Sometimes I like to think Eleanor is mostly an enhanced version of me.
Also, I don't want to do a text about all the things I don't approve of in fanfic, especially in "read the book" stories, but I will and I did put some of them here and there. I really don't like the way many people add extreme bashing everywhere in their stories, and meanwhile make another character look perfect, as if a perfect character was interesting. A Gary Stu or a Mary are only infuriating, I think, but well.
I think you've noticed I don't do bashing, nor the contrary. I'm rather sick of Perfect Gary Stu Harry the Saint, of Dumbledore bashing, of Snape the Poor Misunderstood Man, of Sirius the Bastard, of Draco the Hidden Genius, or even of the need some people seem to have to add angst by child abuse. They do what they want, but you won't find it here.
Most of the time, I just don't read the story if there's too much injustified bashing. Still, I want to be able to read a few fanfics from time to time. And there are simply things I can't condone. I'm not saying I don't want you to write your stories as you wish, and you can have all the prejudices you want. Just, when you read my stories, don't comment on your hate if you disagree with me. We can argue a bit, but that's all. Just, let's agree to disagree if you're not willing to listen to my point.
On a more pleasant point, I hope my Sirius doesn't appear as a Gary Stu ( I think he's a bit too scary for that, but what do I know? )
Chapter 26: Scarlet painting job
It was hot that day. Not surprising, considering they were in summer, but still. Unusually hot for a London summer, especially since dementors were hovering glummily all around town.
It was a thursday, in the middle of August, more or less. Sirius had left Harry with the Weasleys, but was only a mirror call away – the shame, when he'd realized Harry had never looked at his christmas present! They had spent the last week in each other's presence only, Harry having just returned from his mandatory week at the Dursleys', and the older wizard could see they needed some time out. So he had asked Arthur if Ron would have liked spending the day with Harry, and unsurprisingly, the teenagers had been totally for it.
Sirius, on the other hand, had flooed to Grimmauld Place, said "hi" to the two members of the Order working there that day, scowled viciously at his mother's portrait, and left. He had then sent an owl to Eleanor, and walked around the city aimlessly, waiting for an answer.
That was how the Lord of the House of Black and a member of the House of Rowle had ended up here, sitting on a bench in a muggle park, both of them eating an ice cream most wizards would call dull because it didn't glow in the dark nor did it heat up on their tongue. Personally, Sirius liked his ice creams simple. Liquorice and coconuts.
Eleanor had only once tried a muggle ice cream, with Armand. She didn't get why most wizards were so judgemental, considering they had the very same flavors alongside the magic flavors. Besides, this lime and raspberry sorbet tasted better than any magically-enhanced ice cream she'd had lately.
The witch smiled a bit, as she watched two children playing around in the sandbox, a dozen feet away. They were muggles, but they laughed just the same.
"Do you often wander around muggle London?"
The question startled Sirius a bit.
"Not that often, especially the last years, but... I like to. It's less extravagant, most of the time, than the wizarding world, but I think it's calming. And here, no one knows me. The wizarding parts of London are too reduced. They're great, but you don't have much choice. It can be infuriating."
Eleanor nodded. She bit into the last of her ice cream, and turned around to look at him.
"I get it. That's why I chose to live here, in a normal apartment. I've magicked it a bit, sure, but it's still very muggle. I made friends, that way. That's how I met Armand, actually. At a bookstore in Oxford. A normal, muggle bookstore. A place where no books try to eat your hands."
She had a wry smile as she said this, and it got to Sirius' curiosity. It was like she was talking from experience. And he knew of only one – or really, two, but Hagrid's didn't count – books that tried to eat your hands. Maybe there were a few others, but still.
"Did Miss Rowle ever happen to be in the Restricted Section, without authorization?"
She gave him a disdainful sneer, but surrendered information nonetheless.
"Well, I was trying to understand why MacMarmond's drying spell had ended up desiccating its caster, but obviously they wouldn't let a fifteen years old look at the spell that had gone wrong. So I had to go and take a look for myself. I'm quite sure your excuses for being in the Restricted Section at night weren't so academic."
"Touché. My stays in the restricted Section were more about finding out how to make a suit of armor threaten bloody things at the future Lord Bulstrode, over the security spells of the professors. A true work of art, I dare say. At some point it had even followed the guy to the toilets, and I think it had started talking about cutting off some things, but I never got confirmation. The Slytherins just wouldn't talk of it."
Eleanor laughed a bit, remembering the last time she had seen Dorian Bulstrode at the Ministry. The wizard had never become a Death Eater, considering it to be too dangerous for his political career, but he had been suspected of being a willing supporter of Voldemort nonetheless, years ago.
"What had that douchebag done?"
Because that was the thing, with what some had called "Black's bullying". To be "bullied" by Sirius Black at Hogwarts, one had to have done something serious. Be it bullying of their own, threats, horrendous name-calling...
Or, there was another way. The ones who got it like that usually regretted it badly. Because it wasn't about pranking or derogatory speechs, here. An attack, some called it. But the thing was, no one really knew, because it was never public, and the guys rarely had more than one or two bruises.
Eleanor suspected a simple talk. Freezing. Menacing. And when the other tried to attack Sirius himself, because they had been pushed too far – or because they were morons, depends on the situation – he didn't do a thing, except prove to them how superior he was. That they couldn't even get to him. That he could get rid of them without breaking a sweat, if he wanted.
Speculations, of course.
Because, except Sirius and the concerned people, no one had any idea of what happened, these times. Eleanor was not part of that group. She could only guess.
"Oh, the usual name-calling to a muggleborn whose parents had just been killed."
"Surprising, coming from him."
"Hum. He used to be more... discreet. But they said Marianna Parkinson had just told him to fuck off. In the slytherin common room. With half the House present."
"Still a douchebag."
"Never said otherwise."
They sat there, in this simple muggle park, in companionable silence for a few more minutes. They weren't looking at each other, or anything like that. They were simply watching the life. They had chased off any dementor they had encountered on their way – well hidden from muggle eyes, obviously. People from the neighborhood seemed to have noticed the change of atmosphere, because a few had come down, and were now walking around the park, happy for a few minutes.
They watched the life they had brought back, for an hour or so, to this place.
Finally, Sirius asked the question he had been wondering about all this time.
With someone else, he wouldn't have asked. With Remus, Tonks, or the few others whom he could still call friends, he had no need to. He knew them, they knew him, before. With regular people on the other hand, people he didn't know much, just like Eleanor, he wouldn't have asked.
But she wasn't a regular person. Far from it.
With her, he felt like he could ask. He felt as if he needed to ask.
After all, she kept coming to him when he asked her to.
"Why would you bother?"
The witch turned back to look at him. Her expression was gentle, and at the same time quizzical. Sirius had a feeling that no matter what happened, she would always manage to appear gentle.
"Doing what?"
He gestured helplessly at himself, at the park, at her.
"Why would you even bother with someone like me? With being my... friend? I'm nothing less than a psychopath with fairness issues."
Well, maybe psychopath wasn't the right word, but it wasn't his job to determine this, so he'd go with it.
What was sure, what he hadn't hidden once since he was back, was that he didn't care for things people were supposed to care about, if only a little. There were things he could do, things he would do if necessary, that should have disgusted him, but that didn't. He didn't particularly like doing these things, but he didn't dislike it either.
If he chose to, he was certain he could be a worse monster than Bellatrix had been.
A memory burned at his mind, but he pushed it away. There were some things he knew, but he liked better not to aknowledge. Like his makeshift conscience.
Eleanor watched the gloom settling on Sirius' shoulders, and she saw the tiny glint of fear, fear of himself, fear of what he could do, in the corner of his eyes. She sighed, and reached out to him. He wasn't a regular human being, but that didn't make him a monster. The worst was that he knew it.
Because he was aware of his flaws, unlike many, and because these flaws were more dangerous than the average person's, even knowing that he had made the right choice...
Her hand covered his. Almost. He didn't have big, large hands, like some of the men she knew, but long, thin fingers. Her own hands, petites, let the tip of his fingers be seen. They weren't big enough to cover his entirely. Not long enough.
It didn't matter.
"Maybe you are a bit touched in the head, Sirius, but you try to use it and not be used by it. And even if you would easily be able to ignore the unfairness of the world, and not care in the least that it's going to hell, you still decided to act for it."
Maybe that, just now, was the reason she wanted to be his friend, Eleanor mused.
Because he was someone remarkable, sure, but also because he needed someone to tell him what he already knew, but couldn't dare to believe too much. That he was more than just his flaws. That he had made them into strengths. That he wasn't only playing by his own rules, but also by the rules of the world.
That he was right to do what he did.
And for that, it had to be someone he didn't know since childhood, it had to be someone who saw no point in lying to him, who wasn't blinded, or simply used, to his flaws.
Eleanor hoped she could be that person.
And it seemed Sirius thought her to be, because he had opened up to her, if only a bit.
She had to do as much, because he had been honest with her so far.
"I'm not someone who likes to stand out, but you made me speak up and take a stance, because I believe you can change things. Because you are right. Because I always thought and acted so, but from the shadows, when we need people who stand firm. People like you."
It cracked a smile on his face, but she could hear a little disbelief in his voice, still.
"You could have done it. Standing up only asks for a little courage."
The witch raised her eyebrows, but it wasn't in sarcasm. She knew very well who she was, just like Sirius knew who he really was. She knew her own flaws, just as he did his.
"You are the Gryffindor, Sirius, not me. I have courage, but not for these kinds of things. I want to be heard, but I fear to be caught unaware. Everything I do, every stance I take, is so in silence. I don't speak. I don't berate. I don't reveal the truth. I act. But action is worth more than words only in some situations. You, you act, and you speak. You explain. I don't. I never could."
He didn't seem to believe her all that much. Oh, he agreed with her, but he looked like he'd argue. Like he was going to say that all she had to do was to try.
Eleanor wasn't against trying.
She had never known how to, though.
They said she thought too much. She agreed with them. Didn't mean she knew how to stop.
Eleanor squeezed Sirius' hand, just a bit. As if for reassurance. For him, or for her, neither were really sure about that. The fact that both of them found it comforting, just a bit, had to mean something. Neither of them saw it that way, as usual.
Eleanor stood up, but didn't let go of his hand. He stood up too as a result.
"It's okay, anyway. I'll just have to follow you."
It was time to go home, perhaps, to go and get Harry at the Weasleys'. She was ready to leave. He followed her. Apparently it wasn't time for her to follow him yet. Maybe they could make a deal. She'd show him how to live again, he'd show her where to go to be a better person.
But because so is life, it didn't last.
They had barely walked three feet from the bench, when Eleanor stopped still. Sirius could see she wasn't moving at all, and her hand had gone rigid against his. He almost thought she had been stupefied, but no, it wasn't that. It was more as if she had seen something she hadn't planned to see here. As if she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do, perhaps, and by the most unlikely person to hang around this park.
Sirius let go of her hand, and walked around her. He was right. It was surprise, and maybe a bit of alarm, that colored her face. Her eyes were fixed on the back of an indistinguishable silhouette, just on the other side of the fence isolating the park from the rest of the city.
She wasn't sure if it was him, truthfully. But this back... This silhouette... It sure looked like him.
Older than her, same year as Sirius at Hogwarts. That slytherin boy who always hung around Rosier, whom even Evan Rosier did not trust. Not that Rosier had trusted many people anyway. The pureblood surely hadn't told the other teenager his big secret, the one Eleanor had discovered unwillingly one night, when she was late to go back to the common room. If Rosier had told his classmate at the time, Eleanor wasn't sure Diana Exeter would still live.
The man leaning against the fence suddenly straightened, and turned to look at them.
Sirius's jaw clenched. In an instant he had his wand in hand. And the first thing he did was to step right in front of Eleanor. If this was deliberate... He was most likely the target, but he wouldn't risk being wrong.
Marden Burke had whispered a hissed spell already. Sirius felt something tear at his right shoulder, and before he knew it something hot rolled down his skin. It hurt a bit.
It hurt enough for him to want to lower his own wand. He didn't, though.
Eleanor had moved out of the way as soon as Burke had turned around and had comfirmed her suspicions. She wasn't in immediate danger, because the Death Eater was focused on Sirius, and because she had searched for cover. She didn't need him to stay between them.
Sirius would have hoped he wasn't wrong about that, if he had taken the time to worry. For now, he had evaluated Rowle not to be in immediate danger, and he'd have to stick with that. Worry only brought hesitation, and hesitation could lead to death or a grave injury on the battlefield.
So he didn't lose any time, and instead tested his ability to apparate.
The Black lord reappeared right behind Burke, still spinning around. His wand whipped at the other wizard, and a large gash blossomed from the Death Eater's neck to the small of his back, almost perfectly following his spine, cutting throught the clothes easily. Sirius heard a scream, but didn't see much. He wasn't sure what exactly he had sectioned with his spell, but it sure bled a lot.
The time for him to blink the blood splatter out of his eyes, and a thick crack told him Marden Burke had apparated away. With some luck, the wizard had splinched himself worse by trying to apparate in his state.
Sirius took a moment to breathe deeply.
The fact that apparition had been possible told him this hadn't been a planned attack. If it had been, the Death Eater surely would have put up wards while he was busy speaking with Eleanor, inattentive to his surroundings. Or, well, less attentive than usual. He did see the toddler scratching a knee half an hour ago, in the corner of his eye.
Now, what was the pureblood supremacist doing in the middle of muggle London?
He shook his head. It wasn't as if he could question the man, now that he had run away.
Sirius reported his attention onto Eleanor, who had left her hiding spot and was now doing her best not to run at him and get everyone's attention. It was a miracle no one had noticed the attack amongst the muggles, but if someone looked his way and got a look of his blood-covered face...
He didn't want to call the Ministry to deal with this. If possible, as Burke had escaped, he'd rather tell no one about it, not even the Order. They had enough things to see to as it was, and he wasn't going to load their worksheet any more by not being able to take care of his own sorry arse.
Eleanor's voice got him out of his thoughts.
"Considering he was alone, he must just have stumbled on us while doing something else. We should go, though, before he decides to come back with a bunch of friends."
Sirius gave her a non-committal "hmm", and prepared to apparate back to Black Manor.
Eleanor had none of that, and for a good reason. Sirius may be better at apparating than the average wizard, as he had just demonstrated, but it didn't exempt him from the higher risks of splinching when wounded. He may be able to apparate to a very precise spot and everything, but still.
"If anything, I am side-long apparating you to St. Mungo's. You do not do it on your own. Not in this state."
Sirius raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask which state. She raised back both eyebrows, and nabbed at his wounded shoulder. The man tried to keep his wince to himself. She wasn't fooled.
"It cut right through the fabric, Sirius, and I can see the bone. You need to get treated."
"I don't. It wasn't a dark spell, only a cutting spell. A simple knitting spell and a numbing potion will do the trick. And I'm definitely not going to St. Mungo's."
For some reason, the witch didn't look convinced. At all.
"And you obviously are an expert at 'simple knitting spells'."
"No, but I'm almost an expert at potions, and Sterhn can take take of a cut. As long as there isn't any black magic in it, it won't be a problem."
He could see she wouldn't waver, so he sighed.
"Alright, you can take care of the apparition. I'll make sure I don't bleed to death meanwhile."
Eleanor gave him a suspicious look, but surrendered, this time. She had a feeling he wouldn't bulge, and that if she insisted to take him to the hospital, he'd just go on his own. And possibly splinch himself. The whole point of the argument being he should take care of his health, it would be counterproductive.
"A lesser evil, I suppose... Now, let's go. I don't think Marden took whatever you did to him well."
She grabbed his uninjured arm, and one second later they were standing before the large and black gates of Black Manor. After a fleeting moment of "yeah,-alright-we-weren't-ambushed-on-the-way-home", Sirius turned around and looked very seriously at his friend.
"I answered his vicious-and-unwarranted attack with an equally vicious, but warranted one. A simple cutting spell, just like his, but mine lasted longer, and I might have slightly compromised his vertebral column. I suppose we'll know if it went this far if, next time we stumble upon Burke, he's sitting in a wheelchair."
The gates opened for them, and they both entered the Black domain. There was quite a walk to the Manor, and Eleanor eyed the shoulder wound warily. As if it was going to become worse or something. Not that it had to. She was certain, even if Sirius kept saying she exaggerated, that she had seen a glimpse of white earlier on. The wound sure looked deep enough to reach the bone.
How Sirius was this cool about it, she had no idea.
But at least he wasn't being stupid. As soon as they were a reasonable distance away from the gates, he called for Sterhn, who sternly popped into existence one foot away from his Master.
The house-elf apparently had more sense than his Master, because his eyes widened at the wound, and he apparated everyone right to the Manor's entrance hall. Sirius immediately fell into an armchair he could swear hadn't been there a moment ago. He totally suspected Sterhn of having pushed him down with his magic.
The way the old house-elf glared at him, Sirius figured he was better off not complaining.
"Master will not move. Master has lost much blood, and should rest. But Sterhn needs to take care of this wound beforehand. Master will not move."
Sirius nodded slightly, just in case nodding was one of the moves he wasn't allowed to do.
Sterhn turned to Eleanor, and bit his lower lip. He seemed conflicted as to what to do. She understood that, and kneeled down to be at eye-level with him.
"Do you need me to do something, Sterhn?"
"Sterhn would not ask it of a guest if he had a choice, but there is no one else from the household present, so Sterhn would appreciate if Miss Rowle could remove the Master's upper clothing."
Eleanor blushed a bit, or at least Sirius though she did. The light from the enchanted orbs tinged everything orange, and there was one floating right above the witch.
She cleared her throat, and accepted. As she took off his shirt, she couldn't help but stare at the several scars marring his skin. He'd said the Reciprocation Curse had negated every single thing which had happened to his body since his jailing... Which meant these scars were even older.
There weren't that many, but it was still more than she had expected.
Sirius followed her gaze, and smiled sadly. He should have thought of this. After all, not that many people knew about it. The three scars on his right arm, from when Bellatrix had attacked him during the holidays of his seventh year; the bite mark from that one time Moony had almost gotten one on Padfoot; the words his mother had carved upon his heart; and the gash on his left side where an unknown Death Eater had gotten him in 1980.
He wasn't as scarred as some people – namely, Moody, or, if he suspected right, Dumbledore himself – but he had marks.
"Don't look at them, if you don't like it."
Eleanor gave him a dubious look, as if in defiance. Sirius wasn't sure why she would be defiant about not looking at his scars, but well. And anyway, before they got to say another word, Sirius started in pain.
With all that, he had almost forgotten about Sterhn, and the wound the house-elf was taking care of.
His eyes jumped onto the old house-elf, who gazed back at him without remorse.
"Master's shoulder hurts again, Sterhn sees. Good. There was a numbing twist to the cutting spell, that is why Master felt so good despite having a rift in his flesh. It hurt at the moment the spell cut through, but it almost immediately numbed any sensation after that."
Sirius arched both eyebrows at that. He knew Sterhn was a good healer, for a house-elf, because he had had to patch up the Backs for about four generations, and let's just say that the Blacks tended to get bloody easily. Still, he couldn't see why a Death Eater would cast a spell at him which would save him the pain. It just didn't sound logical.
Sterhn must have seen his dubious look, because the house-elf went on, as he ran his fingers over the wound. Sirius could see its edges closing together slowly. It hurt a lot, though, and he did his best not to look at the process. He was certain it was fascinating, but he couldn't quite focus on it right now. He was busy focusing the pain away.
"Most wizards tend to overlook something that does not cause pain. It is possible that the spell was crafted that way to push the opponents into a longer battle, not noticing the damage they are taking. Knowing Master Sirius, it is a viable tactic."
Sirius almost felt offended at that, but a tug at his skin made him grit his teeth instead.
"Master is not known for his prudence. He tends to fight to the death, if it gives him a chance to undo his adversary."
Oh right. Sterhn was right. As always. Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the House of Black, was a moron. Remus wouldn't be surprised to learn that. He most likely knew already.
Sterhn suddenly looked up, at nothing in particular, as if he was listening to something the others couldn't hear. He tilted his head to the side, frowning, and turned slowly to the entrance of the Manor. It gave it away for Sirius.
Sterhn only reacted like that when Bella came back from wherever she'd been hovering during the day. By the way, it had been a true relief to discover that the ghost didn't have to be near him at all time, even if she was bound to obey him no matter the distance. At least, that way, Sirius had been able to send her away while he met with Eleanor. His stupid cousin would always snicker in the background if he didn't.
About half a minute later, Bella hovered into the entrance hall, right through the doors. She had a hard time remembering she actually could come from wherever she wanted, still too used to being alive, and not used enough to being dead.
She merely raised an eyebrow at the scene, before speaking.
"It's six and a half, Sirius. Your godson is waiting at the gates with Weasley. Should I go and tell them you've been turned to mincemeat and can't come over to say 'Hi'?"
Oh, right. Sirius had kind of forgotten about it, in between his shoulder being sliced open, and a random Death Eater attack. Though he guessed both instances came as one.
He automatically tried to stand up and not let his ghost of a cousin raise any alarm, but he only winced as his shoulder made itself known to him once more, with a massive bout of pain.
Maybe it would be best advised to completely take care of that first.
But he couldn't leave Arthur and Harry to wait outside, could he? And he certainly didn't want Bella reporting exaggeratedly and in his stead. Harry would freak out, and the Order didn't need to learn about his last encounter with a hexes-happy Burke.
Eleanor saw his problem.
"They are both keyed into the wards, right?"
"Gnnn" was his soulful answer.
The witch put down the bloodied shirt she'd been holding onto all that time, and made for the exit. She was here, after all, she could go and see them, Sirius being... otherwise occupied at the moment.
"I'll go. Sterhn, I trust you to take care of your Master."
"Of course, Miss Rowle."
Sirius watched her leave the manor, but soon enough his attention was taken back by Bellatrix, who stared pointedly and in turn at the trail of blood around him, the blood splatters on him, his discarded shirt on the floor, and the house-elf busy with knitting his shoulder back together.
The wizard sighed.
"What?"
Bella gave him a mockingly shocked look.
"Either you two, and no, I'm not talking about you and the house-elf, but about you and Miss Eleanor Rowle, have kinky-in-a-dangerous-way pastimes, or you ran into trouble."
Sirius didn't even bother to glare at her viciously.
"Your buddy Marden Burke, in a muggle park, with a cutting spell."
Bellatrix only looked mildly impressed. As in, not at all impressed.
"Oh. I always thought him a bit dull. Never had that special thing that makes us true psychopaths."
"Of course you would think that. But don't worry, dear cousin, I'm as much of a psycho as you were. It's mostly his blood, anyway. He ran away before I could do anything more... definitive, but well. It's probable he will never walk the same. If he walks at all."
Sterhn did his thing with the skin-knitting spell, again. It stopped any further conversation between the cousins, because Sirius did not want to bite his tongue accidentally.
One more minute, and the house-elf finished his work. He bowed, and advised his Master to go to St. Mungo's anyway, before long, just for them to make sure everything was alright with his shoulder, and to validate his choice of potions for the next week. Just to be sure he wouldn't lose the use of his arm. After all, Sterhn was no healer, even if he could heal well enough.
Sirius would have gone to Ted instead, just so that the hospital wouldn't hear about his latest injury, but he knew Andromeda would want to know why he was concerned about his shoulder. Then it would get back to Remus. Who'd get it back to the Order. Just what Sirius did not want to happen.
Maybe he could just say he hadn't been cautious enough doing some thing or another, and had felt something a bit worrying. The healers would probably think he had a muscle strain or whatever.
They had asked him to come and check up – considering his stellar health, lately – anyway.
Sirius agreed with a grunt, and apparated right into his own bedroom. The Manor was warded against apparition, of course, but it didn't mean apparition was impossible. This kind of house wards actually created a wall of magical emptiness at the limits of the properties, impossible to cross in and out, but without affecting indoor apparition. It was the same wards, only, weaker, as those which stood on the frontiers of every country with a magical government.
The Weasleys twins had abused that loophole when they had all been at Grimmauld.
Sirius didn't want Harry to wonder why, on top of the blood in the hall, he was standing around shirtless while Eleanor was visiting. Obviously, though, he forgot to wash off the blood on his pants, his face, his forearms.
When he got back downstairs, using the stairs like a civilized person this time, Harry was starring at the blood on the floor, his facial expression torn between worried sick and reluctantly impressed. Eleanor slipped away with a whisper, informing him that Arthur Weasley had had to leave right away, and so had not seen the scarlet painting job. The witch was smart enough not to intrude on the discussion Sirius was sure Harry would want to have. She had escaped before it was too late, probably to the manor's library.
Bella was nowhere to be seen either. He wasn't surprised.
Sadly for Sirius, he couldn't do as much, considering he was the very topic of the upcoming conversation, and one of the necessary participants.
He stopped behind Harry, and tried to look as innocent as possible as his eyes fell on the various red prints on the black stone of the floor. It didn't look very convincing, he was sure.
"Did you enjoy your day?"
It startled Harry, but the teen only turned around slowly. The dark-haired boy quietly took in the state Sirius was in, and the blood splattered across his face as if he had cut deeply into human flesh while standing very close to his victim. Which, alright, he had, but Harry couldn't know that.
The teenager could only guess.
The lack of certitudes did not deter Harry from looking pissed at his godfather.
"What the hell happened?!"
Sirius kept his wince internal. As if it was his fault a bastard from the enemies had decided to go after him, when the only thing he had been doing was enjoying an ice cream with a friend?
"I murdered an innocent in cold blood because he looked at me wrongly, what do you think?"
The adult didn't mean to sound so aggressive, but Harry had a way to be demanding that sometimes gratted on his nerves. James had been the same, a bit too judgemental at times, but back then, when they had been young and carefree, Sirius hadn't been thrown in Azkaban without a trial. Not yet. He had been able to cope with a friend acting like that.
Now, he couldn't. With a stranger, or a mere acquaintance, it was alright. They hadn't known him. They didn't know him. But with someone Sirius actually cared about, it was different. He felt defensive, more so than he used to be.
Not so surprising, when no one had come to his defense. They had had their reasons, and he understood, he respected that. It didn't mean it never hurt.
The betrayed look in Harry's eyes was enough to calm him down, even though Sirius didn't believe the teenager had any right to feel betrayed or anything. If the boy demanded to know everything and snapped at him without reason, he shouldn't be surprised to be snapped back at once in a while.
Sirius shook his head, and gestured to two armchairs, none with blood stains on it, a little further away. He gently pushed Harry in the back, and walked over there too.
"Come, let's talk. Sit down, okay?"
Once they were both sitting in comfort, Sirius took a moment to observe his godson. It was stunning how the boy looked like James, and yet not. The eyes completely broke the illusion.
It was the same thing with Harry's personality. The kid was much like his father, impetuous and brave, which were also qualities of his mother, but there were a few nuances to his traits that made him very different. Smart, yes, but not like Lily, and not like James either; a different kind of cleverness. Judgmental at times, like James, but sweet at other times, like Lily; it was curious how he managed to be so contradictory with himself, sometimes. Selfless like Lily, and a warrior like James. A bit of a smartass, too, and Sirius had no idea where this could come from. Honestly.
And then there were these two personality traits he had gotten from James on one hand, and Lily on the other hand. The ones that tended to anger Sirius a bit, even if none of the three Potters had made a habit of showing these flaws often.
Like James, Harry thought he ought to be privy to everything. Like Lily, he often tended to consider himself to be the only one to see the big picture. It could become infuriating, at times.
Fortunately it wasn't the case, most of the time.
"Listen, Harry. I was attacked while I was out in London, and I fought back. He wounded me, I wounded him harder. That's it."
"But, you shouldn't..."
"It's not surprising, Harry. We are at war, when it comes down to that. I won't stay jailed in my own home, not again, never again if I can help it. No harm was done. I'm cautious enough, and it was really a chance encounter."
The teen didn't look very convinced, but it was normal. His godfather had been wounded. Sirius wouldn't blame him for caring.
Which didn't mean the conversation had come to a close. There were a few things he wanted to speak about, now that he was officially Harry's guardian. Things he wasn't eager to talk about, but that needed to be said. Firstly because he thought them to be true, up to a certain point. Secondly because it was his job as an adult responsible for a teenager.
"Don't leave yet, Harry."
The kid hadn't moved from his armchair, and wasn't going to. But he was clearly fidgetting. Like James, he seemed to have the innate ability to know when the subject wasn't going to be pleasant to him. It wouldn't be to Sirius either, for the matter.
"I've heard about some of your adventures during the past years."
Ah, crap. Harry considered disappearing into the wadded armchair.
"From Remus?"
"Not only. I've got stories from Dumbledore, too, from the Weasleys in general, and even one from McGonagall herself."
If the theme hadn't made the teenager turn white as a sheet, that did it. He had no idea what Sirius knew exactly, but if his Head of House had spoken, he had a feeling even Sirius' past as a prankster wouldn't get him enough sympathy to survive.
"Really?"
"Really. Now, I want you to know that I am extremely proud of you as to some of the things I've been told about. Worried sick about how trouble always seems to find you, but proud. There are some things I'd rather forget you had to go through, but the way you fought your way back each time was the right one."
Harry relaxed slightly, yet he was still waiting for the big "But". He didn't have to wait long.
"But there are some things I want you to promise you won't do anymore. Or at least, that you'll try not to. Such as running head first into danger with only a bunch of other students."
The teen breathed between his teeth a reluctant answer.
"Trouble does find me, not the other way around..."
The look Sirius gave him said it all: the older wizard didn't believe him on that one. Harry wondered why. It wasn't as if he had tried to go after Sirius himself, back then when he had believed his godfather to be a traitor. Ron had been taken, he could only follow.
"It's true that trouble comes to you rather efficiently, Harry, but you can't say you never went to search for it. And those times you did, were the times it could have gone a lot more wrong, had you not been so lucky and resourceful. Like that one time with the philosopher's stone."
Harry tensed a bit, ready to defend himself. Voldemort freeloading Quirrell's head was definitely not because of him.
Sirius gave him an annoyed glare, and Harry slumped back into his seat.
"Don't make it more difficult than it already is, and listen. We'll never talk about that again if you don't want to, but we have to talk about it at least once."
Because his godfather sure wasn't enjoying himself right now. He'd rather be done with it.
"Listen carefully, Harry. The stone had been perfectly safe, until the very moment you joined Quirrell and Voldemort in that chamber. You never wondered why the trials were easy enough, though you three obviously had the right talents? Try to put some faith in the adults, for once. The professors' trials were first of all to get rid of the small fry. Dumbledore's enchantment, however, was perfect against someone who only wanted the stone to use it, aka Quirrell and Voldemort. No matter how much they tried, the mirror wouldn't have opened for them, and destroying it would only have destroyed the key to the dimensional space where the stone was truly hidden. Then you walked in, and hop, they had access to Flamel's stone."
Sirius took a minute to let his godson digest that bit of information. The teenager had never considered the situation that way, it was obvious. Dumbledore had refrained from telling him, because the headmaster hadn't wanted to burden him with that fact, when the eleven-years-old boy had risked his life to protect the stone, and in the end, no absolute harm had been done.
You didn't tell a child who only wanted to do the right thing that he'd almost ended the world as a consequence.
"Same thing with this year. I'm not going to say a word about what happened at the Department of Mysteries, I think you brood enough over it as it is. I just want you to understand, Harry, that I am worried for you. You shouldn't have had to live this, but you did, because Voldemort wants you dead. And because the adults don't tell you everything, it doesn't mean they don't know what you think you are the only one to realize. Just... Try to speak first, when you can."
There was an awkward silence when Sirius finished talking. Harry was thin-lipped, and the older wizard thought his godson might need some time alone. He quietly stood up, ready to leave.
Then his mother's portrait came around, saw the blood on the floor and all over her son's face, and started to be unbearable as always. Sirius tried not to, but really, she was asking for it. Not a minute later, the portrait was furiously walking away, a crimson spanish moustache painted on her face.