For Every Action...

If Hagrid had expected anything from Sirius, this hadn't been it. In a mad rush, Sirius had leapt forward and snatched Harry from Hagrid's arms. Sirius knew deep within his consciousness that he couldn't take adequate care of Harry, especially after he failed to save Lily and James. At the same time, he felt that no one was left in the world that could be trusted, not even Dumbledore.

Hagrid was so surprised by Sirius's actions that he failed to react in enough time to stop him. Once Sirius took Harry, he fled to his motorcycle at an unbelievable speed. Sirius was powered solely by adrenaline, as all other energy had depleted itself some time ago. He gasped for air and tore across the yard. Undeterred by the sharp pain in his chest, he cut wildly through the night air. The only controlled parts of his body were his arms. Surely, Harry was uncomfortably jostled by the frenzied movements, but Sirius tried to keep his upper body as still as possible.

Sirius heard a vague duet of shouts; one deep voice came booming in his wake, and another less familiar voice echoed somewhere far to his left.

Reason didn't matter. All that mattered was that Sirius reach his motorcycle with Harry still in his arms. The bike seemed so far away, moving along as Sirius pedaled swiftly onward. He felt the hot flash of magic rush past his ear, but paid it no avail. His destination was closer now. All of Sirius's reserves were drawn out during those final steps. At last, the flying motorcycle was near, and soon beneath Sirius and Harry, carrying them off into the night.

Hagrid cursed, not so much at the departing figure of Sirius, but at himself. Erwin struck the ground with his cane, and Harry wailed. Sirius said nothing, for he truly did not know what he could possibly say.

"Black!" Hagrid growled. The force of his exclamation caused a support beam to tremble and creak, bringing Erwin to his side. Nothing the elderly man said could assuage Hagrid. Erwin felt tremendous guilt to Dumbledore, but it paled compared to Hagrid's emotions. "I shouldn'ta let 'im get Harry. I failed, Professor Dumbledore, I might as well go live with the Muggles."

Erwin knew Hagrid could not fit into a society of non-wizards, as he barely ranked with many wizards themselves, but he realized Hagrid could very well attempt this threat. The pain of letting down his revered Headmaster was tearing Hagrid apart. The towering man began to sob, and Erwin gently led him towards the house next door.

*****

Sirius had almost reached his back door when he remembered his motorcycle lying in the backyard. Too tired to go back, he uttered the Banishing Spell, sending it to the shed. He entered the house and shivered. Many windows had been left open, letting in a draft. Sirius didn't know much about babies, but could deduce that a chill was not good for them. After latching the windows with a spell, he climbed the stairs, glancing at Harry with every step. The boy had plugged his mouth with his thumb, and was deep in sleep. Sometime during the ride he had drifted off. Sirius didn't know which was worse, the pain of Harry's cries, or the silence without them.

He retrieved an afghan from the bottom of his trunk and wrapped Harry in it. The gash across Harry's forehead was oozing now, and he carried him into the bathroom to search for a poultice amidst the sleeping potion laden shelves. Frowning at himself, he cleaned Harry's wound, dabbing gingerly at its obscure shape.

He returned to his bedroom and searched for a place to let Harry sleep. The young bachelor had no crib, and decided to let his own arms be the bassinet for a night. Sirius could never sleep with the images swirling about his mind. He had to stay awake and protect his grandson.

Although Sirius had sworn off slumber, his eyes drooped and deep breaths were punctuated with yawns. Slowly he sank into sleep, but it was not long before the silence was disturbed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and screamed in spite of himself. He vaulted over the bed and turned his side to the intruder, trying to hide Harry as best he could. Sirius was not pacified when he saw Albus Dumbledore standing opposite himself

"What the- Dumbledore?" What had started out as the beginning of an angry tirade dwindled into a confused question.

"Yes, Mr. Black. As you obviously know about the Potters' fate, I'm sure you will understand why you need to give Harry to me now." Dumbledore's grandfatherly demeanor was absent. Sirius remembered gazing into familiar blue eyes devoid of a twinkle five years ago, when he had almost made his friend a murderer. Remus! He thought suddenly. All this time Sirius had suspected him, and pushed him away for no good reason. "Sirius?" Dumbledore prompted, seeing the distant look he had assumed.

"Huh? I mean, no, no, you can't take him. I'm his godfather, I have to take care of him and you can't have him. No, Dumbledore, I'm sorry, but I can't." The Headmaster quizzically studied Sirius. He wasn't expecting an easy time getting Sirius to relinquish Harry, but right now Sirius was acting emotionally unstable. He was shaking despite the baby in his arms, and his eyes were flickering around the room, filled with paranoia.

"The situation is beyond your control now. I'll acknowledge that you have rights under normal circumstances, but tonight has been far from normal. What you need to do right now is give me Harry. It's what's best for him."

"What's best for him is to be with me! Fat lot of good you've done protecting him, his parents are dead!"

Dumbledore did not change his expression, but he began to slowly move around the foot of the bed. Sirius's eyes were wide with fear as he backed into the corner.

"Sirius, you know what you have to do. Harry will go to Hogwarts, he'll be safer there than anywhere else." Sirius tried to speak but was interrupted. "You can come, Mr. Black, but be prepared."

"Be prepared for what?" His question went unanswered. Dumbledore touched his arm and the bedroom faded away.

*****

The hospital wing materialized in seconds. The room was dark, and only a few candles were lit. Madam Pomfrey's figure case long, swaying shadows across the walls as she paced.

"Here we are, Sirius. I have no doubts you remember it." Indeed, the ward was no different than it had been a few short years ago. Madam Pomfrey strode towards the new arrivals, prompting Sirius to squeeze Harry so tight that he began to fuss.

"For goodness sake, give me the boy!" She opened her arms to receive Harry, but Sirius pulled away. "Dumbledore, what is the meaning of this? He certainly can't care for another human being, look at the state of him!" Sirius's face was grimy and his cuts were becoming inflamed.

"Sirius, I will ask you to give Harry to Madam Pomfrey, please." Sirius shook his head vigorously at this request.

"Why is everybody trying to take Harry? His parents never gave you rights if-if something happened...." His lower lip trembled, reminding the matron of his eleven-year-old self, too proud to cry.

Dumbledore met his eyes and tried to reassure him. Suspicions aside, Sirius was still a former student, and a brilliant one at that.. Momentarily mesmerized, Sirius loosened his grip, and Madam Pomfrey whisked Harry away. She clucked critically upon exposing the gash. "What this boy needs is proper medical care," she stated. "Although," she added, frown softening, "this wasn't a terrible dressing." Sirius glanced from Dumbledore to Pomfrey. She stalked over to a private area and conjured more candles. Dumbledore followed and spoke in a low voice, unaware that Sirius had crept closer to him

"Poppy, I'm taking Sirius to my office. Harry's in good hands, now. Might Sirius be able to stay the night?"

"Professor, is that really safe? The ward's empty right now, but that doesn't mean children won't come down later."

"I can place some binding spells on Sirius, confining him to a separate quarter." She contemplated his offer, and nodded. "Good night."

During the brief exchange, Sirius had crept closer to the pair. He caught snatches of conversation, but was not calmed by the words "my office." He'd heard that phrase enough times that he was conditioned to freeze at its mention. Dumbledore was taking Harry to where Sirius couldn't protect him.

"It's time to go, Sirius." Dumbledore approached his side and took his elbow. Sirius recoiled, but Dumbledore managed to maneuver him towards the door with minimal effort. Sirius was exhausted, and found it impossible to put up a fight. They exited the heavy doors as Sirius strained to peer around Dumbledore's shoulder for one last look at Harry.

"Come," said Dumbledore.

The corridors of Hogwarts were silent and dimly lit by sconces, though both men could find the way without their aid. Soon enough a gargoyle stood before them, even more garish in the eerie light. Dumbledore whispered the password, and they entered. Sirius's head reeled while he climbed the spiral stairs. All he wanted to do was sleep, and it didn't seem like that would happen for some time. Dumbledore motioned to a chair, which Sirius sat in reluctantly. His few composed thoughts urged him to relax, but instinct stiffened his back. Without a preamble, the Headmaster began to speak.

"Many events have unfolded tonight that I cannot begin to piece together. Lily and James's deaths have affected me as well, but why do you think it is Harry survived?" Sirius opened his mouth but could not produce an answer. He merely shrugged and evaded eye contact. "You have no idea why Voldemort did not kill your godson?" When Sirius finally met his gaze, Dumbledore's eyes shifted to his Foe-Glass. A significant portion was empty.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius's tone was in no way confrontational, in fact, quite the opposite. Eyebrows raised, he tentatively leaned close to get a better look. It wasn't empty, dispelling his belief. A smoky essence swirled in the center of the glass, confusing Sirius even more.

"I have another question." Sirius jumped, but leaned back quickly to hide his alarm. "Who, exactly, is so misguided that he revealed the Potters' secret?" A burning intensity filled his eyes.

"Peter! He was the Secret-Keeper; it wasn't me! We thought it was so brilliant! See, Dumbledore, even you suspect me." He squirmed, feeling as though a teacher had caught him making trouble, but this situation was a thousand times graver.

"Peter Pettigrew was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" Doubt crept into his voice.

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you! How can you think I would ever do that? How? There's no goddamn reason for it, why, why did he do it?" Sirius rose from his chair and walked in tight circle, running his hands through his hair. Although Dumbledore studied his words for guilt, he detected nothing but sincerity, anger, and grief in Sirius's voice. If his suspicions were unjust, it would not be the first time that night he had been wrong. He surveyed Sirius, who was completely oblivious to the penetrating stare. Sirius was still pacing and muttering apologies.

"It's late, and tomorrow will not be an easy day. Let me walk you back to the hospital wing. I believe Poppy has prepared a bed for you. I'm sorry about your loss, Sirius."

Sirius nodded absentmindedly and followed Dumbledore down the stairs. The Headmaster left him at the door of the ward, and bade him goodnight. Careful to make little noise, he tiptoed to the window and took in the view of the grounds. Remus would be alone for tonight's transformation, but this was not a first as of late: James had a family, Sirius had mounting suspicions about Remus being the spy, and Peter was mysteriously busy. Now, Sirius realized that all those times Peter had claimed illness or overwork he was actively serving Voldemort. Remus was left with a belly clamoring for human flesh and the mind of a wolf. The world had turned upside-down, and he knew nothing about it in his lycanthropic state.

The Whomping Willow shuddered in the breeze. Its branches swayed so gracefully one wouldn't know it attacked at the slightest of actions. Sirius was pelted with memories all beginning at its base, like the one where he nearly played a hand in murder. Now he felt the burden of responsibility for the deaths that did occur. He leaned farther out the window and glimpsed Hagrid's hut. A light was on. He wondered....

"Oh no, you don't. That's not happening tonight. Mr. Black, you get in that bed right now. No, not that one, the one away from the window. Thank you." Her tone was one of exasperation, but sympathy softened its edges. Sirius rubbed his temple, which he had knocked against the stone window frame. Those edges weren't so smooth. "There's a sleeping potion on the table if you need it," she said as Sirius approached the bed. With misty eyes she watched him recline.

"Goodnight, Mr. Black."