Psychopomp

Morning hit before Harry was truly ready for it. He had never grown out of his Hogwarts habit of having his bed facing to the east, so the sun's rays on his face forced him out of slumber. He stilled, waiting for the cramping in his leg that usually came with the tossing and turning he inevitably experienced at night.

Nothing.

"Oh. Right," Harry muttered. "Snape and Malfoy." He glanced over at the clock. 11 am. Just enough time to shower, get dressed, and fix some food for Remus and Sirius before they showed up. He should have remembered to ask them if they wanted to Floo over, rather than drive. He pulled himself out of bed, rummaged in his drawers for a towel and walked to the shower. "I'd forgotten how good that felt."

"What, boy? Being able to walk without limping?" Yes, the brief respite from their presence seemed to be over. "Oh, don't look like that, Potter. We told you we'd be back."

Harry continued to scowl at Snape. At least Malfoy wasn't with him this time. "Yes, but I wasn't expecting you to join me in the shower, Snape."

To his surprise the other man laughed. "Getting shy in your old age, aren't you? I thought I taught you better than that."

Harry sneered at the reminder of the training. During the war there had been far more important things to worry about than body shyness. When you were trapped in a cold cell with little more than rags to cover yourself, you concentrated more on the warmth than the covering. And that had been exactly how Snape had cured him of any lingering shyness. The summer before Harry's fifth year, he had stayed at Hogwarts rather than returning to the Dursley's. Snape, Dumbledore, and Sirius all took turns throughout the months training him in different areas. Snape had predictably enough chosen to teach Harry intimidation and interrogation tactics, and how to counter them. Part of that training had included being locked in a dungeon for a week. Sirius had been furious when he had found out, and although Harry understood Snape's actions, it had been a rather fun confrontation. He would never forget how Severus Snape had looked with purple polka dots, cloven feet, whiskers, a forked tongue, and a cat's tail. "Please, Snape. I just didn't want to offend your delicate eyes." With that, Harry stomped off.

He turned the water on, to the hottest setting. Another luxury of the war. Too many times and places where hot water were hard to find. Stepping in the shower, he let the heat and steam hit him, scalding his skin as he stood under the spray. "No wonder Severus wanted to be here so early in the morning."

"Bloody hell!" Harry jumped at the sound of Malfoy's voice behind him, and succeeded in falling out of the shower. The older man laughed at Harry, as he laid on the bathroom floor clutching the elbow he landed on. "This is too disturbing. Get out."

Malfoy leaned down, and ran a finger delicately over Harry's scar. "What is, boy?" He was close, close enough that Harry could feel Malfoy's breath on his face. But the dead don't breathe.

"Seeing a Malfoy, especially a dead one leching. Get out."

Malfoy laughed again, the sound echoed through the small bathroom, and seemed to mingle with the sound of the water hitting the shower tiles. "How will you make me?" he asked, lips almost on Harry's ear.

Harry sighed. Malfoy had a point. He knew a few banishing spells that might work on the two dead men, but there was no way he'd be able to accomplish them with a borrowed wand. If he could in the first place. He glared at Malfoy, stood up, and stepped back into the shower. "Would you please leave so that I could finish my shower in peace?" He didn't bother to look over and see if Malfoy complied. He did, however, cut the shower shorter than normal. When he got out, Malfoy was gone. Drying off, he tied the towel around his waist, and strolled back to his bedroom.

Where, predictably enough, Malfoy and Snape were sitting on his bed grinning at him. "You know, if you two are that desperate for a peepshow, I expect payment in advance."

Malfoy laughed. "Visit Malfoy Manor. I'm sure something of equal value could be arranged." Harry snorted, and turned to get dressed.

"Look, could you not bother me when Sirius and Remus get here?"

"Is that what you want for the strip tease?" Harry rolled his eyes, but found himself puzzled by Snape's tone. It was teasing. Even with the grudging respect they'd given each other, Harry hadn't found hide nor hair of a sense of humor.

Now dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a green pullover, Harry walked to the kitchen to start preparing a light lunch. "Do you two want anything?" Harry found himself asking before he stopped to think.

"Have any caviar?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"Not on my usual menu, Malfoy. You'll just have to make do with pasta, like the rest of us," Harry said, after a quick check of his cabinets. He would have to go shopping soon. He started the pasta, and hunted around for ingredients for sauce. "Look, this is just too eerie. Can't you two just explain what's going on and why you're acting so odd?"

"Odd?" Malfoy seemed genuinely surprised by the accusation.

"Let's see. First of all, you're dead! Second, Malfoy, you're my enemy, so forgive me if I find it odd to see you making yourself at home here and even trying to peep on me in the shower. Third, you're a cold, nasty man, and now you're joking around? And don't even get me started with what's wrong with Snape."

Malfoy stood, and loomed over Harry, who found himself mildly disgusted that he had to look up at the dead man. "If you would wish a return to our former behavior, I believe that could be arranged. However, we decided that friendliness would go farther to produce a good working relationship."

Harry just gaped at him.

"You're burning the noodles, boy." Snape put in sourly.

"'We' my ass," Harry muttered as he took the noodles off the stove. He drained the water and looked back at Malfoy. "Is this some strange plot to make me insane in revenge for killing you?"

"No, of course not. As we told you last night, boy," Snape broke in, "you're no use to us damaged."

"Then how is it that I could perform the healing spell last night, but not the levitation charm?" Harry asked as he started rummaging through cabinets looking for sauce.

Snape sighed, and Harry had an intense flashback to his Potions lessons when Neville had done something so spectacularly stupid that even Hermione couldn't fix it. He braced himself for the impending explosion. "Potter, you complete imbecile! How you survived this long without using that minuscule brain of yours, I'll never know! Lucius, we should just leave this incompetent to his fate and be done with it."

Harry put the pasta sauce on the kitchen counter and turned to watch the two ghosts interact. He had a faint hope that perhaps one of them might let a small piece of information slip. "If we did that Severus, we would be stuck with our fates as well." Snape scowled at Malfoy's words, but said nothing further. "I'm glad we agree," Malfoy finished pleasantly. Snape snorted.

"As amusing as watching you two is, I really would like some answers." Malfoy and Snape looked back over at Harry as he finished up the pasta and started a salad. Both were as silent as the grave. "Why don't you answer three of my questions, and then I'll agree to go with you to Malfoy Manor." It wasn't the best of bargains, but he decided that as Slytherins, they could respect the attempt.

"One question," Snape replied tersely.

"Three, or I find that wand and try a few banishing spells."

"Two questions, and we leave while Black and Lupin are here," Malfoy offered. Snape glared at him.

Harry considered. It was a fairly good trade, all things considered. It meant not walking into Malfoy Manor blind, and being able to have a conversation with someone without Malfoy and Snape lurking over his shoulder. Even if no one else could see them, they were still highly distracting. Harry just had to remember what happened in front of Bulstrode and Albus' reaction to the situation to know that. "Deal. We'll talk after Sirius and Remus leave. Which means you should leave now," Harry glanced at the kitchen clock, "as they should be here shortly."

Malfoy nodded and offered Harry his hand. Snape rolled his eyes and looked rather discontent by the whole exchange. Harry felt a brief stab of amusement at the thought that Snape's "discontent" expression wasn't much different than the "Potter, you little nitwit, you will die now!" expression. Harry shook Malfoy's hand. It was solid. For a dead man, he had an awfully firm grasp. Slightly warm, and wet with sweat. Harry felt a jolt of shock as he realized the elder Malfoy's handshake was almost the exact opposite of the younger's. "We'll be back, Potter," Malfoy said, letting go. The pair disappeared with a slight pop. Harry shook his head, and returned to his salad.

The doorbell rang, sounding out the Imperial March. Another joke that Remus had always gotten a kick out of, but always seemed lost on Sirius. Harry rather thought that most of what he did was lost on Sirius. And Remus too, for that matter. He walked toward the front door, relishing the feel of not limping, or being without pain, of free unrestricted movement. He dawdled enough that the doorbell rang a second time, and Harry picked up his pace slightly, jogging. He checked the peephole, and indeed, his visitors were Sirius and Remus. He undid all of the locks except for the chain and peered out.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Still showing Slytherin tendencies, I see?" Only four people knew of the Sorting Hat's intention to put Harry into Slytherin, and it had become a password of sorts over the years. Harry undid the chain, and opened the door wide, allowing the two men to come in.

"I've got lunch ready, some pasta and salad, if you'd like to eat?"

Remus smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course, Harry. We'd never turn down your cooking." Remus Lupin had gone totally grey. He moved with a tenseness, a subdued energy that Harry always believed came from the desire to hide the wolfish tendencies. He was still the picture of control, and Sirius' return had helped to return a bit of the prankster to the former Hogwarts professor, but neither could stop the aging process. While Wizards generally lived healthy and fulfilling lives well over one hundred years old, werewolves, with their different metabolisms and excruciating physical changes rarely lived to be older than seventy. Remus, while only 48, was essentially an old man. He led the way to the dining room.

"Need any last minute help in the kitchen?" Sirius asked.

"No, the food's done, I haven't had time to lay it out, if you'd like?" Harry replied. While he loved Sirius, the man seemed driven to make him mad. Sirius, in direct contrast to Remus' nonchalance, seemed to take Remus and Harry's every move and action to heart. Harry understood, vaguely, why Sirius was so damn protective. Of course, there was the legacy from his father. But the larger factor centered around the way the three of them had been abused and outcaste by the very society they had bled to save. While Remus began to let go of things, knowing the inevitable was coming, Sirius grasped more tightly in order to stave it off.

"All right, Harry." Remus sat down at the table and looked expectantly at Sirius. Harry smirked.

"C'mon then, Sirius, let's get Mr. Hoover over there some food before he passes out from hunger," Harry walked into the kitchen, trying to brighten the mood a bit. "I've got the pasta, can you grab the salad there?"

"Sure," Sirius grabbed the salad bowl tightly in his right hand and rummaged through Harry's cabinets for three forks. They reentered the dining room and placed the food on the table. Sirius went back for plates, and Harry sat down.

"How have you two been?"

Remus smiled. "Quite well, actually. The book's going well, and I should be done with it in another month or two."

"Really? I had thought the Ministry had issues with some of the revised content."

"Well," Sirius broke in, returning with the plates, "after our Moony here explained that the foremost world expert on werewolves was bound to be a werewolf, and with some meddling from Dumbledore, they approved it all." He sat down and began dishing out pasta onto Remus' plate.

"Even the sections regarding the Dark Arts?" Harry was surprised. The Ministry, while not being run by Cornelius Fudge anymore, had taken a head-in-the-sand approach to anything remotely "Dark" after Voldemort's death. While Harry could appreciate the sentiment, he didn't approve of the technique itself. Especially since Harry himself was considered "Dark." Remus had spent the last five years petitioning for the rights to write a comprehensive and accurate Defense Against the Dark Arts book. It had been a losing battle, especially when two years ago the Ministry had forbid Hogwarts, as the British school of Wizardry, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, saying that it was no longer needed. Dumbledore had been furious at the time, but consented. He held voluntary sessions for all the students in Defense, the only way to get around the Ministry's ruling. Even Albus Dumbledore couldn't bend the law that far. The last he had heard of it, fewer than 20 students from all the years bothered to attend.

"Yes, even those. I think Sirius glowering at them as a visible reminder of the Dark Arts might have had something to do with it," Remus said wryly. Harry laughed while Sirius scowled.

"Azkaban itself was run by Dark Creatures. And after what happened when the Dementors left, I should hope my presence helped."

"Oh, hush and let the man talk, Sirius."

"Harry," Sirius asked, pouting a bit, "why is it that whenever we have a conversation, I suddenly feel as if you're the one who has been the godfather for the last several years?"

Harry looked down at his plate. He knew the answer to the question, he just didn't think Sirius really wanted to hear it. "They did," Remus broke in, avoiding the question, "however, revoke payment for the book."

"They what?"

"In exchange for being able to write about the Dark Arts, the Ministry refused to pay me for it."

Harry stabbed a pasta shell extra hard with his fork. "Hell, Remus, I'll reimburse you then. That book is bloody important, and needs to be published."

"I couldn't, Harry."

"Bullshit." Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "You can, and you will." He trained his gaze on his godfather. "Both of you. I've got more money than I know what to do with. Most days I don't even use it to buy groceries." Both Remus and Sirius avoided his gaze. "And while we're on the subject," Harry said, before he stood up. "I'll be right back." It was a little early, but given the way things were progressing with his personal Jacob Marleys, Harry figured no other time might be better. He walked to his bedroom and approached the wall safe. Unlocking it, he took out the deed to Godric's Hollow, and walked back to the dining room. Remus was picking at his food, and Sirius was making no attempt to eat at all. "Here." He slammed the documents down on the table in front of his godfather.

"What's this?"

"The deed to Godric's Hollow, and the transfer of ownership papers. You two now officially own it."

"But Harry!" Remus burst out. "That's your home."

"It's been in your family for hundreds of years! You're Gryffindor's Heir, you can't let it out of the Gryffindor family, Harry!" Sirius picked up where Remus left off.

"First of all, that was my home for all of sixteen months, most of which I spent as a baby. Secondly, you two fixed it up. You two did all the work on it. You two remember the place as it used to be. You two are willing to put up with the attention that comes with the place. You two already live there. Third, being Gryffindor's Heir has nothing to do with bloodlines, it's a magical inheritance. You two of all people should know that by now. It's merely a coincidence that we're distantly related. Tom Riddle had no blood relation to Slytherin, but his magic was still the same; it's the magic that marks the Heir, you idiots. And lastly, the Potter line ends with me anyway. I'd rather see the place go to people I love now, than strangers. Or even worse, see it become some bloody Wizarding shrine for the masses." Harry sat down, all the anger released by his speech.

"Damn Harry," Sirius gulped, looking a little pale. "I think that's the most you've said at one time in years."

"Thank you, Harry," Remus said quietly, smiling.

Harry beamed back at him. "You're welcome, and honestly, I'm glad to be rid of the place. It's got two annoying tenants that keep trashing the house, and I can't seem to be rid of them. Perhaps you two might have better luck," Harry replied with a straight face.

Sirius broke and laughed. "Thanks, Harry." He gently ran his fingers over the deed. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

He simply nodded. "It's not like I really want the place, Sirius. Up until that," he pointed at the papers, "Godric's Hollow was really yours in all but name."

Remus leaned over the table and lightly touched Harry's elbow. He repressed the flinch as the fingers traced over Harry's scar. "Are you sure about this, Harry? I mean, your father -"

"I think my father would approve. He'd hate to see the place go to waste. And I'm sure he'd see the irony of the place going to the truest of his friends."

Remus sat back in chair, smiling a bit. "The older you get, Harry, the more you remind me of Lily." Harry smiled back.

"I'm glad," he said, leaving the statement deliberately ambiguous. It was easier if he left it to Remus and Sirius to decide if he was glad because of Remus' statement, or their acceptance of his gift. He picked up his fork and began eating the pasta. Sirius and Remus took the hint and followed suit.

"So how's the new book?" Remus asked, around a large bite.

Harry swallowed his own mouthful. "Finished, actually. I emailed it to my editor about two weeks ago."

"And how was the Ministry visit yesterday?" Sirius asked quietly. The more Harry thought about it, the more apt Snape's description of his godfather seemed. The man really didn't like to let things go, one only had to look at his animosity for his former classmate that continued even after Snape's death, or his dogged persistence in trying to capture Peter Pettigrew who was still at large. At least Sirius himself had been cleared of his crimes when presented with incontrovertible proof that Pettigrew was alive and working for Voldemort. Pettigrew had helped to assassinate the new Minister after Fudge had been outed. Although the Ministry didn't bother to try and reimburse or compensate Sirius for the monies and time lost during his twelve years in Azkaban nor his four years running from both the Death Eaters and the Ministry, most of the Order had decided that having Sirius free to act was good enough for the moment. No one bothered to go back and try and fight the Ministry after the war was over and Voldemort dead. They had larger problems at that moment.

"It was," Harry shrugged a bit, "as usual."

Remus gave him a sharp look. "And Arthur?"

"As usual. I go, we talk, I leave."

"How is he handling, anyway?" Sirius put in. "I haven't seen him in about three years now."

"He seems... better. I think some of the effects are lingering, but for the most part, he makes do quite well," Remus answered for Harry. Seeing his surprised look, Remus turned to address the younger Wizard. "Arthur has been my contact for the final stages of the guide." Harry nodded, it made sense. Perhaps that was what the man had been working on yesterday.

"So. You want to know what happened then, I suspect?" He asked Sirius. Harry was fairly sure the real reason Sirius asked about the Ministry visit was to provoke Harry into talking about Oliver's bungled attempt on his life the night before. Sirius nodded, and continued to eat while watching Harry quietly. He smiled a bit at the very typical Auror tactics. Snape had been fond of it too, as well. Silence was one of the most effective interrogation tactics.

Dumbledore himself worked wonders with it.

"I came home by Floo, after stopping to talk to Albus. I decided to check the doors," Harry saw Remus snort out of the corner of his eye, and glared. "The front door was unlocked. I never leave it locked. I got my gun, and cased the house. Oliver was waiting for me in the sitting room with an Invisibility Cloak. Which I saved, by the way, and you're welcome to it, if you'd like." He paused a minute. "I need a drink. Do either of you want anything?" Harry stood and walked to the door of the dining room.

"Water, for both of us." This time it was Harry's turn to snort at Remus' answer. He walked into the dining room, poured two glasses of water, and then poured himself a large shot of scotch. He drank it swiftly, and then filled his glass again. Picking up one of the water glasses, Harry cupped it between his elbow and chest, and grabbed the third glass before returning to the dining room. "Thanks," Remus said as he accepted the first glass. Harry placed the second glass in front of Sirius as his godfather continued to eat. "Go on."

"Well, I heard the movements," Harry lied, "and shot towards where they were coming from. Ended up hitting Oliver in the thigh. Patched him up, found out that he had Portkeyed in, getting the keys from Percy Weasley, and sent him on his way."

"Percy?" Sirius spoke for the first time. "But he's -"

"The Head of the Department of Mysteries. I know. That doesn't make him infallible, Sirius. You of all people should know that when dealing with the Ministry," Harry spoke without thinking, with far more venom than he intended. Seemed as if Snape was rubbing of on him. Great. As if life couldn't get worse.

Sirius flinched. "Right." He put his fork down on the table. "I think I've lost my appetite."

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry sighed. "I didn't mean it. It's just... I don't know. Been building for a while, I guess."

Sirius smiled. It was bright and bitter, and reminded Harry distinctly of the man who survived Azkaban solely to kill Peter Pettigrew. "I can understand that as well."

Harry looked down at his plate. The red pasta didn't look very appetizing at the moment, in fact, it rather looked like blood-soaked insects. "I'll get started on changing the keys, Harry," Remus said quietly, standing. Harry didn't look up, but nodded, and heard him walk out of the room.

"How was he planning to attack you?"

"What?"

"Wood. How was he planning to attack you? Physically? Magically?"

Harry continued to stare at his plate. He almost thought he saw a few pasta shells move. His stomach roiled. "I assume both, but magically was the primary. He had his wand, and told me Percy sent him because he was better at attack magics than Percy was."

"What did you do with the wand?"

At that, Harry looked up. "I gave it back to him, of course," he lied. "I'm not stupid enough to keep the one thing that will bring the Ministry down on me faster than you can say 'Dementor's Kiss.'" He held his breath, hoping his godfather bought the lie. Harry was a rather accomplished liar when he wanted to be, however, it had been many years since he's actually had to use the talent. And even during the war Sirius, Dumbledore, and Snape had amazing abilities to see through him.

"Good." Sirius' smile changed, it became more natural. "At we've been through this much, I'd hate to lose you now."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sirius. What gave you that impression?"

Sirius sighed. "Have you been following the Prophets?" Harry shook his head in response. Sirius ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know how much of what they've been reporting is bunk, rumor, or fact, but Harry... The Death Eaters are regrouping."

"That's not possible."

"They are. And while I'm skeptical that it's not much more than perhaps a few juvenile delinquents acting up, the signs are there. Dark Marks have been appearing. That's perhaps what brought on Wood's attack last night. If people believe that Voldemort is returning, naturally they'll think you had something to do with it."

Harry stood up so quickly he knocked over his chair. "Bollocks!" He grabbed his chair and righted it furiously before pacing. "They stripped my magic, I can't have anything to do with it!"

"Calm down, Harry, no one is pointing fingers yet. But, with the Weasleys, it's -"

"Personal. I know."

Sirius glared. "Would you stop interrupting, it's a rather irritating habit."

Harry waved a hand at Sirius in a vaguely apologetic fashion, thinking as he paced. Snape and Malfoy's reappearance, as ghosts, or whatever they were must have something to do with the signs. "Tell me."

"We've had sightings of the Dark Mark in several public places, all associated with either the Ministry or pureblood traditions."

"Where?"

Sirius thought for a moment, before ticking each location off on his fingers. "Ollivanders, the Ministry branch centered around the research of the origins of magic up in Scotland, and yesterday, Hogwarts."

Harry stopped midstep at that. "Fuck." That explained all the stares he had gotten during his meal time visit yesterday. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Harry turned to stare at Sirius. "This is bad. I was there yesterday."

Sirius sighed. "We'll get through it, like everything else."

Remus walked back into the room, and cocked his head slightly at the tableau. "I've finished rearranging the keys. They're imprinted to brain wave patterns and magical signature now."

Harry looked at him, surprised. "I hadn't realized you could do that!"

"Well, the magical signature is fairly easy, it's imprinted in the blood. But you knew that, since the keys were set that way already. I wonder whose blood they used to infiltrate..." Remus trailed off in thought. Sirius snorted, breaking the werewolf's concentration. "The brain wave patterns is a bit trickier, it's a long process that basically involves creating a ward that acts almost as an EEG, and then a layer on top of that which filters anything out that doesn't have matching patterns. I've already imprinted myself." He pointed his wand at Sirius. "Rintracci il cervello," he muttered. Harry watched, fascinated, as a brown string of magic wrapped around Sirius' head before dissipating. Remus repeated the process with Harry. "If you want Albus to have access, I'll have to cast the spell on him as well while he's here."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter really, Albus never visits. Having him keyed to the wards is more for the Ministry's peace of mind than anything else." Harry grinned a bit. "And what the Ministry doesn't know won't hurt them, right?" Remus grinned back, but Sirius still looked uncomfortable.

"Harry, promise me you won't do anything stupid?"

"Sirius, with you as my godfather, I can almost guarantee that the only things I ever do are stupid," Harry attempted to tease Sirius out of his mood. From the way the older man's expression darkened, the attempt was lost on him.

"Please?"

"All right. I solemnly swear that I will not be up to no good," Harry said lightly, mocking the Marauder's oath a bit, but meaning what he said. Sirius gripped his shoulder tightly and pulled Harry into a hug, something the older man hadn't done since the trials after Voldemort's death. Things must be serious then.

"We'll get out of your hair then. Keep in touch, all right? We worry."

Harry smiled and nodded, but didn't follow either man out of the room. "How touching an example of familial love."

"How nice that you've returned, Snape," Harry replied quietly. The front door had shut. Harry walked into the hallway and breathed a small sigh of relief as he clicked the locks back into place.

He refused to look at either ghost as he returned to the dining room. Pulling Oliver's wand out of his pocket, Harry pointed it at the leftover dinner. He muttered the strongest cleaning spell he knew, purloined from Molly Weasley.

It worked perfectly.

He sighed and turned back to Snape and Malfoy. "Let's talk, then."