Three O'clock in the Morning

Three O'clock in the Morning

In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Test of Gold

Fire is the test of gold, adversity of strong men. - Seneca

Wide-eyed, Harry stared at his godfather, his stepfather, his disciplinarian. Sirius had always made a point of not swearing or using foul language in front of him - said it would be a bad influence on an already corrupted person. Harry was not supposed to know about that last part, but the flat's walls were thin and Sirius' voice was loud.

"Are there any other possibilities? Other than a woman pushing you through a veil, I mean," Harry asked quietly.

"A woman, Harry?" Sirius shook his head. "She doesn't deserve that title. And if she did not push me through the Veil of Mystery, there is only one other option and I do not want to think about it."

"What's the other option?" Harry silently prayed that his stepfather wasn't off his rocker. His life was harsh enough as it was.

Sirius fixed Harry with a piercing stare and then looked up, toward an invisible point in the distance. "The other option, Harry, is that I no longer have a soul." He shuddered, remembering his time in Azkaban and then how close he came to receiving the Dementor's Kiss.

"Sirius? Sirius? Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!" Harry watched his stepfather staring into the distance, a mask of fear and pain sliding over his face. He had never seen Sirius look like that before and it scared him. He may not have liked the man, but he had a healthy respect for his strong and vivacious godfather.

"Oh, oh. I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius replied, but his voice was distant.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course, you can. I don't know how relevant the answer will be though."

"What - what were you thinking about just then?"

The tall man sighed. Would this Harry understand what a Dementor was? These people seemed to live like Muggles. "I was thinking about my time in Azkaban. And how I escaped," he said curtly.

Harry was used to that tone from his stepfather and therefore ignored it. "What's Azkaban? Why would you need to escape? Was it horrible?"

Sirius glared at his godson, displeased at this turn of events. "Azkaban is a prison. I was a prisoner. It was Hell on Earth. When in Azkaban, you can feel nothing good - the guards suck joy from the people around them the way we breathe air. I was heavily guarded and could only ponder the worst things that ever happened in my life. I went mad for a while; some people think I still am."

There was silence for a moment. Harry was shocked by the cold detachment in Sirius' voice; he had never heard the like. His stepfather was always very passionate - yelling at him for being like James, teasing his mother about her cooking, joking with Remus and Peter. He never, ever distanced himself from a painful situation - he would call it cowardice. What on Earth would do this to him?

"S-Sirius? Why were you in prison like that?" he whispered meekly.

"The murder of your parents, Lily and James Potter," Sirius replied, his voice cracking on the names.

Before Sirius could even see Harry's reaction, Lily barged into the room, followed by a very angry Remus. Lily slapped Sirius across the face.

"How dare you?" she roared. "I agree that he should be punished, but this! This! This is low even for you, Sirius Black! You will leave Harry - and me - alone for the night!"

Sirius just stared at the redhead in amazement. He had forgotten about Lily's legendary temper - thank Merlin Harry had not inherited it.

*

That night Sirius was told by Lily to sleep on the couch, after Remus left to go to his own flat. Sirius did not particularly have a problem with this arrangement and was not looking forward to the night he would share a bed with Lily. While she was a beautiful woman, he had never felt any attraction to her and that fact might pose more than a few problems in the future, were he to stay here.

Partway through the night, Sirius fell off the couch after having another nightmare about the Dementors. In this particular dream, he was back at Hogwarts during Harry's third year and Peter, once again, had escaped. He relived the Dementors' attack, over and over again. Unfortunately, this was not unusual for him, so when he awoke after hitting the floor, he knew what to do. He turned into Padfoot. Sirius felt safety as a dog, even when he was still trapped in Azkaban, that he never felt anywhere else.

Then he heard the gasp and the shattering of glass as Harry, standing barefoot in the kitchenette, saw him turn into a dog. The boy froze and paled, once again reinforcing the fact that this was not "his" Harry who would have run over and encased him in a bear hug. Yet, Harry, odd as the child was, was his only ally in this strange world and Sirius transformed back into himself, as painful as it was to have the old fear rush back into him.

"Harry?"

Harry just stared at his stepfather, his green eyes wide.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry swallowed. "What - how did you do that?"

"Come sit down." He patted the sofa next to him.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked again in a shaky voice.

"Magic."

"No. You and Mum told me magic isn't real. The people at school agree."

Sirius shrugged. "Maybe it isn't real here, but, in my world, magic is quite real. Witches and wizards use it all the time."

"No such thing," Harry protested.

"Harry," Sirius replied sharply. "I just turned into a dog. If I did not do it with magic, how else would I do it?"

Harry just shook his head.

Sirius stood up and turned back into Padfoot. Harry made a small squeaking noise, but did not run away, to Sirius' delight. He had not been able to do this since he showed Moony how he had become an Animagus. As a dog, he padded over to Harry, sniffed him briefly, smelled fear, and then licked his face. Turning back into a man, Sirius enveloped his godson in a hug.

"Its just magic, Harry."

Harry only nodded.

*

A sleepy Harry woke Sirius from his makeshift bed on the couch.

"C'mon, Sirius, we got to get going," he mumbled.

Sirius jumped out of the nest of blankets he had been resting in, fully alert and ready to face whatever danger lay ahead. The life of a convicted fugitive did not do well in this household because Harry jumped away from his stepfather, highly alarmed.

Then Sirius saw Harry standing in front of him and the events of the previous night flooded back into his foggy brain. "Oh, Harry, calm down. You just startled me, that's all. Why'd you get me up? I thought today was Saturday?"

Harry nodded guiltily and scuffed the flat's floor with his foot. "It is. I just - we need to go to school and talk to the Headmaster and my counselor. Third time I tried to run away this year and all."

Sirius stopped surveying the room like a caged animal. "Third time?!?" he exploded.

"Erm, yeah," he replied, seeming to shrink into himself.

"Why. Would. You. Run. Away. From. Hogwarts."

Again, Harry refused to meet his stepfather's eyes. He sat on the edge of the easy chair, his face still intent on the intricacies of the floor. This time he did not bother to mumble something incoherent. He just pulled his knees together and prayed that the floor would swallow him whole. Sirius never liked him - he had accepted that. Yet, if this was a "new" Sirius (and his stepfather had not just gone off the deep end or taken some funny drugs), Harry had hoped that this Sirius would at least pity him. Sadly, this would probably erase any possibility of that.

Sirius got down on his knees and lifted Harry's chin with his hand. "Harry, you can tell me anything. Now, why did you try to run away from Hogwarts?"

Harry was embarrassed to find a tear streaming down his cheek. "Nobody likes me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Sirius said with a smile.

"No, no. Nobody likes me. Except the teachers. And only a couple of the teachers like me."

"Harry, have you tried making friends?"

"Yeah," the teenager replied with a sniff. "But they always call me Scarface and go off to play football."

"Do you play football?"

"No."

"Does everyone play football?"

"No."

"Why not be friends with the people who don't play football?"

"They're nerds!" Harry exclaimed vehemently.

"Just because they don't play football?"

Sirius could not believe he was doing this. This was not his job. He was supposed to be the fun loving uncle-type. Prongs - or Lily - or Moony - or Arabella - was supposed to do this. But, responded the strong cynical side of his mind, since when does anything go according to plan? He remembered the family fights before his sixth year - when he ended up running away to live with the Potters, the bickering over who was the traitor and who could be the Secret Keeper, the pain of losing the couple he loved best, the torture of Azkaban. No, nothing went as it was supposed to. But he would make things right for Harry - even if this were not "his" Harry.

"Well, I like football. But I'm not much good at it," Harry admitted softly.

"Then practice. And make other friends. Aren't Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley in your year?"

Harry nodded. "The Weasel is a prat."

"What about Hermione?"

"She's a nerd."

"Don't be so judgmental. The girl is bloody brilliant. And she has wonderful taste in pets, if she's anything like the Hermione Granger I know."

"Well, her demon-possessed cat likes me, anyway."

"See? You have a friend right there," Sirius beamed.

"Sirius? We're talking about a miniature manic tiger, not a human being."

Sirius ruffled his godson's hair affectionately. "Well, it's a start anyway."

"Whatever. I made you some toast. You can eat it in the train on the way to school."

"Train?"

"Yeah, you know we have to get there and all."

"Ok." Sirius grabbed the food from Harry's hands and shoved it into his mouth. "Hmmph arg urg theters?" he asked around the toast.

"What?"

Sirius swallowed and gulped down some of the tea Harry handed him. "Who are your teachers?"

"Oh, we won't be meeting all my professors today, just my counselor and the professors of the two classes I skipped."

Sirius shook his head and sighed. "I ran away from home when I was your age. Did you know that?"

Harry shook his head.

"Yeah, ran to your dad's house. My family, the most ancient and noble House of Black, was an absolute terror. They practiced the Darkest of magic. I'm not sure you would understand that. My family was cruel and allied themselves to the wrong side. I, on the other hand, lived and breathed for the Light. Needless to say, I did not get on well with my family. So I ran away, took off to your father's house. The Potters let me stay with them until I could get a flat of my own. I cut all ties to my family, at least those that stayed loyal to the Dark. They responded in kind and wouldn't speak of me. I was burned off the family tree."

"That. It sounds hard."

"It was. Living on your own isn't just having freedom to do what you want when you want, Harry. Independence means finding a living and working hard. I don't think you could do that before you finished your education." Inwardly, Sirius winced again. This was not supposed to be his job! Yet, no one else seemed to be doing it - and it most definitely had to be done if Harry was trying to run away from Hogwarts.

"I didn't think of that," Harry admitted slowly.

"I didn't, either, when I first ran away. It was your grandparents who told me that, in no uncertain terms. I could live with them for the summer, but then I needed to find my own place." Sirius smiled wickedly at Harry. "Now who are the professors I'm meeting today, eh?"

Harry looked up at his godfather through his curtain of bangs. "Well, I know my counselor and Social Justice professors want to see you. I think my English teacher will see us, too."

"And do these people have names?"

The teenager nodded.

Sirius waited a moment. "What are their names, Harry?"

"My English teacher is Professor Flitwick; he's really nice so he might not talk to us today. He'll probably just talk to me privately after class sometime. Professor Lucius teaches Social Justice. I just know he'll be seeing us today. But I like him a lot, but he'll be pretty nice about it. Of course, my counselor will talk to you about our 'home situation' and stuff - Severus Snape is always asking about that kind of thing - nicely, though."

Sirius blinked down at his godson. "Severus Snape is your counselor? And Lucius Malfoy teaches Social Justice?" he breathed. "What does he do, show you how to cover your tracks when you go on a homicidal rampage?"

"Err, no. Lucius - he likes us to call him by his first name - is great. He's a vegan and into animal rights and - well, you get into lots of fights with him at family get-togethers because he's so anti-violence."

"Right. And Snape?"

Harry's face brightened considerably. "Oh, he's great. He's your age and he likes me so I can talk to him any time I want. He's got degrees in Chemistry and Psychology! And-"

Sirius held up a hand for Harry to stop talking. "I think I need to see this for myself, Harry. As nice as that sounds, I can't believe it."