Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful reviews. Honestly, I appreciate them so much.

As for Susan and her aunt, remember, I had her owl Amelia at the end of chapter 3. She just hasn't responded yet, but don't worry, that will definitely be within the plot.

As for why Barty Crouch Jr. hasn't been blamed for Cedric's death, the answer to that will be forthcoming as well. That will be in a later chapter.

Please enjoy this chapter. We're back at Grimmauld Place for this one.

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Sirius lay awake on the couch in Grimmauld Place's drawing room. He had gotten very little sleep last night; he had spent most of it lying awake, thinking over everything his godson had told him. He was glad to see that Harry was now sleeping peacefully. It seemed as though the talk had helped him fight the nightmares, at least for now.

But Sirius couldn't get comfortable. He had transformed back into himself, and simply lain there, listening to the silence that permeated the house. Many memories swarmed back to him of being here for all those childhood years; he had spent many an evening in this room, being lectured about how he should behave better because he was disgracing the pure and noble name of Black. His mother's screams had rang through the entire house, and his father's low, disappointed drawl had struck Sirius like a sword. Regulus had swallowed up everything their parents had said, staring at Sirius with disdain.

Sirius tried to push the memories down. This was no time to be thinking about his own woes when there was so much he needed to do for Harry. He began to go over every little detail the boy had told him. It was plain to see that his Hogwarts years had been full of things no one should ever have to face. It was abominable that the adults in his life hadn't done their jobs and protected him. So much for being competent teachers, he thought furiously.

Even the details Harry had given that Sirius originally thought were just bad luck looked suspicious to him now, after considering everything. He thought back to one incident in particular: the detention in the Forbidden Forest during his first year. Who in Merlin's name would send anyone out to that place for a detention, and at night to boot? When Sirius had been at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had always made it clear at the Welcoming Feast that the place was out of bounds. Even with a staff member there, who in their right mind thought it a good idea to send students there as punishment? Was almost dying really a good way of getting a student not to break curfew? he thought sarcastically. Sirius couldn't even count the number of times the Marauders had done that during their youth; the number of detentions they had received was astronomical, and absolutely NONE of them had taken place in the Forbidden Forest. Had Dumbledore suggested that to Hagrid, and had Hagrid just gone along with it? The half-giant was a great man with an enormous heart, but his love for dangerous creatures could blind him, as did his loyalty to Dumbledore. And McGonagall ... was she complicit? Or had she just not thought about it? He remembered her apology in the hospital wing; she honestly had looked remorseful, but at this moment, Sirius wasn't willing to forgive her. He didn't forgive anyone who had put his godson in danger. And that included himself.

He deserved to go to the lowest level of Hell for not being here for Harry all this time. There was so much he had missed, so many birthdays and Christmases and other important milestones he had not seen. Instead, he'd wallowed in his own self-pity in Azkaban. It had only been when he saw that newspaper that he had the drive and motivation to break out. What if he'd never seen that newspaper? Would he have spent the rest of his life slowly wasting away until he took his last breath? The thought was too horrible to contemplate. Would he never have seen Harry again? Would Peter have killed him, destroying any hope whatsoever?

The thoughts made a wall of depression surround him on all sides, but then he took a look at the boy lying beside him and knew he had to fight his way out of it. He'd be no good to Harry if he got lost in these thoughts. Harry was alive, and Sirius was with him. The time to protect him was now, and there was no use getting lost in the what ifs.

But upon thinking about the here and now, his mind kept wandering back to his and Harry's conversation. There was another thing about it that bothered him to no end - the way Harry tried to avoid talking about the Dursleys as much as possible. Sirius knew the boy's childhood must not have been pleasant; after all, he had met Petunia and Vernon Dursley back when Lily and James were still alive, and they were the worst sort of people. He compared them to his own family, who had been bigoted, prejudiced pureblood supremacists. Petunia and Vernon had been the opposite, hating anyone who was a witch or wizard. They had been awful to Lily on her wedding day; Petunia hadn't been happy for her sister at all. Her face had been contorted in a constant sneer, and Vernon, who looked like a walrus, had lumbered around, an insult for the magical folk always ready on his lips. After Mr. and Mrs. Evans had been murdered by Voldemort, the situation between Lily and Petunia had deteriorated even further; Petunia told Lily never to contact her again. "You're dead to me, freak," she'd said, her nostrils flaring in fury. Lily had been inconsolable, and Sirius had been so full of blind rage that he'd wanted nothing more than to curse Petunia into oblivion.

How in Merlin's name had Harry coped with living in that house? Sirius vowed that he'd find out, no matter how long it took. He hoped that the longer he spent with Harry, the more he would trust him, and then he would open up more. Sirius knew all about bad childhoods, and it sickened him that his own actions had caused someone he loved to have one of his own. He looked again at Harry, whose breathing was deep and even. His messy black hair lay on the pillow, and Sirius couldn't help himself - he reached out and stroked it very, very gently. Thankfully, Harry was so deeply asleep that he didn't even stir. Sirius smiled gently, the soft strands of hair flowing through his fingers. In his opinion, it was one of Harry's best features, so much like James's that it made his heart flip in his chest.

He continued to lie there, watching Harry for a long time. He didn't know how long it had been, but when Harry began to stir, Sirius immediately transformed into a dog. He was bound and determined to get a smile out of Harry first thing this morning, so as his eyes opened and he became alert, Sirius jumped up onto him, barking and licking his face.

"Oof, Sirius, gedoff!" Harry said in a sleep-laden voice, but Sirius would have none of it. He continued to lick Harry's face, gently barking in the boy's ear. Harry couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his face as he struggled to get the huge dog off him. "All right, all right, Sirius, I'm awake!" he choked out, laughing. "I'm awake!"

Sirius relented and got off him, transforming back into himself. "Did you enjoy your morning greeting, kiddo?" he asked, letting out a laugh of his own.

"I suppose so, you crazy mutt," said Harry, wiping his face clean. "But did you really have to do that?"

"Of course," said Sirius, in a mock offended tone. "Now what kind of question is that?"

"A reasonable one," said Harry, sitting up on the couch and stretching.

"Well, I'm afraid Sirius doesn't have a serious answer," replied Sirius, using, he knew, one of the worst puns in the world, but that was why he loved it so much.

"Very funny," Harry said, groaning. "How many people have you used that on?"

"Ah, how do you know me so well?" Sirius said, a goofy smile remaining on his face. "It was common for us Marauders to bandy it around nonstop."

"Didn't that get old?" Harry asked.

"Why, of course it did, but that's what made it so great!" Sirius exclaimed. "Now, onto bigger and better things. Would you like some breakfast?"

The smile disappeared from Harry's face then, and Sirius's heart sank as the boy's mood grew more somber. Starting another day brought both of them back to reality, and the situation they'd fallen into. "Okay," Harry said softly.

Sirius slung a comforting arm around Harry's waist, and they walked into the kitchen, both of them with their pyjamas still on. Sirius had let Harry borrow some of his, and had shrunk them so they fit Harry.

Sirius called for Kreacher, carefully keeping his temper in check this time, although the anger still roiled through him when the disgusting elf popped into the room. Sirius asked for bacon, eggs, and pancakes, and within a few seconds, Kreacher was back with the food. As he bowed and shuffled away, Sirius continued to restrain himself as he heard the mutter of, "Oh my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the blood traitors sullying her table?"

After Kreacher was gone, Harry gave Sirius a grateful look. Sirius let out an audible sigh of relief - controlling his hatred for Kreacher took a supreme amount of effort. He'd never forget the Christmas holidays during his first year at Hogwarts, when he'd come home to a freezing reception from his so-called family. He remembered Kreacher popping into his room, a sneer on his wrinkled face and a look of loathing in his eyes. "Mistress says the traitor is not to leave his room," he had croaked, the vindictiveness practically oozing off him. "The traitor is not to eat any meals until Mistress deems it appropriate. The traitor is not to associate with good Master Regulus, who is noble and obedient."

Breaking himself out of his memories, Sirius looked over at Harry, who was slowly picking at his food. "Come on, pup," he coaxed gently. "I know you don't feel like it, but you need to get some nourishment into you. It'll make you feel better."

Harry gave Sirius a small smile. "Pup?" he asked. "Is that your new nickname for me? You've been calling me that recently."

"Yeah," said Sirius, a little embarrassed. It had come out unintentionally, but he meant it. He had always called him pup ever since he was born, and he'd never forgotten it. He still had trouble coming to terms with the fact that the boy before him was now fourteen years old.

Harry saw the embarrassment on his godfather's face, and smiled softly. "It's okay," he said. "I ... uh ... kind of like it."

Sirius smiled tenderly back at him. "Pup and Prongslet," he said with a chuckle. "James used to ream me out for calling you Prongslet, because he said that should have been his idea. After all, he was Prongs."

Harry grinned, and to Sirius's relief, ate more of his breakfast. Both occupants of the house sat in quiet contemplation as they ate. Sirius wondered if Harry would ask about what was happening at Hogwarts, but throughout the meal, it was never brought up. Sirius realized that it must be too painful for him at the moment. Eventually, they would have to poke their heads out of the sheltered world they had built for themselves, but not right now. Harry should take as much time as he could to heal. Sirius knew that the whole wizarding world would be hungry for his whereabouts, some worried for his well-being but many others clamoring for his blood. And Sirius wasn't about to let anything happen to him.

However, he did have an important question he needed to ask him. He felt guilt seize him for not even sparing it a thought yesterday, but he had been so overwrought by the day's events, and his hasty escape to Grimmauld Place with Harry, that it had completely slipped his mind. "Harry," he said cautiously, "is there anything you'd like to have here, from Hogwarts? I know you have an owl, and your trunk is still there as well."

Harry's face blanched, a look of horror stealing over it, his green eyes wide. "Hedwig," he whispered, the guilt visible in his voice. "Merlin, I'd completely forgotten about her. She's still in the owlery!" He thought for a moment, the cogs turning in his mind. "But how can she get here?" he wondered. "You said that no one can really find this place unless they know for sure where it is. And how can Hedwig's cage and my trunk get here? I'll need my books, won't I?"

"It's okay, Harry," said Sirius, wanting to soothe his godson's turmoil. "I understand why you forgot about Hedwig. With everything that happened yesterday, I did as well. As for how she and your things can get here, Kreacher can be very discreet. As you know, house-elves can pop in and out of rooms very easily. He can make two trips, one for your trunk and Hedwig's cage, and one for Hedwig herself."

"But what if someone sees him?" Harry asked, clearly worried.

Sirius picked up his wand, which was lying on the kitchen table, and cast the Tempus Charm. "It's Monday morning, and it's ten past nine," he stated. "Everyone will be in class now, won't they?"

"Uh ... I'm not sure," Harry said, shaking his head. "Will there be classes after everything that's happened?"

Sirius thought back to his own Hogwarts days, his sixth year to be exact, when the village of Hogsmeade had been attacked by Death Eaters while the students were there. It had been a terrible tragedy - several of the children did not survive that attack. Yet, when Monday morning came, classes still carried on as usual. Those affected most by the horrific ordeal had to cope with it on their own, which had made Sirius livid. Even one day off of classes to mourn those who had been brutally murdered would have been better than what had occurred. "With the way Hogwarts works," he said to Harry, "I expect there will be classes today."

Sirius could tell by the look on Harry's face that he'd figured out the man knew this from experience. He expected Harry to ask questions, but he didn't. The pain and memories of that ordeal must have made themselves clear in his expression, and a huge surge of affection overwhelmed him as he realized Harry didn't want to make him relive it. But Sirius told himself that during their time together, he would explain it to him. Harry had a right to know about Sirius's past, if he was going to ask about Harry's.

Harry then looked disgusted. "How will anyone be able to pay attention?" he asked angrily. "Cedric had so many friends, people who loved him." Without warning, the overpowering guilt suddenly resurfaced, and Harry looked away from his godfather, those green eyes full of anguish.

Sirius put a firm hand on Harry's face, gently lifting his chin and forcing their gazes to meet. "Harry James, I will tell you this until it sinks into that messy head of yours," he said fondly, ruffling Harry's hair. "None of this was your fault. Cedric Diggory's death was not your fault. I know about guilt, Harry, and if you continue down this road, it will tear you apart." He stood up, beckoning for Harry to do the same. He then pulled him into a strong, warm embrace. "I'm here for you," he said softly. "I need you to keep holding on for me, okay kiddo? You're not alone. You'll never be alone again."

Harry buried his face in Sirius's shoulder, his breaths shallow and rapid. "Shhhhh, calm down, pup," Sirius soothed, recognizing the signs of an oncoming panic attack. His mind once again plunged back in time, back to when Lily used to have these during the war. The worst one had been when she and James had found out that Harry was one of two boys that fit the prophecy. It had taken both James and Sirius to try and calm her down. James had been the most effective at it, holding Lily in his arms and comforting her despite the paleness of his complexion and the shaking of his hands, which clearly displayed his own horror at the news.

Now Harry was going through the same thing, and this was not a similarity Sirius wanted to see between him and one of his parents. He tried hard to keep the sudden rage from overwhelming him; this boy was FOURTEEN! His biggest concerns should be who won the Quidditch Cup or whether a cute girl liked him or not. That bastard Voldemort was once again destroying the people Sirius loved most. For Harry's sake, he clamped down on the anger, slowly leaving the kitchen and walking with the boy back to the drawing room. He sat on the sofa, cradling Harry against him with careful tenderness. "Breathe, Prongslet," he said gently, wishing fervently that he hadn't been so readable when he'd told him that classes were probably still in session today. That whole line of discussion had seemed to bring on the panic attack.

He put his hands on Harry's shoulders, trying to remember what James had done for Lily. "Take a deep breath," he prompted, "and hold it for five seconds, then slowly let it out."

Harry didn't listen at first, but it was because he couldn't. His skin felt clammy, and his heart was racing a mile a minute. Quietly, Sirius kept repeating the instructions to him until his mind slowed down enough for him to listen. Upon following the advice, he slowly began to calm, his heart resuming a normal rhythm.

When it was finally over, the poor boy still trembled in Sirius's arms. He kept his face buried in Sirius's pyjamas for several minutes before eventually looking up, his face wet with tears. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Listen to me," Sirius said firmly, once again forcing him to look into the gray eyes which held nothing but love and acceptance. "You are not a mess. You are simply healing, and I won't have you think such things about yourself."

"But ... that's never happened to me before," said Harry, his voice tiny and ashamed.

"I know it was scary for you," Sirius comforted, stroking Harry's hair, which caused him to relax even more into Sirius's embrace. "But understand this, Harry. Panic attacks do not make you weak. I know that's what you're thinking, and it's far from true." He held Harry's eyes, trying to convey everything that he was saying through his gaze. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind me telling you this," he said, "but your mum used to have them, too, when times were really bad during the war."

Harry's eyes widened. "She ... she did?" he asked slowly. "So I'm not the only one?"

"No, of course you're not, silly Prongslet," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's messy locks again. "Many people have them, and it's no surprise to me that you had one today. Over the past few days, your life has been turned completely upside down. You're now in a situation you never predicted would happen."

Harry smiled tentatively, gratitude in those expressive green eyes. "Thanks, Sirius," he said, his voice soft.

"You're welcome," said Sirius, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, simply holding onto one another for comfort, warmth, and strength. The protectiveness pumped through Sirius's blood as he held onto his pup, his lifeline in a stormy sea of chaos.

After several minutes, Harry lifted his head and said, "Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"If Kreacher can get to Hogwarts quickly and get my things without anyone seeing, could you please ask him to do it?"

Sirius smiled at Harry, his heart full to the brim with adoration and love for this amazing child in his arms. "Of course."