black," the man replied brightly. "I've had an epiphany, and I'm ashamed I didn't think of it sooner."
The older wizard pulled his pensieve from a magically expanded bag, and the other three sat up at attention, wondering what the man was thinking.
"My mind isn't what it once was," the man began. "And I often use my pensieve to review important moments that I want to be sure to commit to memory. Last night, I reviewed the evening of the Third Task, and I noticed something that we've all missed to this point," he finished with a look at Harry.
"What's that?" the young man asked in confusion.
"Your scar, my boy," he answered, conjuring a hand-held mirror.
Harry grabbed it, wondering what was so different, but saw it immediately, now that he was looking. His scar was no longer puffy and inflamed, and looked much more like a typical injury.
Looking back at Dumbledore who vanished the mirror, he asked, "What does it mean?"
"If I'm correct in my guess, quite a bit," the man answered gently. "I was hoping you'd allow us to view your memory of the Killing Curse in the graveyard."
Harry, not excited about the idea of reliving the event, took a breath. He'd watched the memory with his Aunt Dorea, but was loath to do so again unless necessary.
"If you think it's important," he finally conceded with a shrug.
"I do, Harry."
"Fine. Would you mind taking it?"
Harry concentrated on the night, both before and after his journey on the other side, and his headmaster placed the tip of his wand to the boy's temple. A long, translucent strand followed the tip, as Dumbledore placed the memory in the pensieve.
"I'd ask you all to be narrow-minded while we're in the memory," the man began. "As hard as it may be, try to focus on Harry's scar when he's hit with the curse. If I am correct, we may have solved our riddle."
Each of the four placed a finger in the swirling liquid, and with a stomach-turning lurch, were suddenly standing next to memory-Harry as he hid behind the gravestone. Harry, feeling weird about watching himself breathe deeply, took a quick glance around. He realized they may be able to identify most of Voldemort's inner circle by reviewing this memory, and made a mental note to raise the point.
Memory-Harry quickly found the strength that real Harry remembered struggling with, stood, and met his fate. He watched closely as the Killing Curse sped towards 'him', and watched as the curse connected, his past-self crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Real Harry watched the scar closely, and after a few moments, noticed it change.
An almost-invisible smoke poured slowly out of the scar. Harry's dead body shuddered slightly as the last of the substance trickled out and dissipated in the surrounding air. The four wizards stayed in the memory until Harry's body returned to life, watching his actions.
When his earlier self said, "Quit hitting me with that curse, Thomas," Harry heard Sirius and Remus snort in laughter, and the four were quickly deposited back into their bodies at the table.
"You're so grouchy when you wake up," Sirius said snickering.
"Pulling out the full name was a bit rude," Remus agreed, joining in on the laughter.
"Anyone that manages to kill me will receive the same," Harry said, trying and failing to maintain an intimidating look. Now that the nightmare was over, he could see the humor in the moment.
"I'll make sure to avoid that, then," Albus offered with a smile. "I trust you all saw what I did?"
"Yeah," Sirius answered quickly. "What was that?"
"Part of Voldemort's soul," Albus said softly, expecting the reaction he was about to receive.
"WHAT!? I had bits of Voldemort inside of me for THIRTEEN YEARS!?"
Harry quickly lost the internal grip on his ice cream and rushed to the nearest bathroom. As he returned, he noticed the trio didn't seem of the mind to poke fun, so he proceeded to rejoin them.
"Harry," Dumbledore began. "The act of casting the Killing Curse rips the soul of the caster in two. I believe the blood magic your mother cast in protection caused one of those pieces to lodge inside of you. In usual circumstances, the fractured soul remains in the body, and can eventually rejoin its halves.
"I am almost certain that your mother's protection pulled out the ripped off portion, and used it as a protection from the curse itself. Whether it was the part ripped from his soul when he killed Lily, or when he cast it upon you, I'm unsure. The result was the curse failing to find a different soul to kill, so it returned, shattering Voldemort's body."
"It was the curse she was hit with," Harry realized, eyes wide. "It was something she found in an old Norse book on blood magic. It hadn't been tested, but theoretically if someone attempted soul magic on a person who had cast the required blood magic, the soul used to cast it would be pulled to the victim. Mum thought she had found a way to transfer that piece of the soul to me if she was killed."
Harry paused, willing his head to stop hurting from trying to relay the confusing information.
"She wasn't sure if it had worked, or if it was fate, or prophecy, or something else that gave me a second chance. I would have mentioned it before, but she was so uncertain… and I didn't really understand it."
Harry couldn't help his eyes from welling up, realizing his Mum's hard work had proven correct, and her sacrifice had done everything she had hoped. He was proud of her, which felt a bit weird. And, not for the first time since leaving her, he missed her so much it hurt.
"She was incredible," Remus said softly, compassion in his eyes as Harry's met them.
"She was unbelievable," Sirius added sincerely. "She picked up on things so naturally. It's like she was born to it."
"She was both, and more," Harry agreed, wiping his face with a bittersweet smile. "She was the best mom I could've hoped for." Harry met each of the Marauders' eyes with a grateful look.
"No clue how Dad ended up with her, though," he added quickly, trying to break the tension.
"Love potion," Sirius said, quickly catching on.
"Or blackmail," Remus agreed.
"Probably both," Albus added with a sad smile, remembering two of his favorite students.
After the three older wizards gave Harry a moment to compose himself, Dumbledore continued.
"So, if I am correct, the protection she cast was essentially a part of Voldemort's soul, lodged in your blood. And the second Killing Curse the night of the Third Task, hit that portion of his soul, which had been detached long enough to be deemed foreign to his magic. I believe that the second curse destroyed the bit of him inside of you, in your scar. And it has left you a normal, if impressive, young man."
"So it wasn't Fate or Magic, but rather the protection that gave me the chance to see the other side?" Harry asked, confused.
"I wouldn't say that, Harry. What you experienced was real, and I don't believe the protection would have had that effect. From everything you've relayed to us, I do not doubt you met the souls of the people we knew so well. I'm only suggesting that the curse had a secondary outcome.
"Having a bit of his soul in you could have ended much differently," he continued darkly. "If you remember the effect the Diary had on young Ginevra, you can see what that possibility is. I believe your mother's protection, along with your innate magic, protected your own soul from being corrupted. And that the constant strain on your magic for so long, has increased your reserves. Constantly fighting off a parasite would do that.
"Have you noticed any difference in your mood or general outlook?" The man asked curiously.
"I've been happier, for sure. And more confident," Harry answered quickly. "I just assumed it was because of my time with my parents."
"It probably is," Albus agreed with a smile. "But it could partly be the release you feel from not having the small but constant pull on your magic from the piece of Voldemort. This is a good thing, Harry. And, not to toot my own horn, I'd hazard a guess that I'm correct in this circumstance."
"So, I don't have endless reserves, I've just been training constantly for most of my life," Harry mused.
"Albus," Remus began slowly, clearly hesitant to voice his concern. "If Voldemort is losing bits of his soul, how will we kill him and not have him rise again?"
"The pieces he left in the Diary and Harry are not the full essence of his soul," Dumbledore reassured. "From what I've been able to gather, when the soul is split and isn't reattached, one portion becomes the primary essence, and the second becomes an echo, of sorts. Evil echoes, in this case, but mere reflections of the actual man.
"Killing the primary essence, now firmly located in his new body, will destroy any echoes that may still exist. The only reason Voldemort survived when Harry was young, is that he was only hit with a reflection, not the full curse. The man has, no doubt, taken roads towards immortality none have traveled before, so we must assume a broken body isn't enough to end his existence."
"So I'll need to use the Killing Curse," Harry surmised glumly, not wanting to taint himself with a piece of magic that had taken so much from him.
"Not necessarily," Sirius said gently, surprising Harry with his confidence. "The Black Family library is full of books on soul magic. We'll find another way."
Harry was skeptical, but nodded at his godfather's certainty.
"Okay then," the boy said with relief. "That was fun. Should we watch a movie?"
—
Sirius did, in fact, go out to get a TV, VCR, and sound system later that day, grumbling the whole time. When he returned, Remus applied the appropriate runes, and the equipment fired right up. The four men sat enthralled for over two hours as they watched 'Forrest Gump', their popcorn mostly untouched.
"I've seen a few films in my day," Dumbledore broke the silence. "But that's my favorite so far."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed, furiously wiping at his eyes. "It was pretty good."
Harry began cleaning up, a habit he'd yet to break from his time with the Dursleys, when he had a thought.
"Albus, could I borrow your pensieve? I've been meaning to find one to show Sirius his messages from the other side, but haven't found the time."
"They are actually devilishly hard to acquire," Dumbledore smiled in response. "Though I figured that was your intent, and planned to leave this one in your care. It's the Dumbledore family pensieve, and I'd be honored to pass it to you."
"No… Sir!... I couldn't…" Harry spluttered, realizing what he asked was more than a triviality. "Your family should hold on to it."
"Harry," Albus began calmly. "I've already loaded it with my memories of your parents. It was the second reason I asked to join you today. My brother Aberforth has said he won't touch it, and there isn't a 'next generation' of Dumbledores. It will be yours either now, or upon my death, and I think you'll get more use from it now.
"Please accept it Harry," Albus continued when Harry continued to dither. "It will be a benefit to you, and I've already taken steps to create a new one for myself."
"Are you sure, Professor?" Harry asked, still in shock at the gift. "I couldn't possibly…"
"You could, and you will," the man interrupted. "I want you to have it. I cared deeply for your parents, and care deeply for you. Consider it part of my contribution to the cause."
"Professor, you've already contri…"
"It's Albus, Harry," he interrupted again. "Until we're back at Hogwarts, it's Albus. Do an old man a favor, and just accept it. Please."
"Thank you, Albus," Harry finally responded, blown away by the gift. "Once I take Sirius through his messages, I'll make sure to show you yours."
"That's more than fair payment, and I thank you for it. How many people do you have messages for, if I could ask?"
"Not too many," Harry answered. "You and your brother, Sirius, and Remus are the easiest. The more awkward are Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, and the Weasley twins. The most awkward are the Dursleys, Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Tom Riddle," he finished with a grimace.
"Really?" Albus asked after a long moment, surprised.
"As I was getting ready to leave, said goodbyes and everything, Merope showed up out of nowhere," Harry explained. "It felt… forced. Like she wasn't meant to be there. Everyone around me was completely on edge. But she asked so sincerely for a chance to talk to her son, that I couldn't refuse. I tried to explain afterwards that I wouldn't find a scenario that would allow it, and she said, 'I have to try', and disappeared. I don't expect to be able to share that one."
"I don't expect so either," Dumbledore mused. "But to say it will never happen, will nearly guarantee that it does."
Unable to find the fault in the man's logic after what he'd been through, Harry simply nodded.
—
Harry and Sirius sat on either side of Harry's impressive desk later that evening, the pensieve and a thick tension in the air between them. Neither wizard seemed to want to look directly at the artifact.
"Before I leave you to it, Pads," Harry said, breaking the awkward silence. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything, Harry," the man answered quickly, clearly grateful for a chance to delay his trip into Harry's memories.
"It seems like ever since I've returned, people… grown, powerful wizards, have been willing to follow my lead without question. To allow me to act like the adult that I really only am through technicalities. Not that I don't appreciate it, as I believe I'm ready for the responsibility, but… Why?"
"Dumbledore said it, Harry. You've changed. Granted, we didn't get to spend much time together before that night, but I still noticed it immediately. Maybe it's that Fate has forced you to mature, or maybe it's something more mundane, but you have a presence about you now. And it makes it easy to trust you when you say you're capable.
"I never intended to take a parental role, even before the change. That's never what you needed from me, and honestly, the hypocrisy of trying wouldn't have felt right. So I would've probably been easier to convince than others, but the new you just feels ready. The others picked up on it as easily as I did, and it's the type of feeling that I'm willing to accept."
"Huh," Harry mused, happy with the answer, but a bit insecure about having a 'presence'. "I guess I'll always have Hermione and Mrs. Weasley to try to wrap me in cotton, though."
"Probably," Sirius agreed with a chuckle. "But that's not out of distrust, it's their desire to keep you safe. I know for a fact that Arthur and Bill have spoken to Molly about the ways you've changed."
"I wish they wouldn't," Harry said, a bit frustrated.
"They're not talking about Harry Potter the Unkillable," Sirius joked. "They're updating someone you care about, about someone they care about. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't stopped by, yet."
"She's coming by in a few days," Harry said, relenting with a smile. "She wants to make sure I'm eating enough. I'm going to have to keep Winky away from her, the elf was not happy at the accusation."
Both men smiled at the thought of the two stubborn ladies facing off, ladles of soup in hand.
"She loves you like one of her own, Harry. That's all it is. You know Arthur and Bill would keep your secrets even if the contract wasn't already ironclad. There are just people that want to feel involved."
"I know," Harry conceded.
He wouldn't deny Molly Weasley much, and could live with being talked about by people he cared for. Deciding to get on with why they were here, he switched topics.
"So, I just wanted to give you a brief rundown before you get started, Pads. This won't be easy for you."
"I figured, Harry," Sirius snorted sarcastically.
"The first message you'll see is from my parents. They wanted to sort of introduce things to you first. It was a bit awkward just looking at people while they spoke to you, by the way. The second is from Arcturus, and I need you to really listen to him. I know how you feel about the man but he taught me a lot, and has my respect and gratitude."
Sirius shuddered at the thought, but Harry just rolled his eyes and continued. "The message from Marlene… Just… come find me or Remus when you're done. Please?"
Sirius, his emotions already getting the better of him, nodded slightly, and stood and approached the desk. Harry crossed over to him and pulled him into a tight embrace, before leaving the office and closing the door.
Harry leaned his forehead against the closed door for a moment, feeling for the man who had quickly come to mean so much to him.
—
"Where's Sirius?" Remus asked from his seat on the couch in the den, noticing Harry enter looking distraught.
"Watching his messages," Harry replied with a grimace.
"He'll be okay, Harry."
"I hope so."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their concern for the man.
"Professor Lupin," Harry finally said with a smirk. "While we wait on Sirius, I have a scholarly question for you."
"Very well, Mr. Potter," the man replied with a grin. "What can I do for you?"
"What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?"
Whatever Remus had been expecting, it clearly wasn't that. The man sat up a bit straighter, and seemed to try and remember what he'd heard about them.
"I know the legend started from a children's book. Beedle the Bard, I think. Wand, cloak, and stone, right?"
"Yep! But the legend started before the story. And they exist."
Remus, a bit gobsmacked, just stared at the boy.
"Take your time," Harry teased.
"An unbeatable wand, a cloak of invisibility good enough to hide from Death, and a stone that brings back the dead exist. In this world." Remus' skepticism was obvious.
"Very good, Professor! Would you like to see one?"
Remus, once again unable to do anything else, let his jaw fall slightly. It gave him such a cartoonish expression, Harry couldn't help but laugh. The young man took pity on him, and removed his invisibility cloak from the backpack he had a bad habit of leaving lying around. He tossed it to the man, who barely shook his shock away in time to catch it.
Remus studied the cloak, making sure his response was measured. "Harry, I've obviously seen this cloak. Hell, I've worn this cloak. But it's just a really nice invisibility cloak."
"Remus, before you make a fool of yourself," Harry interrupted, knowing the man was going to be unintentionally condescending. "Think about what I've learned over the last two weeks. I'm not telling you this because I recently read through some nursery rhymes. This is a Hallow. This is the cloak."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's been in the Potter family for generations. My Uncle Charlus even took it into battle with him. It's been with the Potter's ever since another family married into our line. The Peverell's."
Remus was clearly stunned, and was thinking quickly, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just been told.
"The wand and stone?"
"Also exist, and I know where they are, kind of. But they aren't the all powerful artifacts the legends make them out to be. The wand is quite powerful, yes, but it's not unbeatable. The fact that it's changed hands so many times proves that. The stone will show echoes of the dead, but I don't believe they are the actual souls of the people summoned. They exist, Remus."
"I believe you, Harry," the man said slowly, denying the logical side of his brain. "Where are they?"
"I assume the wand is with Albus in his office at the moment, and the stone is actually in one of two places. The Wizengamot's vault, waiting to be called by the head of the Gaunt family, or on that head's finger. It's set into the Gaunt family ring."
"Dumbledore has the Deathstick? Wait, wait, wait. Voldemort has the Resurrection Stone?"
"Yes, and maybe," the boy replied calmly.
"And you need them."
"I think so."
"Well, I'll draft some letters," Remus lightly mocked. "Can I borrow Hedwig?"
"I doubt it'll be that easy," Harry said with a chuckle.
"Does Dumbledore know you know?"
"I think so. He knows I'm aware of what my cloak is, but I haven't had a chance to speak to him about it. I have a feeling he'll share the wand if we need it. But I have no idea how to get the stone."
"Something to think about, I guess," Remus replied, having come around. "I think the first step is to figure out if it's with the Wizengamot, or with Voldemort."
"Yeah, I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about it before our next session."
"I'd like to join that conversation, if I can. I'll do some research beforehand."
"Of course! That's why I brought it up. I'd appreciate your help."
"You have it," the man replied easily, the two drifting back into silence, lost in their own thoughts.
A few minutes later Sirius stumbled into the room, his eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Harry and Remus rushed over to him and helped the emotional man into a chair. Remus began preparing a cup of tea, adding a liberal splash of firewhiskey.
Sirius sipped his drink, seeming to relax slightly, before raising his eyes from his cup and looking at Remus.
"Moony, there's something you don't know. Right after Hogwarts, when you went abroad to find work, I met someone. Well," Sirius paused, trying to find the right words. "Technically we both did, at an Order meeting. Do you remember Marlene?"
"Of course," Remus said, confusion in his eyes. "Though I only met her a couple times. Do you mean you met her, as in dated her?"
"Yeah," he sighed heavily. "We were paired up on some missions for the Order, and got to know each other pretty quickly. Lily loved her, glad to have another witch around to keep James and I in line."
"Sirius," Remus replied compassionately. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to, but before I could, the prophecy was made, and James and Lily went into hiding. You remember how it was. We couldn't be sure about anyone, and we knew there was a traitor in the Order. We tightened our circle. You were always in and out, so I just wasn't sure."
The man's eyes began to water again, the guilt he felt at being suspicious of his friend evident.
"It's okay, Sirius," Remus said. "We've talked about this. I understand, and have forgiven you. Just like you've forgiven me for believing you betrayed them."
Sirius nodded, wiping furiously at his face. "In June of '81, I asked Marlene to marry me. She was the love of my life, and all I wanted in the world was her as my wife."
Harry and Remus watched as the man broke down. Heart wrenching sobs ripped from his body as the wound had been ripped open again. Remus slowly approached his friend, pulling the tortured man to his feet, and grabbed him in a firm hug.
"Padfoot, I'm so sorry," the man breathed, a tear streaming from his own eye. "I'm so sorry I never knew. After everything else you've been through. I… I can't imagine."
Harry, misty-eyed as well, watched Remus console his Godfather, mentally preparing himself for where he knew this conversation needed to go. As the two slowly calmed, and Sirius returned to his seat, Harry cleared his throat.
"Pads," he began gently. "Having seen what she said to you myself, I'm completely heartbroken for you. I'm so sorry for what you've had to cope with, and how you've had to cope. You deserved that happiness. So did she. She was such a lovely woman."
"She was mean," Sirius disagreed with a watery chuckle. "She hit me with a stinging curse every time I made a dumb joke. Which was all the time. I can still feel some of them I think."
"We can follow her lead, if you'd like?" Remus asked with a small smile.
"No, but thanks for the offer, Moony."
As the three men continued to pull themselves together, Harry spoke up again.
"Pads, I've been meaning to find a mind-healer."
Sirius' eyes quickly met his own, clearly confused.
"Just listen," Harry said quickly before the man could respond. "My Aunt Dorea was a mind-healer, and she worked with me on the other side. Trust me, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and I fought it at first. But looking back, I wouldn't be the person I am now without it."
"If you're fixed, why do you need to find a healer?" Sirius asked.
"I'm not fixed," Harry said gently. "Nobody ever completely heals from the loss of people they love. Or completely moves past trauma they've experienced. And one thing I've learned about myself is that I tend to bottle things up. I can't allow myself to do that. It'll keep me from being the man I want to be."
"Okay, Harry," Sirius said, trying to understand. "We'll find you a healer."
"I want you to see one, too."
"Absolutely not," Sirius said shortly, anger present in his voice.
"Sirius," Remus interrupted, trying to calm the man. "Hear him out, at least."
"A Black, and worse, the soon-to-be head of the Black Family, can not be seen going to a mind-healer. I won't do it."
"You will," Harry returned firmly. "If you want a place in what we're planning, you will."
"Oh, so if I don't bow to your whims, I'm out?" Sirius spat nastily. "Is that what this is? A dictatorship?"
Sirius stood angrily, storming to the door.
"Don't do it, Sirius," Harry said firmly, keeping the fear he felt out of his voice. "Don't walk out on me again."
Sirius' anger evaporated immediately. He jerkily turned his back to the wall, and sat heavily against it. He sobbed into his hands, completely broken emotionally .
Harry quickly made his way over to his side. Slowly sliding his back down the wall, he sat next to the man. Without a thought, Harry leaned his shoulder against the distraught wizard's. Remus quickly mirrored his actions on Sirius' other side. Neither said a word. They were just simply, yet importantly, close.
After what could have been either minutes or hours, Sirius finally lifted his head. His tears had finally stopped, but the emotional evening left the man looking a bit deranged.
"Um, guys," he began, sounding a bit more like himself. "I actually do need to head out for a bit. Arcturus told me if I didn't get the Black grimoire as soon as possible after I saw his message, he'd 'kick my ass for all eternity'. And I know he would."
His two loyal bookends laughed at the man, and the three pulled each other to their feet.
"We'll come with, Pads," Harry replied, squeezing his shoulder. "Moony can raid the library, and I'll break Buckbeak out."
"He'll be happy to see you."
Second A/N: In my experience, people (especially men) dealing with loss and trauma can do so in very different ways. The one that I struggle with is shutting down emotionally. My best friend, however, is quick to show emotion, but doesn't handle it in the healthiest of ways, often running from the situation before eventually addressing it. I've based my version of Sirius on him, and I hope you all have/find as good a friend.
