The Forbidden Memory

The Forbidden Memory, by Pleiades

Kneeling on the bedroom floor of the Shrieking Shack, with the dust coiling in thin rivulets around the shoulders of the man before him, Harry allowed his gaze to tunnel down to the pair of deep brown eyes that almost dominated his view. They were so haunted, so intensely sad, even now when they had every reason to be alight with joy, as to pierce him to his very soul. Not for the first time he wondered if he would ever have the courage to face the kind of horrors that would engender such an expression, the kind that had robbed Sirius of his hope and almost his sanity. The thought of it made him shiver in fearful contemplation.

Drawing his eyes away, he reached for the tiny bottle beside him and fervently hoped that his gift would lift the older man's spirits. For two long years he had trained for this in secret, the thought of seeing those lines of care on his godfather's face smooth into a smile providing him with the much needed stimulus to make it through the immense difficulties of the project. And now it was over. He had succeeded.

With trembling digits he removed the cork. Steam rose instantly from the small container, and Sirius gasped. "Harry, is that-?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, his tone forbidding any protest. "I want to do this for you, Sirius."

For a moment neither of them spoke. Harry didn't know if his godfather understood what he was proposing, but the silence felt right; it added to the occasion and made what he was about to do seem all the more poignant, for it was no small feat. Doubt threatened to rise in his mind, but it was swiftly buried. This would be wonderful. Soon he would join Sirius in a world hitherto unknown to him, and then they would race together on four limbs through the darkness. They would be closer than they had ever been before. Sirius would have a new start in life.

Taking what he knew could be his last glimpse of the man who mattered most to him in the world, Harry raised the bottle to his lips and drank. "Happy birthday, Sirius," he said, before the world went black.

***

"Happy birthday, Sirius!"

Harry came back to himself with a start and blinked owlishly, instantly aware that something was different. The sour taste of the Animagus potion still clung to the back of his tongue, grounding him in the moment, and yet, despite his certainty that only seconds had passed since he had swallowed the viscous liquid, he felt as if he'd been gone for hours. Subtle changes had occurred around him. The fire glowed more brightly in the grate, and the air seemed clearer than before and less stale. He was aware of Sirius still sitting nearby, but a little further to the left than he remembered. How had he moved so quickly? Thoroughly disorientated, Harry tried to piece together what had just happened.

Moments after he had taken the potion, the world had gone black, and he had become aware of nothing but a light buzzing in his head. Then he had come to, and felt as if he'd arrived in another time. His last words reverberated oddly in his head, as if someone else had spoken them. "Happy birthday, Sirius!" coasted around on his consciousness with the swift and unrelenting passage of a wave crashing on a rocky seashore.

Desperate for something solid to focus on, Harry turned all his attention to his godfather. Sirius was now grinning at him in what could only be described as mischief, and he looked... young. Very young. Utterly oblivious to his godson's distress, Sirius raised a glass bottle to his own lips and downed what little remained of the contents, before grimacing and placing the bottle back on the floor with a thud. Harry rubbed the lenses of his glasses to try and clear them, but the image remained. A teenage Sirius Black was smiling at him in the warm glow of a fire, and in his eyes flashed happiness and excitement.

"Blimey, James!" the boy exclaimed, wiping his mouth on his arm, "Remind me not to let you mix my birthday cocktail in future. That was disgusting!"

"But did it work?" a shrill voice piped up from behind, causing Harry to leap instantly to his feet. His eyes opened wide in astonishment for until that moment he had been oblivious to the other boy's presence. Harry was chilled to realise the identity of the intruder. Ruddy cheeks, small blue eyes, messy blonde hair...It was Peter Pettigrew, only he was much younger than Harry remembered him, perhaps as young as Harry himself. "I don't think it worked," Pettigrew said. "I knew it wouldn't."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Sirius said, grinning at Harry. "James, you first."

Harry felt as if he'd walked in on someone else's conversation. Sirius was looking at him pointedly, waiting for a response. Apparently, the two other boys thought that he, Harry, was James Potter! Realising that he had managed to back his way entirely into a wall, Harry tried to contain the panic and confusion assailing him. Something had gone terribly wrong. He had taken the Animagus Potion, and it had sent him back in time, but how? It was enough to make his head swim.

Sirius was teasing him, trying to goad him into something. Head whirling, Harry tried to grasp what the two boys were talking about. Had what worked? What were they testing? Harry searched and searched, but only one possibility came into his head. This had to be the night when the marauders became Animagi! They were testing the Animagus Potion, just as he himself had been trying to do moments before. Sirius wanted him to transform. "Oh, come on!" the dark-haired boy continued, "You don't want Lily to hear what a coward you really are, do you?"

"Maybe we should just forget about this," Pettigrew said, but stopped at the murderous expression on Sirius' face. Visibly quailing at the anger he found directed at him, he clutched a ragged quilt from the bed in his arms as if it were a life preserver.

"Do you want to help Remus, or not?" Sirius demanded, bearing up on the smaller boy.

"Of course I do," Pettigrew stuttered miserably.

"Then see if you can transform! It should happen automatically. Just think of an animal. Go on!"

Within seconds Harry found himself in a room with a dog and a boy with pink furry ears and a tail. He spared them only a moment's glance before irrationally searching the room for a way back to the Sirius he had just left. There were no obvious answers, however, and he was truly becoming frightened. As fascinating as it was to see a young Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew experimenting with the Animagus Potion, he desperately wanted to get back. This wasn't right, wasn't normal, and he couldn't help but fear that there would be no way for him to return.

Peter Pettigrew was making tiny sounds of distress, holding his long tail in his hands and staring at it in horror. The rest of his features, the human ones, hitched with his every sob. He looked thoroughly lost.

The dog transformed back into Sirius. "Wow! That was amazing. I was really a dog! It's so different. Everything seems much clearer... and I had a tail! It moves, and everything. Go on, James! Try it. It's great!"

Harry shrank into the corner and shook his head. "No, I don't think-"

"Oh, come on! Even Peter tried it."

Peter grunted something that sounded suspiciously like, "What do you mean, 'even Peter'?" but Sirius chose to ignore him, instead coming towards Harry with hands outstretched.

Harry found himself being pulled back into the interior of the room. He had to say something. "I, er, think there was something wrong with my potion. It didn't feel right."

"Nonsense, you mixed it yourself. Besides, it's almost moonrise. Moony'll be waiting for us."

That was all it took. With a final squeak, Pettigrew darted to the door and fled. Sirius glared after him and returned to Harry. "Little coward, I knew he wouldn't go through with it." Sirius shook his head and sighed. "Well, I suppose it is dangerous, what we're doing. Looks like it's just us tonight. It could be worse. Are you ready?"

Before Harry could answer, a ravaged scream tore through the house. It was more beast than human, and Harry found himself backing into the wall again.

"Shit!" Sirius exclaimed, "I thought we had more time than that. Lucky Peter left when he did. Hurry, James, do it now!"

Harry stared at him in shock, not entirely sure if he was following what was happening. "Remus... Is he-?"

"Yes, he's transforming! Come on! This is gonna be great..."

Harry was terrified. He could hardly believe what was happening to him. Yet one way or another, he had to transform into an animal. Desperately, he focused all his thoughts on the image of a stag. He didn't know if it was what he was supposed to do, but he prayed it would work. He knew Sirius was beside him, still in human form, waiting to ensure that he transformed. It brought little comfort.

Seconds passed and the screams turned into growls dripping with fury and bloodlust. Harry didn't feel any different. He opened his eyes and saw Sirius staring at him with barely concealed terror. "James, what's wrong? Why isn't it working?"

Harry shook his head; he didn't know. Certainly he had taken an Animagus Potion, but it had brought him back in time and into his father's place. If that much had gone wrong, there was no reason to expect that it would fulfil its intended purpose.

There were thumps upon the stairs. Remus Lupin was coming up to the bedroom. Sirius' eyes darted from the rickety door, just a few insubstantial planks of wood nailed together, to Harry, who had started flicking out one of his arms in an attempt to lengthen it into a paw, but to no avail. The thumps increased in volume, and Sirius raced to the door and threw his back against it. He turned to Harry in desperation. "Grab that table!"

Seeing his intention, Harry began to drag the small table, one of very few articles of furniture in the bedroom, to the door to prevent the werewolf's entry. Behind Sirius, the door burst inward a little, fell back, and then was pushed in again. The dark-haired boy exerted all his weight on it as Harry pushed the table in as close as he could. But it was no use. The werewolf was banging on the door with shocking strength, and it was beginning to splinter under the assault.

Harry darted frantically about the room. There was the bed, a large four-poster, but it was much too heavy to push to the door. All that remained was a sadly mutilated chair, missing one of its legs. Harry cursed himself; it would be of no use against a werewolf. They were trapped, and helpless.

Suddenly, one of the wooden planks of the door burst inward, snapping cleanly in half. Sirius yelped as the werewolf thrust in one sharply clawed paw. Without thinking, Harry raced forward and kicked at the offending limb, causing it to recoil. He turned to Sirius. "What are we going to do?"

Sirius looked at him sharply, before reaching into his pocket and taking out his wand. He handed it to Harry. "Take this! I'm going to transform and see if I can distract him. When he's not looking, just run. I'll keep him busy."

Harry gasped and shook his head in outrage. "No! I'm not leaving you here with him. There must be something else we can do."

"There's nothing! This is the only way. I'll be fine. You remember what the book said; only humans can become werewolves."

Harry didn't know what book Sirius was talking about, but he knew that being an animal did not ensure survival against a werewolf attack. "It doesn't matter, he could tear you to pieces!"

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but the door burst inward, throwing the two of them and the table forward into the room. Harry struggled to his feet, only to be pushed violently aside by Sirius. He fell heavily onto the floor behind the bed, but as he got up he saw Sirius, now a gigantic black dog, challenging the wolf.

Sirius stood resolute near the door, back paws splayed apart to give a false impression of size, and growling like a monster. Harry could see saliva dripping from his jaws, making him look truly formidable, but it was the sight of the werewolf that made him shrink instinctively down behind the mattress. Peeping over the rim of his cover, Harry watched in terrified fascination.

At close quarters, Remus Lupin was terrifying. The eyes, crazed with hunger, flashed menacingly at the dog, and the teeth, which were prominently displayed, were sharper than a lance. Power was written in every turn of his limbs, yet he did not attack. For a long while, the two animals maintained eye contact, both daring the other to look away. Occasionally, one would start forward a little, feigning attack and trying to frighten the other into leaving, but to no avail. Both fierce, both determined, the dog and the werewolf remained in position, sizing the other up. Harry wondered what would happen if there was no clear victor. Would they fight to the death?

Harry's legs were beginning to ache from kneeling behind the bed and trying not to make a sound. He knew he would have to move soon, but until Sirius distracted the werewolf, he was trapped. All he could do was watch and wait for his chance.

The animals were silent now. The werewolf had relaxed its posture somewhat, much to Harry's relief. It was still standing upright on its four powerful limbs, but it had closed its mouth, and its eyes no longer looked ferocious, merely curious. It was a startling transformation, made all the more remarkable when the werewolf slowly began to walk toward Sirius. The dog howled lightly, betraying its fear at the close contact, but it did not recoil. As the werewolf began to sniff the dog's face, Harry felt a thrill run through him. Finally he understood the enormity of what his father and his two friends had achieved. This was wonderful.

Without warning, the werewolf raised its paw and hit the dog's head. Harry saw Sirius jump in shock, but it soon became clear that the blow was actually a playful action. The werewolf was wagging its tail delightedly, eyes flashing no longer in anger, but in comradeship. Sirius cautiously returned the gesture, and received a sharp nip to his neck in kind. It looked vicious but was undoubtedly meant to be playful, judging from the creature's stance.

Exploiting the werewolf's acceptance of him, Sirius tried to coax it out into the corridor. It followed eagerly, and following a meaningful glance from Sirius, Harry was finally able to give his legs the relief they so desperately needed. He stood up, stuffed Sirius' wand in his pocket along with his own, and crossed to the door. He could hear the animals moving around in one of the adjacent rooms, but the way was clear for him to escape.

Harry's conscience screamed at him for leaving Sirius behind with the werewolf, but he knew it was for the best. Sirius would control Moony, keep him from hurting anyone until the moon set once again. Until that time, Harry resolved to stand guard over the entrance to the Whomping Willow to prevent anyone else from entering.

Exiting the Shrieking Shack, he ran through the long tunnel and made for the tiny bead of light at the end where he knew the trapdoor to be. It opened as easily as he remembered, and within moments Harry was sitting on the grass a short distance away from the violently swinging tree, staring out at the stars in dismay.

As soon as he sat down, exhaustion crept up on him, and he looked around in bewilderment. It seemed like such a long time since he had made his way over to the Shrieking Shack in the dead of night, his heart beating with excitement as he prepared to meet his godfather on his birthday. Harry had planned on giving him the greatest gift imaginable: a companion. He would have transformed that very night, thus giving Sirius the chance to share his remarkable ability with another. He had thought it would liberate his godfather's tortured mind and remind him of happier times. Instead, it had sent Harry hurtling into the past and into the body of his father. What was happening to his own Sirius now? Would he be running around the room crying, searching desperately for the boy he had sworn to protect? What had gone wrong?

***

"James! James, wake up!"

Harry awoke instantly, gazed up into Sirius' youthful face, and realised that the last twelve hours had not been a dream. Beyond the admittedly good-looking visage hanging over him, he saw that the sky had lightened somewhat, with bright grey shards of light piercing the dawn shadows. Feeling cold and stiff, he raised himself into a sitting position and regarded the other boy keenly. Sirius looked tired, and a small cut was bleeding just below his left ear, but he looked otherwise unharmed. "Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad I found you. Will you give me a hand with Remus?"

Harry blinked in confusion, but accepted the proffered hand and stood up. Sirius led him over to the Whomping Willow, and grabbed a stick to press the knot in its roots. Instantly the tree stopped waving its branches around, and together he and Sirius went through the hidden entrance to the tunnel of the Shrieking Shack. It was quite dark inside, so Harry took out his wand and illuminated it. He gave Sirius back his own wand, and the extra illumination it cast lit up the entire cavern. "He's just down here," Sirius said. "He was freezing after he transformed back, so I put his clothes on him."

Harry moved after him, almost afraid of what they would find. He held his wand out in front to see his way. Although he had somehow moved into his father's body, he still had his own wand. He didn't have time to ponder on this, however, for it wasn't long before he discerned the outline of a person lying on the floor against the tunnel wall. At the same instant, Sirius broke into a run, and Harry followed.

It was Remus. He was completely unconscious and very pale, but looked otherwise unharmed. Sirius gathered him up carefully in his arms as if he weighed no more than a baby did, and together the three of them returned to the Shrieking Shack.

They entered the bedroom, and Harry kicked aside the broken furniture littering the floor from the previous night to clear a path to the bed. Sirius laid Remus down gently and covered him with a light blanket before turning to Harry with a serious expression. "He's not going to be too happy when he wakes up."

Harry looked at Sirius questioningly, and the dark-haired boy continued. "You could have been killed last night, or worse, and you know how he feels about us risking our lives like that for him. But he needs this, whatever he says, so don't let him talk us into giving up.

"Besides, you probably just got the proportions of the ingredients wrong, or something. That's all. Mine worked out fine, and so did Peter's. Two out of three isn't bad, now, is it?"

Harry couldn't comment. He hadn't a clue what had gone wrong with his potion, but somehow talking to this young Sirius Black about it didn't seem like a good idea. Sirius would never believe him, would probably think it was all just an elaborate joke. And telling him things about the future might be dangerous for the timeline. Hadn't Hermione warned him of that when they used the Time-turner? So Harry just nodded politely and looked around, feeling confused and out of place.

Presently Sirius started to pull down the blanket covering Remus. He then proceeded to remove the boy's trousers. Harry felt a blush rising to his cheeks and he turned away immediately, but Sirius laughed. "Since when are you so modest? It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. Honestly!"

Harry still didn't turn around, but he could tell that Sirius had started on the socks.

"... It's a hard job, but someone's got to do it," Sirius said, his voice slightly muffled as he tugged on the reluctant garments. "Phew! What a stench! Can you believe it? I told him to wear clean socks this time, but did he do it? Oh, no, let poor, ever-forgiving Sirius deal with the smell. It's not like he'll mind, or anything... I'm going to have words with him later, I can tell you..."

"Sirius," Harry said when the noise had died down somewhat, "why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Undressing him."

"Huh? We always undress him, James. Can't have Madam Pomfrey finding him in his clothes, or she'll know we were here. Geez, did you hit your head last night, or what?"

"Oh, something like that," Harry said mildly, turning around.

"Well, you'd better get your wits back soon because he's coming round." Sirius looked up anxiously. "Now remember, it was just a minor miscalculation of the ingredients, and we had the situation thoroughly under control."

Before Harry could say anything, Remus groaned and lifted a hand up to cover his eyes. His thin form shivered in the cool air and his skin looked very white. "Ugh! Sirius?" he asked, slowly and quietly.

Sirius immediately pulled the blanket a little higher, covering him up. "I'm here," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Remus still didn't open his eyes. His face was lined with pain, and he seemed a few steps behind. "I'm fine," he said, his voice a little slurred. "Are James and Peter here too?"

Sirius looked over at Harry, who came forward a little nervously. "I'm here," Harry said.

For a while Remus didn't say anything, and it looked like he was going to go back to sleep. Sirius seemed to relax at bit too, and he turned to Harry as if to say something, but before he could do so, Remus sat up so fast they all gasped. Clutching his head against the inevitable pain, the sickly boy pointed a shaking finger at Harry, and said in an angry but weak voice, "What were you thinking of? I could have bitten you!"

"Remus," Sirius said calmly, "just wait and hear what we have to say." After a meaningful glance at Harry, which seemed to say, 'let me handle this,' Sirius tried to push Remus back down onto the pillows, only to be glared at.

It took a long time to convince Remus that the previous night's disaster had in fact been a resounding success, but eventually the boy's exhausted state intervened to prevent him from thinking clearly enough to argue. He accepted Sirius' assurances docilely, simply looking annoyed at having been bested in an exchange of logic. He then fell fast asleep.

Sirius turned to Harry with a tired but relieved smile. "Well, that was easier than I thought." His voice sounded dry and raspy after arguing so long. "Now we'd better get out of here before Pomfrey sees us."

***

By the time Harry reached the entrance hall, he was almost dropping with weariness. He barely registered the familiar stonework of the balusters, the cheerful paintings lining the walls, the unknown faces that surrounded him; instead he chose to focus on the dark form of his godfather, moving steadily a short distance ahead. It was easier this way, not having to think; his head was pounding with exhaustion. He just wanted to get to his bed, any bed, and sleep for an eternity. Perhaps when he woke up he would find himself back home. Pleased with this thought, he let his mind dull once more and continued onward. The morning sounds of this Hogwarts did not interfere with his need for inner silence; they were so similar to those of his own school as to become easily relegated into mere background noise, unimportant and unremarkable.

He climbed the stairs to the first floor, dazedly following the boy in front. Sirius' shoulders were slumped and he moved slowly, reminding Harry that he wasn't the only who had spent a difficult night. Had Harry been feeling any better himself, he might have been sympathetic; but as it was, the sight of the tired figure merely served to make him more aware of his own fatigue, and he couldn't stifle the yawn that escaped him. When Sirius finally stopped outside a door, Harry crashed into him heavily, and it wasn't until Sirius helped steady him that he realised, with some dismay, that they were standing outside the History of Magic classroom. "After you," Sirius muttered.

Harry took a moment to catch his meaning. "You can't be serious. You mean, you have- we have- classes now?"

Sirius gave him a tired half-smile, and looked down at his watch. It was bright gold and glinted in the pale morning light. "It's almost nine," he remarked. "I hate to tell you this, Jamsie, but we have classes everyday at this time. Remember?"

The horror must have shown on Harry's face, for Sirius seemed to reconsider. "Hmm. Maybe it wouldn't hurt just to miss one class. I mean, we are very tired, and it's not like we'll be learning anything important..." Harry nodded encouragingly, causing Sirius to smile even more. "You know, I think I like you like this, James. Makes a nice change from your usual Trying to Impress Lily Behaviour." He clapped Harry on the back and moved away. "Come on, then, let's go before Binns sees us."

They made their way up to Gryffindor Tower, where Sirius had almost as much trouble remembering the password as Harry did. Once inside, they went straight to the seventh year boys' dormitory. Sirius instantly threw himself down on a bed, kicked off his shoes, and lay back.

Harry stood still. Apart from Sirius' bed, there were four others. One had the crimson hangings drawn all around it; the one beside it was tidily made with perfectly squared sheets; another one had its ruby cover dotted with sweets; and the last one, next to Sirius' bed, but less tidy, had a set of red Quidditch robes draped casually over the headboard. Harry approached this bed cautiously, noticing for the first time the crumpled newspaper squashed haphazardly under the pillow, the numerous ink splodges decorating the bedspread, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was his father's bed. He gazed at it in wonder, awed by the sight of so many of his father's belongings gathered together in one place, not as in a shrine or in a photograph album, but rather as they were meant to be, as they had been used. He drew away from it as he would from a crystal vase, too afraid to touch it lest he disturb or remove some essential trace of his father's life.

The sound of Sirius clearing his throat brought Harry abruptly back to awareness. He started slightly, and looked over at the other boy, feeling awkward and embarrassed. Sirius couldn't possibly understand. He had no idea what the future held for them both, and so he gazed back through half-shut eyes at who he considered to be his best friend, trying to fathom what James Potter was up to now. Sirius made a half-hearted attempt to sit up but fell back against the pillows, sighing contentedly. "I thought you were tired," he mumbled sleepily.

Harry didn't know what to say. He was tired, exhausted in fact, but he couldn't sleep in his father's bed. It was too precious to disturb.

Perhaps he could tell Sirius the truth. The boy before him was no less worthy than his godfather, and something in his nature made Harry trust him implicitly. It might be nice to talk about it, to get it off his chest without having his comforter look at him as if he were a love-starved, pitiable orphan. But no, he was tired, and doubtless he would not be considering such a dangerous course of action if he were fully awake. He had to think about the time-line.

As the sadness and weariness returned in force, he realised how much he missed Hermione, Ron, and his own Sirius. Here he was alone, with no one to help or comfort him. What was worse, he didn't know if he would ever see his friends again.

Now Sirius really did sit up, confused at the sight of his non-responsive friend. "What is it, James?"

Harry looked at him, but didn't know what to say. He could feel his lower lip trembling unaccountably, and it scared him.

Sirius started to get up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, motioning to Sirius to go back to bed. The sight of the other boy's concern made him realise that he definitely didn't want to talk about it, after all. He was too tired, too emotional, and Sirius was being too nice. He'd probably just end up crying. "I'm fine," he repeated, "Just go back to sleep."

Sirius watched him dubiously. "You going to sleep too?"

Harry yawned. "Yeah," he said indistinctly, heading over to the tidy bed across the room, "I'm knackered. I think I'll just sleep in, em, Peter's bed." He yawned again and stretched out on the perfectly squared sheets. "Yeah, he won't mind... I'm so tired..." Feeling sleep overtaking him, Harry let his eyes close. From a distance he heard Sirius say, "But that isn't Peter's..." but he was too comfortable and sleepy to care. He soon fell asleep.

***

Someone was shaking him, albeit gently, but it was enough to rouse him from a delicious slumber. Annoyed, Harry opened his eyes, and looked up at his attacker. It was Remus Lupin. He looked slightly breathless, as if he'd been trying to wake him for some time. Come to think of it, Harry did remember someone calling his name repeatedly during his dream. He blushed lightly and sat up, looking blearily at the other boy.

"Sorry, James," Remus said, bemused, "but you seem to be in the wrong bed." There was just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Harry sat up, trying to clear his sleep-fogged brain. He saw Sirius watching them curiously from across the room. For a moment Harry remained still, just looking at his godfather. Lying there, with features rendered pale from a long sleepless night, and with his long black hair tumbling over his face, he actually looked a little like Cho Chang. Something stirred in Harry's heart, but he quickly stamped it down. What was he thinking? Sirius, however, seemed quite unperturbed by the intense expression on his friend's face. Perhaps he was used to being looked at; he was very attractive, after all. He turned to Remus and shook his head. "Just kick him up the arse, Moony, that'll get him moving fast enough!"

Harry started, remembering that Lupin wanted his bed back. "What? Your bed-?"

"Why do I feel like one of the three bears?" Sirius asked in a mild, amused voice that made Harry blush even more.

"Oh," Harry said, "This is your bed... Sorry, Professor-" Realising his mistake, Harry frowned and said no more. Remus only raised an eyebrow, a gesture very much reminiscent of the kindly teacher from Harry's third year at Hogwarts. Harry forced a laugh. "Sorry, I'm still half-asleep."

"You better be, James, because that wasn't funny! Honestly, me, a teacher..."

More awake now, Harry tried very hard not to laugh at the look of indignation on Remus Lupin's face. He stood up, allowing Remus to lie down, which he did with apparent relish. Then, uncertain what to do next, Harry looked over at his father's bed and tried to decide if he wanted to risk using it.

Remus spoke quietly behind him, "Did you, em, have an accident in it? I was going to just leave you here and use it myself, but Sirius seemed to think there might be something wrong with it..." He trailed off, embarrassed.

It was humiliating, but it was the only way to explain his predicament. "Um, yeah," Harry answered, feeling his cheeks burn. "I had a little accident."

"Dreaming about Lily again, were you?" Sirius asked. He and Remus started giggling.

"No!" Harry said defensively, thinking of his mother, but Remus and Sirius were too lost in laughter to hear the earnest tone in his voice.

"Don't worry, James," Remus said, "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"A perfectly natural reaction!" Sirius confirmed, still chortling.

"Oh, shut up!" Harry said, no longer caring that these were his father's best-friends, at least twenty years older than him, that one of them was his godfather, and that the other was his ex-teacher. For now they were just irritating.

Harry started to move toward the bed with the drawn curtains, but Sirius burst out laughing again, stopping him in his tracks. "What now?" Harry demanded.

"I wouldn't use Peter's either, if I were you," Sirius said, giggling.

"Why not?"

"Those curtains are drawn for a reason, James," Remus said meaningfully, "the usual reason, I'm afraid." He and Sirius started laughing. When they calmed down, Sirius sighed lightly, and said, "We probably shouldn't laugh, you know. I mean it's not his fault he wets the bed. He just misses home."

"Yuck," Harry said, and settled for the remaining bed. He had to scoop off the Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, but once that was done, he lay down on the covers and let sleep claim him once more.

***

Although Sirius had proposed that they skip only one class, it wasn't until after lunch that he and Harry finally found the energy to leave the dormitory and attend the remaining lessons. Remus joined them, feeling a good deal better both from Madam Pomfrey's assistance and his morning rest, and together they set off for the Transfiguration classroom.

Following the two boys down the corridor, Harry felt unaccountably guilty, as if he was malevolently trying to trick everyone into believing he was somebody else. The truth, of course, as he kept reminding himself, was that he was doing it only to protect them. He couldn't risk changing their futures, much as he might have wanted to, for fear of altering his own destiny and creating some terrible paradox, whereby he might never have been born at all. Although he had always tried to belittle his defeat of the Dark Lord as a baby, to get people to put his, 'victory,' into perspective, he now found himself striving to ensure its natural course. It was imperative that he do nothing to alter the time-line, and if that meant playing the role of James Potter, then he would do it, but only until he found a way to return to his own time.

He had already considered going to see Dumbledore. The thought of sitting in the warm plush office and telling the aged headmaster all that occurred seemed terrifically comforting, yet he could not do it. While he felt sure that Dumbledore would understand the need not to interfere in Pettigrew's betrayal of Harry's parents, or in the Marauders' decision to become Animagi, to give him such information now would be unwise, not to mention cruel. Harry knew that, were he in the headmaster's position, he would find it unbearable to know that two good people were going to die, and yet to be powerless to stop it. Surely nobody, not even Dumbledore, could let their intelligence over-rule their conscience in such a dilemma. No, Harry decided, he couldn't risk it. He would have to find a solution on his own.

Their arrival at the Transfiguration classroom was greeted by a tremendous whooping and cheering from the assembled students, who were undoubtedly impressed with their nerve for having skipped the morning classes. Harry tried to affect a casual, self-assured smile to return the many he received; he had to act as naturally around these complete strangers as his father would have done around his familiar classmates. He hoped his bewilderment wouldn't show, since it wasn't easy pretending to know who all these people were, especially when they seemed to know him so well. Evidently his father had been very popular.

Pettigrew moved over to make room for them on the bench, but said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the tabby cat sitting at the front of the room, which promptly transformed into Professor McGonagall.

Harry was surprised to find that the teacher looked just as he remembered her. She still wore her hair in the familiar severe bun, and her glasses sat on her nose making her look as intimidating as ever. Twenty years had done little to alter her appearance. Harry wondered if perhaps she had transfigured herself in his own time to look younger, but that didn't seem like the sort of thing she'd do. She gave the three of them the icy stare that Harry dreaded, but said nothing of their morning absence. Harry felt sure he'd hear about it later, however.

"All right, settle down," she said. "Now that Mr. Black and Mr. Potter have decided to grace us with their presence, we can continue where we left off yesterday. Mr. Black, why don't you tell us about the Morpheus Method of Enforced Transfiguration." Harry heard Sirius groan, and he shook his head in sympathy. "Oh, and do try to pay attention, Potter, I'll be calling on you next..."

***

It was amazing how easy it would have been to settle into a routine in this Hogwarts. Already Harry felt like he had lived there all his school years. His friends, his father's friends, seemed no less real and quirky than his own did; they seemed to love him, and not because of something he had done as a baby. They loved him for who he was, and it filled him with a warmth and acceptance he had never felt before, not even in the Muggle world. He might have been tempted to forget the life he had known and continue in this pleasant masquerade. With time, he could have forgotten all about the tired old Sirius of his world, the kindly Weasleys, Hermione with her bushy hair, Cho. He could have done it, might have done it, but for the young, red-haired, green-eyed woman now lying with her head in his lap, playing with the hem on his trousers. The pain of being so close to her was almost stifling, and he longed to get away.

He couldn't pretend to be her boyfriend. This was his mother, the angelic Lily Evans, his father's wife. It was one thing to be near her, but to kiss her, as she seemed to want to be kissed, was unthinkable. It was cruel to be in this situation, he thought. Here he was, lounging in the warmth of the Gryffindor common room with his mother resting in his lap, experiencing his first ever glimpse of her in the flesh, and she had to think of him as her lover. If only she'd known he was her son, he could have told her important things, things that would make her future seem worthwhile, her sacrifice divine. He could have told her how much he missed her, how sorry he was that she couldn't have been there on his first day of school. Instead, all she seemed interested in was his messy hair, which she seemed to love playing with, and the loose threads on his trousers.

It was agony to see her like this, so young and innocent and enjoying life, to know what she would be facing in the years ahead and not be able to warn her. Every moment he spent in her presence was tainted by this constant awareness of his own helplessness, and he just wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted to go home.

He sat a little while longer with her before pleading exhaustion and heading up to bed. It was only eight o'clock, and the dormitory was deserted. Sirius, Peter, and Remus were downstairs finishing their homework, and Davey Gudgeon, the other occupant of the room, had sneaked down to the kitchens for some food. Harry was grateful for the solitude; it gave him a chance to think. One way or another, he had to find a way to return to his own time, but he didn't know where to start. Normally he would ask somebody else- Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, Ron, if he was desperate -but now he had nobody to turn to. This was worse than the time when he and Ron and fallen out. At least then he had had Hermione, but who could help him now?

Frightened and upset, he curled up under the covers on James Potter's bed, imagining that it was his father's embrace that surrounded him so warmly. He knew that come morning the bed would no longer bear the marks of its previous owner, and that hurt a great deal, but for now it brought him a measure of comfort to be there. The wind howled, and he thought of his parents as they were in his own time, lying in coffins in the icy earth. He imagined how cold the wood must feel against their skin, but then remembered that his parents, the skinless corpses, would be even colder. With that thought the grief rose up, more immediate than it had ever been before, and he wept.

He lay there for a long time, crying his heart out, clutching at the blankets to still the tremors in his body. The loneliness and the grief consumed him totally, digging up the most painful memories of his life with cruel indifference. He saw Cedric Diggory falling lifelessly to the ground, a hideous creature entering a cauldron to be reborn, Sirius surrounded by Dementors, Ginny Weasley lying prone on the ground while a great basilisk prepared to strike, Cedric again, asking for his body to be returned to his parents, Sirius looking old and sad on his birthday... It went on and on, torturing him, and above all the terrible images, he heard the sound of his mother's screams, pleading for her son's life. When he had no more tears left, he shook and gasped for air, crying soundlessly into the sheets. The memories continued to surface. He saw the Dark Mark floating above a forest, a man lying in a trunk, thin, one-legged, an empty eye-socket staring blindly out of his head, the ghosts of his parents telling him to run, Sirius saying, "I knew it - I knew something like this would happen," Ginny Weasley, falling in a shower of green light, a high, cold laugh all around her...

... Feet approaching. Harry stopped breathing, and tried to still his shaking body. A moment later, he heard someone entering the dormitory. He didn't want to be seen in such a state, so he pretended to be asleep.

He should have known it would be a futile measure. The bed dipped almost immediately, and a gentle voice spoke from above, "James, are you okay?"

Harry closed his eyes, grateful for the covers concealing his face. Vaguely he wondered how he had managed to get into this awful, embarrassing situation. For sixteen years he had managed to control his grief, a skill gleamed from a childhood of futile tears. Why did his strength have to desert him now? And in front of Sirius Black, the only man strong enough to escape the Dementors...

"James?" Sirius said again, "Look, it's okay. You've nothing to feel embarrassed about. Everyone cries, remember? That's what you told me, after my Mum and Dad died." He fell silent for a moment, but then Harry felt a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, and the voice continued. "I've never heard you cry like that, though. Did something happen? Is everything all right at home?"

Harry still felt pathetic, but somehow staying hidden under the covers seemed even more pathetic, so he compromised by lowering them a little, revealing his eyes. He remained facing the opposite direction, however, not trusting his composure in the face of such genuine regard. He swallowed hard before speaking. "I'm okay," he croaked, "I just-" What could he say? I miss my parents; they died when I was a baby. He didn't know the first thing about James Potter's parents. Sirius would never believe him.

Sirius made a small sound of encouragement, and he began to stroke Harry's hair. "It's all right. You can tell me."

Harry's breath hitched under the influence of the tender caress, but he felt calmer now, more himself. Taking a deep breath, he extricated himself from the sheets that were twisted around his legs, and sat up. He let Sirius position him so that they were both sitting against the headboard, and he didn't flinch from the arm that went around his shoulders. He relaxed against the other boy, and remained quiet, allowing his thoughts to clear.

"Is it Lily? Did you two have a fight?"

Harry was surprised at Sirius' perspicacity. "Why do you ask that?"

Sirius shrugged. "I just noticed you weren't your usual amorous self with her tonight." He hesitated before asking, "Do you still love her?"

"Of course I love her," Harry said. "I love her... but-"

"But what?"

Harry opened his mouth but he didn't know what to say. Finally, he sighed and settled for, "She's just being a bit too intense." It wasn't a lie, after all.

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"No! And don't say anything to her about this, Sirius. It's probably just me, the, er, mood I'm in, or whatever. It'll pass."

"I won't tell her, James. But I think you should. I mean I've never known you to get that upset about something. It must be really bothering you."

Harry shook his head and sniffed a little. "I'll be fine," he started, but suddenly Sirius hugged him, drawing his face down onto his chest so tightly that he could hardly breathe. When finally he was released, he saw that the other boy was blushing from the unexpected display of emotion. "You feeling better now?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah," Harry said, still catching his breath, but feeling much lighter just from being in his godfather's presence, "Thanks."

"No problem. Just don't let this continue if you're not sure it's what you want, okay? You'll only hurt yourself, and Lily."

"I know."

Sirius stood up and smiled down at him. "I don't know what's really bothering you, James," he said sincerely, "but I know you and Lily were made for each other. You're right: this will pass. Five years from now Lily Junior will be throwing up on you, while James Junior goes for a broom ride with his favourite godfather. And don't you dare pick Remus over me! I'll turn your kid into a toad if you do, and you know I'm capable of it."

Harry couldn't help smiling as he replied, "You'll make a wonderful godfather, Sirius."

Sirius positively beamed. He checked his watch, an attractive and expensive-looking gold instrument. "It's after nine," he said. "What do you say to a little Chaser practice? It's not too late."

"Sure," Harry said, delighted. He'd missed being up in the air, and it would be wonderful to fly with Sirius at long last. He found his father's broom under the bed along with the Invisibility Cloak, and together, he and Sirius headed out to the Quidditch stands in the cool night air.

***

Harry and Sirius sat on their broomsticks, hovering just above the tips of the tallest trees in the Forbidden Forest, thinking. Around them stretched the dark, silent mass of the Scottish countryside, but the two boys could have been anywhere with the half-moon so well hidden behind the clouds. A keen breeze rustled through the trees below, sounding wild and free. It filled Harry's heart with renewed vigour, and he let his legs dangle precariously in the darkness below, relishing the liberation it brought to his trapped psyche.

This was nice, being here with Sirius, and forgetting about his troubles. Such instances of pure happiness and forgetfulness were rare in his life, especially since Lord Voldemort had returned, and he now realised he had missed them terribly. It seemed like he spent all his time worrying about his friends, the world, Lord Voldemort; for some reason, he had accepted it as his responsibility, as if it were a matter of course that Harry Potter should protect the innocent. Normally he was too busy to wonder at the absurdity of it all, but now he did.

Was he so different? Here, in his father's Hogwarts, he was just another boy making his way through life. Pretty talented on a broomstick, and competent at his schoolwork, he was no more remarkable than Sirius, yet in his own time he was seen as a hero. It all came down to his mother, and what she had done to save his life. He wasn't special, not really. He was just lucky, or cursed, however you chose to look at it. Yet people looked to him for strength. Was it selfish of them to expect so much? As usual, he couldn't think of an answer to that. He would just have to keep on doing what he was doing, and hope not to get killed in the process.

He looked over at Sirius, who seemed no less deep in thought. Had they truly gone to school together, Harry felt sure they would have been fast friends. Sirius was so easy to get along with, much like Ron. Nothing he did was selfish or hurtful. Indeed, it seemed like he existed only to see other people happy. Perhaps that was his role in life, like the way Harry had to fight Voldemort to protect lives. Yet Sirius had his faults, just like Ron. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, so much so that it sometimes made him short with anyone who tried to attack them. Pettigrew had come up against his anger already, when after their first class he had suggested that he might want to back out of the Animagi project. In watching Sirius' furious reaction, Harry had found it easy to believe that this was the same person who had tried to lure Severus Snape into an encounter with a werewolf. It also gave him a new understanding of his godfather's need for vengeance against the traitor of Lily and James Potter.

He realised that he was staring at Sirius, and promptly looked away. It wasn't the first time he had done that over the course of the evening. There was something dashing about the way Sirius held his broom; he just looked like he belonged there. And he flew like an eagle, all grace and power and speed. Harry had earlier found himself admiring the way he caught the Quaffle, so fast and accurate, as if he were catching a mouse in sharp talons. He had to wonder that Sirius had never mentioned his exceptional skill before.

Presently, Sirius shifted a little on his broom. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Harry nodded vaguely. "Yeah..."

The clouds shifted overhead, and Harry caught a glimpse of his companion. Dressed in black jeans and a dark sweater, with a mature, thoughtful expression on his pale face, he bore a striking resemblance to his older self. Harry wondered if his own Sirius was okay, if he was worried. He would probably be half-hysterical by now, searching for his godson but having to remain hidden from everyone in the school besides Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione. Poor Sirius. Harry couldn't bear to think of him suffering anymore. He really had to get home soon.

"I bet you're thinking about Lily," the other boy teased.

Harry turned and smiled, glad that for once Sirius had got it wrong. "Actually I was thinking about you."

"Me?" Sirius asked in surprise. He tried to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, but the wind had other ideas.

"Yes, you. I was thinking about what you'll be like when you're older."

Sirius laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "Oh, I'll probably be just the same. Too loud, too opinionated, and too hungry!"

"I doubt that. Would you like to have children?"

"Are you offering?" Sirius quipped. "Sure, I'd like kids, all right. Might be a laugh, teaching them all the secret routes out of Hogwarts. But knowing my luck I'll never have any. Doesn't matter, though, I can always spoil yours."

The wind shrieked down suddenly, making the trees below them rock crazily. Harry's broom lurched sideways, and only Sirius' immediate grip on the handle prevented him from falling off. Harry had only a moment to marvel at his godfather's reflexes, however, before another gust almost sent Sirius himself hurtling to the ground. They tossed in the air for a while, struggling against the heavy onslaught. Once the two boys regained their balance from the unexpected gust, Sirius started to move upwards. "Come on," he called, "It's too windy down here." Sirius led him swiftly up to the ramparts of the North Tower, where he landed, impressing Harry with his stylish dismount.

"Wow, you fly really well, Sirius," Harry said, lowering the tone of his voice now that they'd left the open air. "I bet you could have gone professional - could go professional, I mean." He could have screamed at his slip of the tongue. He had to be more careful. Sirius was looking at him intently. Did he suspect something?

"I'll never be as good as you," Sirius said, leading him under the small shelter that was used by students taking late-night astronomy classes. "Here, at least we can hear each other now."

They sat down on the wooden bench lining the back wall, and looked out at the night. The wind had really picked up, and already drops of rain were splashing down onto the stone ramparts. Sirius' hair was blowing wildly in the breeze, but he seemed to have given up trying to tame it. If Harry had been gifted with such beautiful hair, he wouldn't have been surprised to have Lily Evans wanting to play with it. Why anyone would be attracted to his hair, however, was a mystery.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Well, this is fun," he said sarcastically.

"Better than being down in the dormitory," Harry replied, shuddering. The thought of seeing his mother again was too painful to consider.

Sirius placed a hand on his knee, meaning to comfort. Harry was surprised to see that it was shaking. "You're really uncomfortable with her, aren't you?"

"A bit, yeah..." Harry was feeling somewhat distracted. It was difficult to think about Lily Evans when Sirius was sitting so close to him. He refused to allow himself to wonder why that was.

"Why? You never used to be this way."

Harry looked down. Sirius' wrist was trembling on his knee; he could feel the repeated pressure running up his thigh. It felt good. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his own hand over Sirius'. A sudden intake of breath was his only response. Nervously, he met Sirius' eyes, and saw his own passion and trepidation reflected back at him. He knew then that Sirius was in love with him, and that he felt the same way. There was no denying it. The long, meaningful stares, the shared confidences, the physical attraction, they were all telling him one thing. He was in love with Sirius.

Harry knew that admitting this would drastically alter the time-line, but Sirius deserved better than lies and rejection. He would tell the truth, as far as was necessary. He was uncomfortable around Lily Evans because-

"I've changed," Harry whispered, well aware of the double meaning of his words.

Sirius closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Changed?" he echoed softly.

... Unless he stayed.

It was the only way they could be together. But how could he live with the guilt? Without Harry Potter, Voldemort would live; there would be no stopping him. Harry felt tears pricking at the backs of his eyes as he struggled to find some way to justify staying in his father's world. Try as he did, there was no reason good enough to justify such an act. He couldn't put his own happiness before the many lives he had saved, would save, thanks to his mother. He just couldn't.

He stroked Sirius' hand lightly, but then withdrew. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I can't..."

Sirius shook his head sadly. Harry knew he was crying too. "It's all right. What you and Lily have is really special, James. I know that. I just want you to be happy."

Harry put his arm around Sirius' shoulders and hugged him as he had been hugged earlier. "I do love you, Sirius," he said, "but it just wouldn't be right. Maybe some day, though, when things are different..."

Sirius sniffed lightly. "Yeah, maybe..." he said, trying hard to sound convinced.

Harry held him close, stroking his hair. They sat together for a long time, saying nothing, each lost in his own thoughts. When finally the rain began to ease, they flew down to Gryffindor Tower, still friends, but no more than that. Only Harry knew what possibilities the future held for them, and he deeply regretted not being able to share his knowledge with the other boy. But he would make his own Sirius happy, love him as he deserved to be loved. He would make everything right again.

***

A ray of early morning light passed in through the boarded-up living room window of the Shrieking Shack, illuminating Remus Lupin's tired features as he paced to and fro. "All right," he said, "Tell me again. What exactly did you put in the potion?"

Harry groaned and sat back in the tattered old couch. For over an hour now Remus had been grilling him about the events of the night of the full moon when he had failed to transform. Being a Saturday, they were free to spend the day as they pleased, but being interrogated was not what Harry had had in mind. Remus, however, was determined to figure out what had gone wrong. "I told you," Harry said, "Powdered root of asphodel, ground sycamore bark, the juice of elder berries, Boomslang Skin-"

"Did you make sure to add the berries before the Boomslang skin?"

"Yes..."

"Did you let it simmer for five minutes between ingredients?"

"Yes!"

Sirius stood up. "He did everything right, Remus. I was there. We made one batch between us. Whatever went wrong with his should have gone wrong with mine too."

Remus sighed and scratched behind his ear. "I don't get it. There must have been something... Did you change your potion before drinking it, James? Maybe add more Boomslang, or reheat it, or something?"

Harry shook his head. "No, there was nothing." Although he was just as curious as Remus to find out what had gone wrong with his potion, he didn't see the need to tell them that his had in fact come from a different cauldron than Sirius'. He was certain that he had still brewed it correctly, so it shouldn't have been important.

"You're sure it was your own hair that you added at the end, not one of the post owl's?"

Exasperated, Harry replied, "Yes!" but he was prevented from saying any more by the sudden sound of Sirius standing up and moving toward the door. "Look, I've had enough. I'll just leave you two to argue this out."

Harry watched him go, feeling a little bit guilty. Sirius had been quiet and sullen all morning, the events of the previous night no doubt preying on his mind. And to think it was all his fault, Harry's fault. If only he had had more control over himself, he would never have hurt the boy so badly. He cringed to think what his father would find if he ever managed to return to his body. He really had made a mess of things.

Remus turned to him with a somewhat confused expression on his face. "What's wrong with Sirius this morning? He seems very grumpy about something."

Shaking his head sadly, Harry said, "It's nothing. We just had a little misunderstanding last night, that's all."

Remus sat down beside him and sighed. His eyes were still trained on the door through which Sirius had just exited. "He's jealous, isn't he?" he said quietly.

Harry could barely conceal his surprise. "Jealous?"

Remus turned to him. "Of you and Lily. He loves you, James."

"You knew?"

Nodding, Remus continued, "I suspected as much. The way he always sticks up for you, can't keep his eyes off you... It must be hard for him, seeing you and Lily so happy together."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "How long do you think he's felt this way?"

"A year, maybe more."

So Sirius had been in love with his father for quite some time. It was all beginning to make sense in Harry's head, the numerous times he'd seen that look of admiration and longing appear on his godfather's face as he spoke of his Hogwarts days. No wonder Sirius seemed to hold his breath every time Harry crept up on him unexpectedly. The sight of him, physically so much like his father, must have served as a constant reminder of the love that he had been denied. Harry felt a deep rush of sympathy for the man he had left sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack waiting for his birthday present.

Remus looked at him seriously. "I don't want to offend you or anything, James, but is there any chance you might be starting to feel something for him? These last few days, you've seemed quite distant around Lily, but you have been spending a lot of time with Sirius. It just looks a bit, well... " He shifted uncomfortably. "You know she takes your relationship very seriously, so if you're going to hurt her, better to do it now rather than drag it out. That's all I wanted to say."

"Sirius said the same thing."

"He did?"

"Yeah," Harry said, remembering how deeply touched he had been by Sirius' altruistic gesture. "He said he wanted me to be happy."

"That's all any of us want, James."

Harry smiled, thinking how lucky his father had been to have such friends. But then, Ron and Hermione would have been no less kind or generous. "I rejected him."

Remus nodded. "So I guessed. I don't know what to tell you, James. Sometimes I think you and Lily belong together, but then I see you with Sirius and I change my mind. I think you would be happy with either of them. I'm just sorry you had to make such a difficult decision."

"I hope he'll get over it."

"You know Sirius. I'm sure he'll find some way of distracting himself. And he'll cheer no less loudly at your wedding for this, either. You can be sure of that."

"You think we'll still be friends, then?"

"I know it."

Relieved, Harry sat back and closed his eyes. Ever since he'd arrived in this Hogwarts, he'd done nothing but cause trouble. First, he had risked Sirius' life by leaving him to deal with a werewolf on his own, then he had got his father a detention for skipping classes, and now he had almost broken up one of the most famous romances in Wizarding history, that of Lily and James Potter. Disgusted with himself, and feeling stress and exhaustion beginning to take hold, he reached a decision. It was time to go home now, if indeed his home still existed after all the changes he had woven into the timeline. He turned to Remus hopefully. "There's something I have to tell you. I'm not James Potter..."

***

Harry went to the library with Remus, where they buried themselves deep in literature on potions and Transfiguration for much of the afternoon. Harry had to admit that he was feeling much better for having spoken to the other boy about his predicament. He had not mentioned his parents' deaths, of course, being careful only to explain that he had been attempting the Animagus transformation, and that it had failed, sending him back in time and into his father's body. Remus had taken the news surprisingly well. If anything, he had seemed more excited than dismayed about having the opportunity to solve such a baffling mystery. There had been no questions about the future; he hadn't even asked if a cure for lycanthropy had been discovered. Remus was much like Hermione in that regard, he was sensible, and knew better than to let his curiosity run away with itself. For that, Harry was deeply grateful.

Remus worked efficiently, knowing which books were worth trying, and which were glorified pamphlets. Harry knew that he would never have been able to get through them all on his own. Many were written in Latin or ancient runes and were virtually indecipherable, but not to Remus, who was a veritable polyglot. Harry made sure to take down notes, however, at the few times when Remus poked his nose out of a book long enough to show him something, usually a depiction of an Animagus transformation gone disastrously wrong.

As time passed, the room became dimmer and dimmer, until the librarian came in to light the candles and lanterns. Harry looked at the clock and uttered a squeal. He was late for detention. He left Remus to his study, and ran downstairs to the entrance hall. Sirius and the caretaker, a tall and twisted elderly man with a wiry moustache, were already there.

"That'll be five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Potter," the caretaker said. Harry noticed that he seemed to possess Argus Filch's remarkable ability for making one's skin crawl. Perhaps it was a trait common to all school caretakers. "Yeh're to scrub this hall, and the stairs, from top to bottom," he said, "By hand. If there's one mudstain left on this floor by midnight yeh'll keep at it all nigh' if yeh 'ave to." He walked over and opened a small cupboard. "Bucket and mop's in 'ere. Nighty night."

A look of loathing crossed Sirius' face as he watched the old man leave. He then turned to Harry and said, "Think he'll know if we use magic?"

Harry looked around at the immense tiled area and frowned. "I don't know. You want to try it?"

"I know," Sirius said, "Let's just start over here and get a decent area done by hand so if he checks on us he'll see us working. But we'll go slowly after that, and then do the rest by magic. If we take a while, it'll look more realistic."

Grinning, Harry reached for the bucket and filled it up with warm soapy water from his wand. He saw the questioning look on Sirius' face, and said, "Well, he can't object to that, can he? If he thinks I'm carrying water up from the kitchens, he has another thing coming."

Sirius nodded in agreement and reached for a mop. Harry took his own mop, and they began. He was used to mopping floors by hand, having to clean the kitchen of Privet Drive every day during his summer holidays, but this was a much larger area than he was used to, and it was a daunting prospect. It was difficult to feel guilty about using magic when he thought about the backache it would give him if he carried on as he was doing.

They worked diligently, saying little. Sirius asked where Harry had spent the afternoon, and Harry told the truth, to some extent. He had been studying Transfiguration in the library, he said, to try to find out why he hadn't transformed. The explanation seemed to satisfy the other boy, and they had then worked on in silence.

Presently the sound of approaching voices reached their ears, and Sirius stood still, completely alert. He turned to Harry, an excited an expression on his face. "It's Snape and Goyle," he whispered. "Here, give me that bucket."

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed. "You can't be serious," he said, but before he could stop him, Sirius had grabbed the bucket and was stealthily heading for the doorway down to the dungeons, the direction in which the voices were coming from. He opened the door, waited until the two boys were just climbing up the last of the steps, looking at him in revulsion and deep wariness, before calling out loudly. "I think I'll do the dungeon stairs too, James. It's the least I can do after cutting all those classes." With that, he flung the bucket forward.

Harry shouted, "Wait! Don't you think it'll be a bit obvious it was us?"

But it was too late. Snape and Goyle were already soaked in the dirty grey water from the waist down. Harry covered his eyes, grimacing. Great, he thought, another detention. Sorry, Dad. The waterlogged students were for the moment too shocked to speak, but Sirius tried to affect an expression of mock regret. "Oh, no, James, there were some Slytherin students on the stairs. I didn't realise."

Snape glared at the two of them. "Oh, hilarious, Black. But the funniest part will be later, when you're scrubbing the girls' toilets. Mind you, I wouldn't worry. I'm sure you'll fit in just fine there. Why don't you powder your nose while you're at it?"

Sirius went very pale. Harry could see that his hands were bunched into tight fists.

Goyle snorted, but it was more of a strange, barking sound than a laugh. "Yeah," he said, sounding goofy, "Maybe you can give Potter a kiss while you're in there." Snape laughed and clapped him on the back.

With that, a lot of things happened. Sirius launched himself at Snape, and Harry tried to pull him back from behind. Panicking, Snape pushed Goyle in front of him as a shield. What neither of them took into account was the floor, which was still soaking wet. With the weight of Harry on his back, Sirius skidded crazily across the floor, arms wavering to try to regain some balance. Snape and Goyle leapt aside, but instead of jumping nimbly over to the wall, they slipped and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. Sirius fell forward, Harry on the back of legs, and they careened forward on the smooth surface until, with a sickening thud, something broke their inertia.

Harry struggled up off Sirius' legs, slipping about as he tried to gain his balance, and looked down at the other boy. Sirius had apparently crashed straight into the heavy iron shoe-scraper that the students used to clean their feet after coming in from Herbology or Quidditch Practise. Blood was pouring down his head, and he seemed quite unconscious. Harry gaped, and looked over at Snape and Goyle accusingly. They stared back, saw the blood, and scampered away on hands and knees, leaving through the doorway to the dungeons.

Harry quickly checked Sirius' pulse. He seemed okay, but the sight of so much blood left Harry with only one possible course of action. He would have to tell a teacher.

***

Harry sighed and stretched in the uncomfortable chair next to Sirius' bed in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had already said that Sirius had nothing more than a mild concussion, that head wounds often bled a great deal, and that it was nothing to worry about; Sirius would be fine. Nevertheless, Harry felt at least partially responsible for what had occurred. He should have seen what was happening, should have restrained his too loyal friend before things got so out of hand.

At least he could comfort himself with the fact that he had not got his friend into trouble. He had said nothing to Professor McGonagall about Snape and Goyle's involvement in the accident, knowing that at if he kept quiet about it, then they would say nothing about the bucket. And so the story was that Sirius had given himself a concussion after tripping over his own bucket and slipping on a wet floor. It was less than dignified, but at least he wouldn't get into any more trouble.

A mild voice behind Harry distracted him from his thoughts. "How'd he do it this time?" Remus asked sarcastically, folding the Invisibility Cloak over one of his arms.

Harry smiled and stood up, relishing in the relief of leaving the hard, unyielding chair. "Snape turned up."

"Oh." That was apparently all the answer Remus needed. He sat down on the end of the bed.

"How'd you know we were here? It's really late... Must be after midnight by now."

Remus nodded. "It's after two, actually. I saw you on the map." He inclined his face meaningfully.

Now it was Harry's turn to say, "Oh."

"I made some progress in the library."

Immediately interested, Harry came forward and lowered himself into the chair. They spoke in hushed tones in case Madam Pomfrey overheard them from her office. "What did you find?"

"What you experienced has apparently happened before. It, em, has to do with Wizarding Bonds."

Harry frowned, not understanding.

"Well, when one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a bond between them-"

"Yeah, I heard that before, but what does it have to do with my being here?"

"Am I right in supposing that you saved Sirius' life at some point? In your own time, that is."

Harry thought back to the night when he had rescued Sirius from the hundreds of Dementors surrounding him in the grounds outside Hogwarts. That was the first night he had ever seen his Patronus, a proud, galloping silver stag. He nodded eagerly.

Remus continued. "Bonds like that can be very powerful; so much so that they can overcome spells, potions, and even the passage of time. I read of one instance where a witch was put under the Imperius Curse and made to kill her husband, but she resisted, for the first time in her life, simply because he had saved her life years before. I'm not entirely sure what happened in your case, but I'm guessing that it all comes down to the Sirius from your time. When you took the potion, he must have been thinking about what it would have been like had it been you there, instead of James, on the night when he tried to transform the first time. For some reason, he didn't want you to transform too. I'm guessing it was part of his fantasy. You know, he wanted to protect you from the big bad werewolf, or something along those lines."

Harry stared, unaware that his mouth was hanging open.

Remus grinned. "It's quite romantic, really."

"So this was all Sirius' fault," Harry said slowly, letting the meaning of his words sink in.

"The potion was probably fine. It just wasn't strong enough to overcome Sirius' overactive imagination."

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It sounded ridiculous, yet it made some sense. Sirius loved him, had unconsciously drawn him back to a time in his past when he had been young, attractive, carefree. He must have thought that with his aged features and traumatic history, Harry could never have wanted him as an adult. This had been the only way he could imagine them being together. Well, Harry would show him how wrong he was, assuming of course that there would be a way for him to return. "How can I get back?"

Remus shuffled about a little, looking apprehensive. "There is a spell we can try, sort of like a modified form of Apparition, but it's very difficult. I'll try to send you back to the same moment when you left your own time, so it'll be like you never left. It'll help avoid questions about your absence."

Harry thought it sounded very difficult. "Will you really be able to do this?"

"It won't be easy, Harry. I'll perform the spell tomorrow to send you back, but once you get there, it'll be as if you never left. You'll arrive precisely at the moment when you left your own time, but you'll find that Sirius will have no memory of ever having confessed his love to James Potter."

"Why's that?"

"You'll have to perform Memory Charms on him and I for the last two days to avoid damaging the timeline. I'm sorry, but it's necessary. There's no knowing how much has changed already."

Harry nodded, satisfied. Maybe Sirius wouldn't remember, but he would. He would treasure the memory of their love for the rest of his life.

***

Chocolate brown eyes fluttered into wakefulness, startling Harry with their warmth and openness, and Sirius groaned a little, apparently feeling the lingering effects of the concussion.

Harry waited patiently, giving the dazed boy time to get his bearings. He was feeling a little dazed himself after what Remus had told him just hours before, and he needed time to work out what he was going to say to Sirius. It would be a painful goodbye, but he couldn't leave without seeing him once more. Although he knew it wasn't really the end of their companionship, he would miss the cheerful, good-natured boy before him. Part of him dearly wished that his own Sirius could be so young and carefree, but deep down he knew that they were both too old and troubled to live like that anymore. After all they had seen and suffered, they understood one another perfectly, in a way that the young Sirius Black could only dream of. They would be happy together.

Sirius threw out an arm to try to lever himself up, and Harry helped, propping him up on the numerous pillows left by Madam Pomfrey the night before. "How are you feeling?" he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe the sleep clinging to the corners of his eyes.

"Headache," Sirius grumbled.

"That'll be the concussion," Harry explained. "Hungry?"

"God, no."

Harry laughed. "You must be sick, then!"

Sirius smiled grimly and looked around, becoming more awake with every minute. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, I told McGonagall you tripped over your bucket. Snape and Goyle will be too scared to say anything about the water you threw at them."

"Thanks. But couldn't you have thought of something better than, "He tripped over his bucket"? It's a bit embarrassing."

"Serves you right," Harry quipped. "Don't go picking fights in future, okay?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Good."

"You wouldn't pass me another pillow, would you, Dad? My back's still aching from that bloody floor."

Laughing, Harry reached for a pillow and leaned around behind Sirius to prop him up. He caught the scent of soap and citrus from the dark locks under his nose, and relished the feel of the soft hair rubbing against his chin.

He then sat back to look at the smiling boy in front of him and felt a pang of regret run through his heart. It was time to leave. Taking a final careful look into those breathtaking, deep brown eyes, and committing their beauty to memory, he reached into his pocket for his wand to perform the Memory Charm.

It was gone.

He searched frantically in all his pockets, time and again, and then looked under the bed, thinking that maybe it had rolled out of his pocket during the night. When that failed, he rummaged through Sirius' bedcovers, making him squirm and giggle, but Harry took no notice of that. His wand was gone! He couldn't go back without it. His wand was like a pet; he couldn't bear to lose it, not knowing what would happen to it. Maybe it was in the Entrance Hall. Dismayed by the thought that anyone could have picked it up, he started to move toward the door, when a cool voice teased, "Looking for something?"

Harry swung around and saw Sirius twirling a wand in his fingers like a baton. He must have stolen it when Harry had leaned over him to arrange the extra pillow. "Sirius," Harry hissed, "What are you doing with that? Come on, give it back. I need it."

Sirius continued to play with the slender implement. "Need it? Why? So you can erase my memory? I don't think so."

Harry was astonished. How could Sirius have known about that? Anxiously, Harry walked back over to the bed, and held out his hand for the wand, but Sirius did not give it to him.

"I heard you talking. You and Remus. But who are you? If you're not really James..."

Closing his eyes, Harry sank down onto the bed. He would have to tell Sirius the truth then, and hope that he would understand. "I'm Harry Potter," he explained wearily, "James Potter's son..."

Hopefully this would be the last time he would have to tell his story. Maybe there was something to be said for fame, after all.

***

"You're sure you won't stay?" Sirius asked for the fifth time.

Harry smiled sadly and shook his head. "You know I can't; besides, my godfather needs me."

Sirius threw his arms around him. "Yeah, I suppose he does. I'm glad we'll be together, Harry, even if it won't be for another twenty years. But do something for me, will you?"

"Anything," Harry replied.

Sirius began to unbuckle the strap on his gold watch. Now that Harry had a chance to see it clearly, he saw that it was intensely beautiful, just like Sirius himself. Sirius handed the watch to him, and Harry raised questioning eyes to the dark-haired boy.

"James and Remus gave me this for my sixteenth birthday. They had their names engraved on it, see?"

Harry turned the elegant face over and saw that the words, "To Sirius, Our best friend, from James and Remus," were engraved on the back.

"It was just after my Mum and Dad died, and I was feeling pretty low. It cheered me up a good bit. James said it was to remind me that I was loved, but I suppose that's a bit soppy. Will you give that back to me when you go back to your own time? It sounds like I'll need a little cheering up."

Harry simply nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. When Sirius reached out for the watch, probably for a final look at it, Harry surrendered it dumbly, but soon it was back in his hand, and he and Sirius were gazing into each other's eyes, their hearts filled with sorrow and hope. "I love you," Harry whispered, hoping that at least some of the meaning of those words would remain after the Memory Charm had done its work.

"I know," Sirius replied. "I'll never forget."

Then they kissed, and Harry raised the wand to his godfather's head. Once the precious memory was gone, Harry left him sleeping under the influence of a Somnolis Charm, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and left.

***

Remus was waiting for him in the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack as arranged, looking stern and business-like. He handed Harry a goblet of Animagus Potion, which Harry swallowed readily, but which he was careful not to use to transform with just yet. When the goblet was empty, Remus performed an incantation over Sirius' watch, which would be employed as a Portkey to send Harry home. "Ready, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Okay, the spell is done. It should work, I think. All you have to do is pick up the watch and it'll carry you back. Just make sure to wipe my memory before you go."

"Right. Listen, thanks, Remus. I'm really grateful for all your help. I couldn't have done this on my own."

"You're welcome, Harry. And good luck."

Harry smiled and followed Remus downstairs to the living room. Remus sat down on the couch next to Sirius, who was still fast asleep. "Goodbye, Remus," Harry said, and then raised his wand and performed the charm. Once he had the boy sedated, he headed back upstairs, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. He had to trust Remus. The spell would work.

Back in the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack once more, Harry sat down on the floor and picked up the watch. He saw now that the inscription on the back had changed somewhat, but there was no time to read it because the world was going black around him, and he was going home.

***

"Happy birthday, Sirius!"

Harry was sitting on the floor again, but he had moved a little and the bedroom was lit by soft firelight. There was a watch in one of his hands, a glass bottle in the other, and beyond it, just visible through the tiny dust particles suspended in the air, was Sirius. Harry lowered the bottle to the floor slowly and gazed, rapt, at his godfather, who was old again, but no less beautiful. Joy and relief rose up in Harry's heart and he leapt forward, straight into Sirius' arms. They instantly fell back onto the floor, Harry laughing, Sirius coughing to clear his lungs of the stale air.

When they were recovered, Harry sat down close to Sirius, ignoring the look of complete bewilderment on his face, and placed the watch in his hand. "This is for you," he said, putting his arm around his godfather's shoulders.

Sirius stared at the watch, first in astonishment, but then in fascinated recollection, and Harry knew the gift was appreciated. "Harry," he said, amazed, "Where did you find this? I haven't seen it since I was a kid. I was devastated when I lost it..."

"I found it for you," Harry said simply. "Look at the inscription."

Sirius turned the watch over, and read, "To Sirius, Our best friend, from James and Remus... and Harry." His breath hitched as he read the final name, and tears sprung up in his eyes, but through it all, he smiled. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know how you did it, but thank you."

Harry smiled warmly, wondering when his father's Sirius had found the time to alter the inscription. It was a nice gesture. "It's to remind you that you're loved."

Sirius' eyes opened wide in surprise, and the tears that had been contained within leaked out to roll down his face. "James..." he whispered.

"He loved you, Sirius. But so do I. Let him go." Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to those of his godfather. They were just as soft and moist as he remembered. When they drew apart Sirius whispered, "I love you, Harry."

Harry reciprocated with another kiss. He had never felt closer to Sirius than he did at that moment. "And I love you, Sirius. Always."

The End.