Sirius leaned back leisurely on his chair, and watched the smoke fly away from the onyx ashtray in front of him. Although his posture had an aura of uninhibited movement, even leisure, Sirius Black felt tense.

"I gather that your dream patterns have been the same then," remarked Dumbledore, curiously.

"Yes," Sirius grumbled. "Except for one detail–I don't know how relevant it might be, though," he added, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.

"Every detail is important, Sirius," said the older wizard. Sirius ignored the admonishment.

"There was a change–I saw another face, a woman. I don't know her," he said, taking a drag languidly and blowing the smoke right after. It was his only vice lately, something that gave him pleasure.

"Curious," said Dumbledore. "And what is the woman doing in the dream?" he raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

Sirius looked at the ashtray momentarily. "She yells something and cries, only that–listen, Dumbledore, I don't think it really matters," he said impatiently. "It's probably a figment of my imagination, like this whole ordeal."

"Are you sure she is not a Death Eater?" asked Dumbledore. Sirius shrugged. "I think it would be a good idea to bring the pensieve the next time, although I am afraid I will need it back when school starts," Dumbledore added.

"No need," muttered Sirius. All these dream analysis sessions irritated him greatly. He did not want to talk about his dreams with Dumbledore nor any other person. His sleep was always tumultuous, especially since Azkaban, but this was private, for him, and no one else.

"Keep a record of the dreams, Sirius. At any rate, I won't press you," he said. Sirius was grateful for a minute but did not acknowledge it; he knew Dumbledore was not done.

"I imagine you and Harry had a lovely time in Corfu," he said abruptly, changing the subject.

Sirius grimaced knowingly. Was he going to be told off by Albus too?

"This might come to you as a surprise, but I actually don't think that you did anything wrong in taking Harry away for a while," said Dumbledore in an aloof tone that was not conveying much.

Sirius leaned further back and the chair touched the cavernous wall of the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place 12. He regarded the old Headmaster with a suspicion, his thick eyebrows knit together.

"You don't?" said Sirius gruffly, and stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray. He momentarily remembered that he did not ask Dumbledore if he minded the smoke. Too late for any courtesy between them anyway. Or was it?

"No, in fact, I understand this need for a respite and I think it was in fact good for both you and young Harry," replied Dumbledore.

Sirius took in Dumbledore's words carefully, not relinquishing any trust to the old man. "So," began Sirius, his eyes not leaving Dumbledore. "You came here to tell me that I need to keep a record of my dreams and that I did well to take Harry on a holiday?" his bright eyes waiting, assessing Dumbledore's ungiving expression.

Sirius and Harry were back from Corfu for a few days now, and Sirius reminisced about the privacy and carefree isolation he had found on that island. He had first arrived there on his journey down the Balkans two years ago when he was on the run, and before he had decided to promptly return when he received a letter that Harry had been chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. It was a carefree and warm place, especially in the summer months with nice cobbled streets and natural beauty easily accessible outside the main town and small villages. The sounds of locals and cicadas would wake them up each morning and he and Harry did not need to be in disguise or under Polyjuice, at all, since it was an insular community and the locals were too removed from what was happening with Voldemort. Their days were easy, relaxed, as they would take strolls in the little quaint villages, go for a swim and then end up at some hidden local restaurant in the serpentine streets.

Dumbledore called it an escape for respite and perhaps it was–perhaps Sirius could finally admit out loud that he was tired, exhausted by his life , whatever quality of life he could have after Azkaban and back into the Order.

It was not that Sirius was irresponsible or indifferent to the cause. He wanted to take charge, to be involved, to act and be useful and he thought that his exoneration would grant him that allowance, this sense of liberty to contribute to the fight, to the anti-Voldemort movement. But his experience at the veil–whatever it was and whatever it meant, made him see his life differently. He worried that something was inherently wrong with him, that perhaps he was living on borrowed time and his end would be next soon–just like Emmeline whose death came suddenly in July and then everyone was soon under typical business, not allowed to crack, not allowed to take a minute and feel the asphyxiating noose of running out of time.

Sturgis, Emmeline, Amelia Bones, the random Muggle killings. He was almost gone in June, too. Who was next, now?

So Sirius decided that he should take the chance to be away, even for a bit, for those precious ten days. He had seen how it was good for Harry too, who seemed to have stopped worrying about him, as gradually the boy's questioning about how Sirius was after the veil stopped, and he shifted into other topics, mostly listening to Sirius' stories about James and Lily. And Sirius also needed this, he needed to heal this wound of the previous war to commit to another.

But at the same time, in hearing Dumbledore commending his decision to take Harry away from everything for those ten days, he wondered what the Headmaster was planning.

Because Sirius knew that whatever grace Dumbledore was granting him, had a price.

"You must know that I have decided to give Harry lessons myself this year, starting on the first week of school, in fact," said Dumbledore. "So I am glad he had the chance to enjoy the last stretch of his summer," he said.

"Lessons?" repeated Sirius. "I assume, Occlumency?" he asked with curiosity.

"No, not Occlumency," said Dumbledore in a measured voice, giving Sirius a strange look–like pity. "The nature of the lessons, I'm afraid, has to remain a private arrangement between me and Harry, for now at least" he added.

"Wait a minute," said Sirius, getting riled up. "I am–"

"You are Harry's legal guardian, yes," said Dumbledore. "And I will fill you in on some aspects of the lessons, but ultimately only Harry can know all the details. If it is his wish and desire to inform you…" he said, but Sirius jumped up at that moment.

"No–no. You are not to give Harry lessons without me knowing what it is you are teaching him," said Sirius firmly, his hands deep into his pockets as he regarded Dumbldore aggressively.

Dumbledore did not blink.

"My intention is to tell Harry what it is he needs to face," said Dumbledore softly with a kind gaze. "He needs to know how Tom plans to win this war," the older wizard said with his eyelids closed.

"You mean the…the weapon we have been talking about in circles? And you expect Harry to figure this out on his own, without the backing of the Order, without any help!" Sirius said impatiently, gesticulating neurotically.

"Oh, but I suspect Harry has many people who love him enough to assist in the task," replied Dumbledore. Sirius scoffed and placed his hands in his pockets again.

"This is not about love or loyalty or–what. This is about keeping Harry alive! And you are putting him in harm's way," he accused Dumbledore pointing his finger at him angrily.

Sirius' emotions were written all over his face. He could never hide them or even control them properly and this is why Sirius could not lie–it was a fundamental inability of his, it was outside of his skin, it disrupted the equilibrium of his existence–whatever that was.

Dumbledore was irrationally calm.

"Sirius," he said in an admonishing voice, heading closer to the angry man across from him. "I also want to keep Harry alive, but to do so, he needs to know what it is he has to face," he said kindly.

"He should not have to face him!" shouted Sirius. "No–no, I won't allow this. I won't let you or anyone else use Harry as some kind of sacrifice for the greater good! Don't think that I have not heard how people talk about him! And, I am done with you stepping all over my authority as his godfather. I am the one…." he was cut off again.

"You are the closest family he has, yes. And he regards you as something between a brother and a father," said Dumbledore calmly. "You are an intelligent man, Sirius; you can see that it is more the paternal capacity Harry is craving from you," he continued.

Sirius was taken aback by this remark. He had never considered himself to be like a father to Harry, or to any kid, really. If he ever entertained the thought when he was younger, this was before everything had gone so wrong, and if Sirius was completely honest with himself, he felt that his time had passed.

But this did not matter now. He did not indulge in such regrets. Sirius was pragmatic. These musings of what-could-have-been if his life had not been violently interrupted, if he was not thrown in Azkaban at twenty-two without a trial was just wistful thinking, not reality.

Right now Sirius was nearing thirty-seven, he had twelve years of wrongful imprisonment on his back, and he was fighting a war again. Moreover, the mere implication that he was at any rate going to attempt to replace James made his insides lurch with betrayal.

But at the same time, Sirius knew that Harry could possibly crave a father in him, that it was only natural given the situation, given the fact that Sirius was the closest link Harry had to his parents. But as much as he loved the boy–and it was true, Sirius did love Harry, extending to him the affection he had for James–Sirius was aware that he was not ready, that he was not equipped to stand like a father in Harry's life.

Sirius winced at his thoughts and the realisation flooded his body, his hands started to tremble and he softly placed them back on his knees to soothe himself, unable to look at Dumbledore, unable to look at his own hands even. When he first met Harry all he could see was James, and Sirius wanted his best friend back–the friend who was always more of a brother to him, much more than Regulus ever was.

Then, another alarming thought shocked him. Even though at the beginning Sirius perhaps longed for a mate in Harry, for a friend, eventually he did see the boy for who he was. Harry was not James, and Sirius knew that in the past he had compared his godson to his lost friend out of his own spite and frustration, and this was unjust.

Could he have come to regard the boy as a son, after all? Was the protectiveness and the loyalty and the care he wanted to give the boy a genuine attempt to be a family?

Sirius wanted to say yes. He wanted this to be a yes. But at the same time, the weight of all those years of mistakes and of lost time were suddenly in front of him, as insurmountable barriers, fatalistic hindrances. He should have given Harry a home and he was never able because the part of him that could be paternal was the part that also yearned for a family just like that small scrawny thirteen year old boy he had met at the Shack all these years ago

And that part was still in Azkaban, or behind the veil.

His body was intact, it had recovered, but his mind was broken, in pieces, attacked by dreamy apparitions and shadows each night.

"From your pensive silence, I gather that this is a yes, then," remarked Dumbledore. Sirius said nothing. "This is why you need to help him, guide him. He will know what it is to be done, and you will know as well in due time," added the older wizard.

"No," replied Sirius. "No," he repeated looking at Dumbledore. His voice was strangely soft–Sirius had come to a realisation.

After a while, he finally spoke. "I have so many regrets. Nothing should have been this way," he had to stop for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Sirius," said Dumbledore softly.

"NO!" said Sirius exasperated, and took a step forward. "Harry is not to have any lessons with you, or Snape, or whoever else it is without me knowing what the subject of such lessons is, Dumbledore" he said adamantly. "I am Harry's family, and I have the right to know. James would want me to know," he contended in an assured voice.

There was silence between the two men for quite a bit. Sirius swallowed hard and his throat was dried out of air.

"Very well, then. But this shall remain between us for now, at least" Dumbledore said. "It's not my intention for the Order to find out as of now" he added, his glasses slipping down his nose a bit.

Sirius did not reply. He braced himself and waited.

"Have you ever heard of Horcruxes, Sirius?"

The house had an old musty smell, as if all its nooks and crannies were infiltrated by bitterness.

No matter the manual chores or spells he tried on the decrepit house these last few miserables months he remained there, Peter could not remove the air of negligence away from the gloomy home of Severus Snape, his old classmate and embittered host of this place.

But Peter found himself in this predicament because he had no choice.

Peter was never afforded choices, or at least that was what he wanted to tell himself, especially when he was sweeping and scrubbing the floors.

He didn't have a choice but to accept the Dark Lord's command when he told him he was to remain at Snape's assistance for an indefinite period. He did not like the idea, as he knew that Snape would make him suffer during his stay. He did remember after all that once they were all school mates–but Snape was not the angsty teen who lacked James and Sirius' bravado. Rather, he was one of the Dark Lord's most precious disciples and Snape took advantage of that to make Peter his servant, more lowly even than a house elf.

So, Peter carried out his daily tasks under the watchful gaze of Snape, and often took refuge at some dirty corner in his rat form, brooding about the unfairness of his life.

At the same time, Peter also felt resentment against his Dark master for making him endure this punishment. For it was punishment to be made to obey Snape's whims and wishes.

Was he not the one who dutifully ensured the resurrection of the Dark Lord himself? Did he not offer up his own hand in an act of sacrifice? Why was the Dark Lord regarding Peter so low to thrust upon him this miserable coexistence with Snivellus?

But what were his other options?

Peter never had options: he had to obey, to be careful and to serve the Dark Lord because he would win this war, and Peter would be safe. He needed to endure the resentment, and the insults, and the constant criticisms he faced, as he was seen as a coward, his acts to serve always meagre in comparison to other Death Eaters.

And there was also, Sirius.

Peter knew Sirius was coming for him like the Grim.

Sirius, his former friend, another shadow in Peter's pitiful existence. He knew that since Sirius' exoneration and his own subsequent persecution by the Ministry, Peter had no real options. He had taken only a blink at the exoneration papers, as he heard Snape's bitter remarks about Sirius Black, but he preferred not to dwell about it–he had long forgot this sad story, this other life, and Peter knew that if he would take a look he would be plagued by another bad dream, another Grim: the treatment of his family, of his sisters.

Thankfully, no one knew of them, and perhaps, they had forgotten about Peter, as well. But Peter did not want to dwell on this, it was a lifetime ago, and if he would start thinking about it, he knew he would be consumed with all these thoughts, all these feelings that plagued his mind when he was a boy.

He preferred not to know, but sometimes, while hidden and looking frantically behind keyholes, he did hope that his sisters thought of him fondly, and did not see him as the press painting him to be, even if he knew this was the truth.

He had no choices, because none were ever given to him. Eat or be eaten, survive or perish. That was his life.

Peter continued to scrub the floors, but his thoughts were interrupted by the unpleasant voice of Severus Snape who appeared, tall, thin, and bat-like from the adjacent kitchen.

"Oh, look who we have here," Snape sneered. "Seems we have visitors today, Wormtail. I hope you've finished your pitiful daydreaming and are ready to be of some use for once."

Snape's mocking flustered Peter's cheeks which were already scorched. "Vi-visitors?," he mumbled.

"Yes, Wormtail, I am sure that is what my previous statement conveyed, but since your mind is not too keen anymore to retain information…" returned Snape leering at the room, inspecting the cleanliness.

Panic gripped Peter. Was Snape expecting someone high ranking? He needed to know if he would eavesdrop on the meeting. "Who... who are we expecting?"

Snape's sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing. "Narcissa," he said curtly.

"Ah," was all Peter could say. He was not daft even though Snape took him for an idiot, an insignificant rat. He knew–or rather he suspected the nature of Narcissa's visits, as he had seen her visit this debased Muggle neighbourhood many times these last months, often in ungodly hours. But Snape was cunning and left no traces for Peter to suspect, at least at the beginning. A gasp, a sob, a minor sound that could be anything would be heard from time to time. It was mostly Narcissa's body language when she was around, or when she would cast her eyes on Peter–when he was called on by Snape to serve wine–to wait on them!

She was avoiding his gaze, and Narcissa Malfoy certainly had no reason to avoid looking at a rat like Peter.

That was it, he though. That's it! He kept looking at Snape like he had been stupefied, but it had dawned on him. Narcissa was his way out.

Undeterred, Snape continued his patronising comments. "And you, Wormtail, will do well to remember your place. You are not to interrupt, you hear me? You are not to make your presence known to Narcissa or to me while she is here," said Snape in a menacing voice.

Peter had to play the game, he had to use this card, as this was the information he needed to get himself out of this muck and back at the Dark Lord's graces.

"I am not daft, you know" Peter forced out, his voice still quivering.

"Oh?" Snape ventured a sarcastic guess, raising an eyebrow.

"I know what's happening here," he said as he held on to the mop tightly, feeling a splinter hurting his skin.

Snape's cold gaze bore into him,"and what is it that you think you know, vermin?" his hand was touching his wand under his robes.

This was Peter's chance. "I... I couldn't help but w-wonder if Lucius would appreciate these meetings w-w-with Narcissa? Or perhaps, would Bellatrix?" he added and took a step back, still holding the mop on his wiry hands.

Snape's eyes showed a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly regained his composure. "Mind your own business, Wormtail, or otherwise–" he hissed.

"Oh, but you see, I-I can't help but think of the possibilities. I-imagine the chaos it would bring if it reached the Dark Lord eventually," Peter's stammering voice gained some confidence.

"You wouldn't dare," Snape growled, his voice tinged with a warning.

"P-perhaps not, if we were all on equal footing. But I find myself in possession of a rather valuable secret, don't I? One that... that could change everything. Starting immediately from my treatment in this place!"

In an instant, Snape drew near, his wand glimmering menacingly in his hand, and Peter instantly thought to transform into Wormtail, but just as Snape's wand arm rose, a sudden frantic knock echoed through the door.

"Stay here," Snape commanded, his voice a low, dangerous voice. "I will deal with you later. Don't think that your audacity will go unpunished," he threatened.

We shall see, Snivellus, thought Peter before transforming into his rat form and running to some unseen corner. He had a plan, and this should work for him. He would make it work.

"Wow, mate, just WOW!" exclaimed Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on the lawn near the barn, at the Burrow, taking in the sun and catching up, finally.

"Honestly, I'm so jealous. Corfu must have been a vision," said Ginny looking at Harry with a meaningful gaze.

"It was brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, reminiscing of his trip with Sirius. His friends were all curious to listen to details. Hermione was looking at him wearily though.

"Well, if you ask me, I think it was not the brightest idea," she said flustered. "I mean, Moody was apparently so upset that Sirius took 'time off' from Order duties that he compared the Order with a leisure club," she said. Ginny laughed.

"Good that he did not compare it to a hair salon, or what," smirked Harry undeterred and Ginny and Ron laughed heartily. Hermione huffed.

"Don't get me wrong–all I am saying is that some Order members felt blindsided by Sirius' decision to leave with you, Harry, especially since what happened with Emmeline and Madam Bones," she continued urgently. Harry did not want to think about Emmeline Vance or the other killings of Muggles that were spreading in the local news. He knew this was looming in the atmosphere though, if he were to judge from Sirius' morose look when he brought up the Order or Voldemort.

"You are exaggerating, Mione," said Ron, who grabbed a mouthful of beef patties from the small container on their little picnic mat. "Harry deserved a vacation, and I am sure Sirius only wanted to get away, too. Don't blame the man for that. After all, he came back from the dead," he said in a barely comprehensible voice as he was stuffing himself with food.

"Ron!" shouted Hermione. Harry could tell from her flustered cheeks that the three of them were discussing Sirius' experience at the veil in Harry's absence and momentarily he froze, feeling a surge of anger and protectiveness over his godfather.

"You are gross Ron," said Ginny who was sitting cross-legged across from Harry and next to Hermione. She did not seem to have picked up on Harry's discomfort about Sirius and the veil.

"How do you even know Moody was so upset?" asked Harry, in turn, trying to change the subject and dodge Hermione's unsolicited comments.

"Well, Tonks told us the other day," said Hermione meaningfully. "She comes here often, and apparently Ginny heard her tell Mrs. Weasley that Moody was cross with Sirius for taking off like that," she added.

"You mean Ginny was eavesdropping on Tonks and mum again," added Ron, who was reaching for a cup of iced tea from a jug.

Ginny's brown eyes shone mischievously, like a cat's. "You wish you had my eavesdropping skills, Ron. And at the end of the day, Tonks has been in and out constantly, talking with Mum, it's not like it's easy to avoid running into them having a chat. It's like every other day is tea and sympathy day" the girl let out a huff.

"Well, that's beside the point," said Hermione with a strange expression, but Harry did not want to divert her attention back to Sirius, so he asked about Tonks.

"So, why is Tonks over so much? I have barely seen her, Sirius says she is never at Headquarters anymore," remarked Harry. This was true, actually. He was curious as to what Sirius' cousin did all summer.

"You are really daft, Harry," chucked Ginny and gave Hermione a meaningful look that Harry could not comprehend. He was a bit taken aback by the recently acquired brash confidence of the youngest Weasley. But he was not bothered and he gave her a lopsided smile. Hermione sighed and was looking at Ron who was still devouring food, like there was no tomorrow.

"Well, it seems that Tonks is having romantic problems, she is pining after someone" said Ginny conspiratorially, but before the girl had the chance to finish her sentence, Mrs. Weasley appeared from the kitchen window and yelled at them to come back in to help do some chores. "Oh, never mind, she probably cannot stand to be alone with Fleur," said Ginny irritably and got up to start packing their things.

Harry felt like he was struck with many disconnected pieces of information. Who was Tonks in love with and why did they not return her feelings? This made the teen curious as he occasionally enjoyed learning more about the romantic entanglements of adults in his life despite his own clear lack of prowess in the matter. An image of his awkward kiss with Cho flushed in his mind and he shook his head so fast that his glasses almost fell off as he rose to get back.

Ginny caught a glimpse of his clumsiness and she gave him a look, letting her eyes linger for a moment before reaching out and placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose in an apt movement that lasted a second before she turned around to pick up the picnic mat.

"Come on, mate," said Ron. "Otherwise mum will strangle us," he said following Hermione and Ginny who were already ahead at that point.

The next few days at the Burrow were busy but Harry was glad he could avoid Hermione's admonishments about his trip with Sirius. The boy would actually feel a pang of nostalgia as the tan on his forearms was now fading, and the upcoming school year would keep him busy and away from the relaxed ten days he spent with his mysterious godfather. Harry thought of Sirius as such because the man tended to have intense shifting emotions, ranging from extreme energy and cheerfulness in the mornings, and then he would have bouts of broodiness at night, staying outside in the small veranda and smoking while he urged Harry to go to bed in the little bangalow they shared at some remote village in Corfu. Harry sighed at the memory and made a mental note to observe Sirius very soon as the trio and Ginny were all returning to Grimmauld Place to be closer to King's Cross since their day of departure for Hogwarts was coming up.

But not all days at the Burrow were filled with work at the barn or repairs that Mrs. or Mr. Weasley required. Harry had also received his OWLS results and he could not help but feel disappointment because he knew that Snape would not allow him to take NEWT Potions, which was necessary for becoming an Auror. But the promise to visit Fred and George's Magic Joke Shop at Diagon Alley restored his good spirits and he made plans excitedly with Ron about possible and very mischievous purchases from the Joke Shop. Harry was also excited to spend a few more golden days with Sirius before school. He wanted to make sure his godfather was all right, after all and he had a glimmer of a suspicion that Sirius was not telling him something.

When their final day at the Burrow finally arrived, Mrs. Weasley was rushing them to get ready to depart, partly because she wanted to avoid Fleur. But the young woman proved faster and descended the stairs with careful elegance, wishing them a good school year and planting a kiss on each of Harry's cheeks which made his face hot. He swore he saw Ginny make a grimace behind Fleur's back before they quickly headed toward the apparition point.

Diagon Alley was buzzing with sounds of liveliness as it was a busy magical district in central London and Harry would always take a few moments to look around him in awe every time he visited the place. It was a unique part of their world where witches and wizards could be themselves, and Harry felt no inhibitions there. He was even more enthralled when they arrived at their first stop: Fred and George's Joke Shop right at the centre of the alley. Their visit to the shop was quick and coordinated, however, as the place was packed and Mrs. Weasley really wanted them out of there soon. So Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny promised to be back without Molly sometime in the future.

Their next stop was at the Magical bookstore, Flourish and Blotts where they met Tonks who would escort them back to Grimmauld once they finished their shopping. Tonks was indeed not herself. She never had the elegance to be found in someone like Fleur, but she was vivacious and quick-witted. Now…Harry struggled to explain it. It was as if her whole image had taken a toll, like she was pestered by something that impacted her usual vibrant nature. Her hair was a mousy brown, so different from her typical go-to, bubble gum pink. Her posture was slumping, and she gave Harry and his friends a forced smile. Harry made a mental note to ask Sirius if he knew who Tonks was in love with–and why she was in such a low mood.

Half an hour later, Harry realised that Mrs. Weasley became engrossed in a conversation with an acquaintance, while Ginny had met Michael Corner and disappeared for a bit somewhere around the stacks of magical books. Since the atmosphere was buzzing and Harry was finished with his book list already, he decided to leave Tonks' distracted watch for a minute and go outside for some fresh air. He stepped out and headed towards the ice cream parlour down the street.

Before Harry could make his way toward the store though, he was intercepted by an odd scene that unfolded in front of him. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were exiting nervously from the Magical Robes boutique, Madam Malkins.

In fact, Draco seemed to be purposely ignoring his mother who trailed behind him, trying to prevent him from leaving her there. Harry hid at the corner between Fortescue's Ice Cream and another building, following the curious scene. It was bizarre.

"I said, I am not a child anymore, mother," hissed Draco in an unapologetic tone, which was not typical of his relationship with Narcissa from how Harry had seen them interact in the past.

The woman was paler than ever and looked distressed, trying to prevent her son's trajectory.

"Draco please, not here sweetheart. We are not alone, perhaps we can –" she exclaimed, clutching his robes desperately, but Draco pulled away aggressively and Narcissa Malfoy gasped and lost her balance, having to grab on the nearest wall so as not to fall on the ground.

Harry looked at the bookstore nervously and then back at the Malfoys.

He did not want his entourage or the Malfoys to see him, as his curiosity was piqued. Malfoy was clearly up to something and the whole scene was uncharacteristic. It was as if Malfoy resented his mother, treating her with contempt.

Without thinking, Harry decided to follow them as Malfoy paced quickly down the street with his mother behind him. With a quick look at Flourish and Blotts and no sign of Tonks or the rest of the group, Harry turned on his heel to follow the Malfoys.

Occasionally he would hear Narcissa Malfoy's pleas, as they made their way in the serpentine streets behind Diagon Alley.

"Don't do this, Draco, please. There is a way, we can find something–" she pleaded, but Malfoy was adamant.

"No!" He exclaimed. "How many times have we been through this, you are making a scene!" he told her sharply and she took a step back.

Hot tears were running down Narcissa's pale face and her typical haughty look was replaced by a despondent one. But there was also something else, something that intrigued Harry.

Both Malfoy and his mother seemed desperate. Harry knew of course that Malfoy's father was in Azkaban after the events at the Department of Mysteries–which pleased Harry as Malfoy senior was particularly cruel and a Death Eater. But what could the cause of the Malfoy misfortunes be other than Lucius' imprisonment? Why was Draco treating his mother that way?

Harry kept following him and his thoughts were racing. He did not want to be caught, yet he also wanted to know, and he could not stop himself from taking the same turn as the Malfoys to some dark alleyway. But as he continued to follow them, he suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder and gasped, almost too loudly.

Hermione's anxious face was behind him, followed by Ron. "sshh!" whispered Hermione, pulling Harry behind a large wall. "Harry! What the bloody hell were you thinking?" the girl asked.

"Blimey, Harry! We had to sneak away from mum to find you. Thankfully she is busy making a scene with Ginny outside Flourish and Blotss. Caught her snogging Michael," Ron said uncomfortably.

Harry was not amused. He had to think fast, and he was looking around, searching for Malfoy and his mother. "Listen, we have to be quick, something is up with Malfoy, look–look where he's going!" he told them impatiently.

Hermione and Ron's faces were worried but equally curious as they both remained hidden. "Harry, he is heading to Knockturn Alley," Ron said, "it's a sketchy part of the alley–maybe we shouldn't"

"No," said Harry pleading with his friends. "Listen, maybe he is up to something, what if it has to do with the prophecy?" he urged.

"His mother's coming back up, hide," urged Hermione, pushing both boys deeper into another street, parallel to Knockturn Alley. The teenagers started pacing quickly, looking back to see if they had been spotted by Narcissa. But no one was there, and it seemed they were in the clear.

"He was saying he wanted to fix something," said Hermione, panting. "I heard him, as we were following Harry," she added.

"I don't know what he is up to, but he seemed odd, strange," said Harry.

"Strange, how so?" asked Ron. "Apart from being a massive tosser?"

"Ron! This is not the time. Harry's right! I think we should go back and see where he is headed," said Hermione, astounding both of them. But Harry did not have the time to process her change of heart.

"Let's go back," he suggested. "Knockturn's small, we should see him," he said.

"Should we split?" asked Ron. "No! Here!" whispered Hermione.

"Okay, okay," said Ron, irritated.

"No, I mean, look, he's there!" she was actually pointing at a window at the store a few clicks away.

Above the ledger stood a crooked sign that read: Borgin and Burkes.

"What is this place?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, but stay hidden, and be quiet!" said Hermione, trying to peer into the window.

Harry was quicker in his examination of the odd shop. He could see the dimly lit inside of the store from the window and he did not like the look of it as it reeked of dark magic: they were strange artefacts hanging on the walls, creepy humanoid masks on all over the place, and a strange cantankerous looking man, who could be the owner, sifting through a drawer, looking for something.

Only part of Malfoy's face was visible from this distance and he was clearly explaining something to the strange man, while looking impatiently here and there, so as to see if he was seen.

"I think we should go back," said Harry, his gaze focused into the unnerving image of the store.

Hermione looked concerned and Ron just nodded, so the teenagers made their way back to Flourish and Blotts, saying nothing to each other, but they had a secret understanding that they would definitely remain up at night discussing what they saw when they arrived at Grimmauld Place later.

It was almost supper time when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny (whose face was red and blotchy from her argument with Mrs. Weasley earlier) arrived at the courtyard of Grimmauld Place square, and between the Muggle numbers, with a tap of Tonks' wand appeared number 12, squished in secrecy. Tonks was polite but distracted and made little conversation with the teens during the trip from Diagon to Grimmauld, but the youngsters did not mind, as they exchanged concerned looks with one another about Malfoy and his mysterious trip to Borgin and Burkes.

As the door of Grimmauld Place 12 opened, everyone was careful as Sirius' mother's portrait was still there, no one being able to remove it.

Instead of Walburga Black's screeches, though, they were greeted by the curious face of Remus Lupin, who was actually still staying with Sirius at Grimmauld.

Lupin was looking calm and composed as he waited for them to return that day. "Good evening everyone," he greeted his former students and nodded at Tonks, who was looking strange and remained with her hands crossed on her chest at the door.

"Hello, prof—I mean, Remus," said Hermione blushing furiously. Remus Lupin smiled kindly.

"You had a busy day, I suppose?" he asked Harry, who was still distracted by the events at Knockturn. "Supper won't be long, actually," he said again.

"Great, I am starving," said Ron and Hermione shot him a look.

"I will be going now," Tonks said in a cold voice. Harry turned around to reply, but before he actually had the chance, the young woman was patting his shoulder. "See you on the 1st of September at Kings Cross," she said. "Guard duty," she promptly added, seeing Harry's confusion.

"Thanks, Tonks," Harry said.

"Nothin," she said. "Goodnight," she said to the girls.

"Have a good night, Tonks," Lupin added in a neutral tone , his hands in his pockets. Quickly after, Ron and Hermione went upstairs to pack their things at the rooms they used last summer when all of them were back here.

"Erm–where's Sirius?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I think he is taking a nap, he should actually be at the library," said Remus. "Care to fetch him, Harry? He knows you should be here by now, but I am afraid your godfather was knackered. Erm–we had some drinks last night," Lupin added cheerfully.

Harry gave him a lopsided grin and nodded, and went toward the library, not caring his things were left in the middle of the hallway–he could take care of that later. He was eager to see Sirius.

As Harry approached the library, anticipation bubbled within him. He longed to see his godfather and reconnect, but he also wanted to share the discovery he , Ron, and Hermione had stumbled upon at Diagon Alley. Expectantly, Harry pushed the slightly ajar door open and stepped inside.

But the sight that greeted him was not what he expected to see.

Sirius was thrashed on the couch, caught in the grip of what seemed to be a nightmare. He was sweating profusely through his linen shirt, and he was moaning and pleading with someone in his dream, moving his arms and feet neurotically. His body wracked with anguish.

Astonished by the sight, Harry rushed toward Sirius and shook him vigorously, "Sirius! Wake up! It's Harry!"

But Sirius remained trapped within the nightmare and his agitation grew, as he was now pronouncing anguished phrases amidst the chaos of this aggressive dream: "NO!" he shouted, followed by moaning whines, "please–please listen to me, the door, the door, DON'T GO IN" he begged an apparition, someone tormenting him.

Harry's frantic mind thought it was probably Dementors chasing Sirius in his dreaming and he felt a surge of compassion for his godfather who was writhing in anguish. "Wake up, Sirius! It's me, Harry! You're safe!" he pleaded, shaking Sirius harder.

But nothing happened. Suddenly, Harry's mind was invaded by a morbid thought. What if Sirius was back to sleep? To this long comatose state he had been? What if he would never wake up?

Harry was panicking and kept shaking Sirius harder, trying to touch his face and make his upper body stand. He shook one final time with a firm grim and Sirius's eyes snapped open, wide with confusion.

"Sirius, sirius, it's me Harry! Sirius, you are safe, you are fine–" started the boy, but suddenly everything went dark and he felt his whole body being pushed back into the floor. In a sudden and disorienting flurry of movement, Sirius was shoving Harry backwards, his palms slamming into Harry's chest, propelling him away forcefully. The impact reverberated through Harry's body, jolting him off balance, his feet stumbling. He landed onto the carpet.

The suddenness of the attack left Harry reeling, his breath caught in his throat as he fought to regain his balance, as he let out a disoriented shout. Desperate, he crawled back, as Sirius Black was getting up from the floor on unsteady feet.

It was a terrible sight. Sirius' clammy hands were shaking, and he was abruptly turning around, looking for an invisible foe. His grey-blue eyes, wide and bloodshot, were now open and fearful. His gaze landed on Harry, who was supporting his body with his elbows resting on the floor.

H-Harry," stammered Sirius, looking at his godson in disbelief, his voice scratchy. Harry was still breathing in rough huffs, and assessing the situation, looking at his godfather.

"Oh, Harry...I-I am so sorry, are you okay? I must have been dreaming again" he said.

The library door flew open and Remus entered the room looking worried.

"Merlin, what is happening, Sirius, why were you shouting–Harry?" With a surge of urgency, Lupin rushed to Harry's side and helped him up from the floor. He cast a worried glance at Sirius who still looked frozen.

"Harry, are you alright? Did you get hurt?" Lupin's voice was filled with a mixture of reassurance and genuine concern.

Harry was still groggy and confused, but managed to reply. "I'm... I'm okay, Sirius–Sirius had a nightmare," he added, searching his godfather's face.

Lupin nodded, his grip on Harry's shoulders tightening slightly. He turned his gaze toward Sirius, "Sirius, what happened?" Lupin's voice was gentle but his eyes were intently looking at his old friend, searching Sirius's lost and bewildered expression.

"I... I don't know," Sirius whispered, his voice strained. "It was... a nightmare. I couldn't control myself" he said.

Harry could see his eyes were glassy, bright. His voice was breaking. Lupin nodded in understanding and turned back to Harry to make sure the boy was okay.

But it was Sirius who addressed Harry. " Harry–did I–what did I do?" he asked frantically.

Harry felt his whole face was on fire. He did not want his godfather to remain tormented by the impact of this dream, it was not his fault. "It–it was a nightmare, you were dreaming," he said in a hoarse voice. "Sirius, this was not your—" but Sirius cut him off and put his palms on his face.

"I can't... I can't believe I... I attacked you. I'm so sorry, Harry, so, so sorry…" he kept saying.

Harry winced. He realised–all those nights in Corfu, Sirius insisted that Harry went to bed before him…he did not want the boy to see him like this.

Lupin approached Sirius cautiously. "Sirius, it was a nightmare. You weren't yourself. We understand. Harry understands," he said, turning to Harry, who was nodding furiously.

Sirius was pacing all around the room and occasionally put both his hands on his face. Harry couldn't bear to see his godfather like this.

"Sirius," urged Lupin.

"Sirius, it's not that you meant to h-hurt me, it's alright, I am fine" tried Harry, and moved toward his godfather, seeking him.

But as Harry tried to touch Sirius' shoulder, Sirius jerked away from Harry's touch, his face contorting with a mix of pain and panic. Without a word, Sirius stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, fading away into the distance. A slamming of a door was heard shortly after.

Harry stood there, stunned and worried, his heart pounding in his chest. "Sirius," he called. "Sirius, no!" but he then felt Lupin's hand on his shoulder, grounding him back to focus.

"Let him go, Harry. He -he needs to be alone right now," he said.

"But, it was not his fault, I don't want him to feel bad for something he cannot control!" lamented Harry, his features still but sad.

Lupin sighed.

Harry lowered his head and stared at his scrawny legs which a moment ago were sprawled all over the floor. He said nothing and nor did Lupin, who after moments of awkward silence, motioned Harry to follow him downstairs to get supper.

"He will be alright, Harry. He always ends up being alright. I want you to remember that about Sirius" Lupin said softly, and Harry wanted to believe him.