Keeper of the Stars

Almost as soon as his family arrived in England, Tay began a search for a house, and Sirius began his search for his godson. It soon became clear, however, that Harry wasn't exactly open about his whereabouts. Everyone seemed to know who he was, but few seemed to know him personally, and fewer still had seen him at all recently.

"Good luck in finding him," said one, a round-faced, familiar-looking man with a small boy on his shoulders. "If he doesn't want to be found, you'll never find him. And after what happened our seventh year, he's not taking any chances. He'd do anything to protect his family, up to and including isolating them all from everyone."

That sounded like Harry, all right. It also seemed to be accurate. By the time the Blacks returned to the hotel, it was beginning to look as if Harry Potter had disappeared from the face of the earth. Sirius looked disappointed.

"Cheer up, dear," Tay said comfortingly that night as they were getting ready for bed. "Look on the bright side. At least he survived. Everyone would have known if he was dead."

"Yeah," Sirius said without any real conviction. "I think tomorrow I'll try to find Remus."

"Do you think the children would like to see your old house?" Tay asked him.

"No," Sirius said emphatically. "That house is not child-friendly. It's barely adult-friendly."

That was the truth, but only part of it. The biggest problem Sirius had with showing his family where he used to live was that the last time he had lived there, it had been with Harry and Remus--the happiest time of his life. It was in that house that he had found out Harry had nearly been expelled, that Sirius had realised how much the boy meant to him. It was in front of that fireplace that Sirius had learned Harry was in the Department of Mysteries and...well, Sirius wasn't quite ready to share those memories with his family yet. The girls were too young...Kalb didn't need to know yet...and somehow Sirius thought, however unfairly, that Tay would never understand.

The next morning, Tay took the children to London to show them the historical sites in the area. Sirius set off towards the village where Remus had last lived...at least in Sirius's recollection.

Remus was no longer there. A few well-placed inquiries yielded the fact that he had not been around for a long time; many of the residents had no idea who he was. Evidently he had not moved back into the village after the year at Grimmauld Place.

Broken-hearted, Sirius trudged to the small, inexpensive pub he and his friends had frequented in their younger days. Sirius himself no longer drank; he had been deprived of alcohol while in Azkaban (obviously) and been unable to obtain any while on the run. Once back in Grimmauld Place he had uncovered a cache of Ogden's Firewhiskey and nearly fallen back into the habit, but then Harry had nearly been expelled for defending himself and his cousin against a flock of dementors.

Everyone at Grimmauld Place had panicked. Molly Weasley had fiercely begun cleaning one of the dirtiest rooms in the house by way of dealing with it. Hermione Granger had read book after book. Ron, Molly's youngest son, had played chess game after chess game with his sister Ginny and slaughtered her brutally every time. Arthur Weasley had spent as much time at the office trying to get Harry off as possible. And Sirius had nearly killed himself--literally--after binge-drinking seventeen bottles of firewhiskey.

Sirius had never told anyone about that particular incident, and no one knew except Remus, who had found him the following morning--and probably Dumbledore, who seemed to know everything. Harry had arrived two days after his near-expulsion, Remus having somehow managed to get Sirius back to normal--or whatever "normal" was for Sirius anyway--and life had continued on. But Sirius never saw a bottle of firewhiskey without recalling that horrible night. He hadn't touched an alcoholic drink since.

However, this particular bar served non-alcoholic drinks as well, and Sirius quietly ordered a large club soda. The bartender gave him a sympathetic look as he pushed over the drink. "Wife won't let you drink, eh, Sonny?"

Sirius nodded--it seemed easier than explaining--and retreated with his drink to a little back corner where he could nurse the drink for a while, uninterrupted.

"Pardon me, but could I join you? This place fills up fast."

Sirius nodded without looking up. "Be my guest. I don't expect I'll be much company, but you can certainly sit there."

Whoever it was sat down opposite him. "I doubt I will be, either. This is a hard day on me. See, I lost my best friend exactly eleven years ago today." The man paused and evidently took a sip of his drink. "What're you having? Vodka?"

Sirius shook his head. "Club soda. I don't drink."

"Underage?"

Sirius managed a weak chuckle. "No...no, I went on a binge some years ago and nearly killed myself. My best friend managed to save my life...barely...I haven't touched alcohol since then."

The man set his glass down. "Couldn't stop yourself?"

Why am I telling all this to a perfect stranger? Sirius asked himself, but shook his head. "My...someone I care about deeply was nearly killed in an alley near his home. He defended himself--like any normal person would--but in doing so broke a major school rule, so they expelled him."

"But if it was a life-saving exercise--"

"He got off, thankfully--it was pointed out that he was saving his life and that of his cousin, so what he did was okay--but I was damn scared for a couple of days." Sirius hesitated--should he admit it? Finally he blurted, "I guess...I guess I was a little hopeful too. He lived with his aunt and uncle--they didn't give a damn about him and wanted him out of their lives. If he had been expelled, there was no way in hell I was letting him go back...I was going to let him stay with me. He meant a lot to me, you know? And I was a little lonely. I tried to be happy when he got off, for his sake, but it was hard. But..."

"But it made him happy," the man supplied softly. Sirius finally looked up and noticed that the man looked rather old, thin, tired. "It was what he wanted...and to see him smile, to see that wonderful grin that lit up your life and made everything all right, you would have done anything and it would have been worth it."

"And a thousand times over," Sirius agreed. "You understand."

The man chuckled a little sadly. "I kind of went through the same thing. There was this boy...although I guess the word 'boy' doesn't do him justice. He was something special...wise beyond his years...but he didn't know how to be a child. He had his bouts of anger just like everyone else--got that from his mother, she was a redhead and had the temper to go with it--but overall he was a sweet, loving, kind lad with a strong sense of justice. That's what got him in trouble...he went to rescue someone he thought was in danger--someone who was safely at home, by the way--and wound up nearly getting himself killed. I found out what had happened and nearly died myself...not as literally as you did, of course, but it was devastating all the same." The man stared pensively at the table. "Then again, his godfather--my best friend and the man he'd originally gone to save--was killed in the ensuing battle." The man swallowed; tears sprang to his eyes. "I nearly lost them both that night," he whispered. "I don't know how I would have gone on without either one of them."

Sirius could never say what possessed him to do it, but he set down his soda and put his hand comfortingly over the other man's. It felt callused and careworn, but surprisingly warm. His eyes met the other man's for the first time since the latter had sat down...and he recoiled in sudden surprise and recognition.

"R-Remus?" he stammered.

Remus drew back, looking a little alarmed. "Do--do I know you?"

Sirius spread out his hands, palms up. "Remus...it's me."

"I--I don't know what you're talking about," Remus said bravely. "I've never seen you before..."

"There are none so blind as those who will not see, Remus," Sirius said softly. "Look." He held out his hand. Remus seemed to force himself to look. There was a deep gouge in the centre of his palm, a scar he had carried since he was twelve. He and James had been trying to make something--he couldn't even remember what now--and had got into an argument about how a particular crossbeam should be put together. Somewhere during the climax of the argument, Sirius had hit James with a hammer on the shoulder; James had retaliated by coming at him with a Muggle power drill. The result was the drill bit entering Sirius's hand. Their argument forgotten, the two had gone to the nearest hospital without delay. It had been rather embarrassing to explain. Remus and Peter had worked hard to conceal their amusement when the two explained why Sirius was arriving to school with his hand heavily bandaged. At least, Remus had; Peter had never had any such scruples.

With a trembling hand, Remus touched the groove, then raised his eyes to his friend's face. "S-Sirius?"

Sirius smiled and nodded. "I knew that scar would come in handy someday."

Remus shook his head, staring at his friend as though he couldn't quite get enough of him. "God, Sirius...where have you been?"

"America." Sirius's smile faded as he thought of the years of more or less self-imposed isolation. "Remus, I'm sorry I haven't written...you have no idea what kind of hell I've gone through, missing you, not knowing if you were alive or dead..."

"I've got no idea?" Remus said indignantly, straightening up. "Sirius, we were sure you were dead. We saw you die. What I just told you about the boy? That's all true and I'm sure you know who I'm talking about." He suddenly froze. "Have you talked to Harry yet?"

Sirius shook his head a little dismally, remembering why he'd entered the little bar. "I can't find him. Every time I ask, people say they haven't seen him or don't know where he lives."

"He's trying to maintain a low profile--keep himself and his family out of the public eye--and with all the hell he's been through in the past twelve years I can't blame him," Remus said almost sharply. Sirius was startled. "I know this is going to sound horrible, but I'm glad you haven't been by to see him yet. He'd have a heart attack if you just turned up on his doorstep. I'll take you by to see him sometime this week."

Sirius's heart lifted. "You know where he is?"

"I know where he lives," Remus corrected his friend. "The two carry entirely different connotations, you know. Hardly anyone knows where he is half the time...he's an Auror, one of the best, and he's so often out on a mission or whatever." He paused and studied Sirius's face. "Look, Siri, I know you want to see him right away, but we really can't do it like that. It would just be too hard on him--he wouldn't be able to take it and he might crack. And I refuse to do that to Harry...or his family, for that matter. That family has been through enough hell for the rest of the wizarding world put together."

"What, you mean Harry fighting Voldemort?" Sirius asked, remembering to drop his voice.

Remus sighed, looked around, and said quietly, "That's just the icing on the cake, Siri. I don't know how much you've heard--"

"Nothing at all. I've been in a sort of isolation for all these years."

"Well...his oldest daughter almost didn't survive to be born--to say nothing of his wife. There was a huge battle at Hogwarts shortly before they graduated Hogwarts...in case you're wondering, the wedding was the Christmas before. Everyone who was unable or too young to fight was sent to their common rooms where they would hopefully be safe."

"Including Harry's wife."

"Exactly. She was already six months pregnant with Lily--that's the oldest girl. A Death Eater's spell hit the portrait covering the common room--we still aren't sure if it was intentional or not, the Death Eater is as-yet unidentified and probably dead. Anyway, it didn't open the portrait, obviously, but it did send splinters of wood shooting into the common room. Not to mention the spell itself, or what was left of it."

"And Harry's wife got hit with the shrapnel," Sirius guessed.

Remus nodded. "And the spell. It just grazed her abdomen--she's fine--but she was more worried about the baby than herself. Lily's fine, for the most part, but she did wind up with a bum knee--it won't support any of her weight, she has to wear a brace--and she has a strange illness the doctors can't explain. She could be fine for a few weeks or months or even a couple of years in a row, but then all of a sudden she'll get sick and have to stay in bed for days or weeks on end. When she was four, she had an attack so bad she couldn't get out of bed for six or seven months." Remus shook his head and stared at his glass. "Then the triplets--three boys--well, there are two problems there. One, three children at once is a lot for anyone to handle. And two, carrying all three of them nearly killed their mother. I think if she had died, Harry would have too. She means the world to him...her and those little imps."

A small smile tugged at Sirius's lips. "I know the feeling. I have three kids of my own and I'd do almost anything for them."

Remus grinned and raised his glass. "Congratulations...how old are they?"

"Gemma is five. Maia is two. Kalb will be ten in October."

"Huh. About the same age as Harry's then. Lily's almost nine, the triplets just turned seven, Minerva is...five, I think, and Molly will be three in a couple of days."

"Through the grace of God, I take it."

"You catch on quickly." Remus chuckled, then grew instantly serious. "I worry about them. I think Harry does too...some time ago he asked me to stop in and check on them from time to time while he's out on assignment. He's more than usually worried about them because we suspect one or two of the Death Eaters knows where he lives..."

Sirius swallowed. "There are still Death Eaters around? I would've though with Voldemort gone..."

"Well, that's part of the problem. He isn't quite gone. He survived somehow...Harry only found out when he finished his training a few years ago. They're keeping it quiet so as not to disturb the general wizarding public."

"Why does this sound familiar?"

Remus chuckled lightly. "Well, at least they aren't blatantly denying it...and Harry's okay with it as long as Voldemort stays undercover. If he ever starts operating again, the Ministry will not hesitate to let people know."

Sirius sighed. "I think I've been away too long."

Remus patted his old friend on the shoulder. "It'll pass." He sipped his drink again, then glanced at Sirius's glass. "What is that really?"

"A club soda. I was telling the truth before. I haven't had anything to drink since that night Harry almost got expelled and I nearly killed myself bingeing on firewhiskey. If you hadn't found me the next morning..." He let the sentence hang. "You saved my life, Remus--you and Harry, because if it hadn't been for Harry I'd have done it again, my promise to you notwithstanding. I'll never forget it."

Remus didn't answer for a second. "You know," he finally said quietly, "if I live to be a hundred, I will never forget walking into that room and seeing you there. It's one of those things I see every time I have to visit Azkaban..."

"What are you doing at Azkaban?" Sirius asked, much surprised.

"Stuff for the Ministry. I do the paperwork and a lot of the grunt work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement...safer than being an Auror, and I can check on the Potters when Harry has to be away." Remus ran a hand through his prematurely greying hair. "Pays well, anyway, now they've got a decent Minister of Magic and all..."

"Oh? What happened to Fudge?"

"Removed from office just after they admitted Voldemort was actually back. The one they've got now takes a much more sensible line towards half-bloods and half-humans than Fudge did...managed to outlaw discrimination in the workforce based on race, gender, blood, or species."

"Only fifty years behind the Americans. Good for them."

"I thought it was just the Muggles that managed that."

"In the fifties, yes. But as I recall, Sarah Plensdorff worked for the Secretary of Magic in America from 1943 through last year. And she's not only a woman, but a black, a half-blood, and a werewolf."

"Huh. Learn something new every day." Remus studied Sirius thoughtfully. "Siri...why didn't you come back? Why stay in America?"

Sirius sighed and spread his hands out. "I didn't have the money for a trip, and Apparation becomes unreliable over water and long distances--you know that as well as I do. At least, that's why I didn't come at first...plus, I'd met Tay and I wanted to get to know her better. She wouldn't let me leave either--I was pretty badly hurt when I turned up at the coffee shop she was working at. After Kalb was born, I really didn't have the money to get out here--though God knows I wanted to; I missed you all so much, and we were living in a crummy neighbourhood. I wanted my son out of there." He bit his lip. "I guess...I guess the most pressing reason I stayed was because I was afraid of what I'd find when I got here--that you and Harry would both be dead, or worse, that you wouldn't want to see me again, that you'd forgotten me and moved on."

"Sirius. We would never have done that."

"I didn't know that at the time. I just tried to go on with my life. It almost worked...but I still missed you guys. And I still needed you."

Remus set his glass down. "You know, I usually sit back here by myself, nursing my drink and feeling sorry for myself, especially today of all days. I'm glad I picked to sit with you instead of over there."

Sirius grinned. "But for you I'd be sitting here feeling sorrier for myself. So I guess I owe you one."

"Nah. I needed this as much as you did. We're square."

Sirius chuckled and raised his glass. "To the left side of the bar and its curiously magnetic force."

Remus laughed as he raised his own glass. "To rituals, without which I wouldn't even be here. You know I don't drink heavily."

Sirius knew. Remus had always been the more straight-laced of their little quartet. While he and James would consume unhealthy amounts of firewhiskey and get rowdier and rowdier as Peter guzzled nearly six times the recommended amount of butterbeer--which can get one drunk if one drinks too much--Remus would sit at the bar and shake his head, nursing a single glass of butterbeer or mug of mulled mead. "Out of curiosity, what are you drinking?"

"It's called a White Russian. Kaluha, cream, and vodka. Not bad, actually, and I'd offer you a sip if you weren't on the wagon."

"Not to mention the fact that you're about to finish it off."

"True." Remus drained the last of his drink as he spoke. (Sirius still had about half a glass to go.) Right on cue, a barmaid appeared next to them.

"Can I top off your drink, Sir?"

"Sure," Remus answered, handing over the glass. "White Russian if you don't mind."

"Coming right up, sir."