Harry's Perspective - Chapter Six, First Day of Christmas Holidays, Morning

Harry felt himself grinning broadly. Sirius and Remus had been joking, of course, but there was something in the way Sirius had said "parent-teacher conference" that sent excitement and anticipation through him. Is that what it would really be like? Remus calling Sirius to talk about Harry's grades and final results? Sirius writing him letters from home throughout the year, maybe even coming to watch a quidditch match?

If he got another broom; he wouldn't be doing any intricate flying on the school brooms.

Even the thought of his destroyed Nimbus 2000 couldn't pop the happy bubble growing inside him, though; the idea of having what Ron has, a proper family, warmed him as if he were drinking butterbeer. "Of course I want to stay," he said.

Remus sent him one last, affectionate smile, then turned to Sirius. "Behave yourself."

Sirius winked at him. "Yes, professor."

Remus grinned as Sirius pulled him in for one last, fleeting hug. Then, he stepped swiftly into the fireplace and yelled "Headmaster's Study, Hogwarts!"

Harry watched as his professor disappeared in a plume of green smoke. Then he turned towards Sirius.

Sirius was smiling warmly at him, but there was a lingering, palpable awkwardness between them; Harry suspected it might have had something to do with him calling his godfather a murderer multiple times in the last two hours. He grinned sheepishly back at him.

Sirius tilted his head in the direction of the door. "Let's go see the rooms so you can get settled."

Harry nodded, and went to grab his trunk, but Sirius beat him to it. "I got this, you grab your owl's cage. What's her name?"

"Hedwig," Harry said. "Will she know where to go?"

"She should," Sirius replied, hoisting the trunk into his arms and walking out of the kitchen.

Harry realized, as he followed his godfather into the hallway, that they had been in the basement of the dank house. They climbed up a flight of stairs, then were let out into another hallway, which had a dark, wooden spiral staircase. "The rooms Kreacher prepared for us are on the top floor, so we've got a few flights to-"

"YOUUUU!" A horrible, screeching voice rang out from behind them. Harry dropped Hedwig's cage, which made an awful clattering sound as it hit the hardwood floor, and reached for his wand. He spun on his heel to get a glimpse at who was behind them, prepared to fight his way back downstairs.

He was faced with a giant portrait, one of the largest he had ever seen. In the center of the ornate frame was a pale, tall woman, with dark hair and high, elegant cheekbones. She looked just like…

Harry looked behind him to where his godfather stood. His back was still turned to the portrait, but he had put down Harry's trunk.

Harry slowly lowered his wand. The woman in the portrait was screaming at them, her finger pointing between the two of them, spit flying out of her mouth. "SHAME OF MY FLESH, WHO HAVE YOU BROUGHT INTO THE HOUSE OF OUR ANCESTORS?"

Sirius ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed, looking weary and defeated. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Who is she?" Harry asked, looking between the portrait and his godfather. "Your relative?"

"My lovely mum." Sirius muttered, his hand clenching on his wand as he turned around to look at the portrait.

"BLOOD TRAITOR, FILTHY HALF-BLOOD, HOW DARE YOU DARKEN THE DOORSTEP OF THIS HOUSE?" Mrs. Black shrieked.

Harry looked imploringly at Sirius. Mrs. Black was making Uncle Vernon look patient and kind, which was no easy feat. Sirius raised his wand and shot a blasting charm at the portrait, which did nothing except make his mother scream obscenities louder.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Sirius yelled. He rushed over to the portrait and began to yank on the curtains which surrounded it. Harry followed his lead.

With three vigorous tugs, they managed to cut off Mrs. Black's view of them, which seemed to silence her. Sirius held a finger to his lips, then turned and walked off quickly and silently. Harry followed him at his heels, his pulse still hammering inside him. After all he had heard that morning, he trusted that Sirius was who he said he was. He even meant it, minutes ago, when he said he wanted to stay. But could they really stay here, when portraits of Sirius's dark relatives were screaming at them around every corner?

When they reached the second landing, Harry thought it would be safe enough to speak again. "Why is she hanging down there?"

"Hell if I know," Sirius grumbled. "She was the last to die in my family, so I guess the portrait went up when she passed. I'm going to have to try to get it down or we can't stay here." He looked sideways at Harry as they reached the third landing. "I'm sort of surprised you agreed to stay so quickly. Surely this house is no better than the Dursleys?"

"They're pretty bad," Harry muttered. "Their house is much cleaner, but it's no more welcoming… and you said you'd buy another house."

Sirius paused as they reached the top floor, which led into a dark hallway. He watched Harry closely for a moment, his dead eyes full of concern. Harry averted his gaze and shrugged. "They don't like wizards."

Sirius, thankfully, didn't press. He turned and started walking towards the back of the hallway. "I know what you mean," he muttered over his shoulder. "My mum didn't like muggles, if you couldn't tell. Or half-bloods… or muggle borns… Ah, here we go."

They paused outside a black door, which had an ornamental plate on the front that read Sirius. Sirius kicked it open unceremoniously and walked through. Harry stopped in the doorway, gaping at his surroundings.

There were large, flowing Gryffindor banners across the ceilings and the walls, contrasting harshly with the wallpaper's deep green. In the limited wall space remaining, Sirius had placed posters of bikini-clad muggle girls riding motorcycles. Harry grinned as he took it all in.

"Er…" Sirius started sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. "You know, I thought this would be the best bedroom for you because there shouldn't be any dark artifacts in here but… I forgot about the posters." He flicked his wand quickly. Harry had expected the posters to fly off the walls, but they remained where they were. Instead of the revealing bikinis, however, the women were now dressed in a variety of costumes and bright clothing. One even had on a party hat.

"Not the most fashion forward, are they?" Sirius mumbled, stepping closer to one poster to inspect his work. "I'd take them down but... I used a permanent sticking charm when I was fifteen, so they can't come off."

Harry laughed, moving closer to look at one above the bedside table; the woman was wearing a parka and ski goggles. "It's brilliant."

Sirius turned towards him and smiled warmly again. "Do you need anything? I'm going to stay in the next room to the right, my parent's old room… but I need to check it for dark artifacts before I settle in. Nothing says welcome home like being strangled by your bed covers."

Harry's smile regarding the scandalous posters slipped off his face. He eyed the bed warily. "I-I'm fine, Sirius, thanks."

Sirius followed Harry's gaze. "You know, I didn't think she'd mess with this room because it pissed her off to come in here, but I guess I should be sure before I let you stay." Sirius pulled back the sheets, sat on the edge of the bed, and ran his hands over the linen.

Nothing happened.

He then lifted his wand and murmured "revelio."

Harry looked around nervously, but again, nothing was amiss. Sirius shrugged. "Should be alright, but if you find something unusual, call me before you do anything, okay?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip. Uncertainty was surging within him again. It was awful living with the Dursleys, who were often cruel, unjust, unkind… but he knew what to expect with them. He had learned the triggers that set all three of them off, had discovered ways to feel peaceful and be left alone when he was with them. This house, this dark, awful house, was like a ticking bomb, each corner prepared to explode when prodded.

And if the house was a mystery, so was the man who resided in it. Harry's parents had trusted Sirius above anyone else, and yet… Harry couldn't read him the way he could read Uncle Vernon. He seemed kind and funny, and maybe he really was, but he had been in Azkaban for twelve years… surely he would be a bit unpredictable, given all he had been through.

Sirius was watching him closely. He reached his hand out tentatively, and Harry flinched despite himself. When he didn't feel the man touching him, though, he opened his eyes again.

Sirius had put his hand back down, as if he had thought better of it. He looked pale and unnerved, but he gave Harry another reassuring smile. "I'll check on you in a bit, mate."

Harry remained where he stood until he heard the door click shut, feeling quite foolish. He glanced at his surroundings again to distract himself from his embarrassment.

This room was definitely the best in the house, and not just because it had Gryffindor banners. Kreacher clearly knew how to clean, because the baseboards and bookshelves were spotless, and the room smelled fresh and fragrant compared to the musty kitchen. Harry walked around slowly, again admiring the colorfully censored magazine posters on the wall.

He stopped short when he reached a small photograph; this was the only one in the room that appeared to be magical, as the inhabitants of it were moving.

His heart leapt into his throat as he got a better look at it. Staring back at him, smiling joyfully, was his father. To his right was Sirius, younger and far healthier looking, his arm wrapped casually around James's shoulder. Lupin and Pettigrew were on their sides, both looking pleasantly surprised to be included in the photo.

Harry stood there for minutes, relishing in the photo. James occasionally mussed his hair, and whenever he did, Sirius would turn towards him, a faux-strict expression on his face, and fix it back into lying flat. Remus was laughing at the two of them, clearly enjoying their antics, but Peter seemed… separate somehow. James's arm was around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and yet… there was something different about him, something off.

Harry tried to grab the photo to get a better look, but it wouldn't budge. Sirius had apparently used that permanent sticking charm on all of his decorations.

He turned back towards his trunk and opened it, staring at all of his belongings inside. Should he unpack? It was only for two weeks… and where would he unpack, anyway? It felt wrong to go into Sirius's closet or dresser.

Harry took a step back and felt something slick under his foot. Looking down, he saw a bit of parchment and another photograph. His heart leapt into his chest as he noticed the woman in the photo - his mum.

He picked it up quickly and saw it was another wizarding photograph. In it, a baby with dark hair was zooming along on a toy broomstick and a man's legs were chasing after him. Lily sat in the corner of the photo, laughing and smiling at the two of them. He brought this photo as close to his face as he could, trying with all his might to memorize his mother's beautiful red hair, her striking green eyes. He looked back down at the parchment on the floor, and realized with a jolt in his chest what it must be. He reached down quickly to grab it, to study it, to relish what he just knew would be a letter from one of his parents, when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, Harry, I think Hedwig came back, you've got two letters-" Sirius stopped as he noticed Harry, who was still half bent over, watching him warily.

Sirius tossed the letters on the bed and stepped closer. "Did you find something?"

"Er," Harry said, straightening up. How would Sirius feel about Harry snooping around with his personal mail?

Sirius leaned over and glimpsed at the photo in Harry's hand. His gaze softened and he smiled reminiscently as he realized what it was. "Where'd you find this?"

"Er…" Harry said again, his gaze trailing to the floor, disappointment surging within him. He had hoped to have a bit of time to look at the photo before returning it to Sirius.

Sirius seemed to know what he was thinking; he chuckled and shook his head. "Mate, I wouldn't have put you in this room if I was worried about you finding something I didn't want you to see. Besides," he said, nodding towards the photo, "you have every right to that photograph and every other photo of your parents we can find. Where'd you find it? I'll help you look for more."

Harry looked up at his godfather in surprise. "I can keep it?"

"It's your's, mate. There's definitely more in here, though, and I think there should be a letter from your mum that goes along with that photo-"

"It's here," Harry said, pointing excitedly in front of them. "That's what I was going to grab when you came in."

"Brilliant," Sirius said with a grin. He picked it up and glanced at it, his gray eyes filling with warmth. Then he passed it to Harry. "I sent you a child's broomstick for your first birthday, but had to miss the celebration for a mission, so your mum sent me this. You had a knack for flying even as a baby."

Harry read the letter through three times, studying his mother's beautiful, sloping hand-writing and taking in the contents of it all. They made their g's the exact same way. He grinned as he read about breaking a vase from Aunt Petunia and scaring their cat.

On the third read through, it really hit him that Sirius, the man standing beside him, had given him his very first broomstick. He glanced back up at his godfather, feeling this gift, this old bit of parchment, was far too good to be true. It showed that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, and had written to her bestfriends just like Harry wrote to Ron and Hermione. "I really can keep it?"

"You can keep anything you find, Harry." Sirius said sincerely. "Like I said, there's probably more around here somewhere-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted as he remembered where they were. "If you ran away at sixteen, why is all your stuff here?"

Sirius shrugged. "I guess all my possessions were taken to my last living relative, so… my mum and dad. I'm honestly surprised they didn't burn them… but, given the rumors going around, you know, that I was The Dark Lord's Right Hand Man, maybe they thought I had changed. I suspect that's why they named me heir of the family, after all. I had been disowned… before…"

Sirius looked away and some of the awkwardness from the morning crept back over them. Harry felt questions burning within him; he wanted to ask about his parents, wanted to know more about Sirius's upbringing. The dark expression on Sirius's face, however, made him bite his tongue.

Sirius cleared his throat and nodded towards the letters on the bed. "Well, anyway, like I said, I think your friends wrote to you. I'm going to keep cleaning out the remaining rooms."

He turned and walked out abruptly, leaving Harry conflicted and confused. He suspected there was more to his godfather's childhood than he was letting on.

Harry stood frozen for a moment, considering calling Sirius back to look for more of the photographs. The more time he spent with him, the more comfortable he felt, and he found that he wasn't quite ready to be alone again.

Yet, the way Sirius had looked as he stepped out of the room… maybe he needed to be alone. Harry didn't want to badger him, not when they were finally starting to get along. He sighed and turned toward Ron and Hermione's letters.

Hermione's was much longer than Ron's, so Harry started with his.

Harry -

Professor Lupin and Dumbledore told us you were sent to live with Sirius Black. They said he was innocent and you were okay, but they wouldn't tell us anything else about where you were. What's happened? I'll get Fred and George and we'll come find you if you need, just say the word.

Professor Lupin reckons Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew - I told him it was mental, but he showed me the Daily Prophet… so I guess there must be something to his story. And Scabbers was acting pretty weird…

Send your owl back as soon as you can so we know you're okay. I won't tell mum for now, she'll have a cow when she finds out!

Ron

Harry grinned; getting Fred and George was the same solution Ron had used the year before, when his aunt and uncle were locking him in his bedroom.

At least he had free range of the house, here, he thought as he reached for Hermione's letter.

Harry -

Professor Dumbledore said you're okay, and I trust him, but please write as soon as possible. I can't believe he'd send you to stay with Sirius Black like that! I mean, he said he's innocent and I know he's your godfather, but couldn't he have let you two meet a couple of times first? I'm sure it was frightening this morning, it sounds like they made you leave quickly!

I saw the Daily Prophet about Peter Pettigrew being captured. It does seem pretty unlikely that he's been living as a rat, especially since he's not on the animagus registry, but Lupin said Black, Pettigrew, and your dad were all unregistered animaguses! That's pretty advanced magic for Hogwarts students!

I guess if Dumbledore says Sirius Black is safe, then you're fine… but Ron and I would really like to hear from you. Dumbledore told us not to say anything to any of the students yet, but Professor McGonagall was livid that you had gone missing. We heard her yelling when we came into the Headmaster's office. We think she's come around, though - in fact, she seemed pretty happy to hear that Sirius was actually innocent. Regardless of what she said in the Three Broomsticks, she seems to be very fond of him.

What's he like? Is he nice? He seemed pretty terrifying in all of the mugshots, but Dumbledore said Madam Pomfrey cleaned him up. He said we could meet him sometime too.

Send Hedwig back as quickly as you can -

Love,

Hermione

Harry felt a surge of affection towards his friends; as excited as he was to learn the truth of it all, he missed them dearly already. He decided he would send one response; they would be together anyway, he was certain. He grabbed a quill and parchment from his trunk, then sat down at the dark, ornate desk in front of the window and began to write.

Ron and Hermione,

I'm doing fine, Sirius is nice.

He paused. He didn't really know what to say beyond that; he had barely had four hours with his godfather, and almost two of them were spent thinking he was a murderer. He really couldn't tell them about the house they were staying in, because that would be sure to worry them more. He thought for a few minutes, then dipped his quill in the ink bottle.

He's shown me some photos of my parents. I'm still settling in here, though. It's a bit weird, the way Dumbledore forced me to come here so quickly. He said it has to do with my protection from Voldemort.

I don't know Sirius well yet, it's only been a few hours, and I was calling him a murdering traitor for about two of them. He's been really gracious, all things considered.

I do wish I was still at Hogwarts though. I had been looking forward to spending Christmas with you both.

Write again soon,

Harry

Harry read the letter over a few times. It really wasn't a great response, but he didn't know what else to say. He couldn't really say Sirius was the best person ever because he barely knew him, and he certainly couldn't say his house was warm and welcoming.

Harry stood up from the desk and stretched, leaving the parchment on the table. He glanced around the room and realized for the first time that Hedwig wasn't in there with him. Where had she delivered the mail?

He walked to the door and looked out onto the landing, listening closely for his godfather moving around. All was silent.

Furrowing his brow, Harry stepped out of the room and glanced toward the door on the right, the one where Sirius said he would be. It was cracked open a bit; maybe Hedwig was in there?

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Sirius?" He called as he looked around, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. It was mostly empty, save for a king-size bed in the middle. Harry gave it a wide berth as he walked inside, remembering what Sirius had said about sheets that strangled. Neither Sirius nor Hedwig were in here.

He turned to leave when he heard a rattling in the wardrobe, the only other item of furniture in the room. He stepped closer. "Hedwig?" he called softly as he reached for the doorknob. Could she have accidentally flown in when Sirius wasn't looking?

As soon as Harry wrapped his hand around the ornate, golden doorknob, he felt a rush of air and his vision went black. It took him a full minute to realize he had been pulled inside the wardrobe. He pushed on the door hard. It wouldn't budge.

"Uh… Sirius?" Harry called tentatively. He heard indignant hooting above him and realized that he had been correct in thinking Hedwig had gotten trapped inside. "Down here Hedwig!" he called. After a moment, he felt the dead, sharp weight of her claws on his shoulder. She nipped his ear harshly, clearly feeling the same panic that was erupting inside Harry's chest. He banged harshly on the door. "Sirius!" he shouted, though he had a horrible feeling his godfather wouldn't be able to hear him from the other side.

Harry banged and clawed against the door over and over, but it didn't budge. He felt the makings of a panic attack as he kicked and screamed; yet, no one came, no one could hear…

And in his panicked state, he couldn't help but wonder again if he had been tricked; had Sirius planned this all along? Had he fooled them all, used Hedwig to get Harry to fall into his trap?

He warned you these rooms were dangerous, Harry reminded himself. Yet, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind was growing, and after ten more minutes of fighting the immovable door, he thought for certain he would die there, with no one to rescue him, and Sirius would be long gone before anyone realized he was missing.