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Chapter Text

Harry Potter was feeling miserable. No, scratch that, he was actually feeling a total wreck. The embarrassment he felt for fainting because of the dementor inside Hogwarts Express was nothing compared to the utter sadness which had overcome him since the terrible event the previous night.

It was his mother. Harry was sure of it now, that scream he heard before plunging into total darkness belonged to the woman who had given her own life to save him from the maniac that had decided to kill his family for a reason he wasn't even aware of. And it was because of this sick bastard that Harry didn't have his parents with him, and he had to live with his terrible aunt and her poor excuse for a family.

Harry rarely let himself get to this point. He knew depression was a descent far too fast with no easy way back up, and being lost in thought was one of the ways to begin this ride. However, he was alone, sitting under a tree near the lake, for he couldn't shake his emotions enough to be able to be around his friends. If he weren't so caught up in his misery, he would have found it amusing that, on a Sunday, September 2nd, there wasn't a living soul outside the castle. Not even the Giant Squid had shown up today, which meant Harry was totally alone.

Not that the scrawny boy cared. After spending basically his whole life alone, he was used to it already. No, today Harry wanted to be left alone, soaked up on the negative roller coaster of feelings he was having: Despair, Sadness, Loneliness, Longing, Bitterness and a hint of Guilt. He was also exhausted.

One may or may not believe it, but Harry had never been one to complain about things, no matter how bad they were. Who would, considering all he would get from the Dursleys for complaining was a swat, if he were lucky. But hey, being forced to listen to your mother screaming right before dying? He was entitled to some brooding.

So there he was, wearing his school robes in an effort to not be bothered by a prefect or a professor because of his clothes, 'enjoying' his Sunday before the actual beginning of classes the following day. He knew Ron and Hermione were surely looking for him, as he had gotten up and had breakfast before them, and, up to now, almost lunchtime, hadn't made any contact with his friends. They would be pissed, but Harry couldn't give a rat's arse. They would complain, saying there's a mental convict roaming free, so it was dangerous, and whatnot.

Hermione and Ron didn't understand it, though, did they? They both had their parents, so they never knew what to say. "Oh, Harry..." Hermione would say, her eyes showing pity, while Ron's support was much more silent, but equally pitiful. What good would their presence bring? Harry was there, but he wasn't at the same time, anyway; His mind was a mess, while he mercilessly pulled at the pieces of grass around himself. He could finally see the bottom of the well he spent his whole life ignoring, because hearing his mother scream before dying had been the lowest he had ever been.

That's why he didn't even notice the small boy getting close to him until said boy cleared his throat.

Harry's head snapped up, his hand reaching for his heart as if trying to manually still it after such a scare. His jerky reaction ended up startling the boy so much the poor kid took a couple of steps back.

The boy was short and thin. In fact, almost as thin as Harry, which was saying something. But Harry could immediately notice that the little boy, different from him, couldn't be any older than 11. His eyes were light blue and his hair was blond, but a closer shade to brown from the common bleached yellow, almost white, like Malfoy's. He sort of reminded him of a poorer, blonder, blue-eyed version of Colin Creevey. The boy's clothes were hand-me-downs, that much was obvious to Harry, as his own were as well, apart from the school robes he had gotten before his first year. However, the boy wasn't wearing any robes, only muggle clothes with a couple of holes on them.

Almost a full minute had passed and the boy kept staring at Harry with wide eyes and his mouth open, in the same place a few steps away. Maybe it was the complete lack of sleep, but seeing the boy stare at him only angered Harry, for whatever reason.

"Is there anything I can help you with, or do you have all the intention to keep staring at me?" Harry snapped, with a scowl.

That worked somehow. The little boy closed his mouth and turned his head towards the lake, but not directly to it, actually, but some point over it. He looked right away scared and embarrassed, which was proven by the deep shade of red that started to rise from his neck and only finally stopped when his whole face was red.

'Great.' Harry thought, sighing, his anger unwavering. 'Now I made a firstie miserable.' Kicking himself, Harry decided to say something else to break that awkward silence.

"You should be wearing your robes, you know?" The raven-haired boy said. "If one of our professors catches you, they will tell you off."

The short boy turned back to Harry, curiosity somehow adding up to the apparent fear and shame on his face. Harry sighed.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter if it's a Sunday, or if you are a first year, you have to wear robes if you are a student here." Harry said, trying to sound at least a bit nice, even if he didn't know why he was bothering. He really needed to sleep.

"I-I... I am not a s-student." The boy stuttered, his voice but a whisper.

That made Harry stop and pay more attention to the boy. He felt something was definitely weird there upon hearing the blonde. His voice... his voice was childish. Too childish, even for an eleven year old boy. Analysing him a little bit better, Harry noticed the blond boy was a good foot shorter than him, which was supposed to mean something, as Harry had always been malnourished, which made people say he was shorter and scrawnier than he should be for his age.

"You are not a student?" Harry said, adjusting himself to sit more upright against the tree's large root.

"Y-you are H-Harry Potter, aren't you?" the boy asked, ignoring Harry's question, his anxiety and fear seeming to intensify somehow.

Harry closed his eyes irritated. 'Oh, this can't be good. First, I faint because of- that. Now, some boy is going to start all that boy-who-lived nonsense. Great start for a year.' He thought. "Yes, I am". He replied, after opening his eyes with a sigh. "And you are?"

The boy seemed to get even more nervous, turning back towards the same point over the lake, before looking back at Harry. His blue eyes shone like little diamonds, but Harry seemed to notice how distressed the boy really was.

"M-my name is E-Edward." Another glimpse towards the lake. Somehow, Edward seemed to find the strength he needed to say whatever it was he wanted to say, because, when he stared back at Harry, all jitters had left him, and the older boy only saw resolution in them. What he said, though, caught Harry totally unprepared. "My name is Edward. And I have a message from your father, James."

Chapter Text

To say that Harry Potter was surprised would have been an understatement. No, better, that would've been the understatement of the year.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, his eyebrows so high they were basically hiding under his fringe.

The Boy Who Lived tried to search for any signs of fun or amusement on the scrawny boy's face to prove he was being pranked, but he could find none. The only thing Harry could see was absolute resolution, as if the little boy didn't mean anything else other than exactly what he had said. The boy was still pretty much terrified, if his shaking hands were anything to go by, but his eyes were set.

"I have a message. To you, from your father James." He said again, staring deep into Harry's eyes, apparently unaware of his incredulity. "He wanted me to..."

As Harry stood up quickly, the boy stopped talking and took another step backwards. Harry's temper rose so fast he didn't even notice he had stood and had closed his hands into fists, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the little boy, whose courage was then gone for good. His face, once filled with certainty, now showed pure terror, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.

"What THE HELL do you think you're joking about?" Harry shouted, his nails digging into his palms. Little Edward didn't say or do anything, but his lower lip started trembling. Harry couldn't care less, though. Of all days to be pranked or something, today, after what happened in the train, was certainly the worst day for that.

"Yo-your father... he-" the boy stuttered. Harry growled.

"Get away from me before I make you, you little shit!" He said, sharply.

"B-but-" Edward said, his confidence long gone.

Harry took another step forward, threateningly, taking his wand from his robes. He didn't care if was acting like a jerk, or if the boy was visibly shivering in front of him. He wouldn't be pranked, especially if it was something related to his parents.

After another quick glance towards the same point over the lake, the little boy looked again at Harry with his blue eyes already filled with tears, hurt evident in them. Then, in a matter of seconds, he turned around and ran away.

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit worse than he had been before, but at least the blond boy was gone, leaving the green-eyed teenager to dwell on his own misery a little bit more. At least now he didn't feel sad but rather angry.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

It was already getting dark when Harry finally made it to the Common Room. He wasn't exactly happy, but at least he wasn't feeling very whiny, which was good enough for him. He had decided to call it a day nonetheless, so he started to make his way up to go to bed. What he didn't count on, though, was to be stopped by a girl with bushy brown hair and a tall red-haired boy full of freckles. He sighed deeply when he saw them blocking the way to the stairs, both of them looking annoyed.

"Harry!" Hermione said. "Where have you been all day?" She had her hands on her hips, and an angry expression on her face. Harry didn't see it, though, as he had barely looked up to properly acknowledge his friends.

"Yeah, mate, we've been worried sick!" Ron didn't seem angry at all, but a little bit relieved and tired.

As soon as his two friends took a better look at him, their expressions changed to worry.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione said, closing the distance between themselves and putting a hand on his shoulder. She had seen Harry brooding many times before; this time, however, she could see her friend was completely worn out, something that scared her a little, as she had never seen him in such a condition before. Ron seemed to be feeling the same, but apparently he believed much more in silent support.

"'mm okay, Mione." Harry said, his gaze still down. "I just wanted to be alone, that's all." He then turned and made his way into the dormitory.

The brown-haired witch bit her lower lip. It was obvious to her that her friend was far from okay. Sharing a quick glance with Ron, they followed their friend inside.

It was probably a good thing there wasn't anybody inside. Harry changed into his pyjamas (Hermione had the decency of looking elsewhere, not that Harry seemed to even notice she was there) and climbed into his bed.

"Mate." Ron tried, only barely saying the word. "Dinner hasn't even been served yet..."

"I don't care, I'm not hungry." Harry mumbled.

"Harry, have you eaten anything all day?" Hermione asked softly. She didn't get an answer, which, of course, was one nonetheless. "Listen, Harry, you can't keep on feeling down because of what happened-"

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry finally snapped, sitting on his bed. His face was contorted in anger, which took both his friends aback. "Are you talking about the fact that I fainted because of the dementor thing or that my parents died to save me?" *

"Chill, mate, we are just trying to be by your side-" Ron intervened.

"Well, I don't want you by my side now. I want to be ALONE, as I have ALWAYS BEEN!" Harry shouted, and with a strong pull, he closed the curtains around his bed, leaving his friends stunned on the other side.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Harry's spirits didn't get much higher the following day. He didn't act angry anymore though, and had acted civil towards his friends, even if he hadn't mentioned anything from the previous day. Of course Ron and Hermione knew better than to try to make him open up, but they still stayed around, giving their, albeit silent, unwavering support.

Deep inside, Harry just wanted to go through the day without giving too much of a thought about his parents or the incident on the train, but every time he had nothing in his mind, his thoughts seemed to wander back to those specific topics. Classes were a blissful break from the idleness he felt during the day, so Harry, for the first time ever, paid all his attention to the professor, no matter what class it was.

It wasn't until the following day that the Boy Who Lived started speaking normally to his friends, and it wouldn't be until the beginning of the following weekend when he was back to his normal self, however little normal that was.

Harry hadn't stopped to think about the little boy more than once or twice during these days, but, as the weekend got closer, his curiosity started showing up. He hadn't seen the boy around anymore (not that he had looked for him, anyway), and Harry still didn't have any clues about who he was. He could always ask someone, but he hadn't told anybody about that brief encounter, not even Hermione or Ron. Too many questions would be asked, he guessed, and he really didn't want to be bothered with that.

After a while, though, he decided that, if he didn't care, he didn't care. He just had to keep himself busy and he wouldn't think about any of those things. On Saturday, as he didn't have classes to focus on, he practised Quidditch and played chess with Ron. Sunday finally arrived again, and once again he wanted to keep himself busy, so Harry decided he wanted to go visit Hagrid.

"I'm going to help Ron with his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework." Hermione replied when Harry invited them to join him, and, while Ron seemed tempted to go outside as well, a glare from the smart witch had him saying "Sorry, mate, Professor Lupin is the best ever, but his homework is surely a great pain in the-"

"Language, Ron!" Hermione snapped. Harry grinned, he couldn't agree any more. With both statements, by the way: while Professor Lupin's homework was indeed difficult, he was the best professor they had. He was not only excellent at teaching, like Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Flitwick, but he was as nice and gentle and funny as Hagrid. And he didn't show them potential killers like the latter, either (the hippogriff incident still sent shivers down Harry's spine).

While Harry got closer to Hagrid's Hut, feeling quite glad he had taken the opportunity to do all his homework while he didn't want to have free time, he finally saw the boy again, sitting alone behind one of the big stones of Sundial Garden, the stone circle close to the Covered Bridge. Harry barely noticed the boy, as he was quite hidden behind one of the biggest boulders, and because it was one of the farthest away.

Before he gave himself time to stop to think through what he was doing, Harry walked up to the little boy, somehow not being noticed until he was just beside the blond lad. The boy jumped and hit himself hard against the big stone, his eyes filled with pain and fright. Harry recognized the misery, far too familiar with it not to, and despite wanting to keep angry because of the whole incident, Harry's heart seemed to have met the same destiny Draco's arm had, and now it was shredded as if a hippogriff had fought with it.

Sensing the boy was about to run away, Harry decided to say something.

"Hey, listen." He said with a calm voice that seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the little boy. "I'm sorry about the other day. I thought you were making fun of me, as you were talking about..." Harry let his voice fade. The other boy seemed to relax a bit, but his uncertainty was still very palpable. With a sigh, Harry added. "Look, let's just start it all again." Harry reached for the little boy's hand, giving it a light shake. "I'm Harry Potter."

"E-Edward." The blond boy said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. Harry gave him a faint smile and moved to sit beside the place the boy had been sitting. After a couple of minutes, Edward sat again, still very uncomfortable and self-conscious.

"So, Edward. I see you are not wearing your robes again. What house do you belong to?" Harry decided that some light conversation would be better than talking about... that. Edward gave him a confused look again.

"I-I don't s-study here." Whichever answer Harry was expecting, that wasn't it. It took him almost a minute to recover from his surprise. He had never heard about a child who didn't study there wandering around Hogwarts. He was sure the boy had mentioned that before, though, but he hadn't given that specific fact enough attention.

"What are you doing here, then?" Harry asked, still slightly taken aback.

"Well..." Edward said. He looked at Harry, who could see the boy was afraid to say whatever he was going to say, before lowering his gaze again. "I came here because your father asked me to." He finished, barely audible.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself.

"My father has been... gone for almost twelve years. You surely weren't even born when... it all happened." Harry tried to ignore the pain in his chest as he said that or the bubble of anger threatening to burst inside him. He finally looked back at the other boy and tried to catch his gaze. Edward seemed to be in an internal battle, as if he wanted to do something but didn't know if he should.

"This might be difficult to understand," Edward eventually said, after some seconds that felt like minutes to Harry. "But sometimes, when the person dies, they continue here."

"Are you talking about ghosts?" Harry asked. Was his father a ghost then? Harry almost snorted. He couldn't help but think about a taller version of himself wearing Nearly Headless Nick's clothes.

"No, no, not a ghost." Edward said, shaking his head. "Some... people believe they are called E-Earthbound Spirits."

Harry stared at the ground between his legs, thinking. He had never actually thought about what made a wizard or a witch become a ghost, much less about the possibility of there being other kinds of beings in similar conditions. And listening to a kid like that didn't help him believe it either. However, the certainty with which the boy said it all made Harry wonder if it were true. Before voicing his doubts, though, Edward started talking again.

"I heard that ghosts were people who decided they wanted to stay behind, because they were afraid of moving on, or because, well, they just really didn't want to die." The boy said with building confidence, but then, his expression got considerably darker. "And then, there are e-earthbound spirits. They always seem to be surprised by their death. And they normally die in tragic or fast way, like being killed or in an accident."

The boy seemed lost in his thoughts for a few seconds. Harry didn't really know what to say, so he kept silent. He didn't know if he was more stunned by the hard-to-believe story, or by the maturity of the young boy. He was surely young, that much was obvious, but his words were filled with experience and feelings. However, the story was still too far-fetched, and it made Harry wonder if perhaps this was a Wizarding Fairy Tale he wasn't aware of.

"They seem to be stuck between moving on and staying behind, you know... They are always talking about having to do something, or that someone is waiting for them." The boy continued, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Your f... I have some friends who say they have 'u-unfinished business'." The boy semi-stuttered the last words, as if he didn't actually know what they meant.

"Why can you see them while I can't?" Harry asked, his head a little bit bent, staring down, while he pulled more and more pieces of grass off of the ground between his legs, his hesitance making it obvious he wasn't really sure about the whole thing. It didn't mean, though, that Harry Potter believed in anything brought up by the blond boy. He just didn't know what to think of it yet.

It took him some seconds to turn his head to the boy, wondering why Edward hadn't said anything. Harry saw two big round blue eyes, and the intensity of the boy's feelings make him shudder inside. He saw many emotions there, none of which he liked.

"I don't know, okay? I just see them. I haven't met other people who can see them, but I have always seen them. Since I was a little kid, they were around, desperately trying to make people talk to them, do what they wanted, or even screaming things or names." It seemed something had broken free from inside the little boy. Edward's eyes visibly lost focus, and some small tears started forming, but the boy continued speaking, while Harry listened in horror, his mouth a bit gaped. "If they sense I can see them, they come and ask me to help them. If I can, they get happy and move on, sometimes only then knowing what happened to them. They don't understand they are dead. They never know they are, I mean, because if they focus enough, or if they get emotional enough, they can touch or even move things." the boy shuddered. "But then, if I can't help them, or if they stay alone for too long, they start getting... mad. Scary. They become less like a person. Until one day when they just... break. And then they become less like people and more like animals or monsters." Tears ran freely on Edward's face, while Harry's utter shock kept him silent, only absorbing painfully every word the other boy said. "They either scream or whisper things, hurt themselves and destroy their clothes. Sometimes they even try to h-hurt m-me,"

Edward hid his face in his hands, sobbing. Harry awkwardly tried to comfort him by putting a hand on his shoulder, making the boy flinch and snap his head up. He relaxed a bit after seeing it was just Harry. They gave each other silent support for sometime before the blond boy decided to speak again.

"Harry... What I need to tell you is... Some years ago, when I was living in a wizarding orphanage, I accidentally found another of those spirits." His voice lowered so much it became nothing more than a whisper. "He was desperately trying to find you, Harry. At first, I didn't know it was you, the famous Harry Potter. But that man was so, so sad, it hurt to see." Edward glanced a little over Harry's shoulder, which made the green eyed boy to feel an eerie sensation regarding that direction.

"That man, Harry, turned out to be your father. He looked terrible, very tired, and he seemed about to lose it. But he was still sane." The boy's blue eyes, now entirely dry of tears, still shone beautifully, while a shy smile began to form in his lips. "He just wanted to know where you were, how you were, if you were okay. As my moth- I told him what I had heard, the stories about your survival, he calmed down. And, after some time, he managed to convince me to come here and tell you this."

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. And then he made himself inhale sharply, but not enough air rushed into his lungs. Had he forgotten how to breathe properly?

"Is... Is my f-father... here?" He asked, almost breathless. His voice was shaky and he felt goosebumps all over his body. Had he started to believe this whole tasteless joke?

What Harry couldn't see, on the side that wasn't occupied by Edward, was the tall, slim but muscled man, white, pale skin with hazel eyes and untidy hair, smiling with tears in his eyes.

The blond boy smiled genuinely. "Yes. He's here."

"W-what... what is h-he d-doing?" Harry almost didn't hear himself, so low his voice was. A hurricane of emotions was roaring inside him, making it impossible for him to feel anything. He felt so many things that he ended up feeling nothing at all. It was like he was not inside himself, but next to the whole scene, watching as it went somewhere far too fast for him to follow.

"Now, he's in tears, but he's happy, I think, and he's raising his hand. Oh, I think he is going to..."

Harry didn't need Edward to finish whatever it was he was saying, because just as the blond boy was speaking, he felt the soft and strangely warm touch on his shoulder. His whole body felt numb, as if it concentrated everything on his shoulder to be able to feel that.

And then, Harry didn't feel anything anymore as darkness engulfed him completely.

Chapter Text

It took Harry something like an hour to wake up. Not that he had any control over that, of course, so it simply did. His eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust to the amount of light in the room. He knew he was on some kind of bed, he could feel that much, and he was almost sure he was, once again, in the Hospital Wing, as the strong scent of cleaning products and healing potions really distinguished that specific part of Hogwarts he knew so well. He couldn't be totally sure, though, as the world was a blur to him, his eyesight as poor as it was. Blinking a few times, he moved so he could grab his glasses on the stand next to his bed.

Harry felt rested and a bit light-headed, if anything. His mind was empty and free from any emotions. Well, it had been at first, at least. As soon enough he started remembering the reason why he was there, the whole thing made him instantly start to hyperventilate.

"I'm glad to see you up." Harry's head snapped to the direction from where the voice came, startled.

Albus Dumbledore stood near the entrance of the Hospital Wing wearing purple robes. The old headmaster seemed as calm as ever, a playful smile on his lips. Harry's heart was painfully pumping inside his chest because of the scare. He was never one of those who liked to feel adrenaline rushes, but, if the boy could think about it, he would be glad he was distracted, which allowed him to properly absorb the events of the afternoon without freaking out. Without freaking out too much, that is.

Harry didn't really know what to say. What had happened that afternoon put him in a position he had never been before. Why, he had just found out his father was around, even if he couldn't really see him. One thing was certain, though, he was sure the boy - Edward - hadn't lied. Harry had felt a hand his shoulder, he was sure of it. And that wasn't the first time something weird had happened to him, was it? He was a wizard, famous for surviving the Killing Curse, a feat nobody had ever done before. He had fought his teacher who had a sick psychopath on the back of his head, found the entrance of the famous Chamber of Secrets and killed a Basilisk-

It took Harry almost all his strength for him not to faint again, as, for the second time this day, someone had put a hand on his shoulder without him expecting it. So lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't even realized he had been staring at Dumbledore's clothes rather than at the old man himself, without even showing signs of saying something. He didn't even notice that the Headmaster had moved so as to stay beside his bed. That is, until said Headmaster put his hand on his shoulder, sending goosebumps all over his body and almost giving the poor boy a heart attack.

Harry's reaction didn't go amiss to Professor Dumbledore, which made the old man instantly withdrew his hand from the boy's shoulder.

"Is there anything bothering you, Mr. Potter?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his carefree attitude not there anymore. His eyebrows were slightly arched and, though he didn't look exactly worried, he wasn't as relaxed as usual.

"I-I'm alright, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Harry replied. He quickly glanced to his headmaster's face, but lowered his gaze again. "I'm sorry, sir, I was just... lost in my own thoughts, I guess."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled, adopting a calmer posture again. "Oh, yes, I understand that, my dear boy." He chuckled again, as Harry looked at him once more. "You seem very- how do you kids say nowadays?- jumpy, but I understand. There's nowhere in the world as intriguing as the depths of our own minds."

Before an awkward silence established itself between mentor and pupil, Harry decided to ask the only thing unrelated to not-so-gone parents, spirits and little boys who were where they weren't supposed to. "How did I get to the Hospital Wing, sir?"

"Our friend Professor Hagrid said he saw you and a little friend of yours talking, and then you fainted. He says your little friend seemed to run away before your professor got a chance to give him a proper look. It is a good thing he was taking care of that ill-fated hippogriff, as he saw it all." The intensity of Dumbledore's words was masked by the false calmness on them, but Harry could feel it nonetheless. He didn't quite know what to say, so he decided to say nothing at all and keep on staring at the white sheets of his bed. "Professor Hagrid brought you here, then." Dumbledore finally said. "Poppy calmed us by saying you are physically all right. She insists you should put on some weight, though."

At that, Harry straightened himself up a bit, but said nothing. Maybe Dudley's diet ended up working, after all, just not to the right person.

"Harry..." Dumbledore put his hand on the mattress, not far from Harry's hand, clearly asking Harry to look at him. Green eyes finally met blue ones for real. "Is there anything you want to share?"

'No' was the first thing Harry thought. An underaged boy at Hogwarts? And that story he told... Could he talk about that with the Headmaster?

A faint but still very annoying buzz of some sort started, shortly distracting Harry from Dumbledore. The boy tried to find anything around himself that could make such noise, but he couldn't find anything, and as soon as he started looking for its source, it stopped. He decided, then, not to say anything to Dumbledore right now, but when he focused on the professor again, he wasn't looking at him anymore, and seemed very interested in the potions Harry probably would have to take later, as they were sat on the bedside table beside his bed.

"No, sir." Harry said, simply, attracting the Headmaster's attention back to him. "I don't think there's anything I want to share."

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Soon after, Dumbledore left and, after a few boring hours, Poppy Pomfrey arrived, and, while it was decided that there wasn't anything wrong with him, which made Harry immensely grateful, she made him have dinner there twice, and told him he could only leave after he promised her he'd put on some weight from now on.

Having had dinner, Harry made his way to the Common Room, which wasn't far from the Hospital Wing. Harry was glad he didn't have to walk a lot, he didn't really know what time it was, but it was certainly late, as it was night outside and he didn't see anybody on the corridors. The last thing Harry needed was getting in trouble. Of course, if he ran into a teacher or a prefect, he would probably be excused as he had been at the Hospital Wing. But if he ran into Snape, Filch or a Slytherin Prefect, who wouldn't be fair if their lives depended on it, he would have problems.

After a minute or so, he entered the Common Room without meeting anybody. He would gladly go upstairs and go straight to bed, but as soon as The Fat Lady closed, Ron and Hermione stood up from the sofa they were sitting on, obviously waiting for him.

"Bloody hell, mate, what's going on with you?" Ron asked. If Hermione cared about their friend's language, she didn't show. In fact, she seemed totally focused on Harry for that moment, waiting for an answer. Ron himself looked worried as well, as both of them kept scanning Harry up and down as if they were trying to find something that wasn't right.

"Nothing." Harry muttered, his gaze going anywhere but close to his friends' concerned eyes.

"Nothing?" Hermione crossed her arms. "Harry, we saw you being carried away by Hagrid! You were passed out! Again, I should add! So, I don't think it was 'nothing'."

Harry was used to Hermione's bossy attitude, but what could he say to her? What could he say to them? He had fainted again in less than a month, for no good reason. Hermione still had her arms crossed in front of her chest, as she kept waiting for a sincere reply. Ron was only looking at Harry, biting his lower lip. Harry knew he had to say something, but how could he tell Hermione and Ron that his father... what the boy had told him? Would they believe him? Would they call him a freak, like the Dursleys had always done?

"Look, mate, we can see you're pretty shaken up." Ron said before Harry made his mind up. "You know you can tell us anything, right?"

"Yes, Harry." Hermione took a step forward, closing the distance between her and the Boy Who Lived. She rested her hand on his arm. "Look at me." He did. "We've been through a lot together, and, if something bad is happening, we'll go through it together too."

Harry could only stare at his friends. Both their faces showed the same emotions: concern, fear and resolution. Something inside Harry stirred and he felt he couldn't keep on holding what had happened inside himself.

"It's not something... bad. I guess." Harry finally said, making his way between his friends and sitting on the red and gold sofa. He stared into the fireplace, whose fire had yet to extinguish, which meant it was not as late as he thought. Harry struggled to find words to continue, but Ron and Hermione gave him the time he needed to move on. "There is a boy here at Hogwarts..." He stopped again, thinking about his next words.

Ron and Hermione just kept on looking at him with with a weird look on their faces..

"W-well, mate... If you f-found out you're... into boys..." Ron stuttered, rapidly turning as red as a tomato. Harry snapped his head towards Ron, frowning, obviously not believing what he had heard.

"Ron!" Hermione groaned, turning to face him, and then back to Harry. "Please, ignore him, Harry, go on..." She moved so as to sit on the armchair next to the sofa Harry was on. Ron, on the other hand, continued standing, still a little bit embarrassed of his wrong conclusion, his face slowly but gradually going back to its original color.

Harry went back to his fire-contemplation, trying to get back to the topic. "This... boy- and no, I do not fancy him, Ron," Ron mumbled incoherent, but Hermione shushed him, encouraging Harry to continue. "...seems to be under the age to be a Hogwarts student. He looks like, I don't know, seven? Maybe eight?"

Hermione and Ron blinked. A child at Hogwarts? "Do you... Do you know him?" Hermione asked, sheepishly. Harry shook his head.

"I've met him twice, the first time on the day I- on the first day of this semester. The second time, today. The first time, I didn't talk to him. Actually, I sort of shooed him away. Today we talked, though."

Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to say. That story made no sense at all to them, so they just waited for Harry to continue. Harry kept on staring at the fire, not really focused on it. The conversation, the feelings, the whole event swam around disorderly inside his head.

"He told me..." He finally continued. "He told me his name is Edward, and that he doesn't study at Hogwarts, and-"

"But Harry." Hermione interrupted. "if he doesn't study here, he shouldn't be able to enter Hogwarts. Hogwarts: A History says-" This time, it was Ron who shushed Hermione, which made her blush a bit and apologize.

"He started telling me this... weird story about how people can die and become ghosts or become spirits, Earthbound Spirits, I don't know." Harry said. Hermione and Ron were still not sure where this was going, so they kept quiet. "He told me that if the person had unfinished business or something like that and died, they could stay here, trapped, not able to move on, not able to relax and rest in peace, so to speak." Harry stood up and started pacing the room, absorbed in the memory of the conversation he had had with Edward. "By then, I didn't even know if I believed him, I mean, not more than a couple of years ago I didn't even know wizards existed, but again, there's a limit of weird things you can believe in."

Harry sat back on the sofa again and faced his friends. Both of them had a surprised look on their faces, but he didn't exactly see disbelief, which encouraged him to continue. "So the boy told me he can actually see and talk to these spirits. And he said these spirits tried to ask him for help, to do something, or to find somebody." Hermione and Ron looked at each other, but Harry was so absorbed by the story he didn't even notice. "So he told me he once found a spirit of a man trying to find me, and that this man looked very lost. He tried to help this man, I think, and he discovered that this man... this man was my... well, my f-father."

As soon as Harry stopped talking, looking expectantly at his friends, silence reigned. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at him with very surprised looks on their faces. Soon enough, though, Harry's stomach dropped as their faces changed to incredulity, which made him blush and face another direction. Seconds passed like hours before anyone said anything, until Hermione inhaled sharply and decided someone had to say something.

"Harry..." She was careful. Almost too careful, in fact. "I understand what you told us. But..." She bit her lower lip. "I've never heard of spirits other than ghosts and alike. And I surely haven't heard of trapped spirits that can only be seen by selected people." Hermione said. Harry didn't turn to face her, which made the witch turn to Ron as if asking for help.

"I haven't heard of those either, mate." He said. "Aren't you sure this isn't a lie? Maybe it wasn't a boy, but, I don't know, a lying imp?" Harry turned his head sharply to face Ron, his eyes thin lines. "M-Mom used to say imps acted like children to fool us-" Ron stuttered.

"He was not an imp, Ron." Harry cut, sourly.

"Ok." Hermione said, calling the attention to herself. "Do you actually believe what he told you?"

Harry thought for a couple of seconds before nodding. "Yes, I mean... He was very emotional, it felt so real. And then, he said my f-father was there. Next to me." Hermione and Ron just blinked again. "I felt him. I felt him put his hand on my shoulder." Something got stuck on Harry's throat, and he felt the back of his eyes starting to sting. "And before you ask me." Harry said, as Hermione opened her mouth. "There wasn't anyone next to me, I checked."

"Maybe the person had an Invisibility Cloak, Harry." Ron reasoned.

"There wasn't anyone there, Ron!" Harry chided. "Well, physically, I mean."

"Ok" Hermione conceded again. "So, you felt his hand on your shoulder. What happened next?"

"I fainted." Harry said, blushing furiously in embarrassment. "I don't know what happened, I just... collapsed, I think." Both Ron and Hermione kept looking at their friend. Neither of them knew what to say, and the silence just made Harry more nervous. A few brave tears had managed to escape from his eyes without permission, but Harry didn't seem to notice. "I know this sounds crazy, but it's the truth, I swear."

"We believe in you, mate, if you say it is the truth, we will believe it." Ron said, scratching the back of his head.

"Maybe I can do some research on this." Hermione said. "Tomorrow, I'll go to the library and see if I find anything about this." She then bit her lower lip. "But, Harry... You really ought to tell a professor about-"

"No, Hermione!" Harry said, frowning. He used the back of his hand to clean his face.

"But Harry, it's against the rules of the school for a child to stay here unattended if they are not Hogwarts students!" Hermione tried to reason, but Harry scowled and opened his mouth to retort.

Suddenly, Crookshanks came out of nowhere and jumped on Ron's head. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" The taller boy said, jumping from the armchair he was previously sat on. "This monster of yours keeps startling me!" He shouted.

"Ron!" Hermione whispered. "Stop shouting! It's too late, do you want to get us in trouble?" Ron still glared at the cat on the other side of the room, but he said nothing. "In fact, it's best if we go to sleep now." Hermione said. "Harry, if you don't want to tell anyone, fine, I won't tell anybody for now." She stood up ad straightened her robes a bit. "But please, consider telling at least Professor McGonagall."

She then bid the boys goodbye and left for the girls' dormitory. Ron stuck around for a while longer, but, after realizing he and Harry had nothing to talk about without making things extremely unsettling, he too went upstairs. Harry, on the other hand, stayed there for so much time that, when he finally went to bed, he didn't even know for how long he had stayed alone. He absent-mindedly changed to his pyjamas, lay down and closed the curtains. Even after that much thinking alone, he had not come up with a decision regarding the day's events. One thing he was sure of, though: He had to talk to the blond boy again.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Days passed fast. In the blink of an eye, Summer faded into Autumn and the bright days they had at Hogwarts started becoming few and far between. Students started spending more time inside the castle instead of outside. When the first month of classes had ended, a routine had been established once more in the old castle.

Even though Harry hadn't forgotten his decision to find and talk to the blond boy Edward, his days had been so full with all the things happening at Hogwarts that he would only think about finding the boy once he was about to sleep, when, once again, he renewed his vows of tracking the boy down the following day.

By the time Malfoy finally stopped whining about his arm, and the third year students stopped commenting on their lesson on boggarts with Professor Lupin, October had begun full force, and the practices of Quidditch became regular, reducing even more Harry's free time that he could use to try to find Edward. If Ron and Hermione ever thought about the event, they had yet to say anything to Harry. Other than Hermione's denial on finding information on Earthbound spirits a couple of days after the incident, and Ron's occasional concerned but furtive looks for a few days, they acted as if nothing at all had happened.

It wasn't until the middle of October when something that is worth mentioning happened.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were concentrated on their potion essays. Snape had given them a two-feet long essay on the effects of the phases of the moon on potionmaking, which turned out to be harder than it sounded. The three students were using the table in the centre of the Common Room, their books and materials scattered all around.

"Ron! Scabbers is trying to gnaw my book!" Hermione screeched, lifting the heavy 'Preparing potions: Be prepared!' book and using it to swat the rat away from her material and consequently off the table. It landed right on top of the stool by the window, where it stayed, either dead or sleeping.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, standing up. His ears got purple-red as he made his way to his pet rat. He checked it and put it back on the table. "Are you daft? Scabbers is sick! You can't just hit him like that!"

Ron's reaction attracted the attention of all students in the common room. As it was still early, the room was filled with people studying or just relaxing, which made Harry very embarrassed for the attention he and his friends were getting. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the commotion they were creating, as they were too busy glaring at each other.

"If Scabbers gets worse because of you..." Ron threatened, getting redder by the second. He had his hands curled into fists and Harry had never seen him so furious.

"Keep it away from my stuff, then, Ronald!" Hermione cut him off. She had her hands on her hips and she seemed to be on the verge of crying. "Otherwise, I'll-"

What Hermione was going to do, they never found out. Crookshanks jumped on the table fast, trying to catch Scabbers, which screeched and jumped to the floor. As Crookshanks prepared itself to run after the rat, Ron grabbed its bushy tail, pulling it away from the direction Scabbers had gone. The cat immediately threw a fit, trying to scratch itself free from Ron, while Hermione screamed in outrage.

Soon enough, the two Gryffindor friends were having a screaming match, to which Harry paid no attention as he was trying to grab Crookshanks before it got to Scabbers, with the help of basically the whole Gryffindor population. When George finally managed to capture the very upset cat, Scabbers was nowhere to be seen, Hermione had already left for the Girls' Dormitory, crying, and Ron was sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, fuming. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if there actually was steam coming out of his friend's ears, as he mumbled unintelligible things that seemed to emphasize how wrong Hermione was.

Harry himself didn't know who to blame, if there was someone to blame, that is. One thing he was sure of, though: He really hoped his friends would make up as fast as possible.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Harry couldn't have been more wrong. Ron and Hermione's friendship seemed to have been totally done for. While Ron started to spend much more time with Dean and Seamus, Hermione spent most of her time studying, alone, in the library. For the first few days, Harry tried to spend time with his two friends equally. When they were in class, he used to sit beside Hermione. When they were not, he tried to hang out with Ron and the other boys. Soon enough, though, this coming and going between his friends became too annoying, so Harry took advantage of the fact that the first Quidditch game was already scheduled for a few days later and started to spend much more time practicing than trying to split himself in two to give his friends some attention.

Oliver Wood was merciless this year. Apparently, as this was his last year at Hogwarts and consequently his last year as Quidditch Captain, he saw this as his last opportunity to win the cup. His speeches were longer, more heated and, according to Fred and George, 'somehow much more boring'. He created not only thousands of training sessions for the whole team, but also exhausting individual practice plans for everybody, which they had to execute alone. Wood often threw fits while they were practicing as a group and designated meetings, as he had scheduled the court for practice as many times as possible.

It was one of those days for Harry. He had the court to himself for the evening, and, even if it was recommended for students not to stay out of the castle during the evening, Harry couldn't really see a reason why he couldn't practice alone for a while, if he got back early enough. Wood had specifically decided this day for Harry as on the following day, students were going to Hogsmeade, so everybody wanted to relax for the next day. Harry tried not to think about that much.

Flying, for Harry, was a blessed break from all problems he had been having. As he was practicing moves, he forgot about fighting friends, his 'predicted' death, doomed hippogriffs, dementors... The speed and the cutting-cold air took away worries with boggarts, the fact that he wasn't going to Hogsmeade... but the thing Harry was more grateful for not feeling while he was flying was the aching he had to see the little boy again, a constant pain on his chest. In the end, focusing on flying, performing the tactics the best way possible and not letting the strong gusts carry him were blissful attention diverters.

Sadly, Harry was so focused on flying he didn't notice something was not right. He had been cold, of course, it was dark already. But it took him far too long to feel the dread that was slowly climbing his spine. When Harry finally noticed what was happening, it was too late. About five dementors were circuling him, their capes flickering darkly.

Harry's heart was beating fast on his chest. He tried to escape, but the dementors seemed to be everywhere. The cold had become unbearable. Harry tried to go down, and it was then that one of the dementors surprised him. Harry almost ran into the dark creature, making a sharp diagonal turn at the last moment. His scream blended with the one inside his head and Harry finally couldn't hold his broom any longer. He started falling, and the only thing he saw before fainting was a big, black, creepy dog not too far from the point to where he was falling.

Chapter Text

Interlude

It takes a while to get used to being an animagus. Once you gain the ability to transform yourself into an animal, you have to deal with all those skills and instincts you never had. The problem is, your human side never actually disappears, your way of thinking, your rationality keeps working properly. And that's the danger of it all, while animals behave naturally, doing things without even thinking too much about it, a human being tries to decipher why they do things the way they do.

Say, for example, a fish animagus. Well, fish in general don't really inhale water, they much more drink it, and the gills make their magic, using the oxygen in the water to breathe. And that's it, fish don't use their 'noses' to breathe. Now, if a person becomes a fish, they will have to control their need of inhaling, and force themselves to continue swallowing water, and making it become as natural as possible.

Another problem is getting used to their animal counterparts' abilities when in human form, as wizards and witches eventually incorportate some of them. If one person who likes loud music, for instance, becomes a bat, they will surely suffer. Dogs can smell about a thousand times better than most humans. How annoying would it be to stay close to those fetid kinds of cheese with this newly gained ability?

Sirius Black liked to think he was used to all these extra skills he had as Padfoot. Being able to smell and hear stuff from a distance could really help sometimes. And surely not being able to taste things as much helped if you had no access to proper food. The problem was, of course, when one of those canine abilities threatened to control his whole being, dangerously trying to suppress his human thinking capacity.

One of those moments happened in the beginning of August, when he had gone to Privet Drive to try to find his godson. Harry's scent invaded his nostrils, blowing away all his proper state of mind. Harry smelled like family, like his pack. A smell he hadn't felt for too long, but that he had never forgotten but longed for every single day. It was so close to his Prong's scent, so close to the very thing he wanted the most, but at the same time so different and yet recognizable. He smelled her, as well. The girl he had forced himself to love as a sister, the reason why he related flowers to parchment and ink (how could a lily smell like homework?).

Sirius Black didn't exactly have to be human to understand that he loved that specific smell more than life itself. That he had instantly become addicted to that unique combination of family, love, friendship and, sadly, longing. Padfoot dwelt on it, proving once again humans don't have all that control over their animagus body, as he started to wag his tail madly. It pained poor Sirius when Harry entered the Knight Bus. It felt like a dementor had grabbed his heart, and he had lived near those for too long, so he knew what he was talking about.

And so his journey began. He traveled long hours, sometimes as Padfoot, sometimes as Sirius. But regardless of the way he was, he could not forget the scent, he did not forget that perfume. The smell that brought good memories and bad memories, as well as a strong sense of protection.

Sirius knew he had to get to Harry. He knew he had to stop that rat before he once again lost everything he had. He did not know where Harry was now, though. Maybe a friend's house? Or maybe even with Remus? But of one thing he was sure, Harry would be at Hogwarts from September on. So that's where he should be.

Apparition was not easy after so long. And the many ghosts that haunted his mind, remnants of Azkaban, made focusing even harder. Still, Sirius finally managed to get to Hogsmeade. He knew he could not enter Hogwarts before the beginning of classes without calling attention to himself, so he once again waited, establishing himself near The Three Broomsticks, where he got access to leftovers and some scarce, but very valuable, pieces of information. He tried not to stay there every single day because he was afraid of getting caught, so he sometimes liked to go to Dufftown to get some food.

"Students arrived yesteday." he heard a local tell Madam Rosmerta just outside the pub one day. Finally, the time had arrived. Of course, Sirius knew he couldn't just enter through the front gate, but he didn't really care. If anything, being a Marauder taught him many ways to go in and out of the castle without being caught. And he knew exactly which one to use.

The Shrieking Shack hadn't changed a bit since the last time he had been there. He would never forget how he, James, Remus and the rat (Padfoot couldn't keep itself from growling) spent the morning after Moony's last transformation while they were at Hogwarts reminiscing all the good moments they had spent together.

The Shack smelled the same. The wild, pugent wolf smell, weaker now, that brought him sorrow for the long-lost friendship. The fading, but undoubtedly still there, sweet, pine-like scent of a Scottish stag that would surely bring him tears in his eyes if he were human, for the grief he felt for his James. The rat smell, that now made him want to bite himself out of anger... Differently from all the others, this smell was still strong. The son of a bitch must have been there recently. He also felt other smells he couldn't identify, but that he paid no heed to as they seemed not matured enough, so it was probably a small animal.

Soon enough he started venturing outside, exploring the forest around the castle and the lake, but never getting too close to the school itself, and always as Padfoot. Even when he was inside the Shrieking Shack, Sirius chose not to stay in his human form. Somehow, being Padfoot kept him from being haunted by his memories too much.

So life went on. Sirius hoped he could one day catch a glimpse of Harry. Merlin, even smelling his scent for a while would do. But he had no such luck: he had been there for about a month before he had any kind of contact with something related to his godson.

In one of the times he was exploring the forest not too far from Hagrid's hut, Padfoot met a huge orange cat sat on a giant boulder that was used for Care of Magic Creatures. It hadn't been the first time he had seen cats around, many of them liked to explore the forest, but this time, and one could thank the dementors for that, they didn't stray too far from the castle. But there this cat was, being brave enough to stand up and get close to Padfoot. He very faintly smelled like Harry, so the owner was probably Gryffindor.

'Who?' the cat meowed, a couple of feet from the big dog. Animagi couldn't exactly talk to animals, but if said animal was smart enough, they could communicate, even if precariously. 'Friend?' the cat purred. Padfoot snarled his answer. The cat seemed happy enough, and soon they started to interact.

Padfoot asked the cat if it had seen rats around, to which the cat answered something akin to 'delicious'. The cat then referred to a rat that wasn't delicious, a rat that the cat described as 'like you', a 'not-rat'. Padfoot automatically recognized about what, or rather, about whom the cat was talking. 'Bring me?' Padfoot grunted, to which the cat purred a 'yes'.

Every day the cat would come to the same spot and try to update on information regarding the whereabouts of the rat to his dog friend. It always apologized as it had not been able to get hold of the rodent, always blaming 'fire pelage', whatever that meant, for the failure.

Sirius kept on waiting for an opportunity, though.

He once saw a group of boys wearing Quidditch uniforms heading to the Pitch, and wondered if Harry ever made it to the team. He hoped so, James would have been so proud...

Sirius himself liked to go to the Pitch sometimes, principally by the end of the afternoon or very early in the morning, as the Quidditch gates weren't far from the Whooping Willow. He never got in the Pitch itself, but just by seeing it afar brought many good memories of the times he played as a member of the Gryffindor team. He had been a Beater, while James had been a chaser, except for their fifth year, when Prongs played as a seeker. He remembered how he was considered a good player, and how that made him proud of himself, but he also remembered that James was something else entirely. It didn't matter which position he played, he would excel at it. Merlin, he could be a better seeker, for instance, than the other teams' titular. But as a chaser, he was unstoppable. While Sirius only entered the team in their fourth year, James got in in their second. That's mainly the reason why Gryffindor was the Quidditch champion all 6 years James was part of the team: Second and Third year as a normal player, Fourth to Seventh as captain.

It was one of those evenings when Padfoot decided he wanted to remember the 'good old days' a little bit more that he smelled it. The scent of his pup, the scent he had been searching for since he had gotten there. He was sure Harry had entered the Quidditch Pitch, and, even though all his instincts, human and canine, told him not to, he followed the trail.

There was only one person there, thankfully. A single player trying movements and loops, connecting one after the other. Padfoot didn't have to see the player's face to know who he was. Somehow he had seen that same style far too many times, fast but surprisingly smooth turns. His James did the very same thing. So the dog just sat there and enjoyed seeing his godson playing.

Padfoot felt their presence before he was actually able to see them. He had spent so much time near dementors that he recognized far too well when the dark monsters were around. As a dog, the effects of the soul-suckers weren't as strong, but he still felt the putrid hands of depression trying to grab his heart. However, it was when he saw the dementors trying to get to the descending Harry that he felt the utter terror that would have paralised anyone, no matter how Gryffindor they were. Soon after, he saw his godson fall, his guts following him.

Padfoot wasted no time, he ran to where he guessed the boy would land and made it so the boy landed on him. Thankfully, his godson was neither high nor heavy enough hurt him, but the abrupt impact still knocked some of the air off of his lungs. Adrenaline kicked in, though, so Padfoot was able to carry the passed out boy out of the Pitch.

The dementors were hot on his tail, which meant he had to go into the hole under the Whooping Willow without making use of the knot. One of the tree's branches almost hit him and Harry, but it ended up hitting the closest dementor instead. Padfoot finally made its way into the Shack, taking the boy carefully off its back before turning back into Sirius.

Effortlessly, Sirius lifted his godson, automatically registering how thin the boy was. He forced himself to ignore how much he looked like James. The boy was just a very thinner, quite shorter version of his James, and Sirius had to control himself not to mistake the boy he loved for the man he loved. The animagus was too tired, however, so he just laid the boy on the single bed in the room, gently stroking his hair. He saw the scar he had seen that horrible night.

"I love you, Harry." Sirius said, tears forming in his eyes. "I'm here for you, pup, and I am not failing you again." He then gave the boy a gentle kiss on his forehead and turned back into Padfoot, snuggling beside Harry's legs and immediately falling asleep.

Chapter Text

It took a bit long for Harry to wake up. As consciousness started to come back to him, though, the events of the previous night came rushing into his memory. He snapped his head up and looked around nervously, trying to identify where he was. It clearly was an old room, and the signs Harry could see told him it hadn't been used for a long time. The walls, the furniture, everything was a bit dusty. There were deep claw-like marks on the walls, and some of the objects around had been broken and left like that.

Harry moved so he could sit. He had been put on a comfortable bed that was surprisingly clean, if compared to everything that there was in the room. Was he inside Hogwarts? He probably would have to get out of the room to discover, but, as he looked at the door, the only apparent way in or out this decrepit room, he saw a big, black dog apparently asleep in front of it. It was definitely the Grimm.

Harry looked for his wand inside his pockets, and his desperation gradually rose as he couldn't find it in any of them. He also looked around himself, but it was nowhere to be seen.

As silently as he could, he stood up. Maybe, if he moved slowly... He held his breath and-

CREAK

As Harry took his first step towards the door, the floor creaked, and the silence in the room made it ressonate loudly. The big dog snapped its head up, looking straight at Harry.

Time seemed to freeze for the young wizard. He felt his whole body freezing as well, as fear climbed the back of his legs and his back and belly. So that was it? This was his end? Had his parents died for him just so a dog could kill him? His mind was instantly flooded with some of the stories that Miss Figg had told him, how some dogs had killed one of her cats so viciously that she barely could recognize it. Would they recognize him, at least?

The dog slowly stood up, snapping Harry out of the petrifying fear he was feeling. He patted his pocket to check for his wand again when his stomach dropped once more. It wasn't there, his wand had been taken, he remembered.

Padfoot, a.k.a. the big black dog, stared at the boy in front of him. He had seen Harry before, of course, but it had been dark and he had not been close enough to actually look at him. And then he had saved the falling boy, but seeing him moving... Even as Padfoot, Sirius could not ignore the turmoil of emotions that filled him entirely. It was just like seeing his best friend again, his brother in all but blood, the love of his life, even if he was the only one who knew that. And yet, it was different. One could say that something was off, but that's not the case, it wasn't something bad at all. Harry smelt different, and yet in a good way. So close to James' scent, and yet different at the same time. The feelings, even hindered by the fact he was clouded by the dog's lack of sensitivity or emotional awareness, became too much, causing Padfoot to whimper lowly.

This surprised Harry. The dog didn't seem exactly angry or vicious. In fact, it looked quite... sad?

"Hum-" Maybe talking would help, Harry thought. "Hey b-boy..." he said, awkwardly. The only pet he had ever had was Hedwig, and obviously talking to an owl is infinitely easier than talking to a big hound. Oh, and Ripper could barely be considered experience, as Aunt Marge actually incited the dog to bite Harry, so nothing he could have said would have worked, so he only focused on escaping.

And yet, even if the couple of words muttered by Harry were shaky and meaningless, he saw the dog change. It seemed to relax a bit, its tail wagging very slowly behind it. Perhaps it could work?

"Y-you're a good boy, a-aren't you?" Harry stuttered, backing a bit so he could climb the bed. The dog cried a big, sitting. Its tail was definitely wagging faster. 'It is actually working!' Harry thought, surprised.

The voice! That voice! Padfoot had never heard it before, but somehow, deep inside it, within his instincts, it recognized that voice. It meant a lot to him, as if he was listening to his owner, and if that voice told him to do something, he surely would do it. But wait, the boy was climbing the bed? Did he want to play?

Padfoot jumped and barked, happily. This startled Harry so much that the boy jumped, crashing into the wall behind the bed, and there he stayed, his heart beating fast inside his chest. Okay, maybe talking didn't help that much. At least the dog didn't seem angry, but rather, playful. It was when the dog was back on its paws that Harry noticed that his wand had been under it. Harry couldn't help but groan.

"Hey, boy..." He said, still holding on to the wall, standing on the bed. "Why don't you bring that stick to me?" He might as well try, right?

The smart dog looked at where the boy was pointing and back to the boy.

"Ahn... No. Okay. Are you hungry, then?" Harry got some cookies wrapped in a napkin that he had gotten during dinner out of his pocket. He always did that so he wouldn't get too hungry while flying, and he spared a couple of seconds there to thank somebody up there for making him do that.

Padfoot was indeed hungry. It barked loudly, jumping around happily. Harry proceeded to unfold the cookies and throw them to the dog, who caught them mid-air. After all the cookies were gone, the dog quietly lay down again and put its head on its paws, staring at Harry intently, its tail wagging with contentment. The dog had lain on his wand again, which made Harry groan loudly. 'It is now or never.' Harry thought, gathering all his courage—or Gryffindor bravery (or stupidity, he didn't really care at the moment).

He got down from the bed and approached the dog carefully. He tried not to make any blunt movements. He really didn't want to startle the dog, so he moved as slowly as possible. Finally, after some tense moments, he got in front of the dog. As he started getting his hand close to the dog, his courage faded away and he got stuck there, half bent towards the dog, but not moving a bit forward anymore.

Padfoot felt his godson's hesitance and decided to help. He carefully put his head back up, eventually touching the boy's hand. He felt his hand flinch a bit, but the boy did not lift it. After a couple of seconds, his fingers started scratching slowly, moving lightly so it was behind Padfoot's right ear. Oh, it felt so good! Sirius had to use all his self-control not to let his foot start moving alone, as dogs normally do when receiving a good scratch. He wished he could tell Harry to do it harder, but, much to his happiness, the boy seemed to know what to do, as the scratching intensified. Padfoot was in heaven, he knew his leg was definitely moving now, and it was getting better, and better, and better...

And suddenly, the hand was not there anymore. Padfoot opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and saw Harry's hand snapping up beside him with his wand. Padfoot yelped, startled, as Harry climbed back onto the bed, this time pointing his wand towards him.

It had been a plan! Harry had distracted him with some scratch behind his ear (and some scratch, that had been...), while he surreptitiously got his wand back!

Padfoot wanted to growl but he really didn't want to scare the boy, nor did he want to get hexed senseless.

"Move away from the door." Harry said, intently. Padfoot didn't move one bit, still staring deep into the boy's green eyes.

"Flipendo!" Harry called out. The red spell almost hit the dog, but it jumped out of the way. Padfoot finally growled, showing its teeth. The next red ray came soon, but again the dog managed to dodge the spell. Sadly, though, Harry had cornered him. One more curse and he would be done...

The door busted open, hitting the wall full force. Dust came down from the ceiling, filling the air with particles. Harry stopped and snapped his head to the direction of the door. There, panting as if he had run a whole mile in seconds, stood Edward, the blond boy who apparently saw dead people (Harry decided to ignore his own thoughts). His hair was extremely unruly and his eyes were bulging and red, as if he had just woken up. Considering the time, that was probably correct.

Edward gulped, trying to reestablish his breath. He entered and closed the door, but before he managed to say something, Padfoot tackled the small boy. It was a good thing that Harry was paying attention, because he finally managed to hit the dog with the knockback jinx, seconds before it actually knocked the boy. Padfoot was thrown at the door with a yelp.

"NO!" Edward shouted, looking worriedly at the dog lying on the floor. Padfoot was still looking at him with his teeth bared, but he didn't stand up.

"Edward, come here!" Harry hissed. What was the boy thinking? Why was he still close to the dog instead of running away from it like he should?

"Padfoot, please, turn back." the little boy said with pain in his eyes. Harry found his sentence extremely weird, but the dog's reaction was even weirder. Harry never thought that animals could get surprised or impressed, but this dog's expression proved him wrong. Padfoot's face, which seemed vicious and dangerous seconds before, changed to an alarmed one, his eyes as big as saucers. "Padfoot, transform back, please." The boy pleaded. "It is safe, I promise."

Much to Harry's horror, the dog started shaking. It seemed as if the animal had become a black blur, barely recognizable. The blur grew in size, until it managed to get as tall as an adult. As fast as it started, the blur settled down and a man stood where the dog had been. It wasn't any man, though. It was Sirius Black. And a quite angry one.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Ron had stayed awake at the Common Room waiting for Harry to come back from his practice. He was alone as it was really late already. He knew that Hermione herself wanted to stay there and wait for Harry, and that was mainly the reason why Ron stayed, just so the girl wouldn't come.

He was starting to get tired, though, as midnight was coming close. Would Harry still be training? Even with Wood's new crazy method, he wouldn't have to continue even after curfew, would he?

The fire in the fireplace was starting to extinguish. Its flames, erstwhile so strong, had been reduced to nothing more than embers struggling to survive. And, with it, Ron's energy and resolution were fading. Maybe it wasn't worth it to wait anymore. Maybe Hermione was already asleep. With that thought, he left the Common Room finally empty. He deserved some rest, didn't he? He deserved to lay down a bit on his bed. He would listen when Harry entered their dormitory, of course. Wouldn't he?

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Harry jumped from the bed to place himself between the murderer and the little boy. He was still pointing his wand at the man, whose clothes were in such a bad state that it seemed like he was wearing rags. If the man had paid attention to Harry's wand, though, he wouldn't know, as Sirius Black was staring intently at the little boy, his face changing from anger to a mask of confusion, incredulity and surprise.

"How did you..." Sirius finally managed to say after a couple of tense seconds. "How did you know?" He took on step forward, getting closer to the boy, which made Harry hold his hand tighter.

"Don't you dare coming close to us." Harry hissed. Sadly, he didn't know that many spells, hexes, jinxes or curses to attack the man, but he would have to make do with the ones he knew. Sirius just lifted his hands in a clear sign of peace, but he kept waiting for the blond boy to say something. Edward's eyes were hard with resolution, though, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the courage of the boy.

"Mr. Po- James told me." Edward said with his voice thin.

If Sirius had been surprised before, nothing could describe his face after Edward's declaration. It took a millisecond for his face to harden and a shadow cover up his once beautiful facial features.

"What are you talking about, boy?" Sirius said. His voice was dark and angry, which sent chills down Harry's spine. He couldn't help but remember all those people Sirius had killed.

"It was Prongs who told me. James Potter." By listening to his father's name, Harry's hand shook. He didn't lower it, but he risked a glance at the boy's face. It was still filled with bravery and seriousness. He should have related his father's name, but Harry himself had heard the name so few times that he didn't really remember before his last name had been added. What does his father have to do with Sirius Black?

Sirius Black's face twisted in disgust and hatred. "James died before you were born, little boy. There's no way he would have talked to you."

"I know he's... dead." The boy said. Harry didn't have to be looking at him to know he flinched when he said 'dead'. Harry himself did, by the way, and he didn't see that Sirius had too. "But I can talk to spirits and-"

Sirius cut the boy with a crazy, humourless laugh. It surely scared both younger boys. He looked back at the boy, his eyes sparkling with anger. "You're telling me James became a ghost? Listen here, shrimp. I was James' best friend for more than a decade. He was a brother to me in more ways than my own. So believe me when I tell you that James would never stay here as a ghost."

"He's not a g-ghost." Edward said. His voice showed how much his resolution had started to waver. "He is a spirit who-"

"I'm so not buying that shite right now!" Sirius cut, sharply. Edward winced. His courage was gone, this much Harry could see. Harry wanted to say something, maybe try to find a way to escape, or at least calm the boy down, but he was being thoroughly ignored by the two other, as Edward had his whole attention focused on the older man, while Sirius' eyes shone terrifyingly towards the blond boy. Suddenly something that Black said clicked inside Harry's head.

"You were friends with my father?" Harry asked. His voice seemed to break Sirius' focus, and his face calmed down as he turned to look at the Boy Who Lived. He smiled warmly, which contrasted furiously with the previous look he had had on his face.

"Yes..." He whispered softly. Harry couldn't get over the feeling that he saw a whole new man in front of him. "We were best friends. Brothers, in everything but blood." Sirius smiled warmly to him, his previous anger apparently forgotten. That is, if Edward hadn't decided to speak.

"He's your godfather, Harry." The boy said, fear still evident in his trembling voice. He was looking at Harry. Sirius snapped his head towards Edward, his eyes sparkling again with hatred and fury. Harry's mouth gaped. This man was his godfather? His godfather was a murderer?

"He studied with your father. And your mother. And was in Gryffindor. He moved to your father's home when he was seventeen years old." Something broke inside the small boy. He started almost screaming everything at Harry in desperation, as if he couldn't control it anymore. It was like a faucet had been opened, and now words wouldn't stop coming out. "He gave you your first broom when you were one. He is a dog animagus while your father was a stag one." The little boy finally turned to the older man with tears in his eyes. Sirius seemed utterly surprised, too much to be angry any longer. "He said he would die for you the first time he held you. He cried on your father's shoulder when he found him dead. He asked your father to change secret keepers to Peter Pettigrew." Edward's voice became a soft whisper. "He used to say to your father 'James, you are very deer to me' while your father said that 'You are Siriusly the brightest star in my sky', but they thought those moments were so gay they only did it when they were alone. Not even Lily, Moony or Wormtail knew."

Edward seemed incapable of continuing, his sobs shaking his whole body. He tried to use his sleeves to clean his face, but it was a useless battle.

Other than the boy's sobs, there was only silence. Sirius Black was so pale he seemed to be about to faint. He let go a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his head feeling far too full of air. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to punch something and yet, he did nothing other than lower his eyes to the floor and put his hands on his head. Sirius backed away slowly until his back met the door, and then slowly slid down, sitting on the floor.

Harry had been stunned into silence, still looking at the boy. He couldn't say he understood every little thing the boy had said, but he had gotten the grasp of it. Finally, Edward had his eyes full of unshed tears, being able to stop crying. He furiously cleaned them with his arm for the last time and simply stood there, looking at the man sitting on the floor.

Seconds and minutes seemed to pass slowly as neither of the three spoke. They didn't even move. You could drop a pin and the sound would probably echo in the room. Eventually, though, Sirius lowered his hands and showed them his face, wet with tears. His face showed a hurricane of emotions: sadness, despair, fear, loneliness, desperation, and, as strange and antagonizing as it may seem, hope.

"You..." His voice was husky when he finally managed to speak, looking at Edward. "You can... really talk to James?"

The blond boy nodded. "And see him as well." He said. "He is here. I think he will..." Edward looked a little over Sirius. "He will put his hand on your shoulder now."

Harry saw as Sirius' body stiffened, his mouth gaping in surprise. His face flooded with happiness as a tear escaped his left eye. He put his hand on his right shoulder, but didn't feel the hand there anymore. He could still feel the heat, though.

Suddenly, Sirius' face contorted with pain as he started to cry. "P-Prongs." he stuttered. His voice was pained again and he closed his wet eyes shut. "I-I'm so sorry, Prongs..." He sobbed. He covered his face with both his hands as his body shook with his strong sobs that resounded through the room.

Harry was shocked. What could he do? Should he comfort the murderer? His father's friend and his own godfather?

"Sirius, James is telling you to stop doing that." Edward said, trying to make himself heard by raising his voice, but to no avail. "Sirius, James is saying you should snap out of it." Nothing, Sirius still cried copiously. Edward's gaze snapped out of Sirius to a point not to far from the man's right. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to slap him!"

Harry finally decided what he had to do. Using his gryffindor courage, he went up to the man and shook his shoulder strongly. Sirius winced but lowered his hand to look at Harry.

"Listen." Harry said, as he felt his face get red. "I know this is crazy, but listen to him!" Sirius sat there, looking at Harry's face, his mouth gaped. His tears were still falling and his breathing was still deep and loud, but he no longer sobbed.

"James is telling you not to dare blaming yourself." Edward said, his voice barely a whisper. "He says Lily and he decided to change secret keepers, it's not your fault. You would never know the rat was a spy." Sirius kept staring at the boy until he lowered his head without saying anything.

"What the FUCK is going on?" Harry finally lost it, his temper getting the best of him. Sirius and Edward snapped their heads to Harry's direction, both of them startled. "Will you fucking tell me what you two are talking about? Bloody hell." Harry's face was red in anger, he felt like steam would come out of his ears. Much to his displeasure, Sirius chuckled lightly, albeit not very humouredly. The boy seemed scandalized.

"You have your mother's temper, Harry." Upon seeing Harry swell like a balloon in fury, Sirius rapidly continued. "Okay, okay. Your father and I were basically brothers. We even lived together before he got married. And then you came along, and James and Lily decided that I was to be your godfather." Sirius sighed. A shadow covered his face again. "Then, James and Lily discovered that Voldemort had targeted them and they decided to go into hiding." Harry waited. He knew this part of the story.

"They decided to use an old kind of magic, for their own protection, the Fidelius Charm." Edward's reaction showed he knew what that was- for sure James had told him. Harry's, on the other hand, showed curiosity. Sirius stood up and went to sit on the bed, next to where Edward was sitting himself. Harry wondered when the boy had sat, as he had not seen it. "It works like this, you use the charm to secretly hide something, a place normally- in this case, the house where you lived. And then, you trust this secret to someone." Harry only nodded, still standing in the middle of the room. Sirius sighed and continued the story, looking deep into Harry's eyes.

"Because of the charm, Harry, the 'secret keeper', that is, the person who has the secret, is the only person who can tell other people where the hidden thing is. At first, I was your family's secret keeper." Sirius' face writhed as if he were in pain. "That means that nobody could get to you if I didn't tell them where you were." Harry looked startled. Does that mean...?

"But then, I had this awesome idea." Sirius' voice dripped sarcasm. His eyes bore more sadness than Harry had ever seen in someone's eye in his whole life. "I suggested we changed secret keepers." He added, bitterly.

"If you were d-dad's best friend, why would you suggest it?" Harry asked, harshly. Sirius grimaced.

"It was a stupid idea, really." He said, darkly. "I was an easy target, everybody knew I was James' best friend, so evereybody knew I would be his secret keeper."

"He thought he could buy Lily and James some time. If he were attacked, your parents would know they were getting close." Edward chirped.

"That's exactly what I said to James." Sirius said, with a sad, small smile on his lips. The blond boy just nodded.

"Yeah, he told me." He whispered.

"So we decided to use Pettigrew instead." Sirius sobered up a little. "Of course, you know everything about him-"

"Sorry, no." Harry interrupted, shrugging. Sirius looked at him shocked, scratching his head.

"Sorry, I forgot you didn't..." Harry just looked back at Sirius, who cleared his throat. "When we were studying at Hogwarts, we created a small group called 'Marauders'. Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin." Harry seemed shocked, but he didn't say anything. "We were the best of friends, never one without the other. We were very close, but your father and I were even more. We pranked people, we had fun, always together." Sirius' eyes shone with glee, and his stare, previously on Harry, seemed to lose focus while he reminisced his good old times. Harry couldn't keep himself from seeing that his godfather's eyes were still somewhat sad, haunted by the effects of the Wizarding prison. Harry shuddered, he couldn't even imagine how bad it was.

"So, yes, when we decided to change secret keepers, I suggested Peter." Sirius' face formed a scowl. "Big mistake that was. He betrayed your parents and you, giving the location to Voldemort." Nobody flinched, not even Edward. "After... that, I found the traitorous rat. I wanted to make him pay, I wanted to make him suffer. Hell, I wanted to kill him." Fury was back, full force, to Sirius Black. He stood up from the bed and started pacing around the small bedroom. His rant continued.

"When I finally managed to find him, he accused ME of betraying James and Lily, and blew himself up along with almost all the muggles on that street. Of course, nothing happened to him, he just cut his finger and escaped as a rat, but he did kill all those muggles." Sirius growled, not very differently from the way he did when he was Padfoot.

Harry was confused. Escaped as a rat? Before he asked, though, Edward answered his question. Or rather, 'someone else' did.

"Harry, your father and his friends became animagi. Peter became a rat, while Sirius becomes a dog and your father, a stag." He said with his thin voice. Sirius looked amused and sad at the same time, staring with wonder at the boy. Harry nodded and moved so to sit on the bed, on the exact same spot Sirius had been sat.

"So you were blamed, while he was the culprit?" Harry asked, unsure. As he saw both Sirius and Edward nod, he held his head on his hands. He sincerely wanted to put his head between his legs. All that information was swimming inside his head uncontrollably. So his family had been betrayed by one of his dad's friends? He had a godfather? Remus Lupin was his father's friend? "So. Professor Lupin was my father's friend?"

Sirius smirked surprised. "Remus is teaching?" Edward chuckled as Sirius cackled upon seeing Harry's nod. "Yes, he was one of your father's best friends." Sirius said, fondly. But then, his face filled itself with sadness once more. "And we wronged him terribly."

For some seconds, there was silence in the room.

"Harry." Edward said. He was looking at Sirius intently, as if waiting for something. "There's something you should know about Pettigrew." Comprehension seemed to down on Sirius as he nodded rapidly, taking over.

"Yes, I was wondering if... J-James saw it too." Sirius said, risking a glance at Edward. The little boy nodded, which just increased Harry's curiosity. "So, like the little tyke here explained, Worm- Pettigrew can transform himself into a rat."

Harry didn't know what that had to do with anything. It's not like he wouldn't notice a rat coming to his direction, right? He surely was used to spiders, because of his cupboard at home, but rats? He didn't even remember the last time he saw one. Oh, other than- Harry's eyes widened.

"Scabbers?" Harry shouted, desperately. Edward nodded while Sirius growled.

Ron had been sleeping with a murderer all these years? Sirius must have misunderstood Harry's worry, as he squeezed himself between the boys on the bed and put his arm on Harry's shoulders. Harry stiffened a bit, but soon relaxed.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll catch him, I promise." His godfather said.

"No, Sirius." Harry said, thoughtful. "My friend's cat killed it some days ago." Sirius snorted.

"The big orange, half kneazle cat?" Harry nodded. "No, Harry, the rat just did the same thing he did to me. He pretended he had been killed and disappeared. I've been contacting the orange cat. I asked it to bring the rat to me. Of course, the intelligent cat realized it wasn't a rat, and that I wasn't a dog either." Sirius said.

So it was not Crookshanks' fault? Nothing had happened to Scabbers? No, scratch that, to Pettigrew? He had to tell that to Ron! He had to warn him!

As if sensing what Harry was thinking, Sirius continued. "Harry, I know this isn't nice, but you can't tell anybody about this. If the rat discovers you know, he might try to do something bad to you or to your friends." Sirius said, matter-of-factly. After a few seconds, Harry nodded. It wasn't ideal, but he understood his godfather's reasoning.

Edward yawned. Suddenly, Harry realized how tired he was. With a glance at his watch, he almost fainted. Sun was going to rise in less the two hours! He jumped from the bed, and Sirius stood as well.

"So..." Harry asked nervously. "Where are you staying?"

Sirius scratched the back of his head. "I've been sleeping here, so far." Harry looked around. He remembered he had no clue where he was. As if he could read his godson's mid, Sirius chuckled. "This is a small shack built while I was at Hogwarts. There is a secret passage to it under the Whooping Willow." Harry simply nodded. Of all the weird things he heard, this was not nearly the strangest.

"I've been sleeping on a secret room near the kitchen." Edward said, which made Sirius laugh.

"Oh, yes, I remember that one. We discovered it barely weeks before finishing Hogwarts. It was a pity, it was the perfect place to hide with food and party." Sirius said, still smiling.

"S-sir?" Edward said, which turned Sirius attention to him. "Mr. Po- James is telling me to s-stay here w-with you. Is that okay?" the blond boy said, fearfully.

Sirius chuckled. "Of course. I think it's excellent!" Sirius replied. Edward exhaled loudly and smiled, earning a smile back from the man. "You can have the bed." Sirius sobered up a little. "I like to sleep as Pad-as a dog, as I tend to have fewer nightmares..." Sirius trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

Harry decided he couldn't stay up anymore (or he told himself that, the real reason why was that he had far too much information inside his head already to keep on talking to the other two), so he bid his newly found godfather and the boy goodbye, and left the room quickly. It took him to a narrow tunnel that started with stairs and finished just under the Whooping Willow. It was then that it occurred to Harry that he had no idea how to get past the big tree without getting hurt.

"Hey!" Harry almost jumped out of his shoes. His heart beating fast inside his chest, he frowned when he saw a laughing Sirius next to him. "I thought you didn't know how to get out." Sirius then showed the knot and how to immobilize the tree. As he finished explaining, there was silence between them. "I have to be sincere, it was your father who asked Edward to ask me to come and show this to you." He chuckled humourlessly. "It will take a while to get used to this." Sirius said, quietly.

Harry nodded. He missed his father (and his mother, obviously) every single day, of course, but he understood it must be harder to lose a person you actually knew, principally your best friend. He couldn't even imagine losing Ron and Hermione, and he hadn't spent nearly as much time with them as Sirius had spent with his father.

"Harry, listen." Sirius said. Harry saw he was indeed serious, no pun there, so he just stared back at his godfather. "One day, we will find the rat." Sirius' face became a scowl. "Then, I will be free. So I was wondering..." Harry could feel how nervous Sirius was. The man wasn't even looking in his eyes. "that maybe, if you wanted, of course, you... would like to come live with me?" Sirius continued, basically spitting out the last part.

Harry stared into those big, expectant grey eyes for some seconds. This 'time' was misinterpreted by his godfather, as he started lowering his gaze, hurt evident in his face. Without thinking, Harry jumped onto Sirius and hugged him tightly. He barely knew the guy, he had spent about an hour talking to him, but still. He felt Sirius stiff, but his response was almost immediate. He enveloped his godson with his arms and held him there, as tight as possible. It was, without a doubt, the best hug Harry had ever given or received. It was warm, and he felt loved and safe there.

"I'm so sorry." Sirius breathed on the top of his head. "I'm so sorry I haven't been around. But I promise you I'll never let you go again." Harry felt the hot sting on the back of his eyes, and even though he tried to hold, he started crying silently.

After a long time, they parted ways, both of them discreetly drying their eyes with their fingers. They looked at each other again and smiled before Harry left the tunnel to return to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

The following weeks saw a very much happier Harry Potter. Not only was he happier, but he was way less willing to spend his time brooding - which was a huge difference if compared to the previous weeks.

Harry chatted, laughed, joked, and even seemed to find a new interest in pranking people, as one day he decided to prank Ron by waking him up using a bubble filled with freezing water. He spent time with Hermione, but while the girl studied, Harry smiled and whistled (it goes without saying that the bushy-haired girl had sent him running away from the library for being noisy while she studied). He talked to Seamus, Dean and Ron, showing them a funny, relaxed Harry they had never seen before.

But the most interesting change in him was that now Harry happily participated in every class, anxious to work and show his professors how capable he was. He no longer sat as far away from the front of the classroom as possible. He didn't spend their classes daydreaming or drawing shapes on his books. He listened intently, took thorough notes, and eagerly participated.

One of the biggest changes was how he approached Professor McGonagall's classes. Though Harry was never an undisciplined student per se, he was not to be considered studious either, and, being transfiguration as hard as it was, Harry, along with Ron, Neville and quite a few other students, gave up pretty quickly. They normally weren't able to perform whichever magic their professor wanted them to try, and they didn't even seem to care about it.

Now, though, things were completely different. Harry was the first to enter class. He wrote down every single word the professor said. He wouldn't stop trying to master the spell until he did it effectively. And, for once, he was actually doing his homework and, apparently, doing research.

"So, who can tell me what the Lapifors spell is?" Professor McGonagall asked, in one of those classes. Not very surprisingly, Hermione's hand started going up. Very surprisingly (in fact, totally unprecedently) Harry's hand shot up first. All students had their eyes wide, impressed that the boy had even been faster than the Gryffindor know-it-all. Hermione was so shocked she forgot what she was doing and left her hand there, halfway up, as if she was about to scratch her ear or something.

"Oh... Hum..." McGonagall herself seemed a bit lost for a second before straightening herself up again, covering her surprised face with a stern one. "Alright, Mr. Potter, could you explain it to your friends, then?"

"Lapifors is a transfiguration spell that can be used to transform the target into a rabbit; It works best on smaller artefacts such as statues and other small animals." Harry said, his voice sounding very much like Hermione's, sounding much like a quote from a book. But he didn't stop there. "This way." Harry said, taking out his wand and saying 'Lapifors!' once he pointed at the book before him. Slowly, but fluidly, the book transformed itself into a rabbit. It wasn't perfect, as the rabbit's white fur had black letters on it, but it was way more than Harry normally achieved during his last two years of transfiguration classes, on what seemed to be his first try. Harry frowned, apparently unhappy with the result.

To say the other students were surprised would be the understatement of the month. Every single one of them (Gryffindor or Ravenclaw) had their mouths agape. Hermione and Ron were even worse, their eyes as big as saucers. It wasn't as if they didn't believe their friend to be a competent wizard, it's just, after a bit more than two years having classes with Harry, it was the first time he had deliberately answered a question and shown how to do the spell (almost perfectly on the first try, by the way, and in transfiguration, something nobody, not even Hermione, could do) without being asked. As cliché as it may sound, they would probably have asked 'who are you and what have you done to my friend', if they had had the chance.

McGonagall was also very surprised, for the same reason as the other students. Harry wasn't exactly bad, but she often worried if the boy would manage to get an E when doing his O.W.L.s so he could continue with her in his last two years. She shook off her surprise quickly, though, and clapped loudly once, startling every student in class. She beamed with a smile the students had never seen before (even her rare smiles towards Hermione were stern and quick).

"Excellent work, Mr. Potter!" She said, struggling to get back to her normal serious self, angry with the smile that insisted on staying on her face. "20 points for Gryffindor for an excellent demonstration and perfect definition." She said, and seemed to stop to think about something, still staring at the Boy Who Lived. Harry smiled at her, his face happy and his eyes shining, so much differently than with the sadness that normally filled them. The experienced professor would normally never react this way, but the boy looked so much like him. Minerva McGonagall couldn't control herself anymore, so she threw all her caution and severity out the window and said: "Your father would be extremely proud." And turned so as to start writing on the chalkboard.

She didn't see the boy with such a big smile that it seemed his face was about to split in half, his eyes filled with unshed tears of pride and happiness. The students didn't see the stern teacher going through the exact same thing while she conveniently faced the board.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Another class that Harry also started focusing very much on was Professor Lupin's. During every Defence class, Harry absorbed every single word that the professor said, with an expression akin to admiration. He also participated and tried his best to be able to show his worth.

The difference here was that Harry didn't try as hard to be the one to answer the questions asked by professor Lupin. He did raise his hand more often than not, but he didn't seem that much eager to answer (if compared to their transfiguration classes), nor did he try to master everything at the first try. On the other hand, he made a barrage of questions every single class, and they were very weird sometimes.

Third years studied lots of dark creatures in Defence, and that's the reason why they were learning about Crupes that day. Even though they were not exactly considered dark creatures, they were used as weapons by purebloods to attack muggles, many times being magically altered to be more vicious and fearsome. Because of this, they were normally covered in DADA books.

"Although muggles are not aware of the existence of Crupes, principally because it is necessary to cut their second tail," Professor Lupin was explaining. "there are many stories regarding ferocious crupes in the muggle credences. Is anybody here able to elaborate?"

Not many hands were up, but this time Harry eagerly raised his, beating even Hermione on being the first to raise it. Professor Lupin couldn't help but smile warmly. 'His mother would be so proud', he thought. It was a pity that thinking about Lily left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Mr. Potter." He said, pointing at the messy-haired boy who looked so much like his best friend, trying to keep his smile from becoming a grimace.

"Muggles started to believe in something called Hellhounds. They are believed to be canines created by the devil to carry souls to hell." Harry said, a bit too enthusiastically for such a grim topic.

"Exactly, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor. So, when..." Professor Lupin was cut from his speech when Harry's hand shot up once more. The whole class seemed to be stunned, as nobody interrupted the new DADA professor while he was speaking. Remus' shock only grew when he saw the malicious grin and mischievous spark in Harry's eyes. He looked so much like his father that the werewolf's heart seemed to constrict painfully.

"Mr. Potter," He said, encouraging the boy to speak.

"Professor," the boy's smirk grew at the same rate that the pain in the professor's heart. "I believe that people would be very frightened if they saw a crupe and a grim fighting, wouldn't they?"

Remus' eyes widened so much they seemed to be about to fall off his face. The professor spluttered, trying to say something, but he couldn't form a coherent sentence to actually say something meaningful.

"W-what... Uh-err. I-I mean..." The poor professor could control his stuttering before he stopped and cleared his throat, then swallowing painfully. "Mr. Potter, what do you mean?" Harry chortled.

"Well, it would be a shock for sure." He looked thoughtful. "I don't know if grims exist, but I think a large black dog would do the trick."

Professor Remus Lupin didn't, or better, couldn't say anything to that, so he continued his class. He had never stuttered so much before, though, and his furtive glances towards the Boy-who-lived were noticed by all students.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

"And then I said 'a large black dog would do the trick'." Harry said, as he, Edward and Sirius roared with laughter. It was another evening that Harry spent with his godfather and Edward, talking about his parents' time during Hogwarts. Generally, Harry told Ron and Hermione that he would skip dinner to train Quidditch. Hermione's lack of interest on the sport and Ron's vast interest on food kept them from coming to see Harry.

He was thankful he hadn't told them what had happened, so he only had to convince Hermione that he would eat something before going to bed and she let him go. Then, Harry would go to the kitchen (Sirius had taught him how to get there) and ask the elves to pack as much food as he could carry. He would take it all to the Shrieking Shack (under his invisibility cloak, the tree didn't even twitch when he entered the tunnel) and have dinner with the other two. He wanted to do that every single day, but his godfather (and father, according to Edward) thought it wasn't a good idea, so Harry had to force himself to go only twice during the week and once during the weekend.

"That was one of the best pranks we had in our fourth year. James took photos of me fighting my mother's crupe and we distributed them labelled as 'Crupe versus Grim'." Sirius said, his beautiful face full of glee as he laughed. He didn't look as haunted as he had when Harry met him. Apparently, his, Edward's and, to some extend, his father's presences were slowly recovering him from the terrors he had to live during twelve years in Azkaban.

"James says it was the last time his mother gave him a spanking, even if he was almost 15." The three laughed hard again.

"I didn't know pranking was so cool." Harry said, still giggling. "I used some of your ideas on the other boys, and they still don't know what hit them." Harry, Edward and Sirius laughed, Sirius' bark-like laugh a tad louder than the boys'.

Harry couldn't get enough of the stories Sirius and Edward told about the Marauders, a group formed by his father, his godfather and two more friends. Harry had been very surprised that professor Lupin had been one of his parents' best friends. He tried not to feel too hurt that his favorite teacher hadn't told him of his friendship with his parents, but sometimes he really wanted to say something to him. He resigned himself to give gigantic tips that he knew, so as to try to make his professor admit it. He had fun with his reactions, but Remus had yet to admit anything.

Sadly, their fourth friend turned out to be a traitorous rat who had sold his family to Voldemort and made his godfather rot in Azkaban for all those years. The name Peter Pettigrew became taboo the moment after Sirius told the two boys of what had happened. He hadn't gone into details, as at times he started screaming himself hoarse and cry inconsolably when he thought of the rat and the night when he had 'lost everything he had ever loved', as he put it. He would then apologize profusely, claiming he loved Harry and Remus (he even had the consideration of saying he loved Edward too, which made the little boy blush furiously with a big smile), but eventually the story was told, and they had silently agreed that they wouldn't talk about those events, nor would they talk about 'it', as they refered to the rat.

Sirius and James agreed with Hermione when Harry told them the supposed demise of 'it' as Scabbers, saying that 'it' had already faked 'its' death once, so it was very possible that 'it' would try again. Sirius, Edward and James kept trying to find 'it', and Harry had invented stories so that his friends would hand him 'it' if 'it' was found. To Hermione, he said that he would give 'it' back to Ron so she didn't have to talk to him. To Ron, he said that he would keep 'it' safe, as Crookshanks thought 'it' lived with Ron, and not with Harry. Despite their efforts, though, 'it' had yet to be found.

"So, Harry, tell your old godfather, how are classes?" Sirius asked him as the laughter from Harry's prank on Lupin faded. His godfather feigned trying to look serious, but the boys only laughed.

"My rabbit when I use the lapifors spell isn't perfect yet." Harry said, with a frown. "I spent the past week trying to do it, and I even managed to get some good results, but when I did it in front of the class, the rabbit had letters written all over its fur." His frown tightened. "But I'll continue practicing."

One of the things that Sirius told them was their academic achievements when they were students of Hogwarts. Sirius admitted being good at Transfiguration, but he said he was better at Muggle Studies, the subject the liked the most, and Runes, which he had learned since he was a child, whereas Remus was excellent at Care and Defence, but an expert at History. As he went on and on as how good Lily was at Charms and Potions, and how James had been considered the best student in Transfiguration and DADA, while also being fantastic at Charms and the best at Potions (Edward said James was blushing and thanking Padfoot, saying he loved him too), Harry's shame only grew bigger.

The past two years of messing around and not paying attention to their classes was killing Harry. Although his father and Sirius liked pranks and jokes and often declared their hatred on homeworks, revising, studying and reading, they secretly studied and did their best to be as good as they could be in class. In the first years, the professors didn't understand what happened; those boys didn't seem too interested in studying at all, but still managed to be top five in every single subject they had ('it' never managed to keep up, though). During their last years, though, their professors seemed to embrace their quirky attitude and accept their supposed natural talent. Lily, on the other hand, never hid the fact that she was studious, being considered by many professors an excellent student as well.

That meant that Harry's less than satisfactory performance was completely opposite of his parents'. That hurt the messy-haired boy. All he had ever wanted was for his parents to be proud of him, but he never realised that grades were also important. After spending one whole day feeling miserable because of that, Harry found a resolve in him. He paid attention to every single word his professors said, he did every single homework he had as soon as he had time, always searching for as much information as possible. He spent a couple of hours every night after he went to bed practicing the charms and the transfiguration he had studied and that he would be studying in the next classes. He really wanted to become a better student at Charms and Transfiguration, as his professors were the same as his parents'. He also wanted to be the best student possible in DADA, as his professor was one of his parents' best friends.

Potions was a sensitive subject. Harry would never be able to active learn anything from Snape, who wasn't, in any way, a good teacher. It pained him, as Sirius had told him his grandfather had been an excellent potioneer, something both James and Lilly had also been as well (in fact, there was a dispute between the two to know who would be better, and Lilly complained,when she almost always lost, it wasn't fair James knew so much about potions because his father had taught him, and not because he had studied). However, being it a class which was mainly practical, and Harry could not practice without the ingredients, and Sirius was never that much interested in Potions, and it was far too complex for James to teach Harry through Edward, there was nothing he could do. Harry studied the books, which improved his results in Potions, but he was still not as proficient as he wanted to be at it.

Maybe Hermione could have taught him, but Harry had decided he was going to be just like his father, a marauder as well. He studied and practiced, but hid himself from the others. He used empty classrooms to work, and he used his cloak to go to the library. He never asked Sirius or Hermione or any of their teachers for help, only showing them what he knew during class, or, in Sirius' case, after the class. And finally, after a couple of week of hard work, his effort was starting to pay off, being recognized by professors and classmates alike. Sadly, Snape refused to accept the change, becoming increasingly unfair when finding reasons to deduce points of Gryffindor despite Harry's visible improvement in class.

"Your father is very proud, Harry." Edward chirped, making Harry smile brightly.

Another surprise to both Harry and Sirius was the little boy Edward. He was extremely shy, reminding Harry constantly of Neville during their first year. Despite that, he was one of the most lively people Harry had ever met, but they could only see this side of the boy after many nights spent together. It was very funny that he got easily excited and ended up doing something embarrassing, which made him close himself out of fear of being reprimanded.

Although both Sirius and Harry (and they believed James also) thought the boy was very courageous, he seemed in constant fear. Sometimes he would stop talking and start trembling, on the verge of crying. He constantly entered in discussions with James (or so Harry and Sirius thought), trying to reassure Harry's father, in no small amount of panic, that 'he was afraid', or that 'they were there to kill'. Sirius once told Harry that, as there was only one bed in the Shack, they shared it, carefully separating some space for each and Sirius sleeping as Padfoot. During the first night, the one in which Harry had met Sirius, Edward started screaming and crying in the middle of the night, and only effectively stopped when Sirius turned back into human and slept holding the boy on his chest with a tight hug. After that, that's how they slept every single night.

"He has always been, since I met him." The boy said, bringing Harry back to the conversation. Sirius eyed the little boy with a happy smile, which Harry returned.

"How did you meet him, Edward?" Harry asked him, realizing he didn't actually know, as they had never bothered to ask him. "Do you see other... people?"

The boy's eyes widened and all colour drained from his face. Sirius frowned.

"Yeah, why don't you tell us about you?" Sirius added, trying to encourage the boy to speak. Edward stood up, fright visible on his actions.

"Edward?" Harry added carefully, standing up as well. "Why don't you talk to us about you a bit?"

The blond boy whispered something that neither of them heard.

"Could you say that again?" Sirius said, being the last to rise from the floor where they were previously sat eating. Edward looked from Harry to Sirius and back to Harry again, fear now evident on his face.

"Edward..." Harry started moving closer the boy, holding a hand to the boy. Edward snapped his head towards the messy-haired boy and yelled at the top of his lungs, swiftly running out of the room.

Both Harry and Sirius were shocked. That was extremely sudden, unexpected and strange. Not to say borderline unbelievable. Their gazes met and they just saw confusion on each other's eyes

Chapter Text

Interlude

Every single person has their own biggest fear, of course. A fear is nothing more than a state of negative anxiety created by a feeling of unprotection and uncertainty. This is why our fears are generally based on our own lack of knowledge regarding something or another.

For example, if you tell a child that a Horklump, one of the most inoffensive pests in our world, likes to eat the nose of kids during the night, it is very possible that this child will become afraid of being attacked by a Horklump during the night. Children don't know that Horklumps don't eat human flesh, and that they move so slowly that, if they were to attack a wizard while they were sleeping, they would take days just to climb their bed.

Lots of witches and wizards became afraid of Lord Voldemort solely because of the stories that were told. Please, don't fool yourself, Lord Voldemort really is a monster whose techniques of killing and torturing really should create this fear on people. The thing is, most of those witches and wizards are scared because they don't really understand Lord Voldemort. They do not know what the Dark Lord would do to them if they ever crossed ways. There were many stories about how Voldemort tortured and killed people. So many of them were very far-fetched and unbelievable, and yet bodies often showed up to prove at least some of those stories were real, and that's why people's fear grew. Nobody knew what was and what wasn't real, and that was the most disturbing fact regarding Voldemort.

Considering all this, some might say fear is nothing more than our own insecurities, most of the times worsened by our ignorance concerning them, blown out of proportion. And that's quite right for the great majority of people. We feel weakened by the fact that we don't understand something, it gives us a feeling of impotence, because we don't know how to fight it, or we fail to see something we can do about it. Or, even worse, we sincerely believe that there is absolutely nothing that we can do about it.

When he discovered the thing he feared the most, Edward Gutermuth was only 6 years old. A child, in all normal senses of if.

Edward lived with his mother, Hanna, in a wizarding town in the region of Bavaria, in Germany. It was a very small town, in which everybody knew everybody, and people often met each other to chat about their dull routines. It was not too far from Munich, so those wizards who needed something generally went to the city to buy it. That means that the wizarding town had only a small pub and houses, and it probably wasn't going to grow any soon.

Hanna Gutermuth loved that nameless town. It was cosy and familiar, and she felt safe. Safer than she had felt anywhere else, by the way. She was a petit witch who, albeit not very strong magically nor beautiful, was kind and lovely to everybody, and she had this aura of mystery that attracted others. People enjoyed her presence, avid to get closer to her, to get to know her better, but she never let them in. Thankfully, the people from their small community accepted her and still cherished her presence, even if they didn't know anything about her past and about her family, even if she didn't let them in. She had learnt the reasons why it was not good to let anyone in.

Hanna did not have a family. Of course one day she had had one, but a series of mistakes had made her lose them all. Soon after she was done with her magical studies in a tiny German school for girls, she met Andrej.

Andrej was a dream of a man, a prince charming really. Broad shoulders, a beautiful, strong face. People loved him as much as they loved Hanna. Andrej was passionate and an avid Quidditch player, but he was also silent and his sad blue eyes begged for someone to listen, someone to care, someone to cuddle him. Hanna was only 20 years old, and she was immediately drawn to him. Who wouldn't? And thankfully, he fell for her almost as fast. They had a torrid romance, and soon enough, she became pregnant. Sadly, German wizards were rather conservative when it comes to relationships. Hanna's family demanded she married at once, and Andrej's family was only happy to oblige.

Hanna, on the other hand, didn't accept it. She liked Andrej, he was her best friend. He was a good guy, and he would probably be an excellent father. She knew all the girls her age envied her for having his love, but she couldn't return it the way she initially thought she could. She couldn't love him as a man, simply because she couldn't love him as he was a man. She knew she was different, she knew her interests were rather... unusual and unaccepted in that outdated town.

So she left. She left behind her family, her friends and a broken heart. She didn't listen when Andrej asked, begged really, for her to reconsider. He begged her to stay or to take him with her. He begged her to let him raise his child with her, telling her she could 'lay with whoever she pleased', but she wouldn't hear it. He told her there were circumstances she wasn't aware of, but she still left.

She then established herself in that quaint town, and that's where she had her beautiful baby Ed. She loved him more than she had ever loved anybody. She loved him more than her family, more than Andrej and more than Karla, the plumpy brunette (who slightly resembled a cute frog) with whom she chose to spend the rest of her life.

At first, Edward was a happy, curious kid. He loved exploring the woods, listening to Karla's stories from the time she studied in Scotland. He soon learned both German and English, often mistaking one for the other.

"No, love, it's broomstick." Hanna would say, with her heavy accent, every time a 5 year-old Ed insisted on saying 'broomstiel'.

Eventually, though, not long after the boy was walking and talking, he started getting afraid of staying away from his mother. He cried, afraid of monsters Hanna couldn't even really comprehend. He pointed at empty spots whenever Hanna or Karla asked him to show them the monster, and if they got at least close to that place, Edward would scream his head off in desperation.

Strange things started happening in their little wooden cottage. Objects fell, food spoilt far too fast and furniture moved. At first, both Hanna and Karla dismissed it all thinking it was a ghost who, for some reason, had decided to keep themself hidden from them. After a while, though, things started getting more violent and Edward started getting more desperate. And finally things started getting out of hand. Edward didn't sleep more than a couple of hours each night, and strange scratches started appearing on the little boy in the morning. It was then that the couple of young women decided they needed help.

There were no healers in their town. If people needed medical care, they went to Munich, and that's what Karla was set on doing. However, Hanna was against the idea, afraid her little son would be diagnosed with a mental problem and held at the hospital, away from her. Instead, she decided to take the boy to an old retired Mediwitch called Frau Pech.

Frau Pech lived alone in a secluded area of the woods, and she was rarely seen anywhere outside her little hut. Still, despite her name and its meaning, she was considered wise and was well liked in their community, principally for her knowledge on medical conditions. It was said that, for many years prior to Hanna's arrival, Frau Pech alone healed every single person in their little village, from conditions ranging from Dragonpox to risky pregnancies. Sadly, though, as she neared the completion of her second century of existence (a fact that was hidden from the Ministry as a means to protect the old woman's privacy), it became far too hard for her to yield such magic. It was then that the people started to go to Munich for medical attention, but Frau Pech was still sought for her immense knowledge.

"Oh, my..." As soon as Hanna finished explaining what was happening to young Edward, Frau Pech's eyes widened and she looked at the little boy with a sorrowful look. Edward remembered looking deep into the old woman's blue eyes, long taken by cataract, and thinking how restless her image was. He saw a light covering her, irradiating from her skin. It wasn't beautiful, though, but rather unsettling, as this light shimmered on and off, strong and weak.

Eventually, Frau Pech broke their eye contact. She stood up weakly, with the help of Karla, and slowly walked to an old bookcase not too far from the kitchen table (her hut had only one main room). She reached for a book on the highest shelf and slowly took it, her hands shaking because of the heaviness of the book and of her own years. She opened it with the skill that only experience can give. Even if Edward himself was still learning to read, he knew that that book had another kind of language, one whose symbols made no sense to him and to his mothers.

Frau Pech sat down on the worn out armchair that urgently needed reupholstering and spent the next minutes absorbed by whatever story that was in the book.

"Ghost Visperrerr." she finally said, softly, lifting her head to look at the couple in front of her. Although her eyes were fixed on the two girls, it was clear that her focus was elsewhere.

"Excuse me, but, could you repeat that?" Karla asked, believing the old woman's thick accent had somehow made her misunderstand what she had said.

"Interprespiritus," Frau Pech said. "Zey arr known as Ghost Visperrerr in yourr language."

Hanna and Karla looked at each other, but soon they gave their attention back to Frau Pech. "Ghost Whisperer, Frau Pech?" Hanna asked. The old woman immediately nodded. "I'm afraid I haven't heard of them before." She said, looking at Karla, who nodded in agreement.

"It's rarre. Interprespiritus is ze name zey werr given." And so Frau Pech explained to the young couple everything that she knew about Ghost Whisperers, which wasn't much, mind you, as she told them there had been very few of them who actually made themselves known to possess such power. She told them how her grandmother had explained to her what they were, also telling her all about different and rare abilities very few wizards had. Her grandmother had given her that very book which had lots of stories regarding people with special abilities, such as Parselmouths, Animagi (considering not every one manages to become one), Metamorphmagi, Glühenfolk (wizards who could shiny brightly at will) and Materiamorphmagi (wizards who can transform themselves into objects at will, without the need of a wand or a potion). Sadly, though, Frau Pech informed them that there was only one paragraph about Ghost Whisperers in the book, and that paragraph only dismissed their existence.

"But wait a minute," Karla said as Frau Pech finished speaking. "If the book says they don't exist, why do you believe this is Edward's... Er, condition?"

"Because my Großmutter told me zey do." the old woman stated simply. "She told me storries about ze time ven she vas just a vee girl. Ein Mädchen. She met one of zem." She then turned to the little boy looking at her with wide eyes. She smiled at him tenderly. "Do you see a light arounz me, Kerlchen?"

Little Edward stared at her for a couple of seconds, and then turned to his mother. Upon her smile for support, he looked back to the old woman and nodded. Frau Pech's smile grew.

"Finally." She said with a sigh.

"What does it mean?" Karla asked, not liking the eerie feeling this conversation was getting.

"You vill know soon enough. But zis confirms my opinion."

"I don't understand." Hanna asked, trying not to get too desperate. "I've seen ghosts before, we all can see! If he can see ghosts, isn't it the same of us? Isn't he just a wizard?" Karla reached her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, but both of them were far too worked up to just calm down.

"Nein, mein liebchen." Frau Pech said as gently as possible. "Ze name in English is not accurrate for he doesn't see ghosts. He sees spirrits." She then grabbed her wand and, with a swish, she made a small doll made of pure light which hovered between them. "Zerre are 3 states of ze human existence. Ze first one is ze body. Ze physical aspect." She shook her wand lightly, effectively spliting the doll in two. One of them didn't change at all, while the other shone considerably weaker. "Zen, zerre is ze soul, ze second aspect. Only vizards can see ze soul, Muggel cannot." She finally gave a last twist of her wand, creating a third light-made doll. This one was significantly lighter, making it difficult to see if not too close to it. "And in ze end, ze spirrit. Ze verry essence of ze person. Muggel and vizards in general cannot see ze spirrit. Zat's vhat ze little one can see."

"I didn't know that there was something else other than the soul." Karla said, thoughtful. Frau Pech smiled, but Hanna, far too worried because of the recent discovery, didn't even seem to listen.

"What do we do, then?" she asked, her voice an octave higher with fright. "How do you stop this?"

"Ve don't, my dear." the old lady said, looking at Edward's mother with pity. "Ze spirits he sees arr zose of people who died, leaving behind unfinished buznez, and need a guide. He is zis guide. He needs to help zem move on."

It wasn't long before the conversation ended. Both mothers were exhausted and worried for their little child, but they were grateful for the help they had received. The mediwich even gave them the page of the book that had the information on Edward's condition, even if they couldn't read it. The boy kept staring at Frau Pech even as they bid their farewells and left the house. Before they actually left, though, Frau Pech stopped them with a warning.

She said: "Be careful. Spirits zat stay behind far too long wizout zeir soul and worried about zeir unfinished buznez lose zemselves into zeir grief. Zen, zey lose zeir human side, and become monsters." She then entered her hut, closing the door behind her.

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This is when Edward's life entered a rather unpleasant road. Mere days after their visit to Frau Pech, news came that the old mediwitch had been found dead in her little hut. Apparently, she went to bed one night and didn't wake up at all on the following day. Both girls felt that whatever glow their little boy had seen around the matron had something to do with her death, but they were so scared that they didn't address the topic, not even when it was just the two of them. In fact, anything remotely similar to ghosts and spirits had become taboo inside their home.

Sadly, Edward's fears and scaredy reactions were only intensifying over time. He cried for hours, asking his mothers to "make the shiny booboo" go away. He always ended up wetting his bed, even if he was almost six by then and both Hanna and Karla made sure that he went to the toilet before going to bed. The scratches and lashes only got worse, making it clear that he couldn't be doing that to himself. He talked about monsters, begging Hanna and Karla to do something.

It was when both young ladies thought that they couldn't handle it any longer that things started getting way out of hand. Strange things, weird things that even in a Wizarding household wouldn't be considered normal. Things fell in empty rooms, windows shattered without being touched by anything or anybody and sounds could be heard even if there was nobody in it.

While Karla was preparing lunch once, a knife fell barely inches from her foot. As Hanna was taking a bath a couple of days later, while Karla took Edward to the market, she felt somebody holding her head under the water, almost drowning her. Edward cried and cried every single minute he spent inside the house. He didn't eat and he didn't sleep. Hanna and Karla couldn't stay more than seconds away from him, or he would try to escape from the house and go Merlin knows where.

It was then that it finally happened.

It was a somewhat quiet night. Karla had come down with a furious cold and had spent the whole day inside her bedroom resting. Hanna took care of Edward while she prepared some soup for dinner. She heard a dry thud inside the master bedroom, so she ran to it to see what had happened. The only thing she saw was Karla lying on the floor, a pool of blood forming under her head. She didn't see what hit her on her head, and she didn't see the fire from the stove, which had somehow grown enough to reach the ceiling, consuming their cosy little wooden cottage. She didn't see anything at all.

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When Hanna woke up, she felt... weird. She couldn't exactly put her finger on what felt so weird, but she felt... empty. She didn't feel anything, it seemed as if she wasn't even there. With a start, she realized she had been sleeping on the grass area behind her cottage, not too far from the woods. 'Karla is going to kill me' she thought. She couldn't pretend that she didn't like to have a few drinks every now and then, but she had never drunk so much she had forgotten to go back inside. In fact, she didn't remember drinking at all, something that had never happened before either. And where was the splitting headache she always had when she went a little bit too far?

"Mummy?" Her head snapped towards the woods. She would recognize his voice even if was just a whisper, like it had been.

"Edward?" Hanna couldn't help but notice how etherial her voice sounded, as if it weren't coming from inside her, but rather from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She didn't dwell on it though, because she finally saw her little boy, sat with his back on the first tree of the woods, covered in soot. He wasn't crying, but he looked at her with fear, his eyes big as saucers. Something inside her twisted as she approached her son. She had seen that look before, she had seen him look like that a couple of times, but never when he looked at her. Never when he looked at Karla.

Only when he saw those monsters.

"Mein Junge?" she asked, reaching for her son, who visibly recoiled, still looking terrified, staring at her as if she had fangs. "What's wrong, love? Edward? What are you afraid of, son? Please tell mummy, please, Edward, what's going on, love, WHY ARE YOU SHAKING?"

As soon as she shouted, she regretted it, and for completely different reasons. First of all, she never lost control like that, she never screamed at anyone like that. Second, Edward immediately started crying, while his body language showed Hanna that the only thing holding him there was the tree behind him, and the fact that the only way he could run away from her was passing by her side, thus getting closer to her. And third, while she shouted, she felt her face twisting, reshaping, remodeling, as if it was made of air and it couldn't handle such strong reaction. Her vision blurred, she couldn't think straight and it felt like she hadn't been in control at all.

"I'm sorry..." She murmured with the same disturbingly unnatural voice. "I'm sorry, love, mum is a little bit tired, that's all." She was tired, wasn't she? She felt like she could just lie there and sleep for hours, but she couldn't do it. Not when she had a son to take care of, not when she had to take him home. She tried to reach for her son, but Edward just whimpered and hid his face with his tiny hands, still silently crying because of he outburst.

"Please, my baby boy, talk to me," She pleaded, trying to ignore the desperation that was threatening to climb her back. She didn't want to scare Edward, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong, and that she had to take him home, that she had to protect him. She didn't want to, but if he didn't talk to her, she would have to take him inside against his will. He was a silent boy, but he had to talk to her!

"M-mummy is a b-booboo n-now." he finally stuttered, still not looking at her. A booboo? Why would he think she was a booboo?

"I'm not a booboo, honey." She said, kindly. "Look, mummy is here!"

He carefully lowered one of his hands, but as soon as he saw her, he flinched and covered his face again with another whimper. Hanna sighed, standing up. She would have to carry him, then. She couldn't keep on waiting for him to calm down by the woods, as she knew that there were creatures inside those woods.

"Edward!" She turned around rapidly when she heard somebody calling her son. It was Klaus, her neighbor. A good man, as far as she could tell. He was a good friend, principally considering he was one of the only villagers who could speak English fluently. Karla's German was still not that good, so Klaus had become a family friend soon enough. He lived alone since his wife, a woman named Frida, had passed away a whole year before their arrival, and sadly he could barely take care of himself as the claws of depression were still deeply stuck in his soul. He was running towards them, a frightened look on his face.

"Klaus! Edward is-" Hanna started, only to stop when she realized that he was not even looking at her, but at her son sitting by the tree. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn't even seen her. He kept running and Hanna only realized that he wasn't going to stop when it was too late. She closed her eyes waiting for the crash and... nothing. She heard him whisper something to Edward and opened her eyes just to see him lifting her still stressed but visibly less scared son.

"Klaus, Edward is having a tough moment, he-" She started, only to be cut by him.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo." He said, holding him close. Hanna saw that both he and her son were shaking, and, when he turned to face her, she saw that his face was wet with tears.

"Klaus, what's going on? Please, talk-"

Her neighbor didn't even seem to hear her as he walked towards her. She prepared herself, thinking he was going to hug her, but he didn't stop... passing right through her.

She blinked. He had just walked right up to her and passed, as if she hadn't been there at all. She was sure she hadn't imagined it, but still, what...?

She turned around to see Klaus caring her son towards his house, and suddenly she froze in her spot. It was the first time since she had woken up that she had faced her cottage.

Correction, it was the first time that she had faced what had been her cottage.

It was nothing more than a black mess. It had burned down completely, from its pretty white roof to its wooden walls. Everything had become nothing more than ashes and twisted coal. It was obvious that there was nothing left to save, there was nothing left to lose. She approached what had been her home in a trance. She couldn't believe it, she didn't understand how that had happened.

After staring at it for more than ten minutes, she went to the neighbor's house for retrieve her son. She didn't have to go very further, as she soon saw Klaus with her son sleeping on his lap, talking to a woman who lived not too far away that Hanna didn't know very well. They both looked full of sorrow as they talked in German, whispering so as not to wake the boy up.

The topic that they were discussing, though, made Hanna's blood freeze. She tried to call their attention by talking to them, but they didn't hear her. He was explaining to the woman the he had seen Edward's memory. He had seen how she, Hanna, had forgotten the stove on, how their cottage had caught on fire, how Edward had tried to wake his mothers up, how the little boy realized that he had to run away from the house and how she and Karla had been killed by the fire.

Hanna felt dizzy. She had never been so scared in her whole life. Memories of the previous night cam rushing, stumbling upon each other to make her remember everything. She remembered the soup, she remembered seeing Karla lying there and she remembered being hit. 'Mummy is a booboo now'. It finally made sense to her. Actually, it had finally downed on her.

She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. She couldn't breathe and it felt as if there was a hand crushing her insides. She felt herself falling to the ground. She wanted to cry and she wanted to scream, but as this bubble of desperation climbed her throat, it seemed to get stuck there. The world had become a blur, while her ears were about to burst because of a loud noise she didn't know from where it was coming. Her baby was alone. The love of her life was dead.

There was only one thing going around inside her head while she wailed in desperation before she finally blacked out: 'I am dead'

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

When she finally came back to herself, it was night already. She stood up carefully as the events of the day came back rushing to her. Hanna didn't really know what to do. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, and yet she lacked the strength to do either. Her throat constricted as she thought about her Karla, who was nowhere to be seen. All their plans, all their hopes, burnt down as if they were nothing more than straw. Her heart ached as she thought of her son, who had nobody left and still had to deal with being able to see ghosts- she could no longer pretend it wasn't real, could she?

Hanna breathed slowly, trying her hardest to keep her emotions under as much control as possible. She didn't even look at what was left of her cottage. 'What's the point?', she thought. She entered her neighbor's house, praying to whichever deity that her son what there, safe and sound.

It didn't take her long to find him in the kitchen. It was a good thing that they were friends with Klaus, so she knew his house well enough to know the rooms. Klaus was feeding her son, which she knew he didn't need to do, as Edward knew how to eat alone already, but the guy didn't seem to know. Edward really was smaller and thinner than he should, as he barely ate because of all those freaky things that happened to him. He might have been six, but he looked as if he was four, maybe younger.

Her son had his back turned towards the entrance of the room, which sort of relieved Hanna. She really didn't want him to see her and get scared. She wasn't sure what Klaus' reaction would be. A loud knock resounded around the house, and Klaus quickly stood up. It was clear that he had been waiting for someone. He gave Edward a sad smile and used his wand to clean the boy before leaving the room.

Hanna took the opportunity to get to Edward.

"Eddie?" She said, loud enough for the boy to hear. The unnatural sound created by her voice made her cringe, but not nearly as much as when she saw her baby boy stiffen on his chair. She made her way around the table, finally seeing her son's scared face. He eyed her with such a terrified look that she had to resist not to go there and hold him in her arms. The fact that it was her the one who scared him so much simply crushed her heart.

"Hello, love..." She said, with as much kindness as she could put in her voice. Edward seemed about to cry, so she just went on speaking. "I know you are scared, honey, but it is still me, mummy. I love you, mein junge, and I will not do anything bad to you. Mummy is here to help you, love." As she said it, she saw that her son calmed down slightly. He was still afraid, but he wasn't about to cry.

"Mummy is a booboo now." He said, his voice barely a whisper.

"No, l-love, I'm not a g-ghost," She said, trying, and failing, not to stutter, but being called a ghost by her son shocked her deep inside. She thought for a while while she looked at her son and he stared right back at her. "Ich bin eine Fee. I am a fairy. Remember when I read those stories to you? About fairies who help little boys and girls?" She hated lying to her son, but it was the only way that he would trust her. He nodded, hope filling his eyes. She smiled at him, controlling the tears which insided in form in her eyes. "So, my little one, I'm here to help you."

"Mummy!" He said, a tear escaping his eyes as he jumped up and ran at her and hold her legs in a bone-crushing hug. Hanna felt relief flooding inside herself, but sadly it was short lived. She tried to lift her son but found out she could barely lift his thin arms, and even that made her extremely tired. She wasn't complaining, though, at least she could touch her son. She knew she couldn't touch anything more, as she had effectively entered the house throught a closed door.

"Yes, it's me, love." She said, sadly patting his head, no longer being able to hold her tears. It was then that Klaus returned to the kitchen, startling both her and Edward.

The kind man gave him another sad, sorrowful smile. He advanced- passing through Hanna- and knelt in front of Edward.

"Edward, this is Mr. Edmund Leid." Hanna and Edward turned to look at the man who had entered behind Klaus. He was somewhat old, but seemed to be a good person, his face kind and gentle, and a little bit sad. "Edmund is here to take you to your mother's family in England." Both Hanna and Edward started at this. Hanna's family lived in Germany too, she herself had never stepped a foot in England and the only person she knew from there was-

Finally, it downed on her. Karla was Edward's mother too! When she moved to that town, she had already stopped having any contact with her family. She didn't speak about them, so she knew that people didn't even know what their names were. Karla, on the other hand, had become Klaus' friend. Although she wasn't very fond of her family, it was possible that she had mentioned them enough for Klaus to know where to find them.

Upon seeing that Edward didn't react to what he had told him, Klaus continued. "We couldn't contact your aunt, but Mr. Leid will take you there and talk to her, okay?"

Edward turned to look at his mother, who smiled at him to try to tell him that everything was okay. As he turned and nodded to Klaus, Hanna tried to control the gelid fear that climbed her insides. She didn't know Karla's sister, but, as far as she had heard, the woman was far from pleasant. 'Or maybe she isn't', she tried to convince herself. Needless to say, it was in vain.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

It took them a bit more than one day to get there, but they finally arrived at Lavenham, a tiny little village in England where Karla's sister was supposed to live. They managed to find her house quite fast, as everybody seemed to know who the woman was. Much to Hanna's fear, though, they all seemed unpleased to have to talk about the woman.

In the beginning, the conversation didn't go very well. At first, the idea of keeping Karla's partner's son seemed to disgust the woman. Her interest only piqued when Edmund showed her what they had managed to save from Hanna's cottage, which included some of their treasures and gold, which were magically protected from burning. After that, Karla's sister quickly accepted the boy, reassuring Edmund Leid that he would be taken care of and loved as if he were her own. She swiftly thanked him and made him leave. That's when things started going straight down.

Hanna wanted to murder Karla's hag of a sister as she saw her throw her boy in the kitchen, giving him a broom and forcing him to sweep the floor. Edward started crying, but after the horrible woman threatened to punish him, Hanna made him calm down enough so that his tears fell silently.

The following days were terrible to Hanna and Edward. Karla's sister pretended the boy didn't even exist. The only times she actually talked to him was to tell him to do something. She didn't bathe him, she didn't give him any food. Hanna had to teach him how to shower and she had to wake him up during the night so that he went to the kitchen to steal fruit and vegetables from the lowest part of the fridge, the only one Edward could reach.

It was exactly one week after that Karla's sister finished going through the expanded suitcase that held Edward's things.

"Worthless! Everything here is worthless!" She shouted at Edward. "Just like you, your freak of a mother and that bitch that I had to call a sister!"

Edward's eyes filled with tears immediately, but Hanna whispered calming things to him, so as not to give the hag a reason to mistreat him. Sadly, she was not fast enough. As the first tear rolled, the first blow came.

"STOP CRYING!" Karla's sister screamed after slapping Edward's little face, which quickly became bruised. Once more, for the hundredth time that week, Hanna threw herself at the woman, but she just slipped right through her, only managing to make it seem like a soft wind had blown her hair a bit.

Hanna was getting desperate. The food they could steal was ending, and soon enough the hag would find out what Edward had done. That poor excuse of a woman had taken all the gold in the suitcase, so there was nothing for them to buy food with. There were times Hanna got to tired, which made her disappear for some hours, and then her son was left all alone with that horrible woman. Soon, Hanna didn't see any other solution, Edward would have to run away.

That night, though, Hanna's prayers were finally heard. Karla's sister decided that she wouldn't keep the useless boy anymore. The following morning, she took the boy to Godric's Hollow, the closest town with an orphanage, which wasn't exactly an orphanage, but a wizarding family who kept unwanted children for labor. She left the boy and his shrunk suitcase on the porch of the house and disapparated.

Hanna and Edward looked at each other and finally smiled, quickly hugging each other. It might not be a good future, but it surely was better than a future with that woman. It was hard for Hanna to understand that that despicable woman was the older sister of her former lover Karla Umbridge, Dolores.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Even if the elderly couple who ran the 'orphanage' made the young children work, they actually cared about them. They gave them food and took care of them. Edward was, obviously, the youngest of them all. 4 of the 6 children were actually pureblooded squibs who had reached the age of 11 and hadn't gotten their Hogwarts letter. They were then disowned and ended up in these kinds of orphanages, where they would do tasks that did not require magic but wizards still needed.

Being only six and looking as if he were four, Edward didn't have to do much. He made his own bed and helped Mrs. Henn with simple things such as calling the other children and finding missing objects around the house. Mr. and Mrs. Henn and the other 6 children had liked the little, (at first) silent boy almost immediately. The three girls (two of them were squibs, the other one was the fruit of an extraconjugal relationship) doted on the boy, giving him food and taking care of him. The boys (two squibs and an orphan who had no relatives alive) played with him and taught him games. Mr. and Mrs. Henn finished teaching him how to read and write, and how to do simple math.

All in all, after around nine months with them, Edward was finally a bit happier. He had turned seven and he wasn't as afraid as he had been before. He knew he could see ghosts and spirits, and he tried as much as he could not to get near them at all, but he still had his mother around him. She was always there for him, taking care of him.

When Edward became seven, he already knew Godric's Hollow well. It wasn't a big village at all, so it didn't take him long. He knew the church, he knew the stores (one of the girls worked in one of those) and he knew the big houses around the village. One of the things he liked to do the most was run errands to the family, but they barely ever let him do it alone. What they didn't know was that he was never alone, as his mother was always with him. So, when they asked him to do something outside and to find someone to go with him, he did exactly what he was told. They just didn't know it was his mother who went with him.

"Edward," Mrs. Henn called him, days after his birthday. She was always very gentle and nice to him, and he cared deeply for her, but lately, he started seeing her glow a little bit. It was random and it didn't last, but it still scared the boy. He knew that glow, it was the same glow that his mother had. As soon as he entered the old kitchen (the whole house was old), he saw that she was shining again. She had a smile on her elderly face, and she seemed unaware of the light she was emitting. "I need you to go to the greenhouses to ask Karin to come back home, can you do that for me?" Edward nodded. "Thank you dear. And remember, find someone to go with you."

Edward nodded again and left, but not before giving her a sad look. She was still glowing.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Edward was becoming rather talkative, and for that, Hanna was grateful, so she didn't care that he was talking non stop while they went to the greehouses, located on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. Edward loved it there, there were big, beautiful manors there, and the area was relatively calm. Hanna liked it much more because there weren't any 'Earthbound Spirits' (what she called entities like her), while there were some of them downtown, principally close to the church and the cemetery.

Hanna was shocked to discover that she could also see them now, and she finally understood why her son was so afraid of them. They were terrifying! Few, very few of them actually looked human. Some had a decayed look, as if parts of their bodies had rotten. Others had claws and fangs, eyes of monsters and even horns. There was a particularly scary one which had hair all over its face, which was at least twice the size of a normal one. Hanna noted that, as time passed, they became much more like monsters and much less human, and that scared her. Would she become one of them eventually?

The problem was, they seemed to be able to sense that Edward could see them. Every time that her son got less than 20 feet from them, they would see him and follow him. The ones who actually resembled humans would ask Edward to help them, and, sometimes, it was something he could do, such as pick an object from a place and give it to one person, or tell someone something. When Edward managed to do whatever they asked, they apparently moved on, finally completing whatever it was that was their unfinished business.

Sadly, though, there were some who needed things Edward could not provide. One young woman needed to give her widowed husband a son, and there was this old man who wanted to have his manuscript published. When Edward couldn't help them, they attacked, and Hanna had to physically (was it any physical?) stop them as her son fled. Hanna then saw the rest of their humanity slip through their fingers. They became mad, crazy, and she could see their face twisting unnaturally and becoming less human and more feral, more monster-like. They eventually lost the ability to speak, much like the other one which were already monsters, and would immediately attack if they saw Edward again, also like the ones who were already feral.

As they walked through the path to the greenhouses and Edward talked about this and that, Hanna reflected on how much her little boy had improved. It took her months, but she finally managed to convince him to give the human spirits a try and not be so afraid of them. She couldn't help but think how terrible it would have been if she had to live every day in the desperation of not being able to fulfill her unfinished business, which she was pretty sure that it was protecting her son. She often wondered if she would become one of those monsters too, but she tried not to think too much about it.

"Mum?" she turned to see Edward staring at her, having stopped in front of the entrance of a house. "Are you listening?"

"I'm sorry, son, I was just thinking about something else." She said with a smile. Edward huffed, he hated when someone didn't listen to him. He then turned to the house next to them, his face brightening up with a smile of his own.

"Look, mum, it's the ruins!" He said excitedly, running to grab the decayed fence that separated the destroyed house from the road they were on. Hanna looked over the short wall that barely made it to her hips to see the ruins of a cottage.

Of course she knew which cottage that was, every one around there did. The Potter cottage. Edward had asked her to tell him the story many times, and he always loved it. He had always asked her to let him enter the 'ruins', as he called it, but she never let him. She saw the broken upside of the cottage. It was surely not a pretty image, and it held one of the saddest stories of the wizarding world, but Hanna felt a strong happiness when she saw it, as it reminded her of the ending of a dark era. But not this day, though. Upon looking towards the entrance of the ruins, she felt her stomach falling. In front of the house, sat on the porch, there was a man. Or rather, a spirit.

He had messy hair and a white, pale face, common for purebloods. His clothes, much more like pyjamas, were torn, and he wore glasses. He was handsome, but even from that distance, Hanna could see he was crying, his face hid behind his hands. She immediately recognized James Potter.

"Mum, can we go there today? Pretty please?" She heard her son asking but paid him no mind. She made her way through the fence. Edward let out a squeal of delight and swiftly opened the fence to follow her, but froze as soon as he saw the man.

As usual, as soon as Edward got close enough, the man stopped crying and looked at them, startled, his hazel eyes glistering with unshed tears behind his glasses.

Chapter Text

"Edward," The voice was soft and soothing, which would have been nice, if it weren't trying to wake the little blond boy up. "Eddie, come on, wake up, you need to leave. Edward!" The boy felt the poke on his side and heard his name being called, but he just turned around. Why would he wake up so early because of someone calling his name, after all? "EDWARD, WAKE UP!"

A yell to his ear was something different, though. The little boy jumped out of the bed, getting tangled on the single sheet that covered him and falling to the floor... and landing on a big black dog that woke up with a yelp.

Still confused by the way he had been so rudely yelled at while he was sleeping, he stayed on the floor looking everywhere around the room. His eyes finally settled on the man laughing on the floor in the middle of the room. His unruly hair was sticking out as usual and his glasses were threatening to fall from his nose, so hard he was laughing.

"What was that for?" Edward asked, getting red with embarrassment and anger. James Potter managed to control himself well enough to look at the little boy pouting on the floor.

"I've been trying to wake you up for a whole minute!" He said between chuckles. He stopped laughing but kept a grin on his face. "You need to..."

"What happened, Edward?" Sirius' tired voice came from under the bed, exactly where the dog had run to.

"Mr. Potter yelled at me to wake me up." The boy replied, glaring at the hazel eyed man who chuckled again.

"Seriouly, though. Moony is coming, you two have to get out of here." James said happily.

Edward froze, his face full of horror, as Sirius got out from under the bed. The little boy jumped up and looked at Sirius, frightened.

"We need to get out! Mr. Potter said that Moony is coming!" Sirius' eyes widened and he started grabbing everything around that showed that there were people living there. He ordered Edward to open the windows as he prayed God and Merlin not to let Remus smell him inside the shack. Meanwhile, James was having the time of his life seeing the other two running around like two headless cockroaches, looking unabashed under Edward's constant glares.

"Sirius is forgeting the candy wrappers." He sing-sang between chuckles. Edward quickly grabbed the wrappers and shoved them into his pockets.

Sirius was finally done making the bed and they were able to leave the Shack, heading towards Hogsmeade. James stayed behind though, his mirth slowly reducing until it disappeared completely. A full ten minutes later, Remus Lupin opened the door to the room. James followed his friend with his eyes as he looked around the Shack. James had a stony expression as he saw Lupin looking around. He knew Moony well enough to know he wasn't very concentrated. Remus had always been a bit too thoughtful to be considered an observant person. He was good at reading people, but he would never have been a good auror.

James could see how unfocused his eyes were. How he seemed to be far too lost in his own memories to actually see the things that could prove that the Shack had been used. He completely missed the fact that, while most of the flat was very dusty, the area around the bed was way cleaner. He also missed one of the candy wrappers Edward hadn't seen, and James was able to, surreptitiously, and after a lot of concentration, kick under the bed.

"Prongs..." Remus whispered very softly. The Shack was so silent that James was able to hear it, despite the low volume. Listening to Remus saying his nickname like that made James narrow his eyes. He missed and loved his friend dearly, but he was still hurt by the fact that Remus had all but disappeared after his and Lily's death. Had he tried to contact Harry? Had Dumbledore forbidden it? Had Remus fought for it? James didn't know, but one thing he knew for sure: Harry didn't even know one of his best friends before seeing him on the train.

Was it unfair of him to think such a thing of his friend? James thought so. And then there is also the fact that James still felt terrible for somewhat believing in the rat's lies that made everybody believe that Remus was the spy. Yet, he couldn't care very much when he remembered how much his son had suffered just because he hadn't had anybody to love him throughout most of his childhood. He understood why Remus could not take Harry, even if he disagreed with it 100%, but he did not understand why there hadn't been any visits. Harry hadn't even met Remus until his third year. So Harry had stayed alone, without anybody to love or care for him.

In the end, James might not blame him as much as he blamed himself, but he blamed Remus Lupin a little bit, alright.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

"Harry, if you don't hurry up, we are going to be late!" Hermione chided.

Harry started swallowing his eggs and sausages as fast as possible. Their first class was Charms, and Harry didn't want to miss a minute of it, but sadly all those nights spent trying to force some knowledge into his head were finally taking their toll. It was getting harder and harder to wake up on time in the morning, and it had happened of him waking up after sleeping on an open book. Harry craved for the weekend, when he let himself sleep a little bit longer, and he could never imagine how grateful he could be for a Hogsmeade weekend: On Friday, everybody would be out of the castle, which meant Harry could do as he pleased without the fear of being caught. He had meticulously divided the day into two things only: sleeping in the morning and studying in the afternoon.

"Uh, Harry, mate..." Ron said, next to him. He was still not speaking to Hermione, but their wariness over their mutual friend's new attitude seemed to make them able to ignore each other's presence so they both could sit with Harry. "Is everything alright?"

Upon getting only a grunt that only resembled an affirmation, Ron went silent and kept staring at his best friend. On the other side, Hermione was biting her lower lip, visibly trying to make a question, but failing to find the correct words to do so.

Harry finally finished eating, or rather wolfing down his breakfast, and stood up. He took one last sip of his pumpkin juice and turned to leave the Hall, leaving his two stunned friends behind. He was halfway through what was left for them to get to the door when he said, without turning, "Aren't you two going to come?"

Both Hermione and Ron stood up, astonishment still evident on their faces. They looked into each other's eyes and had a silent conversation. They decided that they needed to find out what had happened to their best friend, and they needed to do so as fast as possible.

What they failed to notice because of their mutual concern over their friend was the fact that, for the first time in many weeks, they had shared a look without feeling the need to be nasty with each other.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

When he got to the entrance of the cave where they normally hid themselves, Edward was already panting while Padfoot barked happily in front of him, as if asking him why it was taking him so long to get there too.

"Show off." Edward muttered eyeing the dog sourly.

It wasn't a very spacious cave, but it still fit both him and Sirius. At first, the dog animagus wanted to stay there and not at the Shrieking Shack, but Mr. Potter- or rather, James- had told Edward he would watch over and inform them if there was anybody coming. 'At least he did that right' Edward reckoned.

"So, Prongs woke you up by yelling at you?" Sirius asked with a chortle as he shifted back to his human form. Edward only frowned and sat down by the giant rock that served as a wall, which only made Sirius laugh. "Hey, pup, don't complain, if he had a wand, he would probably give us both a good bath, or his trademark stinging hex." He laughed again, which made Edward's lips twitch upwards despite his efforts of trying not to laugh.

"It's not funny, Mr. Black!" he said, throwing a pebble at the older guy. Sirius caught it midair and mock-glared at the boy.

"Oi, what have I told you about calling me 'Mr. Black'? Call me Sirius!" He playfully chastised the young boy by rubbing his knuckle on his head and laughing because of Edward's loud protest.

Sirius still felt impressed sometimes at how much he had come to care for the little boy. He had never been one to like (or be liked by) kids in general, that was much more James' thing. And yet, he certainly had a soft spot for the blond boy who seemed far too old to be only ten years old. Sirius watched as the boy sat on the ground, holding his legs with his arms. When he had been 10, he had been restless. He didn't care about things at all, only doing what he wanted, with the only exception being when he was threatened by his parents into doing something he did not want to do. And yet Edward seemed focused, careful, pensive. Sirius could feel him holding his emotions back, he could feel his hesitance whenever he laughed. He could also feel that, sometimes, the boy couldn't hold it, and then he felt embarrassed for laughing. And that's why Sirius made it his mission trying to make the boy laugh, principally telling him stories from his time at Hogwarts. He also knew that James often joined, sharing things on a perspective that was so his that Sirius' certainty of his presence and of Edward's 'gift' only grew.

Quite often, Sirius caught himself considering how farfetched the whole situation was, but he didn't doubt it. Deep inside, he knew he had never actually had any doubts. He knew it wasn't the most prudent or logical thing he could do, but... Sirius had seen a chance of having James around, and he couldn't control his hope. Maybe if James hadn't died, or if he hadn't spent the last twelve years in Azkaban, he wouldn't have believed any of this. But James was dead and he had spent more than ten years living with a hoard of dementors, so he believed, although he questioned if that was a healthy thing for him to do.

He questioned how much the belief that James was there influenced his sanity, but he couldn't just walk away. He longed for James' voice, for James' hugs, for James' smile. And all that just made holes into the walls he had carefully built around his heart, making old, untamed feelings resurface without his consent. He then had to push those back inside and mend those cracks, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. One might think that love could not endure so much, but Sirius knew better. James had found himself in love with a classmate, dated and married her, had a child with her and died with (and, according to what Edward had told him, for) her, and Sirius still loved James. He loved his best friend, his brother in everything but blood, but it was not the same brotherly love he knew that James felt for him. He couldn't help it, but, had things been his way, they would have been more than best friends, they would have been more than brothers. And no matter how many times Sirius told himself that James was not there, the feeling only grew inside the stone fortress that Sirius had instead of a heart.

"Sirius?" the dog animagus startled a bit when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he saw Edward retracting his hand with a worried expression on his face.

"Sorry, buddy, I think I might have tuned out a bit," Sirius said with a smile.

"Mr. Po- James is telling us that we can go back already." the boy said nervously, eyeing James, who was standing right next to Sirius with a sad smile on his face.

"Hey, Edward, tell Sirius-" James started, only to stop while Sirius said 'alright', and then he continued again. "Please, tell Sirius that I know this look on his face."

"Mr. Po- James says he knows this look on your face." Edward said dutifully. Sirius blushed furiously, something he had done so few times that it made James laugh like crazy.

"I-I don't know what he is talking about." Sirius said, his voice shaky.

James snorted. "Yeah, right."

"He snorted and said 'yeah, right'." Edward chirped, which made both James and Sirius chortle.

"Ask him who the girl is, please, Edward," James said, chuckling.

"He wants to know who the girl is, Sirius," Sirius' cheeks were still a bit pink, but he managed to find his wits to give a good answer.

"It's your mum, dear Prongsie."

As Sirius and Edward left, the cave resounded with James' loud laugh. Sadly, though, only the boy could hear it.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Albus Dumbledore was absorbed in his own thoughts. And, for those who knew him at least a little bit, that could only mean that something big was coming. Inside his office and around him, not even one of the shiny instruments that were so complex to those who didn't have his experience were active, which was a good thing, if Albus had to admit it.

Hogwarts was considered safe principally because of its system of protection and monitoring. If a person entered the castle itself without being a student or a member of the staff, the alarms would immediately go off. Sadly, though, Dumbledore would only be able to see it if he were inside his office.

The old headmaster stood up and moved so as to stand right next to one of the dozens of cabinets inside his office. He rarely ever opened it, but now was as good as never to do so. With a shift movement of his wand, the door of the cabinet opened with a click. Inside, there was only a spherical object that was not very different from the crystal balls Trelawney insisted on using with her students. It only became different when the headmaster touched it.

The sphere started to glow with a multitude of colours. Some of them shone strongly while others just sparkled for a few seconds before disappearing. For a child, it would be a very entertaining object. For an adult, it would be a beautiful decoration. For Dumbledore, it was a sign that something was not right.

"Foreign." He told the apparatus. It rapidly became all pink before going back to its plethora of colours. Dumbledore exhaled a bit loudly. There went his staff's suspections, which was a good thing, of course. Trying to understand what was going on, he stared absentmindedly at the sphere.

As he watched the instrument, he saw one small sparkle that made him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Red?" He seemed to ask in a whisper to the sphere. He waited, still watching as the colours seemed to mix themselves up. There was brown, orange, purple, white and pink. Every once in a while, a very faint green showed up, and Dumbledore knew it was there because of the events of the previous year. When Dumbledore was about to give up, he saw it again: a sparkle of red.

Now, having lived a big part of his long life at Hogwarts, and more than half of said life being a Headmaster, Dumbledore often considered himself almost immune to surprises when it came to things that could happen inside the castle. So, it was rather uncommon, not to say unheard of, when he gaped, his eyes as wide as saucers, staring at the instrument.

"But... but..." Dumbledore could only open his mouth like a fish, something he hadn't done since his late sixties. His previous concern, which have been proven unfounded, had been replaced by a new, more than unexpected one. "The only one who could..."

Albus Dumbledore erased the sphere with another flick of his wand, closing and locking the cabinet. He swiftly moved back to his desk, where he got a piece of parchment and a long feather. He didn't even stop to think before starting the letter.

'Dear Harry...'

Chapter Text

Harry knew he was grumpy, he could tell by the way his friends were treating him, but he still didn't manage to care enough to change. It was Friday afternoon, they were having Potions with the Slytherins, and, after spending the whole week barely sleeping so he could study more, the heat of the cauldrons and the weird smell in the classroom gave him a headache. If that wasn't bad enough, Harry had had to deal with Snape covering for Professor Lupin the whole week while his favourite professor was 'sick', and now had to deal with their greasy professor breathing down his neck trying to see him make a mistake.

Snape was particularly nasty today. Nobody really knew what had gotten his knickers in a twist, but the man was dreadful. He had screamed at Neville for five long minutes just because the boy had apparently forgotten to add something or another to his potion in the correct moment, making it yellow instead of the deep orange it should be. He had then vanished the boy's potion and made him restart.

Harry was especially happy that he had focused so much on his potions studies, though. He no longer depended on Hermione to whisper the instructions to him as he made the Confusing Concoction, and he was glad for that as Snape kept watching him, as if to see any mistakes he could make, probably just to take points out of him and give him detention. He continued to stir the potion until it changed its colour to blue and turned to grab the last ingredient. 'At least I am finishing', he thought sourly.

"Potter!" Snape shouted in front of the class, startling half of the students who were too focused on preparing the potion. "What do you think you're adding to that potion?" He asked as he took long steps to the back of the classroom where Harry had found himself a desk. With a low groan, Harry turned to look at their professor who had stopped in front of his desk. Harry could see Hermione tensing up just one chair in front of him.

"Lovage, professor." Harry said calmly, even though he wanted nothing more than take the cauldron and spill all its content on their greasy teacher.

Snape seemed as if he had taken a sip of the concoction, while Hermione fully turned around to look at Harry with surprise. The whole class seemed to stop breathing.

"Two points from Gryffindor for being too curious, Miss Granger, now turn around and focus on your potion." Snape snarled when he managed to control himself. Hermione blushed furiously as she turned around to watch her potion. "And five points from Gryffindor for helping your dim-witted colleague."

Harry's temper flared up and before he could control himself, he was already speaking.

"She didn't help anybody. I knew what I was doing." He said. He thought and added. "Sir."

Surprisingly, Snape only smirked uglily. "Oh, is that so? You think I can't see what you are, but you are just like your father, walking around Hogwarts with his friends as if they owned the place and knew all of its secrets. If you are so smart, Potter, tell me, what should you have added just before the lovage?"

"Sneezewort and scurvy grass, professor." Harry said without even stopping to think. It was definitively better not to think about any insults to his father and his friends.

Once more there was silence in the classroom as Snape seemed to have gotten the shock of a lifetime. He took a few seconds to recompose before speaking again.

"And what would happen if you added it before them, Potter?" Snape asked, his face showing the fury he was feeling.

"It would have become black and eventually exploded." Harry replied, trying not to show his anger as he threw the necessary quantity of lovage into his cauldron. "Which hasn't happened to me, as you can see my potion." He couldn't help but add with gritted teeth.

"Don't forget who you're talking to, Potter. As I can see what?"

"As you can see my potion!" Harry all but shouted. "And you should have said 'to WHOM you're talking', professor."

The whole class watched in awe as Harry very quickly filled two bottles with his potion, leaving one on his table and storing the other in his bag. Snape only managed to splutter indignantly, his face growing progressively redder. When he managed to refocus and shout 'Potter!' at the top of his lungs, Harry had already left the room.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

"... and that's how James and I turned all Slytherin robes white for a whole week." Sirius concluded with a satisfied smirk.

Both Ed and James were almost rolling on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, so hard they were laughing. As usual, after Edward had nicked some food from the kitchens so that he and Sirius could have lunch, Sirius and James started telling the little boy some of their old Marauders' antics.

Ed loved those stories, as they were always filled with magic and nonsense. For him, it was also amusing how the two Marauders seemed so in sync. It was common for James to conclude Sirius' sentences, but as the dog animagus couldn't hear his deceased friend, they both ended up saying exactly the same thing at the exact same moment. The first few times that had happened, Edward had laughed and told Sirius what had happened, but that only made the older man sad. Now, the boy only smirked, deciding against saying anything.

Despite the occasional depressive states Sirius entered, most of these triggered by the fact that he could not see or hear James, the effects from Azkaban were finally starting to reduce. His face didn't look as haunted as it had, and he certainly had put some weight on. He was now able to laugh and have a relative good time, even if those moments were still few and far between. Too few and far between, as far as James was concerned.

After their laughter had quieted down, the three just sat there, enjoying the dessert Edward had gotten them. Well, at least Edward and Sirius enjoyed it, while James only looked at them pouting. There was a soft knock on the door leading to the Willow, but neither of the three got startled. That soft knock could only mean Harry, after all. The boy-who-lived entered the room still sporting a frown. His face was red from running and he was panting heavily.

"Harry, buddy, what's up?" Sirius asked, not that much concerned. He had seen James like that more times than he could count, and it was always something that was making him angry, but not angry enough to make him furious. Remembering his best friend and seeing how much his son looked and acted like him stung, but Sirius chose to ignore it once more.

"Nothing." Harry murmured with finality. 'There the difference is.' Sirius thought with sadness as Harry sat between him and Edward. While James would have just told him, Harry seemed to prefer to close down and pretend that everything was alright.

"Your father is telling you to stop being stubborn and tell us already, Harry." Edward said as he was told to say so. James had stood up and sat right behind Harry, so much so the boy would be sat on his lap had he been material enough. He enveloped his son with his arms, which just hovered over him, and stayed like that, in a perpetual almost-hug. It was a normal occurence, but one that Edward was forbidden of telling the others, even if he didn't really understand why.

Harry looked at the boy for a couple of seconds before sighing heavily. Unbeknownst to him, that only made it seem like he had relaxed into his father's arms which brought a smile to both James' and Edward's faces. "It's Snape, trying to fail me unfairly again."

Sirius cursed loudly, causing Ed to look at him scandalized. Mrs. Henn had been very strict when it came to swearing. James would have laughed at the boy's face, but he was also holding his tongue not to say some colourful stuff about their old greasy colleague.

"We should prank him." Sirius said suddenly. "Make him pay just like the good old times."

While James and Ed smirked, Harry seemed horrified. "No! He hates me as it is. Please, just ignore it, I've dealt with him."

"Why, little Prongs." Sirius seemed confused and pretended to be hurt. "Do you think we are unexperienced?"

At that, James laughed. He shortly stopped, though. "Harry is right, Sirius. Let's leave the slimeball alone, Harry-bear doesn't need him breathing down his neck." He said and Edward dutifully repeated, even the petname, which made Harry blush and feel warm inside. Sirius just pouted and whispered 'spoil sport'.

It didn't take long till Harry stood up and announced he had to head to the Quidditch pit to train, as he was playing against Slytherin on the following day. The weather was terrible, so Wood reckoned they'd better get used to it.

"Edward, please remind Harry of the spell I taught him." James said as he, Sirius and Edward followed Harry outside. As Ed repeated the information, Harry just nodded, softly whispering 'thanks, dad'.

"Hey, Harry, can I watch your practise? Pretty please?" Edward asked. "I promise I'll stay under the invisibility cloak."

"Sure, why not." Harry said awkwardly. Was this the feeling an older brother got when they had their little brother around? Harry wasn't so sure, but he certainly liked the feeling, despite what Fred and George (or rather Percy, for that matter) had told him.

"Off you go, then." Sirius said with a smile. We really wanted to follow them and watch Harry practise, or even better, mount a broom and actively help him, but he thought he should spend his time trying to find 'it'. He knew that Pettigrew loved the rain, all Marauders did, so a day like this would be a good day to find him.

Soon enough, the boys left, leaving Sirius alone. Or at least as far as he could see. The dog animagus went back to the Shack to clean it up in case someone entered it while they were out. As he finished tidying the room up, he sat on the bed and stared blankly ahead. He didn't know it, but James had stayed behind and was currently sitting right next to him, looking at him with concern.

"Prongs..." He whispered softly, his gaze not changing, still focused on the floor. "I don't know if you are here, but..." He let his head lower a little bit, his long hair hiding his face. "I just wanted to say I really miss you. Every single day. I would give anything in the world to have you here." James could only stare at his best friend with deep sadness. "You were my life before you died and... and... I don't know, Prongs. I need- I just need you. Because I love you, James. You know I do. I have always, and I always will, until the very end." Sirius said, a single tear rolling down his face.

James concentrated as hard as he could, ignoring the ache on his heart from hearing his best friend so broken because of him. He slowly approached him and ran his fingers through Sirius' dirty hair, who immediately and subconsciously leaned into the touch, finally showing a couple of tears that had escaped his control. James couldn't hold the touch for long but it was enough for Sirius to feel his presence and hold on to it for some time. They stayed there for almost fifteen minutes, both of them trying to hold their tears, before Sirius stood up to continue his search.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

The rain had been merciless on the Gryffindor players, but it certainly hadn't been as merciless as Oliver Wood. By the time Harry had finished his training, he was sore all over his body and he could bet that even his soul was wet. He wanted nothing more than freshen himself up, have dinner and just go to bed just like his Quidditch mates, but Dumbledore had asked him for a visit after dinner and he didn't know how to say no. So, when everybody left for their Common Rooms, Harry went to Dumbledore's office instead.

The gargoyle seemed to be waiting for him, as it stepped aside as soon as the haven haired boy got close enough. He didn't even stop before climbing up the stairs and softly knocking on the wooden door.

"Come in, Harry." The old headmaster's voice came from inside the room.

As Harry opened the door, he could see Dumbledore sat on his chair and Fawkes perched on his arm. The older man gestured for Harry to sit, which he did calmly.

They sat there in silence for a good few minutes before Harry lost his patience and the long week of hard studying and training got the best of him.

"Sir?" He said, a bit louder than he expected, causing Dumbledore to focus on him, a curious look on his face. "I'm sorry, sir, but did you want to talk to me?"

"Oh, yes, Harry, I did, indeed." The headmaster smiled at the Boy-who-lived who just stared back at him. "I just wanted to know if you have ever heard the whole story of Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. Had Dumbledore gone completely mad? He had called Harry to his office to discuss hogwash? Or rather, Hogwarts? "I'm not sure, sir, I mean, Hermione has told me some stories, but..."

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger must have enjoyed reading about Hogwarts." The Headmaster said with a chuckle. "It is amazing, Harry, how sometimes those who have had contact with magic the longest are the ones who overlook it the most." Harry only nodded, unsure of what to say. He too hadn't had contact with magic before coming to Hogwarts, but maybe he wasn't as curious as Hermione. "Of course, there are some exceptions. Your father and his friends, for instance, knew Hogwarts better than most of our dear professors." The old man added, his eyes shining with mirth.

"Yeah, they really did." Harry said absent-mindedly. Dumbledore visibly changed, his face turning into a light frown, which caused Harry to notice his slip-up. "I-I mean, so I've heard."

"Have you, Harry?" his voice wasn't exactly cold, but it surely wasn't as warm as it normally was. The Headmaster laid both his hands on his table, leaning just a bit forward. "It's nice that someone has been telling you about your parents." His blue eyes were piercing, causing Harry to look everywhere but at the old man.

"Y-yes." Harry could see he was in trouble. What could he say? He hadn't felt that nervous since that morning with Snape. Snape! That was it! "It was professor Snape, actually, professor. He said that my father and his friends walked around Hogwarts as if they owned the place."

This made Dumbledore chuckle again, but Harry could still see curiosity in his eyes. "I wouldn't say that much, but Professor Snape's statement is far from untrue." Harry used the relief of not having to lie anymore to ignore the anger of having those things said about his father, not to mention Sirius and Remus. "Yes, your father and his friends knew Hogwarts very well. Of course there are many secrets that Hogwarts kept to itself. Tell me, how much of Hogwart's history do you know?"

"Well," Harry said, trying to remember Hermione's persistent quotations of Hogwarts: A History. "It was founded around a thousand years ago by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin."

"That's correct." Dumbledore said, nodding. "The Four Founders, as they were known back in my time, used their stunning magic to, together, raise Hogwarts. There simply isn't one part of Hogwarts that isn't touched by their magic." Dumbledore stood up, causing Fawkes to fly and land on the table, where it stayed, carefully watching Harry. "They made it so that the castle responded to them, and only them."

The old headmaster stood and slowly moved near one of the bookcases, absentmindedly passing his finger on the books there. Harry was too far away to actually read their names, but he imagined he wouldn't be able to understand any of those topics. He watched as Dumbledore seemed to give up on trying to find a specific book and settled on just randomly picking them up and flip through them before putting them back where they were. Finally, he continued speaking as he opened another book. "It was an interesting piece of magic. They were the best wizards and witches of their time, that's not questionable. They were, however, able to foresee issues the school might have in the future, despite their fantastic magic."

Dumbledore finally stopped going through the books and turned to look at Harry, who watched the old man back with curiosity. "You see, Harry, the Founders realised that, if the castle was bound to them, it would become rather inconvenient to the following Headmasters." Dumbledore moved so as to sit back on his chair, all the while watching Harry and continuing the story. "They decided to bound Hogwarts to their magic. Are you able to see what that means?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry over his glasses, a twinkle in his eyes.

Harry thought hard about the story and his knowledge on magical theory. Once more he felt rather frustrated with his less-than-adequate performance at Hogwarts so far. "No, sir, sorry." Dumbledore only smiled before explaining it to Harry.

"Well, Harry, you see. There has been a lot of studies on how some people are able to perform magic while others simply can't. One of the most accepted theories, one started by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, and one which I tend to agree with, says that magic is, in fact, inherited." At this, Harry got confused.

"But sir, if magic is inherited, how can muggleborns use magic?" he questioned. Dumbledore's smile widened a bit, as if the exploration of this study fascinated him deeply.

"Indeed, this is the argument that some specialists, mainly those who are more... insistent in believing in blood supremacy, use to refute this theory." Harry could see the headmaster's eyes unfocus as he became absorbed by his story. "They don't accept the idea that maybe muggleborns descend from squibs, thus inheriting magic from their common ancestors. Some wizards with special abilities, such as metamorphmagi and glühenfolk, have parents who don't possess such abilities. If these abilities are able to skip generations, why can't magic do the same?"

Harry listened avidly, finally catching up. He was still very tired, but he had recently come to find out that every bit of information was important. He didn't understand either of those special abilities his professor had mentioned and hadn't seemed to be really inclined to explaining, but he was able to grasp the general idea of it. "Is being a Parselmouth one of these cases?" He asked with curiosity. Despite the fact that he didn't really care all that much about it anymore, he was still curious to know where he had gotten it from.

"Ah, I believe so." Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "I thought you might ask me this."

"Professor Dumbledore, was my father a parselmouth too?" Upon hearing about James, Dumbledore perked himself up and locked his eyes with Harry's. Harry was about to consider asking his new friend about it when Fawkes croaked indignantly, startling both Harry and, surprisingly, Dumbledore. Both of them watched the bird with curiosity, but, while Harry's was a normal curiosity, Dumbledore's had a more annoyed tone to it. The old man turned his attention back to the boy, but Harry was still focused on the bird.

Dumbledore sighed before continuing. "No, Harry, I don't believe there has been a parselmouth Potter. Before you, that is." Harry turned back to his old Headmaster.

"Is it possible that I inherited it from my mum then?"

Dumbledore smiled, but it was a sad smile, which confused Harry a little bit.

"One day we might find out." He said. Harry thought about everything he had been told while staring at one of the silvery gadgets on the Headmaster's table, while Dumbledore just patiently waited.

"Okay, sir, so, you were telling me about the founders of Hogwarts?"

"Indeed." The old man said, with a chuckle. "Like I said, the founders bounded Hogwarts to their family magic, thus making their heirs the only ones who could modulate Hogwarts' own magic."

"Hold on, professor." Harry interrupted, remembering something. "Does that mean that Voldemort can control Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore smiled as if he were glad that Harry had asked him that. "Under normal circumstances, yes, Voldemort would be able to control some parts of Hogwarts. But you cannot forget what happened. Slytherin, Voldemort's ancestor, left Hogwarts. He was seen as... too unstable, or maybe too prejudiced by the other founders. According to what is known, Slytherin had two children: A younger girl, Corruptella, who shared her father's views and was perceived as even more volatile and judgmental than her father, and an older boy, who was calmer and didn't really accept his father's views on muggles." Harry listened to every word, full of curiosity, his exhaustion completely forgotten. Dumbledore spoke about that story steadily, as if he had heard, and told, that same story many times before. "After Slytherin's death, his son felt afraid of what his sister could do to Hogwarts. He then sought Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, by then Ravenclaw had already passed away, and renounced Slytherin's known control of Hogwarts. I should give emphasis to known because, as you know very well, Voldemort still controlled the Chamber of Secrets with his magic, that is, parseltongue." Harry waited for the old man to continue, but Dumbledore seemed to be lost in thoughts again.

"Let me guess, professor, Voldemort is Slytherin's daughter's descendant?" Harry said with a little bit of contempt, making Dumbledore chuckle.

"Sadly, no, Harry." This surprised Harry. "Slytherin's son's children were probably taught not to judge muggles, but it is very possible they, or their descendants, were corrupted by those who shared Slytherin's views. No, Voldemort descends from Slytherin's son. After all, Corruptella hadn't had a child before she died, as she died during her early adulthood."

"How did Corruptella die?" Harry asked with curiosity.

"She was killed by Gryffindor's son. Gryffindor's son found out Corruptella had been killing muggleborns who were destined to be Hogwarts students. They duelled and he ended up having to kill her. It's the same old story, really. They had dated for a while, probably even loved each other, but ended up on opposing sides of a war."

Dumbledore seemed sad as he said that, as if remembering something from the past.

After this, both teacher and pupil fell silent. It wasn't until five minutes later that Harry broke silence. "So, only Gryffindor's, Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's descendants can use magic on Hogwarts?"

"That would be incorrect to say, Harry. You see, the Headmaster and their Deputy have the permission to use magic on Hogwarts." Dumbledore answered calmly. "We can activate old, unused Hogwarts magic, add more protection to it or even remove those protections that were put by other Headmasters. What we cannot do, and only those who have founders as their ancestors can, is control its magic, make it do what they want it to do." Dumbledore sighed with a small smile on his face. "As I have told you before, I have been at Hogwarts for more years than most of your professors have of age, and I still don't know all of Hogwarts' secrets. A true descendant of the founders just had to ask the right way and Hogwarts would open all its secrets to them."

"Wow." Harry said in awe. He couldn't imagine knowing all of Hogwarts' secrets. The castle was gigantic and full of secret passages and rooms. "When was the last time that there was a descendant of the founders at Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Not considering Voldemort, that is." Harry added after an afterthought. Harry, too absorbed by his curiosity, didn't see Dumbledore sit up a bit straighter.

"Well, yes, not long ago there was a descendant of Gryffindor at Hogwarts." Dumbledore said.

"Who was it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Oh, you didn't actually know him. He has passed away already." Dumbledore said, his eyes becoming sad.

"Oh. That's a pity." Harry said, actually feeling sad for that. He would love to meet the heir of Gryffindor. It was probably a strong, courageous person.

"Don't pity the dead, Harry. Maybe this man's child is at Hogwarts right now. What do you think?" Dumbledore asked. Somehow, the way the old Headmaster asked this made Harry nervous. Yet, the young boy thought about his friends, not thinking about anybody who could be suitable for being Gryffindor's descendant.

"I can't think of anyone, sir." Harry said. His discomfort grew as he saw Dumbledore's eyes narrow just a tiny bit. "What about the other founders?" Harry asked, eager to change topics. Dumbledore relaxed a bit, but Harry still felt tense.

"Rowena didn't have grandchildren. Her only daughter died before she had children. I'm afraid Ravenclaw doesn't have descendants. As for Hufflepuff's descendants, they don't live in the UK anymore. Around five hundred years ago, most of them moved to the U.S.A., where they have helped establish another magical school there. Those who stayed ended up spreading around the world. They apparently shared Hufflepuff's liking for trips. All in all, not one single Hufflepuff descendant has attended Hogwarts in the last hundred years. I believe the last Hufflepuff descendant attended Hogwarts with me." Dumbledore said. He then stared at Harry again, who felt himself squirm under the old man's gaze. When he noticed the Headmaster was staring into his eyes again, he decided to break the eye connection before that weird thing happened again.

"Is that all you had to talk to me about, professor?" Harry asked as he changed his focus to the window.

"I would also like to ask you something, Harry, if you don't mind." the old man said, making Harry look at him again. "How are you doing?"

Despite being confused by the question, Harry decided to answer it.

"I'm alright, professor. Studying a lot and preparing myself for the game tomorrow." Harry said, feeling uncomfortable under the old man's stare. He somehow couldn't break eye contact, and that made him want to leave the room immediately. When he was about to voice his discomfort, Fawkes once more abruptly croaked loudly, sounding frustrated and annoyed. Again, both Harry and Dumbledore immediately snapped their eyes towards the Phœnix and Harry felt somehow calmer.

"Why, our friend is a bit restless today." Dumbledore said, exasperation clear on his voice. Fawkes was glaring at some point right by Harry's left side, oblivious to his owner's anger.

Despite everything, Harry saw the chance he had and decided to use it. He stood up hastily. "Well, professor, I have to go. It is late and I have a game tomorrow. If you will excuse me."

Without even waiting for an answer, Harry moved towards the door. As soon as he grabbed the doorknob, though, Dumbledore called. "Harry, wait,"

The boy tried not to flinch. He was about to be chastised for giving a professor his back, but he couldn't care about it he just wanted to leave. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wondered why he was feeling like this around Dumbledore of all people. Still, he didn't turn around and just waited. "Please, remember that, if you have anything to tell me, anything at all, I'll be here, okay?" Harry gulped before answering.

"Okay, professor. Good night." As Harry passed through the door and was about to close it, Dumbledore called him again. "Harry," This time he visibly flinched, feeling grateful that he was outside the office, thus out of the Headmaster's sight. He waited, again without looking at Dumbledore, but not closing the door either. He heard Dumbledore sigh.

"Farewell, Harry."

Chapter Text

After the accident during the game, which had been the second time that Harry had been in danger because of an encounter with a dementor while flying, both Sirius and James became really concerned about Harry's safety. Not only did the dementors hurt him physically but they also made him suffer the worst night of his life again, which was as psychologically damaging as his encounter with the dark beasts. Evidently Sirius and James could relate to that, considering that had been the worst night of their lives too.

Their concern led to much debate, and, in the end, they decided they needed to teach Harry how to cast the Patronus spell. As Sirius did not have a wand, something both Harry and James wanted to remediate as soon as possible, and refused to use Harry's for whatever reason, they had to stick to giving him the theory and ask him to try it out.

"Okay, Harry, focus on the happy memory." Sirius said. The four of them (even if James could not be seen by anyone else other than Ed) stood in the middle of the Shrieking Shack, while Harry tried to conjure anything larger than a blob of white mist, which had been his best so far, a few times this week.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry bellowed once more. Even if he was focusing on the first time he had flown, the memory didn't seem to be strong enough, as it only created a small whisp. Despite that, Harry was feeling absolutely exhausted. "What am I doing wrong?" Harry exclaimed with frustration, sitting on the decrepit bed.

"Don't worry, Harry. This is very advanced magic." Sirius said, trying to cheer the boy up. James whispered something to Edward, who dutifully told the others.

"Your father told me that they learned how to do this spell by the end of their fourth year, and after a couple of months of practice, Harry." The little boy said as he sat next to Harry on the bed.

"Yeah, it helped us identify our animagus forms better." Sirius agreed, remembering all the times they had hidden to practice that same spell. He ignored the putrid hand of depression that tried to constrict his heart as he thought of better days, instead focusing on Harry and Edward. "You are doing great, it took us weeks to finally manage to get whisps out, and we've been practicing for less than three weeks."

"But we don't even have a real dementor here. If I can't produce a patronus alone, I can't possibly defend myself when one of them is near." Harry said, sighing deeply. James eyed Sirius a bit sourly, while the dog animagus looked sheepish, as if he knew his best friend was looking at him like that. It was because of Sirius' big mouth that Harry knew that it would be harder when there was a dementor around. It wasn't like James didn't want to tell Harry about it, he just thought it would have been better to teach Harry how to create a corporeal patronus before telling him there was going to be difference when a dementor was around.

"Don't worry about it for now, Harry," Edward said, repeating James. "Your father says that once you manage to create a cor- corpro- corporeal patronus, it will be much easier."

Harry sighed and stood up again. At least he had his father (sort of, but still), his godfather, who he'd come to love already, and little Edward there with him, and just remembering that fact would keep him happy no matter how many dementors he had to fight against. All those days he spent inside the Shrieking Shack with them made him happier... happier than he had ever felt before! It suddenly downed on Harry, he had never used that specific moment to try the spell before! It surely would be strong enough, wouldn't it?

Harry looked at Edward and saw the boy looking to a point between Harry and Sirius, where his father probably was. Harry used all his imagination to see his father there. It didn't take long, though, and he was able to see the handsome man who looked so much like him that he had admired so many times while staring at the pictures Hagrid had given him. On the spur of the moment, he projected not only his father, but also his mother there, smiling at him, their hands held tightly. Harry didn't have to imagine Sirius and Edward as even his real eyes could see them. His family was there.

Happiness like Harry had never felt before flooded his whole body. He may not have them there physically, but he was sure now that they were there, watching over him, loving him. With new found strength, one he hadn't managed to find in the last few weeks. This time he didn't shout the words, he just said them. He said them as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, as it those words were just a way of saying 'thank you' to his family.

"Expecto Patronum."

This time something huge leapt out of his wand. For the first time ever he had managed to create an animal, and he was happy to see a beautiful stag prancing around the room.

Harry had a smile on his face while Edward was cheering loudly jumping up and down with his hands up. Sirius, on the other hand, was silent with his mouth open while he stared at the stag that finally stopped in front of Harry. It was so familiar, it looked so equal, so real that he couldn't stop the wave of longing and sadness that washed over him. His eyes filled with tears that immediately started to fall as he desperately drank the image of the stag that looked so much like- no, scratch that, the stag that was his Prongs.

James was also staring at the stag, completely flabbergasted. "It is... me." He mumbled only to himself. "I'm his..." His voice got lost as he felt a dozen of different emotions at the same time. Pride and happiness were probably the most intense, but he couldn't help feeling very sad that he wasn't there to hug and kiss his son, which were the two things he wanted to do the most that exact same moment.

When Harry looked at his godfather and saw him crying, his happiness turned into worry. The stag flashed a couple of times before disappearing completely. Harry wanted to run to Sirius and talk to him, discover what wasn't right, but once the stag was gone, he found out how tired producing the stag on top of all the previous failures had made him. He had to back down a bit and sit on the bed again.

Sirius finally blinked, snapping himself out of the daze created by the stag. It was like he had been hypnotised but could finally think again. The tears continued to fall freely as he sobbed once, slowly going back until he his back hit the wall. He let himself slide down and sit on the floor, covering his face with his hands. Seeing Prongs like that had crushed him. Oh, the things he would do to have the real one there with him...

Once his patronal copy was gone, James finally took in what was happening in the room. He was caught between calming his best friend and checking up on Harry, who seemed to be exhausted because of the conjuring. Edward was looking at him, worry evident in his face. After a particular loud sob from Sirius that was followed by a growl, James made his mind up.

"Edward, take Harry and go," His heart could not beat anymore but it apparently could still break, as he felt it breaking when he immediately remembered the last time he had said those words, with a different name in the beginning. Swallowing thickly the lump that had instantly formed in the middle of his throat, James forced himself to focus. "Take Harry inside. Take him to the secret room and get some food in the kitchens for you both. I'll meet you there soon."

"B-But you s-said-" The boy stuttered, only to be cut by James.

"I know what I said, Eddie," He said, trying to maintain his patience when he heard Sirius sob and growl again, effectively drawing Harry's attention to him. The boy was pale and James recognized the early signs of magical exhaustion on him. "You need to go fast. Harry is really tired, he needs to eat and lie down for a couple of minutes. Go, I'll be there soon."

The boy only nodded before reaching for Harry. He didn't have to say anything other than 'your father told us to go' before the spectacled boy stood up and followed him, only giving Sirius a worried look. With another thug, Edward managed to take the older boy out of the room, closing the door.

James took a second to thank Merlin and God for making his son cooperate again once Sirius sobbed harder and growled even louder, drawing his full attention back to him.

"Why?! WHY?!" Sirius shouted hoarsely shaking and crying, his face still hidden behind his hands. James moved fast so as to sit next to his best friend, trying to come up with a solution to this... predicament.

It isn't that James hadn't seen Sirius in this exact same position before. Sirius was an emotion hoarder, giving little to no evasion to what he felt that wasn't excitement or happiness, and that obviously meant that he was like a bomb, ready to explode. It had been a while- and, if James had to be sincere with himself, it was probably the first time it hadn't been triggered by his family-, but James still remembered all the times when Sirius had finally blown up. The problem was, all the other times, James had been there, physically, giving Sirius all his support. And Remus and Peter too, for that matter, even if James had always been the one to manage to get their friend to calm down.

This time, however, Sirius was, for all intents and purposes, completely alone. James could only watch as Sirius hastily stood up, his face contorted in rage as he kept screaming 'why' over and over again, thrashing the room apart using his bare hands.

James could only watch as Sirius reached that exact point in which his tantrum got to its limit, because it was in that moment that James could finally control his friend.

This time, though, he wasn't there, so Sirius just continued.

James could only watch with sadness as the very little sanity his best friend had left slipped through his fingers because there was no one there to help him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Remus was having a nice day for a change. It was Saturday, so he had a free day to himself. Not that he normally liked that, but at least he didn't have to force some knowledge into teenagers-who-couldn't-care-less-about-him-and-his-subject heads. He loved teaching, he really did, but he got really annoyed when students couldn't grasp the basic concept of things just because they wouldn't bother listening to their professor.

So, yeah, a whole day free of incessant pestering was a good day. Of course he couldn't stay inside his own office for too long or boredom would claim him, and with boredom comes feelings and memories he'd rather do without.

As he reflected on it, patrolling somewhere near the Hufflepuff Basement, Remus couldn't help but marvel at how little it had hurt to be back at Hogwarts, this time alone. He'd thought he'd get sad, not seeing all the friends he'd made throught his time there. And of course he missed the Marauders the most. He obviously didn't want to see Sirius Black anywhere near Hogwarts, but he more often than not imagined his teenaged friend strutting around one or another corridor as if he owned it, like he had seen many times before. Was that Sirius a traitor then, or was that something that changed in the future?

He sometimes thought he saw little Peter walking around in the middle of the other children eagerly listening to their conversations, too afraid to butt in, but too curious not to listen to them.

He sometimes expected to see the girls from his year, Lily included, leaving the Great Hall together.

He sometimes saw James entering or leaving a room. His heart stopped beating just then as if he had just been doused with litres of ice-cold water, until he realized it wasn't James, but Harry, his discretion so contrasting with his father's and mother's behavior.

Remus thought it would have been hard to deal with all this, but it wasn't. Hogwarts was his own private reservoir of good memories, a memorial of a past life that was so much better than the one he had to live right now.

Sometimes it was just too easy to slip into a memory of a day in which, instead of being late for teaching a class, he was late for class. He'd arrive there and see Peter having kittens worried because he hadn't shown up (nothing to flatter himself about, of course, Peter was just royally afraid of being asked something he didn't know without having Remus there to whisper the answer to him- something Black refused to do and James wasn't subtle enough to manage as he got too nervous to cheat). He'd see James wink at him as he sent yet another note flying to Lily. She'd blush and either scowl (if his friends were 14/15) or smile (if they were 16/17). Black's absence would be missed.

With a smile and a short laugh at the thought, Remus realized he'd come to stop in front of the kitchen, one of the Marauders' many recurring headquarters. Now, the kitchen had been one of the few places where Remus'd rather not enter, and he didn't really know why. James had discovered the kitchens, and Peter had probably spent more time in that part of the castle than in their dorm room. Yet, Remus didn't think that was the reason why he didn't like the idea of going in there.

He consciously raised his hand to tickle the pear. He could almost imagine his plumpy friend excited right next to him. Peter would always ask one of the other Marauders to open the door just so he could rush in, almost giving the poor elves a good heart attack. As he stood there watching the newly produced doorknob, Remus giggled as he always did when he opened the door to his friend. James would open it absentmindedly, as if he wasn't even aware of what he was doing, so used to doing it by then. Black would always seem pissed off because of Peter's childishness, but would still concede and do it. Remus, however, had always been entertained by Peter's quirkiness and juvenile spirit.

Remus barely had any time to jump back as the door was pushed open. He almost lost his balance before he understood the kitchens' portrait had been opened, and, judging by the looks of it, a student was coming out.

The boy was really, really young, as far Remus could tell. Definitely a first year. He sort of reminded the werewolf of little Colin Creevey, who looked younger than the average student, and the boy's blond hair made the resemblance even bigger. What differenciated both boys was that this boy looked even younger, and he was most certainly way scrawnier than Colin.

Once the initial shock was gone, Remus realized that, not considering how astonishing the fact that a first year knew where the kitchens were, students most definitely should not go in there. Principally not without wearing robes, regardless of it not being a school day. Feeling like a hypocrite, considering he and his friends had done the exact same thing countless times, Remus opened his mouth to admonish the boy, only to stop short as he noticed the utter horror in the boy's face. Quite frankly, it disturbed Remus greatly, as the boy looked at him in such a way that it sort of reminded him of the way Neville Longbottom looked at Snape. One might think that, being what he is, Remus would be accostumed to being hated or feared, but considering how well that secret was kept, he rarely ever had experienced that. And he detested that he somehow made one of his students feel so worried and frightened around him...

Wait. Was that boy even his student, Remus thought. He was quite good with names and faces, but he was pretty sure that boy wasn't at all familiar to him. Before he could go through a list of his first year students, or even say anything for that matter, however, the boy seemed to snap out of his shock and fear, tightening his hold on a big sack of food to which Remus had not paid attention yet and running like a mad man through the corridor.

Stunned, Remus just watched the corner at the end of the corridor where the boy had disappeared.

After a few good minutes trying to wrap his head around what had happened, Remus returned to his room, still thinking about the boy. He never made it into the kitchen, and he most certainly did not remember what he had gone out to do. It wasn't as if he cared, though, as once more something completely out of the ordinary had happened and he just couldn't find a good explanation to it all. And this only gave him a headache, to be honest. And a headache mere days before the next full moon wasn't a good thing, either.

It wasn't that much of a good day to Remus Lupin after all.

Chapter Text

November seemed to pass in such a hurry that when Prof. McGonagall asked Harry if he'd stay at Hogwarts during Christmas, he had actually gaped at her before asking her to repeat herself, much to her dismay. Soon Christmas had also passed and the small recess was over.

If compared to the first two months of that term, November had been uneventful. No dementor attacks, no long lost relatives, no dead-but-not-gone parents- new ones, that is. The only thing that had Harry concerned was his studies, which he was still taking very seriously, and keeping some secrets he'd rather not be keeping.

The first secret he kept was, obviously, Sirius, Edward and his father. And that secret was kept from everybody from the school. The second, though, was from Ron and Hermione. Actually, it wasn't much of a secret as it was a lie.

After the whole event when he managed to create a full corporeal patronus, a feat Harry had yet to manage to repeat, which really angered and annoyed the boy, Harry was indirectly instructed by his father to give Sirius a couple of days on his own. As far as Harry could see, even Edward had been kept inside Hogwarts and away from the Shack, which also angered the older boy and scared the younger.

It wasn't before three whole days that James finally told the boys it was okay to go back to the Shack. Once they hastily got there, they met a sheepish Sirius who pretended nothing had happened at all, something that the boys had to go along with despite their concerns for the older man. Sirius' only acknowledgement of the episode was a weak apology and a promise that it wouldn't happen again. It was his only apology until a week later, that is, when Harry and Edward, upon getting to the Shack, were received by another sheepish looking Sirius with quite a few boxes of presents scattered all around.

"What are those, Sirius?" Harry asked, an incredulous look on his face as he looked at the ten or so wrapped boxes that filled the rather empty (and semi destroyed, but he felt he shouldn't bring that up) room. Edward seemed to be almost bouncing in excitement looking from the presents to Sirius and then to Harry.

Sirius gave his godson a small smile that didn't really suit his gaunt and haunted face, the only face he seemed to manage to keep since the incident. "Consider these presents an apology for-" A shadow seemed to pass Sirius' already shadowed face. "-everything."

Harry opened his mouth, probably to refuse all those things, but Sirius only held his hand up, making him shut his mouth. "You're my godson. I've missed many of your birthdays and Christmases. I am entitled to give you presents." Once again Harry opened his mouth, but Sirius beat him to it. "Besides, everything has been bought and paid for already, so there isn't anything you can do."

"Go ahead, Harry! Open them already!" Edward said excitedly, sitting on the floor in the middle of the circle of presents and pulling the other boy's sleeve.

James was watching the whole scene as he sat on the sofa by the door with a small smile that only grew larger once he saw his son sigh and sit down beside Ed without another word and pull one present to him. Without even knowing it, Sirius sat right next to his best friend with a small smile of his own. James tore his eyes from the boys to look at Sirius. He finally seemed to be calming down. James had been scared shitless when he noticed how long this episode had taken.

Once more cursing Voldemort, Peter and Azkaban, James laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, something he'd been doing repeatedly these last days. His best friend seemed to lean onto his touch, as he always did, but there wasn't any other reaction.

"I'm glad you're better, Pads." James whispered. Without Edward, who was still excitedly watching a finally smiling Harry open the first of his presents, Sirius didn't get to hear the words himself, but James didn't care. "And thanks for what you're doing." He said as he turned his attention back towards the boys in the middle of the room.

"Wicked!" Harry exclaimed in excitement as he opened another box, the first present that wasn't clothing, which contained a big sphere with some smaller ones revolving around it. He'd seen that at Diagon Alley, it was some sort of magical game that all teenaged purebloods seemed to love. He'd toyed with the idea of buying one, but he had decided against spending money on a game like that. "Thanks, Sirius!"

Sirius only smiled, the first truthful smile he gave in the last few days. But before he could answer, though, Edward interrupted him. "Can I play with it after you do, Harry? I swear I will be fast! I promise!" The boy's voice was filled with hope.

"Of course you can, Edward," Harry said, a little awkwardly. 'Is this what it feels like to have a younger brother?' he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t say he minded it. The boy looked like he was about to throw his arms around him, which made Harry slightly nervous—but before Edward could do anything, Sirius spoke up.

"Edward, aren't you going to open your own presents? I'm sure I bought one of those to you as well." The dog animagus said, pointing at a pile of gifts on top of the bed.

Edward, Harry and (unbeknownst to the others) James all looked at Sirius. Harry and James were surprised and very happy, with big, bright smiles on their faces. They looked so alike that, had Edward looked from one to the other, it'd be hard to distinguish them. But the blond boy's eyes were fixed on Sirius, his face showing incredulity as if he was trying to process the information and was failing.

"What?" The boy asked, his voice but a whisper.

"Yes, those presents on the bed are for you." Sirius said with a small chuckle. "What, did you think I wouldn't get you anything? To me, you're my godson too, just like Harry."

Edward only stared at the older man, his eyes big and bright, shining more than normally. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Sirius Black." He said with a smile, which caused Harry to laugh. James also chuckled at the old joke, despite the fact that he could see right through his friend's façade and see that his smile didn't reach his eyes. "I bought some things I thought you needed and some other stuff y- Oof!"

Sirius was breathless as the small boy threw himself into his arms. It had happened so fast that he hadn't even seen the boy stand up. He just sat there with his eyes wide as Edward hugged him tightly until he finally snapped out of his surprise and returned the hug, putting his bony arms around the frail body of the ten-year-old boy and lifting him so he sat on his lap. Sirius could hear Edward saying some things in both English and German, and despite his subpar knowledge on German and the muffled voice, he could understand the boy was thanking him. After a full minute or so, the boy finally let him go, but after breaking the hug and slipping out of the older man's lap and standing up, Sirius held the boy in front of him and took the chance made by the fact that he was sat at a chair while the boy was standing to look right into Edward's eyes. "You're important to me already, Eddy. You're as much my godson as Harry, now. Remember that."

The boy could only nod, a big smile on his face and tears on his face. Harry and James only watched the touching scene, happiness all around. The boy had been through so much (even if Harry didn't know most of it), he really deserved to be happy, in both Potters' opinion.

Edward started opening his own presents after that, sitting on the bed. Never having received presents before, he carefully opened each colourful package, just to enjoy the moment, which made it seem like he was going to keep the wrapping for a future use, something that reminded both James and Sirius of Lily, as she loved doing that. That memory made both of them sad, so neither of them brought it up.

It took quite some time for both boys to open all presents. There were quite a few games and prank kits and toys (for Edward), but there were also clothes and accessories, something both boys desperately needed as far as Sirius could tell.

The boys were really happy, showing each other their presents, the age gap momentarily forgotten. It had been wickedly hard ordering everything, considering he was a fugitive, but Sirius was glad he'd made the effort. Seeing his godsons happy like that made him somewhat recover from the hurricane of sadness in which he had been trapped.

It was James that called Edward's attention to one last package almost hidden under the bed. It was long and somewhat thin, and its shape was so obvious that even the little boy knew what it was even before the package was opened.

"Sorry, Eddy, I can't get you one of those yet," Sirius said, ruffling the blond boy's hair with affection. "But I do promise I'll get you one as soon as you get to your second year."

As in a daze, Harry stood up to grab the package, sitting back down on the bed. He stared at the package as if in awe, momentarily forgetting to open it. Eventually, though, he finally started ripping the paper apart.

The firebolt was as beautiful as the one Harry had seen at Diagon Alley. Its handle was shiny and there wasn't a single twig out of place.

"Did you like it?" Sirius asked after Harry stared silently at the broom for a couple of minutes.

The spectacled boy slowly raised his gaze to his godfather, his face completely blank. He passed the broom to an overexcited Edward and stood up, walking up to the front of the chair a suprised Sirius was sitting.

Green eyes stared deep into blue grey eyes. If Harry's face didn't show what he was feeling, Sirius was able to see in his eyes everything his godson felt. Sirius' breath hitched before he stopped breathing at all. He felt enveloped in love and hope and appreciation and all those things he had never been used to receiving, and he couldn't deal with it. The only time he felt those same things, the eyes weren't green. They were hazel. Still, the face was the same and it provoked emotions, feelings, and it was far too much-

"Uff!" Sirius let go a breath he knew he was holding as his godson threw himself in his arms, effectively distracting him from the storm inside his chest.

The watery thank you Harry said to him was muffled by the fact that the boy had hidden his face in his neck, and the hug was tight enough for him to know he wouldn't be able to pry the boy from his arms even if he wanted to. His eyes stung as he fought against the strong emotions that apparently tried to break him from inside out, and then, as soon as he felt how wet his neck and his shoulder were, he understood why he had buried his face on him like that. He couldn't help but copy his godson, accidentally nuzzling the boys neck as he too hid his tears.

With a deep breath, Sirius was immediately able to scent Harry. He knew the scent, of course, he knew it since the first time he had held the boy. It was so much like James it almost hurt. That foresty, windy scent that made one feel safe with only a sniff of it. And yet, it was different, there was something else, a woody note that diverged from James' sweeter scent. No, they didn't smell the same, Harry was his own person, with his own scent. And the biggest difference was the feeling it brought to Sirius. While James' scent make him feel protected, Harry's made him want to protect. Want to keep safe. Both scents were so alike that they meant love to Sirius, but while Harry's was a pack love, family love, the love a parent would feel for their son, James' was a pack love, family love, the love... the love he only ever felt for James.

Neither of them knew for how long they stayed there, in each other's arms, but it was time enough for Edward to finish admiring the new broom- and it is a firebolt! One does not simply have one in their hands without ogling it for quite some time, no matter the age- and start playing with one of his toys. James was doing his best to play with the little boy and not stare at his son and best friend, giving them some time to themselves. Finally, though, they silently moved, both unconciously turning to different sides to clear their tears.

"You're welcome, Harry." Sirius said, turning back to the boy with a sincere smile, something very few people had ever seen from Sirius. As if in an afterthought, the older man pulled his godson for another brief hug, holding his head against his chest, ignoring the boy's startled yelp. "I love you, Prongslet." James saw as Sirius took a whiff of Harry's scent and chuckled. After becoming a dog animagus, Sirius kept telling the other Marauders how people had specific scents. He had no doubt Sirius was just enjoying his son's, just like he had done all those many times when Harry was still a baby.

The rest of the afternoon passed fast. The four boys inside the Shack were happy. And it had been a long while since any of them had truly felt that happy. Four full corporeal patronuses could be produced because of that day. If one of them weren't a wandless fugitive, the other a minor and the other dead, that is.

So that was the lie used with his friends: Harry had supposedly ordered all those clothes from a catalogue (who'd know the wizarding world would have its tupperware counterparts?) and the Firebolt had been bought by sending Hedwig to a magical sports store. A half-truth, considering Sirius had done that using Harry's name, but his own money. The toys and games were kept at Edward's secret chamber near the kitchens.

"You promised me you'd let me fly, Harry!" Ron whined. Both Harry and Hermione had to hide their grimaces as bits of egg and bacon flew from their friend's mouth as he spoke. "I can't wait to give the Firebolt a try!"

It was a Monday morning, and because it was still the beginning of January, it was far too cold outside for anybody to actually fly without the risk of losing a few extremities. Harry rolled his eyes. He himself had practice, but he'd rather be doing... well, anything at all, really.

"I know Ron. But it's freezing outside, do you really want to fly today?" Harry tried not to sound too exasperated, but it was clear he had failed. Ron only stared at him before he shrugged, never stopping shoving food into his mouth.

"So..." Hermione said, looking at Ron with a look on her face that was a mix between disgust and irritation. "What are you planning on doing today? We should definitely start working on Buckbeak's defence."

"And how are we supposed to do that now?" Ron retorted, finally shallowing and pushing his dirty but empty plate.

"If you're done, we could go to the Library now." Hermione stood up, grabbing the books she had carried with her. Silently, Harry also stood up.

"Library. In the middle of break." Ron muttered as he followed his friends out of the Hall.

~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~JPSB~*~*~*~

Having just finished his own breakfast in the kitchens, Ed happily made way his to the secret room. Occasionally Sirius got busy trying to find the rat, so Edward stayed inside the castle. At first, James insisted on staying with the boy, but as the search heated up, it was decided that two were better than one.

As soon as Edward arrived in front of the portrait that would let him into the room, he saw it. A fat, gray rat scurried for cover. Without really thinking, the boy ran towards the rat.

It was undoubtedly fast, forcing Edward to noisily run as fast as his small legs let him. James would throw a right fit when he found out Edward had started running in the middle of Hogwarts, but maybe if he got the rat he wouldn't be too angry, would he? Maybe he would even be happy with him.

Many stairs and corridors later, Edward finally managed to ambush the animal. It was a long corridor with an apparent dead end, and the blond boy didn't know the school well enough to know exactly where he was. He finally stopped near enough to see the animal move from one side to the other, as if trying to find a hole that could lead it elsewhere. Edward couldn't help grinning. After all this time Sirius and James had spent trying to find the rat, he, alone, had managed to trap it!

The boy hastily moved closer, trying not to give it too much leeway to escape. At last, the rat stopped moving. It was probably the way that it slowly turned its head towards him, but it finally downed on the boy that he wasn't simply dealing with a rat. That was a man. A man responsible for the death of James and the imprisonment of Sirius.

Fear finally flooded Edward and he slowly took on step back. With a start, he ran back from the way he had come as he saw the rat start chasing him. Desperation started to down on him once he realized that he didn't even know where he was, and he had absolutely no idea how to get back to his chambers. As soon as he turned, trying to come up with a plan, he ran straight into a somewhat tall man, almost making both of them fall.

"OOF." The man exclaimed before managing to hold his on, effectively stopping their fall. "You!" The man said, finally able to focus back on the child. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Steading himself, Edward's fear and dread skyrocketted. He'd been caught. He was done for. Yet, he couldn't help but turn around to see if the rat was still following him. A tiny bit of relief invaded his turmoil of fear when he saw the animal was nowhere to be seen. The relief was gone was, though, as a strong hand gripped his shoulder, turning him around forcefully.

Chapter Text

Edward's heart pounded in his chest as Remus’s strong hand gripped his shoulder. Panic surged through him, but he tried to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t afford to show his fear now. Remus was staring at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Edward knew he had to think quickly if he wanted to escape.

"What are you doing here?" Remus asked again, his voice firm but not unkind.

Edward swallowed hard, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I... I got lost," he stammered. "I was trying to find my way to the library and ended up here."

Remus’s eyes softened slightly, but his grip didn’t loosen. "This is a long way from the library, young man. What’s your name?"

"Edward," the boy replied, his mind racing. "I’m a first-year." Sirius and James had taught him what to say if he were ever caught, but the little boy scrambled to remember everything they had told him.

Remus’s brows furrowed. "I don’t remember seeing you in my classes, Edward."

Thinking fast, Edward added, "I'm... not very good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I try to keep a low profile."

Remus sighed and finally let go of his shoulder. "You should be more careful. Hogwarts can be a confusing place. Come on, I’ll take you back to your common room."

Edward's heart sank. He couldn’t let Remus escort him back. He needed to get to the secret room and warn Harry and Sirius about the rat. Taking a deep breath, he decided to try another tactic.

"Actually, Professor, I think I can find my way from here," Edward said, forcing a smile. "Thank you for helping me."

Remus looked at him sceptically. "It’s no trouble, really. I insist."

Just then, a loud crash echoed from the other end of the corridor. Both Edward and Remus turned towards the noise, and Edward saw his chance. Without another word, he bolted, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Edward, wait!" Remus shouted, but Edward didn’t stop. He sprinted down the corridor, his small frame allowing him to duck and weave through the passageways with ease.

His heart pounded in his ears as he took several sharp turns, desperately trying to remember the path back to the secret room. He could hear Remus’s footsteps behind him, growing fainter with each turn. Edward didn’t dare look back. He knew he couldn’t outrun Remus forever, but he had to try.

Finally, he spotted a familiar entrance to a way out of the castle and skidded to a stop. Panting heavily, he kicked the bottom part of the wall, and the door to the long corridor that led outside swung open. Edward ran the whole corridor and across the grounds, only stopping to shut the door of the Shack behind him. He pressed his back against it as he tried to catch his breath. It was a relief that Hogwarts had basically no earthbound spirits.

"James! Sirius!" he called out between gasps. "I found him! I found the rat!"

Sirius, who had been lounging inside, immediately jumped to his feet. James’s ghostly form, which had probably been with his best friend, drifted close to the boy, his face a mix of concern and determination.

"What happened?" Sirius asked urgently.

"I saw the rat! Peter Pettigrew! He was in the castle, near the kitchens, and he chased me," Edward explained quickly. "I ran into Professor Lupin, but I managed to get away."

Sirius’s face darkened with anger. "We need to find him before he gets away again."

James nodded, his ethereal form flickering with intensity. "We can’t let him slip through our fingers. Edward, please tell Sirius he and I will search the castle."

Edward nodded, his eyes wide with worry as he repeated the information to his godfather. "Be careful," he added.

Sirius transformed into his dog form, and with a last glance at Edward, he and James left the room, determined to catch Pettigrew once and for all.

As the door closed behind them, Edward stayed pressed against the wood, his breath still shaky. He had to find Harry and tell him what was going on.

~~~~JPSB~~~~JPSB~~~~JPSB~~~~

Despite their renewed effort to find Pettigrew, the following weeks proved it was not going to be an easy endeavour. According to Edward, James rarely stayed with him, as he was either trying to find the rat or recharging. Sirius wasn’t any better—he spent far more time searching for his ex-friend than with Harry and Edward. In fact, he even forgot to eat at times, which worried the two young boys.

There wasn’t much they could do, however. While James and Sirius spent their time trying to find Pettigrew, Harry studied and helped Hermione and Ron try to find a way to rescue Buckbeak. That, combined with Wood’s psychotic training routine, left just enough time for Harry to spend only a couple of nights with Eddie, Sirius and James each week, which he didn’t believe was enough at all.

January dragged by uneventfully once this new routine settled into place. Poor Edward had to spend long periods alone, though at least he could play with the toys Sirius had given him for Christmas. Harry also shared some of his money with the boy so he could explore Hogsmeade and perhaps buy himself something he wanted. However, unlike Hogwarts, Hogsmeade did have earthbound spirits—and after a particularly vicious and frightening one followed him all the way to the Shack, Edward refused to go anywhere outside the castle unless James was with him. That led to the little boy staying hidden in the secret room near the kitchens more often. As it was too risky for Sirius to be inside the castle, their time together was greatly reduced.

The only major difference after the start of the new year was Professor Lupin’s attitude towards Harry. Since early October, Remus had begun giving the boy long, thoughtful looks, both in class and during meals. More than once he seemed on the verge of asking Harry something, only to decide against it. In fact, after the ‘dementor in Quidditch’ disaster, Remus had asked Harry to stay behind, but dismissed him when he noticed the boy seemed eager to leave. Unbeknownst to him, Harry had just begun Patronus lessons at that time, and had wanted nothing more than to learn it so he could stop hearing his mother’s screams.

Since then, Remus had never called him in again, but he always seemed to be on the verge of doing so.

"We shouldn’t have hinted at those things about our past," James said through Edward one night when Harry shared his worries, during a rare evening when all four were reunited in the Shack.

"Well, what’s done is done," Sirius concluded. "We’re lucky Remus tends to overthink everything—he’s probably come up with a thousand scenarios already. But you have to try to avoid giving him the chance to corner you, Harry."

More than once, the four had debated whether they should tell Remus the truth about Sirius, Edward and James. But they all reached the same conclusion: there was simply no safe way of doing so. If Harry told him, Remus might think Sirius had manipulated him or confounded him. If Edward told him, Remus—ever the sceptic—would likely believe the boy was inventing things and would call the authorities. And if Sirius tried it, he’d be attacked or arrested before he could even say “James”.

So they unanimously agreed to keep Remus in the dark. And though Harry liked him very much—and secretly longed for the day he could speak to him not as a teacher but as his father’s friend—he avoided being alone with his professor.

When Gryffindor’s second Quidditch match, this time against Ravenclaw, finally arrived, it was a bittersweet affair. Harry obviously loved playing, but so many important things were happening that he couldn’t help but fear he was wasting time. He could be studying, helping to save Buckbeak, or searching for Pettigrew. Instead, he was training for a game.

Despite his reluctance, both Sirius and James were adamant he should continue playing. "Let us worry about Pettigrew, Harry," Sirius had said. "And I’m sure Buckbeak will be fine. This isn’t enough for the Ministry to interfere. Besides, you need to relax a bit—studying too much can be counterproductive."

So Harry spent the better part of the afternoon before the match in the final practice session. After letting everyone drool over his new Firebolt—even Madam Hooch—he focused on Wood’s deranged routine, which only ended once Hooch called it off because it was getting dark.

Rushing for a quick wash before dinner, eager to perhaps meet Sirius, Eddie and James afterwards, Harry didn’t even notice the twins blocking the exit of the Quidditch changing room until he nearly ran into them, still holding a towel to his damp hair.

"Hiya, Harry," the twins said in unison, identical smirks on their faces.

"Er—hey," Harry said cautiously. Their expressions immediately made him suspicious.

"We’ve been meaning to talk to you since the end of last year," Fred began.

"We knew you couldn’t go to Hogsmeade with us last time, but when we tried to find you, you were nowhere," George added.

Harry remembered that day. He’d spent most of it in the Shack with Sirius, Eddie and his father.

"Yeah, you know I don’t have permission to go," Harry said firmly, trying to walk past them. But the twins blocked his way again.

"Oh, but it seems you have found a way there, haven’t you, Harry?" Fred said with a chuckle.

Harry froze. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. Surely they hadn’t found out...

"Well," George said lightly, "your Christmas gift—also the secret of our success—never lies to us, does it, Fred?"

"Not at all, dear brother. And we know, thanks to it, that you were not in the castle, young Harry."

Secret of their success? Harry wasn’t sure whether to be more worried or curious. Before he could ask anything, Fred dramatically pulled something from his cloak.

"Harry, we present to you-" he said.

They revealed what looked like a stack of old parchment. Completely blank. Then, in perfect unison, they declared:

"-the Marauder’s Map!"