Harry Potter A New Sirius Black

Every bone in Sirius's body screamed at him to return to Harry's bedside, even though the boy was beyond hearing him at this moment. After all, Madam Pomfrey was right; the sleeping potion in his system was keeping him immobile for now. Sirius despised that the old man across the desk from him was taking him away from his first priority again, but he knew it was better to have this conversation here in Madam Pomfrey's office than it would have been to have it by Harry's bed, where his godson could wake up and hear it.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Sirius and the Headmaster had been in this position, but it felt like a multitude of events had happened since then. He was honestly surprised that the old man had waited this amount of time to speak to him again, and the ex-convict truly dreaded what scheme Albus had come up with now to try and pry him away from Harry.

Whatever it is, I won't fall for it, he vowed solemnly. A pinprick of guilt jabbed through him as he wondered how it had come to this, that he was thinking such vicious thoughts about a man he had fought for, who he had once looked up to and respected. But in the next instant, it was gone; he had a much bigger purpose now. It didn't matter what Albus's goals were, or how noble his intentions; Sirius's sole mission was to protect Harry's well-being.

Minutes earlier, as he'd sat by Harry's bed watching him sleep, thankfully no longer being disturbed by Madam Pomfrey, his mind had come to some other harrowing and devastating realizations. Last night and throughout the course of the morning, he'd been so entirely focused on Harry's emotional turmoil, and his goal of helping the boy recover from the catastrophic events of the night before that his conscious mind had blocked out the physical danger the boy had been in. To put it plainly, his beloved godson had almost been brutally murdered the night before.

When Harry had explained, with a trembling voice the previous evening, of the occurrence of Priori Incantatem, he had been completely and utterly overwhelmed by the thought of James and Lily's ghosts appearing from the end of Voldemort's wand and helping Harry escape, and consumed by the raw jealousy that Harry had gotten to speak to them and see their faces, if only for an instant.

He remembered the shame he felt over that selfish jealousy; he, after all, had gotten to know them, gotten to love them, and it was his own arrogance, his own presumption that he knew exactly what he was doing, his own stupid, foolhardy, idiotic plan that had gotten them killed. Harry had gotten fifteen months with them, fifteen months that he probably remembered none of. In his opinion, Harry had much more of a right to grieve for them than he did.

Then had come the heart-stopping gratitude that even in death, they had been there for their son during a moment when Harry had needed them most, and it filled Sirius with such love for them that he thought the emotion would literally knock him over; it had swept over him with such intensity he was sure he would break right then and there. But it wasn't until a few minutes ago, as he watched Harry lying asleep after his ordeal with Cedric and the Diggorys, that it really hit him. His best friends had truly saved Harry's life, had given him the courage to struggle on when giving up must have looked like a sweet escape.

And looking at Albus now, any remaining guilt he felt towards how he was treating the other man instantly evaporated. If he had full control of his faculties at the moment, he might have had an inkling that the vitriol he was about to unleash was somewhat irrational, but right now, the thought didn't cross his mind.

He felt as though a huge weight was crushing down on his chest, compressing his lungs with such a vengeance so that he felt like taking a single breath was agony. Moments earlier Dumbledore had asked benignly, "How is young Harry coping?" He had asked it so innocently, so nonchalantly, and Sirius's senses had been immediately flooded by rage. Dumbledore had then explained that Madam Pomfrey had informed him of what had happened between Harry, the Diggorys, and his emotional parting promise to Cedric.

"Oh, how is Harry doing?" Sirius whispered in a hoarse voice, but the single sentence carried an extraordinary amount of venom in its path. "How can you even ask such a thing, Dumbledore? How do you truly expect him to be faring after everything he's been through?"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said in that soothing, unflappably calm tone of his that had comforted Sirius in the past, but now only stoked the flames in his soul. "You must know, I care about Harry too. I mean no offense by my question."