Afternoon Tea *Sirius*

Sirius was in no mood to tell stories. He wasn't in a mood to do much of anything, really, except wallow in his own foul temper. In the stupid feelings of guilt and incompetence that had settled like lead in his stomach. He wished he could talk to James. He nearly always wished that. James would have known just what to say, just what to do, to make everything better. He'd have known how to handle a petulant outburst without making Harry cry.

Well, Sirius reminded himself, James wasn't here. And Lily wasn't here. Only Sirius was here, and so he and Harry would have to work this out on their own. Sirius was already running through the conversation in his mind and berating himself. He never should have said he was disappointed. Even if it was true. Even if it was still true. But he was also proud of Harry for owning up to his mistake. For apologizing. For trying to make it right, at least. Odd, that. Sirius had never known it was possible to feel disappointed in a person and proud of them all at once. The strangeness of this parenting thing never ceased to amaze him.

Sirius felt oddly self-conscious and wasn't at all sure why. Even though the row was over, his heart still beat quickly in his chest, and his stomach still felt twisted from the adrenaline that pumped through it. His fingers were twitchy. All of his instincts told him to go and do something. That was his usual reaction to negative emotions. His girlfriends used to hate it. Just about the time the row got too tense, he'd make some excuse for why he couldn't stay and run off to go flying or shoot fireworks or go running through the forest. He hated this feeling of being trapped. He had a sudden feeling like all the nervous energy was going to just burst out of him. When he was younger, this was the feeling that usually accompanied accidental magic. But now, it just left him feeling jittery and unsure.

He wished he could go to Godric's Hollow, just to go somewhere. Just to do something. He hadn't been in a year, he realized. It was his first stop after he broke out of prison. It was even sort of along the way to Surrey. He went to the graveyard as Padfoot and sat between their graves and threw back his head and howled. He slept there that night, curled up beside the tombstones, wishing with all his heart that he'd been the one to die, instead of them. It was a desperate thought, and one he rarely had any more. Now he only wished they all might have lived. And now that wish was beginning to morph into something else, something he couldn't explain. Acceptance, perhaps.

There was something odd to that as well. It felt wrong, somehow, to take such joy in parenting Harry. Because it wouldn't be happening if James were still here. So every time Sirius felt thankful to have so much time with Harry, guilt came right on its heels. Being glad Harry lived with him wasn't the same as being glad James wasn't around, was it? Intellectually, Sirius knew it wasn't. Knew there was nothing wrong with finding silver linings however he could, but emotionally Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying James, somehow. Doing what he couldn't. Taking his place. Raising his son. Almost as though he'd never been here at all.

Sirius made his decision. He would go to Godric's Hollow. Perhaps he'd even explain all of this to James' grave. He'd heard of people talking to headstones sometimes, though just the thought of doing so made him feel silly. But who knew, perhaps it would be cathartic. He looked at Harry, studying him for a moment. Perhaps he should invite the boy to come along. Perhaps it would be good for them to visit James and Lily together. They'd never done that. Sirius meant to, but the summer was so busy with cleaning out Grimmauld Place and getting settled and getting to know one another. Sirius had tried to focus on fun activities. Flying and visits to the zoo and going to the world cup and that sort of thing. Harry had surely gone with his aunt and uncle, but Sirius really should take him, too. Besides, his aunt and uncle wouldn't have been able to take him to the house. Being muggles, they never would have known it was there.

Sirius stood slowly and straightened his shirt. He grabbed his wand off his desk and tucked it in his back pocket, pulling his shirt over it to conceal it. They'd be amongst muggles; it wouldn't do for one of them to see it. Though in his experience, they often thought it was a drumstick. Muggles, he thought fondly. They'd do anything in the world not to have to believe in magic.

"Actually, Harry, I was thinking of going to Godric's Hollow. Would you care to come along?"

Harry sat in an awed silence, not knowing what to say next. He wanted to jump for joy that he was finally going to be able to see Godric’s Hollow and where his parents were buried. He hoped he would get to sit at his parents’ graves and pay them some sort of real tribute. But then another part of him felt that he wasn’t really worth it, especially after the stunt he had just pulled with Sirius. How could he face his mother and father when he had spoken to his godfather so disrespectfully? He didn’t know if he wanted the first time he saw his parents’ graves to be when he had been such a major prat. His cheeks were still flushed, partly from crying earlier, and partly from embarrassment at the possibility of confessing to his parents, whether they heard him or not. He looked back at Sirius and sighed.

“I don’t know. I mean...I think I want to, but...I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

He knew it sounded incredibly stupid. But what if part of the reason they were gone was because a higher power had realized Harry was just not meant to have parents? And he already knew he didn’t deserve Sirius anymore. He felt so lost and so worthless in this moment. Selfishly, he thought that maybe he would feel better if he actually did go to Godric’s Hollow. Maybe he could pretend that he was there like any normal person. It was where he would have grown up if Voldemort hadn’t killed his mum and dad. He would have known all about the wizarding world, and would have most likely ridden his first broomstick with his father’s help. He would have helped his mother around the house with little chores, or maybe even planted a garden with her. The thought made him smile and in that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the trip.

“But I guess I’ve waited long enough, haven’t I? I’ll come.”

He took the lead from Sirius and stood, placing his wand away, but accessible. He wasn’t scared, but he also knew his home town was not necessarily very safe for him. He was glad that Sirius would be with him, but that didn’t mean he could throw caution to the wind. If someone were to come after him, he would be ready.

Sirius was silent as Harry made his decision. He wished he could say he didn't care either way, but he did. Now that he had it in his head that they were going to go, he'd have been disappointed if Harry decided not to. He'd have accepted it, of course. He knew that Harry had homework and friends to keep up with, and a girlfriend. Girlfriends took up a lot of time. Although, with the right girl, a person didn't notice. When it was the right girl, you wanted to be with her. It was fun. It was easy. For Sirius, anyway, and when it stopped being fun and easy was generally when he stopped being interested.

Sirius had the sudden, and rather selfish, thought that Harry's girlfriend would likely cut into their time together. Suddenly, Sirius wanted Harry to agree to come with him even more. He really couldn't get enough of that kid, and he couldn't imagine loving him more if Harry were his own son. He pushed down the guilt he felt when he thought things like that and gave Harry an encouraging smile, wishing he knew what to do with the lingering awkwardness.

It was their first row, such that it was. Sirius supposed it had to happen eventually, and this one hadn't been bad, as rows went. Still, the responsibility to make it all okay again sat heavily in Sirius' gut. He could still recall the way all the tension and fear used to go out of him when Mr. Potter hugged him after he was punished and told him everything would be all right. He was now beginning to wonder how long it took all the tension and fear to go out of Mr. Potter. Sirius was starting to think that that old adage about punishment hurting the parent more than the child might very well be true. And he hadn't even punished Harry. Not really, anyway. Did lecturing count as punishment? Sirius tried to think back to his boyhood. It counted when he cared what the person doing the lecturing thought about him, he decided.

Sirius frowned as Harry answered, afraid that his words had done too much harm. What did Harry mean, he didn't want to be a disappointment? Disappointment to whom? Did he think Sirius would be disappointed in him if he didn't go wherever Sirius asked him to go? If that was the case, it would appear he had some serious damage control to do. He certainly didn't want to be the sort of parent who controlled his child's every move. Harry didn't have to come, if he didn't want to. Sirius wouldn't make him.

Sirius was silent for a few moments as he debated his next words. He hoped admitting his mistake wouldn't make him appear weak in Harry's eyes. When he was young, he always appreciated it when the adults in his life leveled with him and apologized when they buggered things up. He hoped Harry would be the same.

"Harry, I'm sorry for what I said. About being disappointed. I never should have said it. I mean, I do expect better from you and all, and I meant what I said about you not speaking to me like that, but I'm very proud of you for owning up and admitting your mistake and apologizing. It takes a lot of courage to do that. I don't ever want you to think that you're a disappointment. I was disappointed in your actions, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm disappointed in you. You make me proud, mate. Every second of every day. Nothing is ever going to change that. Especially not one little mistake. And I hope... well, I hope you can forgive my mistake as well."

Harry looked up at Sirius, his eyes still wet from crying. He slowly realized that he had been rather cryptic with his godfather, and once again...the situation needed to be rectified. He sighed and wrapped his arms around Sirius again, not really wanting to let go. He didn't want to hurt the man anymore than he already had done today. He pulled back and shook his head, unsure of how to really express his concerns without seeming even more self-involved and clueless. How did you tell your dad's best friend that you were afraid you would be a disappointment to him, especially if your father was already in the grave? Needless to say, it was quite the predicament. Harry was quite sure Sirius would have known precisely what to say had he been in this situation. But Harry was not Sirius. He felt...inadequate. And he felt tongue-tied, two emotions that seemed to go hand in hand for the 'famous' Harry Potter, in his own humble opinion.

"Sirius, I wasn't talking about you. I was worried my parents might be disappointed in me after what happened today. Sometimes I wonder if they would have been proud at what I've become. I'm sure they weren't expecting me to behave this way, and frankly...I wasn't really expecting it myself. This will be my first time seeing them, from what I can remember, and I haven't got much to say that isn't an apology."

He could feel even more tears threatening, but he wasn't interested in doing any more of that for the afternoon; especially if he was going to go see Godric's Hollow and the place where it all had happened. He would finally see the street he was meant to live on, or imagine the life that was meant to have been his. That would be the time to cry, if he was going to do so at all.

"But don't worry about me," he sighed. "I do want to go, and I promise not to mope anymore. How are we traveling, Sirius? I have a funny feeling we won't be going by boat or car."

Sirius gave a sad smile as he palmed the back of Harry's head, pulling him in to plant a kiss atop his messy hair. Merlin's beard, how he loved this kid! He'd never thought it was possible to love a person so much. It was obvious he was still beating himself up, and Sirius wished he'd stop, though he supposed there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd have been doing the same thing if roles were reversed. Once his temper had done its work, and he'd said whatever angry, desperate words were in his head, he usually thought he'd die from guilt.

Sirius wondered for a brief moment if perhaps he should have done something punitive. He'd heard of people needing punishment to assuage their guilt, though Sirius had never been able to relate to it. His guilt would follow its own trajectory whether he was punished or not, and punishments generally only served to make him feel angry. Or unloved. This parenting thing was impossible! He felt like anything he did was going to be wrong.

He kissed Harry again and pulled him to arms' length. A finger under Harry's chin forced the boy to keep his eyes up. Sirius wasn't sure why he did that, except that Mr. Potter used to do it. "Listen to me, love. As far as I can see, your parents have every reason in the world to be proud of you. They certainly wouldn't have held one little mistake against you... and neither will I." That last bit was probably unnecessary, but Sirius still felt the need to say it. "We all say things we don't mean when we're upset, and I don't want you beating yourself up over it anymore. Or I really will give you detention." Sirius winked, his easy smile returning as he threw an arm across Harry's shoulder. They were going to be fine, him and Harry. Just fine.

Sirius' side-armed hug changed quickly to a headlock. He ran his knuckles across the top of Harry's head as he walked slowly to the floo, dragging his godson along with him. He stopped long enough to grab a handful of floo powder and toss it in the fire. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"

And with a playful kick to his backside, Sirius sent Harry through. Sirius followed a moment later, stepping out into the dark living room of his childhood home. Oh, how he hated this place. He wished he had somewhere better to take Harry. Maybe he'd sell it and move them both to the seaside. Well, there was still plenty of time to think on that before Christmas. He held an arm out to Harry. "And now, we apparate. Take my arm. Have you ever traveled by side-along apparition before?"

Harry looked around. The house was still the same as they had left it. Yes, it was somewhat dark and drab, and Harry knew that it carried some unpleasant memories for Sirius. But to Harry, this was his first real home. He had lived in a bloody broom closet for the first eleven years of his existence, with the spiders as his only company. And he had been treated without a care. But to be in a house where he felt valued, appreciated...deeply and unequivocally loved...now that was what he considered a home. He didn't care how it looked, and to be honest, he didn't really care if they stayed long. As long as he got to be with Sirius, he didn't mind where they were. But Grimmauld Place would always be considered as his very first home.

But today, he would actually get to see the house that should have been his home form the beginning of his life. And it was at one point, though he could not remember it. Although he truly hoped that Sirius would understand that no matter what they saw today, he would never regret being able to be with him now and have the opportunity to be a family. He smiled up at him and took his arm.

"I haven't done it before, no. But I've heard what it's like. Hey, Sirius...?"

He looked up into those eyes of his godfather, but he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. He didn't want to become emotional again with all the things that were running around in his head, so he simply nodded and said, "Thank you. For everything."

He stood up straight and stared resolutely forward.

"I'm ready when you are."

Sirius took Harry's elbow and apparated them to the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. There was no one around; it was a small town and not really on the way to anywhere. Even after all these years, the walk into town was still familiar. It made Sirius happy to know that some things could stay the same, but it also seemed strange, somehow, for the town to just keep going on. He supposed that was the way of things. The world didn't stop just because two people in it had died. Sirius led the way, a somber sort feeling settling across him as they entered the village. He couldn't count the number of times he'd walked down this same lane, on his way to visit his friends. The slightly jittery feeling of anticipation almost returned, like he was still on his way to see them. He put an arm around Harry's shoulder. He walked slowly, as he was sure Harry would want to look around and take it all in. He would want to, were he in his godson's shoes. If things had turned out right, this is the town where he'd have grown up, after all.

The church bells rang down the lanes. A wedding. The bride and groom ran out as their friends threw showers of rice. "Your parents were married there," Sirius said as he stopped to watch the happy couple. "I don't think I ever saw your dad so happy. He kept looking at your mother like he still couldn't believe it. He never did stop looking at her like that. I never knew two people so in love. And they loved you, too. You wouldn't believe how much. They used to argue over who would get to hold you. Between them and your grandparents and Remus and me, you hardly ever had to sleep in your crib. Your mum used to fall asleep with you in the rocking chair, and James and I would have to carry her to bed."

Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder, pulling him in for a small, side-armed hug. He wanted him to understand that he had been loved, once. He'd said it before, of course, told him how happy they were when he was born, and how proud, and how glad Sirius was to be his godfather, but sometimes he wondered if the message stuck. If somewhere, underneath all the things the Dursleys had done to him, he could possibly remember having been adored. Or if he understood how much he was adored now.

Sirius sighed. He wished he could go back in time to his two best friends' wedding. Wished he could warn them what was going to happen. Wished he could change it. He also wished he could stay right here with Harry, watching this wondrous display of human love and hope and happiness. He appreciated it more now, he thought, than when he was younger. Of course, they couldn't stay here, and soon there wouldn't be much to see. The bride and groom were climbing into a car, waving, smiles on their faces. The crowd was already beginning to disperse. Going back to their homes, back to their lives. It was the way of things. Time marched on. "What do you think? House first? Or graveyard first?"

The moment Harry arrived in the place of his birth, his brain seemed to freeze with time. It was as if there was a big, round clock controlling his life and all of a sudden, it had just stopped. He felt his heart catch within his throat, and he barely had time to look around before he heard Sirius speaking to him. Had he actually articulated words? Harry wasn't sure. All he could think about was the fact that somewhere nearby, though they were dead, his parents waited for him. He looked into his godfather's face for almost a full minute, completely silent. Then he cleared his throat softly.

"Did you...did you say something?"

How was he supposed to even complete a coherent thought? He finally got to a point where he could actually focus his gaze on the scenery around him. It seemed quite normal. How in the hell was that even possible? Here, his life had changed forever. Here, his family had been abruptly and gruesomely taken from him. Here, the Dark Lord had been diminished to nothingness. Yet the world continued as if each moment passed by without another thought. And Harry stood, not able to make his own time move any faster than the thudding of the heart in his chest. And it actually wasn't beating very fast. His heart had slowed the moment he had arrived here, but the beating had broadened in volume. He was almost afraid Sirius would be able to hear it.

He felt his feet moving forward, and he didn't do a thing to stop them. His subconscious was working overtime as he traveled to his unknown destination. He walked down the rather narrow sidewalk, and he passed by people he didn't pay much attention to, though he could tell that they were whispering. He knew the murmurs were most likely about him, but he paid no heed. He only continued walking, hoping that Sirius would keep any gawking from knowing witches and wizards to a minimum. And then within moments, he was in front of a darkened, half-upright house. It looked as if it had exploded. And Harry knew this was his home. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he reached his arm toward Sirius, linking their arms together. Harry had not been expecting the house to still be standing, looking as it must have looked that night. He didn't even attempt to wipe the tears that were now swiftly falling down his cheeks. He just rested his head against Sirius's shoulder and continued his cry quietly. Thank Heaven Sirius was the one with him now. He didn't think it would have been appropriate with anyone else.

"It's...it's..."

He couldn't think of any fitting words. Who in the world could have? He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then released a shaky breath.

"Home sweet home," he whispered.

Sirius wasn't sure what to do. It seemed an odd way for Harry to see the house he was born in. A ruptured house of dreams. Sirius remembered being surprised the first time he saw it when he got out of prison - surprised that it was still here, surprised that no one had fixed it, surprised that it had been left here like this. A broken down memorial to the two bravest people he ever knew.

He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for them, in those final moments. The fear, the confusion, the betrayal. Did they even have time to realize Peter had betrayed them? There hadn't been much of a fight, Sirius knew that much. He was there to see the aftermath. James' wand wasn't even nearby. He didn't want to think about how terrified they must have felt, how helpless. He was happiest when he didn't think about it, and he didn't want Harry thinking about it, either.

He threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "I think I have a picture of you and your parents in front of this house somewhere. I'm not sure. A lot of my things were lost while I was in prison." Thrown away, more likely. Someone probably cleaned out his flat and took the things to his mother. She wouldn't have wanted to keep pictures of blood traitors. Remus had managed to save a few of the more important things, though. Good old Remus. Sometimes Sirius wasn't sure what he'd do without him.

"But if I've got it, you can have it." Sirius had already given Harry a lot of his pictures of James and Lily. He had a practical collection. There was even one on the platform before they went to Hogwarts on their first day. It was supposed to be a picture of Sirius. His parents were so proud of him. It was the last time they ever were. James just happened to be in the background. When he realized someone was taking a picture, he made a face. A few times, Sirius had caught him tap dancing back there. Funny how James could still make him laugh.

His throat constricted without warning. He closed his eyes against the coming tears. He yearned to become Padfoot. Dog emotions were so much less complex. Nothing hurt as much. Or perhaps it was just a different type of pain. He didn't know, but it didn't matter. He swallowed loudly, trying to force the tears away. He didn't want to cry in front of Harry, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Silly, really, to be so ashamed of tears.

He gasped as they spilled over. He pulled Harry close and laid a cheek atop his head. He managed to regain control within only a minute or two. He didn't even bother to wipe the tears. Let Harry see them. There was no point in pretension where Harry concerned. "I still miss them," he said softly. "I think I probably always will. In a weird way, I sort of hope I will, because I don't ever want to forget how much I loved them. They really were amazing people, and you're just like them. Both of them." He pulled Harry close again, wishing he knew what else to say.

If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have believed them. They were Harry's parents, no one else could really understand his pain. Except for Sirius. And maybe Remus, as well. But every time someone outside of the Marauders said they missed James and Lily, Harry had a hard time believing them. Did they even really know his parents? He was always so skeptical. But with Sirius and Remus, he knew their love was real. He knew that they loved both of his parents unconditionally. And they would have given their lives for them had they known that there was such a danger that night. If only one of them had been secret keeper instead of Pettigrew. Then Harry would still have a mother and a father.

He turned to Sirius and wrapped his arms around him, then began to cry. It was a soul-wrenching cry, and he didn't think it would ever end. Why was the world so unfair? Why did good people have to die? Their lives had been snuffed as easily as a candle's flame, and Harry was powerless to do anything about it. What was the bloody point of being a wizard if you couldn't go back in time and change the evils that this world had to offer? But he knew it was fruitless. He knew nothing could bring his parents back. He would never see them again, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. Just indefinable hatred. And if Harry wasn't careful, he himself would be consumed by it.

After a few minutes of angry, confused, tearful pondering, Harry pulled away and wiped his eyes for the hundredth time that day. He looked up at Sirius.

"I think I'm ready for the cemetery. And if you find that picture, I think I would like to see it, actually."

He turned and walked toward the small church that seemed to be glowing in the center of the square. He was sure he was only imagining it. It was just make-believe that the small building was beckoning to them. But he continued toward it, the same as he had done with the house. It was as if he was magnetized toward the small plot of land.

When they arrived there, Harry opened the small cemetery gate, then waited for Sirius. His godfather would know where they were buried. Harry was more concerned with the feeling that he felt almost electric. Where was this power coming from? Was it just the fact that he knew he would soon see his parents, or that there was some evil lurking in a hidden corner somewhere? He supposed it would always seem this way in Godric's Hollow, where his parents had been brutally murdered. But he would not feel completely comfortable until he knew he was next to Sirius. So he waited with bated breath and closed his eyes in anticipation.

"Almost there," he whispered to himself.

Sirius wound his way through the tombstones along the familiar path to the one where his family lay. James' parents weren't far from where James and Lily were. Many of his ancestors were buried there - names Sirius had heard over Christmas dinner - people he hadn't meant but who seemed like old friends because he'd heard so much about them. Uncle Charlus and Grandmother Juliette and Great Uncle Pinckney, who went a little crazy in the end and started dressing up in muggle women's nightgowns. The flowery ones, with lace at the hems and little pink bows at the neck. Sirius always wished he could have seen that.

It was still shocking to Sirius to see their graves, especially to see them so dirty and unkempt. He would have thought Petunia and Vernon would at least try to keep them up. He knew they were foul, but he always thought they'd at least have respect for the dead. He didn't realize until Harry started talking, just how foul they really were. When he came last year, he couldn't tend them. Couldn't clean the dirt out of the letters, or sweep the dead leaves away. He had to stay Padfoot. He couldn't risk giving himself away. Not here, where someone he knew might see him. Today, however, he could.

Sirius waved his wand to clear away thirteen years of accumulated dirt. Another wave of his wand conjured two bouquets of flowers. He handed them to Harry. They were his parents. He should have a chance to put flowers on their graves. When he had finished, Sirius sat at the foot, hugging his knees and looking at the graves. As much as he knew it intellectually, sometimes it was still hard to believe that they were gone, and harder still to believe that someday everyone else would be, too. Including Sirius.

People like James and Lily weren't supposed to die. They were so full of life. James had the type of personality that could fill a room. It was nearly impossible to believe that a person like that could be snuffed out in an instant. But he could. War could destroy anything. Everything. Except the endlessness of the human spirit.

The graveyard was strangely peaceful. A bird chirping. A gentle breeze. It was good and right, Sirius decided, for them to have such a peaceful place to rest. Sirius looked at Harry, wondering what he was thinking. He wanted to give the boy some space. Seeing his parent's graves for the first time couldn't have been easy, but he didn't want to give him too much, either. And besides, he wanted Harry near. He was eternally grateful for Harry. The boy had no idea how special he was. No idea how much he meant to so many, and not just as a symbol, but as himself. He was nothing short of miraculous, all he had been through, and all he had become.

Sirius pulled his eyes away from the gravestones and rested them on Harry, studying him, hoping he knew how much he was loved. He sat up a little straighter in the grass. "Knut for your thoughts?"

There were now permanent tear tracks running down Harry's cheeks, and he was not in the mood to care. He sat on the cool ground, staring at the headstones, waiting for something to happen. He didn't know what he was expecting, but this was the first time he was actually next to his parents in his own recollection, and it was altogether too still and quiet. He couldn't take his eyes off of the text in the stones before him. How was it possible that two people had lived and died in such a short amount of time? He had always thought of his parents as so old before. They were his parents, after all. But when he actually saw it in writing, that they were only twenty-one...that was what made it real. He was fourteen. That was only seven years' difference! He couldn't imagine himself dead in seven years, even though he had come so close to death on a number of occasions.

James and Lily Potter had been robbed, that was all there was to it. They had barely gotten to live before Voldemort ripped their lives from them. And now Harry was stuck in a world that was a void. He could see their graves, he could hear their stories...but he would never be truly with them. His stomach was tied in a rather large knot, and even when Sirius placed the bouquets of flowers on their graves, Harry could barely see past the tears.

It was completely unfair. That was the only word that could do any justice to how he was feeling. Unfair and senseless. That was another good word to describe the anger in his heart. He heard Sirius asking what his thoughts were, and he was tempted to say, 'I want to bring that son of a bitch back to life so I can punch him in his reptilian face,' but he figured that he would hold back. Sirius would know he was angry, and he would be okay with it. But Harry didn't want to focus on the anger while he was in the cemetery with his parents. He wanted to prove that he was better than the scum who had brought about their reason for being here. So he looked up at Sirius for a brief moment, not ashamed of the tears on his face this time.

"I'm just happy I got to come. Thank you, Sirius."

He rested his head against his godfather's arm and stared at the graves of his beloved parents. One day, they would have a world where they weren't afraid of war or hatred. But until then, he would need to watch and study. The next time Voldemort came to take away something he loved, he would be ready.