Chapter 49. night thoughts ( interlude part 2.)

Sirius grinned, thinking back with some effort. As much as he wanted to take Harry in, a small part of him actually dreaded it. Harry would naturally want him to tell everything he remembered about James and Lily, their friendship, and their time at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, even now, he still suffered from gaps in his memory. It was a side-effect of Azkaban, he supposed. Twelve years with the Dementors. He could recall bad images in a second, almost as if they'd been burned into his brain. Good times were harder to dredge up, and even when he did sometimes they were tainted with negative thoughts.

His clearest memory of James and Lily's wedding day, for instance, was not the excitement of the occasion, or ceremony itself, or the party afterwards. If he concentrated, he could recall those, but the thing that stood out most happened later, after James and Lily were safely off on their honeymoon, the party was over and everyone was gone. He had been at home, wondering what to do with the rest of his evening, when it had suddenly struck him how the day's events had altered life as he knew it.

It had been a little disconcerting to tell the truth. He wasn't afraid of losing James' friendship per se, they'd been through too much for that, but he couldn't deny that there had been a subtle shift in the structure of their relationship. As much as he might wish otherwise, things would never be the same again.

As happy as he was for James, and as fond as he was of Lily, their marriage had ended a cherished chapter in his life and heralded the beginning of a new one. The trouble was, Sirius had liked the way things had been, and was a little unsure about this new and uncharted territory that stretched out ahead of him. So for a few minutes, while no one was around to see, he had allowed himself to grieve his "loss" and come to terms with "sharing" his best friend.

The bad thing was, that little episode had lasted all of twenty minutes. Half an hour at most. That was what he should be struggling to remember, but no. Thanks to Azkaban it had been forced into the spotlight, so to speak, while an absolutely glorious day had been shoved into the shadows.

Thankfully, it seemed to be getting better with time. He had noticed improvements since his escape from prison. Being the guina pig for Snape's Memory Potion a few days ago seemed to have helped the process along as well. Not that he planned to tell the slimy git, of course. Well, okay. Maybe anonymously. Ten or twenty years from now.

He could now recall how James had sent howlers out with the news of his impending fatherhood. They'd gleefully shouted out his message before shredding themselves into confetti, and disappearing in a flash of celebratory fireworks. He, Remus, and Peter had all been pleased and happy, in a "better you than me" kind of way. They'd spoken rather candidly after the fact, and agreed amongst themselves that if anyone could manage, Prongs could. He had always been a rather "take-action" sort of fellow, after all. Besides being the de facto leader of the Marauders, he was usually more than a match for any challenge school, or work, or life itself could throw at him.

Unfortunately, James' tendency to tackle things head-on had not served him well in this instance, especially when Lily hit a few rough patches during her pregnancy. Sirius sighed again. Again, it was the stressful moments he remembered with great clarity. First kicks, the discovery that Lily was carrying a boy, and the general happy feeling of the time were less distinct-like he was trying to see them through a dirty window.

James had once confessed privately to Sirius that the whole process was baffling and terrifying, and he felt like the most useless person on the planet. This wasn't a game to win, an opponent to outwit, or a target he could blast with a well-aimed curse. It was, in fact, primarily Lily's job. He had been unwillingly thrust into the role of 'helpless observer', which he absolutely detested. He could commiserate, and try to offer comfort and reassurance when she was tired or ill or in pain, but there was nothing he could really do.

Poor Lily tried her best to reassure him, telling him again and again that his presence and support were helpful, and that he was doing something. She'd been fairly patient with his almost hand-wringing concern, but as time went on, her temper grew shorter. Once, as she neared her due date, James had asked her if she was okay one too many times in the space of five minutes and found himself running from a fierce volley of hexes.

Sirius grinned softly at the memory, then realized Remus was still watching him. "Yeah, poor James," he agreed, shaking his head fondly, pulling himself back to the present, and picking up the thread of conversation. "The silly git had no idea what he was getting himself into."

The werewolf made a little noise of agreement. "The phrase 'fish out of water' comes to mind," he said with a grin. "They managed, though."

"Yes, they did..." Sirius said, before trailing off into thought again. Harry hadn't exactly been "planned." For some inexplicable reason, the Potters' precautionary charms had failed, so he had taken everyone by surprise. Since the charms were usually very reliable, no one had suspected the truth. When severe fatigue and incessant vomiting finally drove Lily to the mediwizard, she'd been quite sure it was just a "bad stomach bug."

James had been understandably stunned at the news, but recovered quickly. The timing wasn't great, with he and Lily both in post-graduation schooling and Voldemort on the rampage, but he was sure things would work out. They'd always known they wanted children after all. They were just getting an earlier start than anticipated.

By the time he'd sent out his "announcements" he was quite taken with the idea. Lily said he'd gone out to look at toy brooms (can't buy this early, something better might come out by the time he can use it!) and was trying his best to talk her into a Quidditch-themed nursery.

"Do you remember anything about that time?" Remus finally asked, eyeing his friend uncertainly as though afraid he might be intruding on something private.

Sirius nodded slowly, grinning at the realization. Lily's pregnancy and Harry's babyhood had been memories that had stayed with him, in spite of Azkaban. It seemed odd since Harry had been the absolute center of his world. Still was, really. Maybe it was because both of those circumstances had had their share of tense moments. Even if he hadn't been sent to Azkaban, he never would have forgotten the day when routine prenatal testing had turned up an "unexplained anomaly in the fetus."

The mediwizard had been quick to assure them that their baby was healthy and developing normally, but the damage had been done. James and Lily tried to put on a brave front, and claim that "anomaly" didn't necessarily mean "bad", but Sirius knew they had both been scared witless. They hadn't been truly reassured until three months later when their son was born. Tiny, wild-haired, and absolutely perfect, Harry had possessed the usual number of fingers and toes, and hadn't seemed different from any of the other babies in the hospital nursery. Well, besides the fact that he was Sirius' godson, and therefore the sweetest, smartest, most wonderful child ever born.

Since there weren't any obvious problems, the "anomaly" had been noted and "tagged for later study" when Harry was older. Sirius frowned thoughtfully, wondering if anything had ever come out of that. As far as he could tell, Harry was perfectly fine. Perhaps the lab had made a mistake, or the matter had been taken care of.

"He's all right, you know," Remus said out of nowhere, almost as if he'd read Sirius' mind.

Sirius blinked as he was pulled back to the present. "I s'pose," he mumbled gruffly, still a little miffed by Harry's behavior.

"Sirius." Remus' voice was stern now. "You said it yourself. Whatever else Harry may be, he's not stupid. Come on, Snape was just trying to yank your chain," he said, regarding his friend with amused amber eyes. "And from where I stand, he's succeeding."

"What? No way!" Sirius denied vehemently.

"Uh-huh," Lupin responded, looking and sounding supremely unconvinced. "Look, I don't pretend to understand exactly what Harry's reasoning is, but if Dumbledore told him to stay away..." Remus let the rest of the sentence drop and shrugged. "He's probably hiding because he thinks that he's protecting us."

Well, yes, that makes sense, Sirius conceded, nodding. He could almost picture Harry looking earnestly up at him with those big green eyes of his.

"Look, I'm sorry I got short with you, but if I'd really needed help, I would have asked for it. I'm all right, okay?"

His godson's words had been a plea for trust that Sirius found difficult to grant. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and raked a hand through his hair. "He says he's okay, and I want to believe him..." he trailed off and spread his hands helplessly, unable to put his feelings into words.

Lupin's shoulders slumped dejectedly. Yes, he thought he might understand what Sirius was trying to say. How were they supposed to believe the boy when he'd withheld such important news? What else might he be keeping from them? And perhaps most disturbing, exactly how did Harry define "okay?"

"Look," he finally said, trying to reassure Black, "I admit Harry's choices this summer have been a bit off-putting, but I did teach him for a year, remember? His approach to problem solving may not be as orderly and methodical as his friend Hermione's, but it's solid all the same. Even when he got an answer wrong, I could always follow his line of reasoning. That said, I truly believe there's more going on here than simple teenage rebellion, although that may be part of it."

"I'm just afraid he's settling for substandard accommodations, or else working himself to the bone to get by," Sirius admitted painfully. "It doesn't make sense, Moony! What kid doesn't consider being left at the train station an emergency for crying out loud?!"

Remus' expression darkened. "A kid who's had as bad or worse happen before, I reckon," he growled angrily. "What we've learned about his aunt and uncle goes a long way towards explaining that." He blew out a little breath and shook his head, then blinked as though he'd thought of something. "Wait... Remember what Arthur said a few days ago? About how Harry was alone at the train station, and Molly had to show him how to get to the Hogwarts Express? Who's to say they didn't just leave him there to fend for himself, then? Maybe he made his own way to Surrey when Dursley didn't show up because he didn't consider that kind of behavior odd."

Sirius' eyes darkened, and flashed angrily. It really was a good thing the Dursleys were in Australia, because if they had still been on Privet Drive... "If that's true, we're damn lucky he met up with the Weasleys," he said a little shakily. "Eleven and alone at King's Cross...God, anything could have happened!"

Remus didn't answer immediately, so Sirius looked back in his direction to make sure his friend hadn't nodded off again. He hadn't, but Sirius noted he had a very sad and far away look in his expressive amber eyes. "Moony?" he asked finally. "Something wrong, mate?"

"Something else you mean?" Remus asked with a ghost of a smile. "No, I was just thinking. I considered trying to get custody of Harry, did you know that?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Yeah," Remus went on with a humorless little laugh. "I thought about it quite a bit after I finally started to get over my own grief. I even went so far as to talk to a solicitor. I knew how spiteful and jealous Petunia could be."

"So what happened?" Sirius asked, frowning in confusion.

Lupin shrugged. "I let him talk me out of it. There were several good arguments. Harry had been placed in a very comfortable home, while I was just getting by. I couldn't swear I'd be able to provide a good home because it's always been hard for me to get or keep a job. No charges or complaints against the Dursleys had ever been brought before the Ministry. I'm close to useless near the full moon, and dangerous when I transform. I also had no legal claim on him." He broke off and arched an ironic eyebrow. "Frankly, my case didn't stand a chance, and even if we had uncovered some evidence. The Ministry doesn't have a very high opinion of half-breed freaks, you know."

He'd meant to say that in a joking manner, but failed miserably. Rising, he walked over to the mirror, frowning angrily at the house shown there. "It seemed so hopeless I gave up without a fight. You don't know how much I wish that I'd pressed forward," he mumbled sadly. "Even if I lost, there would have been an investigation. Perhaps Harry's circumstances would have come to light! Who knows? His relatives might have given up their guardianship willingly! Harry might not have been placed with me, but at least he would have been away from them!

At length, Sirius walked over and put a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder. He was disappointed to learn that yet another opportunity to "save" Harry had slipped away, but he found he couldn't really be angry with Moony. He had a point, after all, the idiots at the Ministry would have fought with everything they had to keep "The Boy Who Lived" from going to live with a werewolf. And really, there were no guarantees that Harry would have been placed with a loving, magical family. If Moony's case had failed altogether, and Harry had been forced to remain with his relatives, would the litigation have improved his lot, or worsened it?

"Should've, could've, would've, Moony," he said with a sigh, amazed to find himself in the role of "calm, reasonable one" for a change. "You aren't the only one who messed up. Do you think I'm proud of the way I played right into Pettigrew's hands? When I saw Harry was alive that night, I should have never left his side. I should have gone with Hagrid, confessed to Dumbledore, done whatever I had to do, but I was blinded by grief and anger and ran off half cocked. All I wanted was find Peter and wring his worthless neck," he sighed again. "But that's all water under the bridge now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Remus agreed. "We can't change the past. All we can do is find him, and start trying to make things better for him somehow...provided he forgives us for being such bloody idiots."

"So he started talking about torches, and I was completely missing the point because to me a torch is a big piece of wood with fire on top, right? He finally realized I didn't have a clue, and said 'You know, miss. Little hand-held light what runs on batteries.' Turns out he wanted a flashlight, for Pete's sake! I felt like such an idiot."

Stephen Wright grinned, amused by his wife's animated storytelling as they walked up the street. Carrying his bag in one hand, he slung his other arm across her shoulders, feeling the cares of the day begin to fall away.

His trip over from the States hadn't exactly been the smoothest. Delays, turbulence, and what seemed to be a million little headaches and annoyances had dogged the flight all the way across the Atlantic. By the time they'd finally arrived, he'd been tired, stiff and irritable, and quite frankly in no mood to deal with two cranky, exhausted children.

As such, he'd approached the terminal with an odd mixture of eagerness and trepidation. He'd missed Jannie and the girls, of course, and was excited about seeing them again, but as late as it was, Kitty and Becky would probably be bone-weary and grouchy to boot.

He figured he'd enter the gate area and find Janet buried under a pile of squalling or sleeping children, but to his surprise she'd been alone. He'd been in the airport for maybe two minutes before she'd spotted him and he'd found himself with an armful of gleefully excited wife. He'd hugged her close and kissed her soundly, spinning her around for good measure before noticing that no one else was clamoring for his attention.

The kids were missing.

Jannie, amazing, thoughtful person that she was, had managed to find a babysitter. Sure, he was a little disappointed, but honestly, everything went much smoother. Once they'd retrieved his bag, they'd set off to find a train back into the city.

That was the biggest adjustment he could foresee, actually. Being without a car was going to take a little getting used to. He'd never been an active patron of public transportation in the past. In this instance, they'd decided that the car would probably be an expense they could do without. They'd reasoned that they could always rent a car if they wanted to take a trip, or buy one if they decided they couldn't do without.

Steve grinned, remembering how his wife had matter-of-factly navigated their way back to London from the airport. Janet seemed to be adjusting well, and the train ride from the airport hadn't been bad at all. Maybe this would be okay.

He was curious about the babysitter, though. Jannie was usually very particular about who she left the kids with. He wouldn't have thought she could have known anyone long enough to trust them yet. She and the girls hadn't been in country all that long, and by the sound of things she'd been unpacking most of the time.

"So, when did you meet her?" he asked, when his wife finished her story.

Janet frowned uncomprehendingly. "Who?"

"The sitter."

Janet grinned. "I already told you about him. It's Sparky-the same kid who works at that little pub and inn over there."

Steve squinted into the shadows. "Where?"

"Over there," Janet pointed vaguely across the street and to the right. "The Leaky Cauldron." When Steve continued to look perplexed, she shrugged. "Doesn't look like Tom lights it up at night. You'll be able to see it tomorrow. It's not a place that exactly stands out, anyway. Just to warn you, it looks like a dive, but the inside's nice. Food's good, too."

Steve nodded. He'd been to a few places like that. "I'm surprised the kids are allowed in," he remarked frankly, still trying to see this mysterious building.

"Tom has his main area divided into dining room and bar," Janet said, describing the setup with her hands. Steve wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible for his wife to speak without gesturing. "He allows Kitty and Becky to come in the dining room, but they aren't allowed in what's considered the 'pub area'."

Steve nodded noncommittally. "How much farther is it?" he wondered curiously.

"Around that corner and down a little ways," Janet replied, pointing ahead. "I'm not quite finished with the unpacking, but most of it is done. We should have plenty of time to finish up and see some sights before I have to start my new job."

"I told you to wait, and I'd help you," he chided.

"I know, but I had to set up the bedrooms and the kitchen, and it isn't like I had a lot of pressing demands on my time," Janet returned with a shrug. "My only real commitment has been visiting the Leaky Cauldron every two days or so to buy pumpkin juice."

"So you mentioned," Steve said, recalling the last few e-mails he'd received. "I can't believe they'd like such a thing. It sounds awful-like liquid squash."

"It's spiced-tastes similar to pumpkin pie," Janet clarified. "Tom makes it in-house. He also makes a concoction called Butterbeer, which is very good. I've never tasted anything quite like it, but it sort of reminds me of cream soda. So far we've just had it chilled, but Sparky says it's served warm in cold weather. Should be interesting to try."

"Sounds like you two have really hit it off."

"Yes, he's very sweet. He's been helping me learn 'English' and sort of showing me the ropes," Janet shrugged. "It's hard to explain. Remember when we met?" she asked suddenly, seeming to veer off subject.

"How could I forget?" he responded, grinning.

"No, I mean how we were almost immediately comfortable with each other. How we sort of skipped that whole awkward 'sound each other out' phase?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm sure lots of couples discuss the division of household chores and acceptable discipline for hypothetical children on their second date..."

That earned him an elbow in the ribs.

"Smart aleck."

"That's me," he agreed cheerfully.

Janet shrugged. "It's the same sort of thing. We all just warmed up to each other right away. Me. Him. The kids. I can't explain it, any more than I can explain us, but it's been a blessing. Here we are. Ah. Good. Looks like he got them down," she said, noting the quiet and dimly lit state of the house.

"Did you think he'd have trouble?"

"What, you didn't believe me earlier? Your kids have been bouncing off the walls all day today, buddy! Tranquilizers were beginning to sound like a good idea."

"Oh, so they're my kids now?" he said with mock indignation.

"That's right. I only claim them when they're being sweet and wonderful."

"You must not claim them much."

"Ha, ha, aren't we the witty one?" Janet mumbled distractedly as she fumbled with the door then finally opened it with a flourish. "Welcome home! The house was clean when I left, but I make no guarantees about its condition at this point in time."

Actually, Steve thought, as he entered and looked curiously around, the house looked pretty good. In the soft glow of a single lamp, he could see Jannie had arranged their living room furniture in much the same way it had been in their old house back in the States. There were a few boxes stacked off to the side, still waiting to be dealt with-mostly his things, he noted wryly.

"I didn't want you to miss out," Janet grinned catching what he was looking at. "Our bedroom's upstairs at the end of the hall on the left-oh, for Heaven's sake!"

"What?" Steve asked softly, watching curiously as his wife bustled over to the couch. Setting down his bag, he walked over to her. His eyes widened a bit when he realized there was actually a person sitting on one end of the couch. The boy was curled into a little ball and tucked into a corner, while his bedding was laid out on the other side.

"Looks like someone fell asleep reading," Janet whispered, carefully working one of her favorite novels out of Harry's limp hand. "Here," she said, handing the book to her husband. "He's going to have a crick in his neck if he sleeps this way all night."

Steve accepted the book, automatically fishing his plane ticket out of his shirt pocket and using it as a bookmark. He had to admit, the kid was a lot younger than he'd been expecting. When Jannie said he had a job at a pub, he'd figured late teens at the earliest. This kid wasn't even shaving yet!

She was right, though. The boy's head was lolling forward in a most awkward manner. If they let him be, he'd be in serious pain tomorrow morning.

Setting the book on the coffee table, he watched bemusedly while his wife clucked her tongue and talked softly to the boy on the couch. She was trying to wake him just enough so he'd move, then immediately go back to sleep.

Everything was okay until she gently shook his shoulder. As soon as she touched him, he gasped and stiffened reflexively.

Janet got a classic "damn, I didn't mean to do that" expression on her face, when his eyes popped open in alarm. Still mostly asleep, he blinked stupidly, his brain trying to catch up with his body. Quickly, Jan began to talk again, trying to reassure him before he awoke completely.

"Easy, Sparky, it's just Janet," she soothed. "I didn't mean to scare you, but you need to lay down. You're going to get a stiff neck if you stay like that. Can you move for me, sweetie?"

Sparky made a little noise of protest, but seemed to understand what she wanted. "M'sorry. Did I wake you?" he asked sleepily.

"Sshh. You didn't wake anyone, we just got home. Come on now," Janet coaxed. "Lay down here on the pillow. That's right. You did a good job making your bed. Seems silly not to use it."

While Steve watched, amused, she gently herded the boy into a more normal sleeping position, then covered him snugly with a blanket. "You think he was waiting up for us?"

"Maybe," Janet said, absently rubbing Harry's back. "He could have just gotten interested in the book." She examined her charge critically, then nodded. "I think he's sleeping again."

"I'm surprised," Steve commented frankly as the climbed the stairs. "I wouldn't have thought you were talking about someone that young."

"He's pretty mature for his age in a lot of ways," Janet responded. "Sometimes when I'm talking to him I forget he's just a kid. Other times he'll say or do something that has me wondering if his social education was lacking."

Steve snorted. "That's pretty typical. How old is he, anyway?"

"He'll be fifteen at the end of the month," Janet said, glancing into Kitty and Becky's room as they passed. The girls were sleeping peacefully, Steve noted, watching as his wife walked inside, straightening covers and kissing each girl on the cheek. When they continued down the hall, and entered the master suite, Janet picked up her thought. "Becky's going to let me help her make a cake for him." She grinned impishly.

"Oh, is she now?"

"Mmm-hmm. But just between you and me, I think she's more interested in 'helping' him blow out his candles."

Steve grinned. Oh, yes. His youngest daughter loved candles. "And let's not forget her expertise in the fine art of present-opening," he teased. He turned his attention to his suitecase for a few minutes, throwing his dirty clothes in the basket, and gathering his toiletries before getting ready for bed. He had just finished brushing his teeth when he noticed Janet had gotten awfully quiet. He wondered if she'd gone to sleep, but no. She was staring out the window looking rather troubled. "What?" he asked, moving up behind her, and embracing her from behind.

Janet shrugged. "I was just thinking about something that happened a few days ago. I figured Sparky already had plans for his birthday, so I asked him if he'd mind an extra cake."

"And?"

"Well, that's just it. It was nothing he explicitly said or did. He just looked sort of surprised for a second, like he really hadn't been expecting that. I thought at first that I'd messed up again, and maybe kids don't have birthday cakes here in England, then he smiled at me."

"Seems like a normal response to me, Jan," Steve said, not seeing what the matter was. "What was he supposed to do? Tell you to take a hike?"

Janet wrinkled her nose at him. "Of course not. But he smiled, right? Really smiled. Then he caught himself and got all embarrassed. I was curious about his reaction, but when I asked, he just shrugged and said that his aunt and uncle had never been keen on celebrating their birthdays, or his."

It took a couple of seconds for Steve to grasp her implication. When he did, he stared at her incredulously. "So you think he's never had a birthday party?"

"I suspect that, yes," Jan corrected meticulously, unconsciously donning her "programmer" hat. "I also suspect that he feels he's too old to want something so 'childish', hence his embarrassment."

She met her husband's gaze, looking a little uncertain. "We don't have a lot of time to plan, but I thought I'd talk to Tom-see who his friends are. We could have a little surprise party here or in one of the parlors at the Leaky Cauldron if we can't contact anyone." She stopped a minute, then shrugged and went on, finally getting to the "why" part. "He's helped me more than he realizes these last few days, and I'd just like to do something nice for him."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no? Not that I was planning to anyway." Steve thought a minute then asked, "What about the aunt and uncle? Wouldn't they know who his friends are and how to contact them?"

Janet shrugged again. "Possibly, but I've never met them so I don't know for sure. It's like they're some kind of paranoid anti-social recluses or something. Sparky seems to come and go at will with little or no interference from them." She stopped and snorted disdainfully. "Tom's more of a guardian to him than they are from what I can see."

Steve was beginning to be concerned in spite of himself. Jannie was a passionate sort, no question, but she usually wasn't one to get this spun up over nothing, and she almost never spoke ill of people she'd never met. He frowned a little and studied his wife appraisingly. This had obviously been eating at her for a while.

"If you think something's wrong, isn't there someone you could contact?" he finally asked. "Child Protective Services, maybe?"

"I have no proof. What am I supposed to say, 'I have a bad feeling about this?'" Janet flared in frustration, before stopping and visibly reining herself in. Steve was not the one she was angry with. "Tom and I spoke a little this evening when I went to pick Sparky up, but the girls were there, so I didn't want to say too much," she continued more calmly. "Maybe I can go back and finish the conversation now that you're here. It could be nothing. I could be misreading the whole situation."

It's possible, but you don't believe that for a minute-and neither do I-but that's a problem we'll work on tomorrow, Steve thought as they turned out the lights and climbed into bed. "C'mere," he said, reaching out an arm and pulling her close. "Everything will come out in the wash, you'll see," he said, giving her a little kiss. "And just in case I forgot to mention it, I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

* For anyone who may not know, a Snidget is a little bird. The modern Quidditch snitch was modeled after it. Reference: Quidditch Through The Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp (J.K. Rowling).

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