A/N: Hey, everybody! I just want to tell you that I really hate this chapter. It was hard to write, and I feel like I didn't do a very good job. Maybe I will rewrite it one day, but for now, this is it. I'm sorry. Please review it anyway, though!
Sirius sat down in the shade of a tall oak tree, set into the woods a little. Harry sat down in the roots of a tree close by his and waited.
"So," Sirius started, "I was thinking this time you could tell me things about you, and I will tell you things about me. This way, we can get to know each other better. But it's up to you."
"Did Lupin put you up to this?" Harry asked with a slight smirk on his face. His scar was still pulsing with a sickening kind of relentlessness.
"No," said Sirius, confused. "Why?"
"Never mind," Harry said, "What is it you want to know, exactly?"
"Everything. Start from the beginning. Feel free to ask me questions, too."
"Okay," Harry said, thinking. "My name is Harry James Potter, and I am 18 years old. I never went to school but trained at home for my whole life."
"Great start," Sirius smiled, "I watched when you were playing Quidditch with the others; both you and Draco are excellent fliers, by the way. I am assuming that you trained for that as well?"
"Yes," Harry grinned, "The Dark Lord used to— hire— mostly threaten, professional Quidditch teams to come and train me. Usually, they would stick around for two weeks, and we would modify their memories when they were about to leave. And then I played with Draco, who was on a team in Durmstrang."
"Did you know that your father played, too?"
"Really?" Harry asked with genuine curiosity. He had not, in fact, known this.
"Yeah, he played seeker, just like you do. He was one of the best in our house, possibly every house at one point." Harry grinned, but again, it was forced. His scar was prickling as though beckoning his hands toward it.
"What else do you want to know?" Harry asked, trying hard not to rub his head and to keep his face neutral. Sirius thought for a moment.
"Tell me something interesting about yourself," he suggested.
Harry had to think about his answer. He did not want to make it anything too deep or personal. He wanted to keep the conversation light. He thought it would be best to keep on the subject of school.
"Well… in what would be considered our second year of formal school, Draco and I learned how to do non-verbal spells. He had read about it in a book, and we wanted to try it. We were able to do them perfectly by the end of our second year. We used to cause tons of trouble, cursing people around the Manor, but no one ever caught us because no one had heard us say anything. It stopped the next year, though, when we were both taught how to do them by Bella…" Harry couldn't help but smile at all of the mischief they used to get into together.
"That sounds like something I would have done when I was younger," Sirius said with a laugh.
"Did you ever do anything like that?" Harry asked. He had a nagging suspicion Sirius had.
"Actually, yes," Sirius said, grinning. "When we were in our fifth year, your father, Peter, and I succeeded in becoming Animagi. No one ever found out, and we never registered, even to this day."
"Wow," Harry said. He knew it was a very hard thing to do, especially if you were underage. "That's not easy."
"It was difficult," Sirius admitted, "But we were determined to do it." Harry nodded. He could guess as to why they would have wanted to learn.
"I assume it made his transformations much easier."
"I hope so. He stopped hurting himself, at least."
Harry didn't say anything for a little while, thinking. His forehead was still throbbing slightly.
"What house were you all in at school?" he asked, mainly to distract himself.
"We were all in Gryffindor; we shared a dormitory." Harry nodded but didn't say anything.
"How about I ask you a question now?" Sirius suggested, clearly seeing that Harry was having trouble finding something else to say.
"Sure," Harry said. His scar was searing, and the only thing he wanted to do was clutch at his head, but he kept himself under control, denying the urge. He would not show his pain.
"Okay. What is your favorite spell?" Harry had to think about it.
What was his favorite spell now? If he had still been with Voldemort, he would have said Crucio or something, but now he didn't want to say that, especially because it was no longer true.
"Well," he said, "To be honest, I don't know many spells you would consider good."
"I don't see why that matters, though." Sirius said, "I just asked what your favorite spell was; I don't care if it is something bad. I know the ones you know are…"
"Violent?" Harry suggested.
"Well, yeah."
"See, the problem is," Harry said, "it does matter, maybe not to you, but to me. I don't want to know just violent spells anymore, and if I were to say my favorite spell is one of them, then I would be lying, which is another thing I don't want to do, not anymore." Sirius looked at Harry, thinking about what he had just said.
"Okay then, what if you tell me what your favorite basic spell is? Make it one you learn no matter what side you are on."
"It would probably be, Exspelliarmus," Harry said with a slight smile. "That would be the most basic spell I know. You guys use it too, right?"
"Yeah," Sirius nodded, "All the time."
"Okay, Exspelliarmus is my new favorite spell, at least until I learn something cooler."
"I think that one is great. No matter how many spells you learn and no matter who you fight for, everyone has to learn how to disarm first." Sirius smiled, and they lapsed into awkward silence once again.
Finally, the pain in his forehead was lessening. It was weird, but he was not about to question it. Harry glanced around the woods, looking for something to talk about. He thought about what Sirius had said about being an Animagus.
Then, feeling slightly reckless and knowing that he still needed to show Sirius he trusted him, Harry decided to share a secret with him. It was nothing big, but Harry knew the other man would think it was.
"So… you know how you said you became an unregistered Animagus? I was wondering what form did you all take?" Sirius laughed a bark-like laugh.
"I became a dog, Peter, as I am sure you know, became a rat, and your dad, well, he was a stag." Harry's eyes widened. There was no way this was true. That couldn't be.
"What?" Sirius asked, looking confused.
"Well," Harry said hesitantly. "When I turned 16, I may have decided to become Animagi. Draco helped me and tried to become one himself. We didn't succeed until a few weeks ago, though." Now it was Sirius' turn to look shocked.
"I didn't want to tell you at first because I thought you might report us, but now, knowing you were one." Harry shrugged. Now Harry had enough information that he would be able to blackmail Sirius if he ever needed to.
"What form do you take?" Sirius asked, but Harry was sure he already knew the answer.
Harry got up and concentrated momentarily. In an instant, he had transformed, and there, standing before Sirius, was a majestic brown stag. When Harry changed back, Sirius looked like he had just seen a ghost.
"Are you okay?" he asked, approaching Sirius.
"Yes… I… Wow," Sirius stuttered. Harry was starting to think he shouldn't have told him, but then Sirius did something that surprised him.
He stood up and gave Harry a tight hug. He let go quickly, and it was kind of awkward, but still, Harry smiled.
"What's that for?" He asked.
"James would have been proud of you," Sirius said, smiling brightly. Harry had never been told that by anyone before.
"No one has ever told me that before." Harry looked a little shocked as he said it. "It means a lot, even if it wouldn't be true," Harry added on this last part without meaning to.
Sirius' face turned serious as he said, "What do you mean? Of course, he would be proud of you. You are an extremely powerful wizard fighting for a good cause."
"Ha," Harry laughed mockingly. "No, he would not be proud of me. Why would he? My dad spent his whole life fighting against people just like me. I could perform every unforgivable curse perfectly when I was seven or eight. Why would he be proud of that?"
"Harry, you didn't enjoy doing those things. They were just something you did because you were raised like that. Your father would be proud of you because you moved on from that and turned to doing good. Why wouldn't he have been proud of you?"
Harry looked at Sirius with disbelief and didn't answer right away. He thought of his talk with Lupin. He had to be less combative and stop thinking everyone hated him.
He had to pass the test.
"I don't see how he would have been proud. His only son was raised a murderer and fought with the people who killed him. How could someone ever completely not hate me? Even if they don't, there will always be a nagging thought in the back of their mind that I fought with Voldemort."
"Harry," Sirius said, "You never actually fought with him. You had no choice, and you did not know the truth. You thought we were the ones who killed your parents, remember? You would have never fought with him if you knew the truth. You proved that by coming to our side as soon as you found out. And just to be clear, no one hates you. They all think you are brave for switching sides and defying him."
Harry sighed, realizing there was no way he could win this argument.
"While I appreciate it, you can't know what my father would have thought about any of this because, thanks to Voldemort, I can never ask him." Harry felt tears of anger starting to prickle in the corners of his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.
Sirius did not seem to notice anything, however, because he said, "Maybe, but I was his best friend. He would have forgiven you, Harry. He would have been proud of you."
"You think?" Harry asked, still not believing him but able to recognize a hopeless argument.
"I know," Sirius said firmly.
"Thanks," Harry said.
"It's the truth." Harry nodded but didn't say anything.
He still did not think his father would have been proud of him, but there was no point in arguing about the matter further. What did it matter anyway? They both sat down again, not saying anything.
"So, why do you hate silence so much?" Sirius asked all of a sudden.
"What?" Harry asked, taken aback by the sudden change of subject.
"In Dumbledore's office, you said that you hate silence. How come?"
Harry didn't know how to answer at first. What should he say? Should he tell Sirius the truth? He was about to lie when Lupin's words came back to him once again.
"Do you remember how I told you that I get these dreams sometimes?" Sirius nodded. "I don't like the silence because it reminds me of them. People say that silence is the absence of sound, but I think they are wrong. Silence always seems to have its own sound, which is worse than any other, in my opinion."
"What are your dreams about?" Sirius asked, "If you don't mind telling me that is."
"I guess not," Harry said, "It honestly just depends. When Draco and I were first getting trained, I had dreams about the training, but after a while, we got good at training; it became a more natural part of our day, so those stopped. But usually, others take their place."
"Have any since you got here?"
"Yes, every night," Harry said, with a sort of laugh, but Sirius wasn't smiling.
"What have those ones been about?"
Once again, Harry hesitated before answering. Should he make something up? He resolved not to lie once again; after all, what harm could come from telling Sirius about dreams he had?
"Let's see. A few nights ago, when we first got here, it was of us being forced back to Voldemort. Then there was one where he hunted down both of us and made us do… some stuff. Usually, they revolve around him hurting Draco, though." Harry stopped there and shivered slightly, struggling to repress memories.
"You really care about him, don't you," Sirius said kindly.
"Yes, he is pretty much the closest thing to family I have."
"Not anymore." Sirius said firmly, "Now you have us too, Harry. We will have your back from now on."
"I appreciate that." Harry said, "But still, Draco has been by my side since we were young. We have always stuck together. He is more like a brother to me than anyone else could ever be."
"I get that. Believe me, I do. That is exactly the type of relationship your father and I had. But just know, you two don't have to fight alone anymore. Now you have an army."
"Thanks," Harry said, faking gratefulness. He knew the truth. They would never rally behind him.
"Of course," Sirius said. He paused for a moment and then said, "We should tell Lupin you can change into a stag. He would love to see that."
"Sure, let's go." Harry agreed.
Both of them got up and started to make their way across the lawn and back to the house. They found Lupin sitting at the kitchen table, looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet.
"You will never guess what Harry can do," Sirius said excitedly.
"What?" Lupin asked, looking up from the newspaper, curious.
"Come outside," Sirius said, practically bouncing with excitement.
Lupin got up and followed them back out into the yard.
"Ready?" Harry asked, walking a bit past them and turning.
"Yeah, do it," Sirius said. Harry concentrated again, and in a moment, he had transformed into the stag. Lupin's eyes were very large.
"How?" he asked weakly as Harry changed back. "It can't be. Are you messing with me?" he said accusingly, turning to Sirius.
"No, I swear I am not."
"I learned how to change into it not too long ago. I didn't tell anyone because, well… I didn't trust you." Harry explained.
"I'm glad you do now. Your father would have loved this. He would make you transform with him all of the time. He would be so proud." Lupin smiled reminiscently.
Harry merely shrugged, not interested in getting into the whole 'your father would be proud of you' thing again.
"That's what I told him. He didn't seem to believe his father would be proud of him, though." Sirius said, seemingly instant on annoying Harry.
"What do you mean?" Lupin asked, turning to Harry. "Of course, your father would be proud."
"I did say that, but," Sirius shrugged.
"And why wouldn't he be?" Lupin asked, turning to Harry.
"As I said before to Sirius, why would he be? I acted as the leader of an army he fought against. I am a murderer and fought for someone who killed him." Lupin started to say something, but Harry cut him off.
"And before you say, that's how I was raised, and I wouldn't have done any of those things, I know. Sirius already said all of those things and more."
"But you still don't believe him, do you?" Lupin asked, examining Harry closely. Harry just shrugged again.
"I guess I do, but still. No one can ever know what he would have thought about anything because, like I said, I have no parents because of Voldemort." Lupin didn't say anything. Sirius was looking at Harry with sadness in his eyes.
"Harry, I already told you, he might not be around to tell us what he would have thought, but we were his best mates; we knew him very well. He would have been proud, and I thought you had accepted that."
"I know," Harry said, not quite meeting his eyes. "I just wish…" Harry trailed off, but Lupin and Sirius could guess how the sentence ended.
He collected himself, carefully stowing away his emotions. It would not do to show them weakness. He wanted to make them think he trusted them, not that he was weak.
"Did you tell him yet?" Lupin asked Sirius in an undertone, as though Harry couldn't hear if he whispered.
Did he really want to question this? He didn't think so. So, instead, Harry said, "I am going to go for a walk. See you around."
He turned on his heels and walked away, hands in his pockets. He thought they would call after him or have him come back, but they remained silent. Harry preferred it, though; he had to go and think.
He was on pretty good terms with both Sirius and Lupin right now, and he did not want whatever Sirius had to tell him to ruin that. He knew he would have to find out eventually, but for now, there was no need for him to ask about it.
Harry also did not want to talk about his father anymore. He desperately wished he could talk to his father and see what he would have thought, but Harry knew it was impossible. Sirius and Lupin seemed to think he would have been proud, but Harry somehow doubted that.
What father would be proud of a son who killed, controlled, and tortured for fun? Even if he had been raised that way, Harry still had some sort of idea that it was wrong to do that to people. Yet, he did it anyway, without mercy, to whomever he chose. That was why Harry could never believe his father would be proud of him.
Harry was a murderer; even though he had changed, he still was. Now, unlike most, he was protected. Harry knew he did not deserve this.
He deserved to be locked up with Dementors or to be handed back to Voldemort. Harry thought, as he continued to walk that these punishments might be preferable to having to live comfortably in this house and having everyone try and forget about those dead bodies.
It is much easier to be punished for the crimes he committed than to have to spend every day with the guilt of what he had done.