A/N:

WARNINGS: Because I'm just that nice, I'm going to mention that this story contains drug-induced relationships, betrayal, a bit of swearing and virtually no mention of child abuse. Seriously, this has got to be the most PG fic I've ever written! I'm rating it T!


It all started one day last summer. I was wandering around Grimmauld Place being all angsty about having to stay there, when I heard voices from the kitchen. Normally I would have ignored them, but this time I just couldn't.

Why? Because they said Harry's name.

As it was concerning my godson, I walked closer to the door to listen in. If they were making plans for him without my input again, I was planning to hex them into oblivion. As it was, I never got a chance.

"…in his scar. Potter must die to destroy it." I heard Dumbledore say.

I froze at these words, and leaned closer to hear more.

"I suppose the wedding is going to have to take place sooner than I thought, then?"

Wedding? Why on earth was Molly yapping about a wedding in a conversation concerning Harry? Unless…

"That is the case, Molly. I believe next year will be a good time to begin dosing him."

"Good. Ginny and I need that money," she sighed wistfully. "Ginerva Potter… It has a lovely ring to it."

I was almost sick by now. They couldn't be planning to do that. They couldn't…

"Indeed, Molly. However, we are going to have to stage it so he receives minimal recognition for Voldemort's destruction as possible."

"How are we going to do that? He killed that basilisk, and-"

"Ah, Molly. Why do you think the press didn't have a field day? I said the monster had been 'dealt with', not even mentioning Potter. They think I did it."

"Clever!" the woman exclaimed. "Oh, this will be so brilliant… You-Know-Who killed and that arrogant Potter dead, leaving us his entire fortune!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not that he is aware of anything more than his trust vault. I have a fake will prepared to file when the time comes, so not to worry."

Lip trembling, I began to back away quietly. They couldn't do this… they just couldn't, not to Harry! He deserved so much more. Not this… Never this. I was so lost in my thoughts that I forgot about the squeaky floorboard.

Moments after the squeak I found Dumbledore's wand to my throat with him glaring at my face. I tried to hide I knew anything, I really did… but this man's a master legilimens; he knew straight away.

"I could obliviate you, Sirius, but I know you would just break through it," Dumbledore began. "So this is what we are going to do; you will swear an unbreakable vow to myself that you will not tell anyone about what you just heard. If you do not, you will find yourself unable to contact your godson."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. He could very well do what he said he would; there were a number of cells down in the basement he could lock me in without anyone noticing. He could then tell everyone that I'd died in a fit of recklessness. I couldn't allow that to happen because Harry was going to need me, even if it was just as a small, barely noticeable sign that told him Dumbledore was untrustworthy.

I agreed to the vow. Less than a month later, when Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, I told him however I could without actually saying it. I told him that Voldemort was after a weapon he didn't have before, and that wasn't necessarily false; Harry was a weapon to Dumbledore that he never had in the previous war, and Voldemort was after him. I couldn't do much else, because that was when Molly returned to the room and figured out what I was doing.

The next day, Harry approached me. He'd figured it out, somehow, the clever boy. But he had confided in Ron, who told Dumbledore about it… And Dumbledore joined us mid-conversation. He obliviated Harry and strengthened my vows. Then Remus came in, and judging by the headmaster's eyes, he was about to talk to me about the same thing. He too was obliviated. I never managed to get that message across again.

It was during the time Harry was staying for Christmas that I overheard the next conversation. Dumbledore felt I was becoming a nuisance, and intended to put me down. This was my main reason for giving Harry the two-way mirror; I knew I had limited time left, and I needed a way to talk to my godson. I needed to at least try to get the message through to him, but he never opened the package. He cared too much for me and was worried it would get me caught.

Now it's June. Harry was sent a vision by Voldemort and went to save me in the Department of Mysteries, but it was false. Voldemort was after a prophesy concerning the two, the one I learned from my overheard conversations was the reason Dumbledore was using Harry as a weapon. Remus didn't want me to come and help Harry, but I did anyway. And look where it's got me?

The last thing I saw before I fell towards the veil was Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes glazing over for a second as she sent a tripping hex at me, sending me stumbling towards it. But the last thing I saw before I disappeared from the mortal realm was Harry staring with wide eyes at me showing nothing but horror and disbelief. 'Please, don't follow Dumbledore, Harry. Save yourself.'

And with that, Harry never saw me again.


When I became aware again, Merlin knows how much later, I realised I was lying on my back on a very hard, cold stone floor. Then I realised that I was completely nude, and upon wishing I had something to cover myself up with, I felt a pile of robes appear lying on my face. I hesitantly opened my eyes, scanning the room I was in before I donned them.

It was an extremely clean version of Kings Cross Station. There were no empty crisp packets stuffed in nooks and crannies, no used cigarettes on the ground… there weren't even any trains. As I examined my surroundings more clearly, I became aware of the silhouette of a person approaching.

As the person approached different things about him became clearer. He had a slim build, slightly shorter than myself. The shape seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it until I saw the hair. That messy, completely untameable black hair.

"Harry?" I gasped in disbelief. "What did you think you were doing, following me through that stupid curtain?" The figure laughed, and it was then that I realised he was taller, older and more filled-out than Harry. If anything, this just made me even worse. "James?"

"The one and only," James exclaimed as his hazel eyes came into view. He then looked at me with a sad but happy smile. "Come on, Padfoot; Lils is waiting for us in our house. We've been watching you, Harry and Remus from there for ages…" he trailed off as his expression grew sad. "I bloody hate Dumbledore, Sirius; there's no way Prongslet will be able to break through his manipulations. Our baby is never going to live his own life."


James took me to a replica of their old house in Godric's Hollow, where Lily greeted me with a hug before yapping about getting back to the TV before the time stream starts again. That was where we spent the next few years watching as Harry's life was gradually torn into tatters.

I'll admit I was touched that Harry was so affected by my death. I hadn't thought he'd liked me that much, but apparently he did. The sad realisation on James and Lily's faces confused me, but before I could ask, Harry had attempted to perform the cruciatus curse on Lestrange. I honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that. Happy because he cared for me so much, or horror because he managed to perform the curse, even if it barely hurt the bitch?

We watched the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore, all the while scowling as we realised that Dumbledore wasn't actually doing anything to harm the bastard. Anyone who was striving for the Dark Lord's defeat would at least attempt to maim him in the hopes that it delays his next attack, but it seemed Dumbledore was determined to leave all of the work to Harry.

The moment Voldemort tried to possess Harry was possibly one of my worst. I have no idea what Harry did to chase him out, but the sight of his eyes flickering between blood red and bright green for five solid minutes before settling on green was horrible. Lily had been crying at the thought of her son being possessed by the psychopath.

Fudge finally admitted the return of Voldemort, making us scowl. We knew what was coming; a tiny little general apology to Harry in The Daily Prophet, then an entire community expecting Harry to just accept their feeble apology and save their arses while they sit at home and drink coffee. And we were right.

I nearly broke the screen when, back in his office, Dumbledore used magic to decrease the strength of Harry's grief. I knew it would most likely result in Harry committing suicide otherwise, but James told me that it would be better for Harry to commit suicide now rather than get killed by Voldemort later so that the Potter money has no reason to go to the people who deceived and manipulated them. None of us cared for the money itself; we just didn't want traitors to be rewarded.

Then, when the magic had calmed Harry to a decent extent, Dumbledore showed my godson the prophesy. I yanked at my hair in frustration; Harry would never leave the manipulations if he thought the world depended on him!

James put an arm round my shoulder when Harry practically forgot me. I knew it was Dumbledore's stupid magic working, but it hurt. And I feared the day when the spell would stop working; these things bottle emotions up, and when they're gone, the emotion overflows. If it wore off while he was still alive, it could destroy him even before he took a blade to his wrists.


It was a good while later when I understood Lily and James' sad realisation from earlier. When Harry arrived at his relatives' house, they had treated him with cold indifference I became accustomed to in my own family. Then Harry spent his days locked up in his room which, much to my horror, was covered in locks and a cat flap. It was during this time when nothing was happening that the others explained his home life to me.

Living in a cupboard under the stairs? One plate of scraps a day if he was lucky? Cooking at the age of four? Beatings for performing accidental magic? The extent of Harry's abuse filled me with shame as the couple explained. I'd ran away after sixteen years of insults and one cruciatus curse, and Harry had been forced to stay with these abominations all these years. I'd been Harry's only hope for a loving home, but because of Dumbledore, not even that was possible.

Packages of food arrived for Harry at various times from the Weasleys, which we three knew were filled with love potions. We kept begging Harry to throw them away when he got them, but he never did.

When Dumbledore read my 'will', I growled at the screen. The last will I had left had left a lot more than that to Harry. It seemed that the old coot had forged a will for myself as well, giving himself and his stupid Order the most of it. It struck me as odd that he left Harry Grimmauld Place for a second, but then I realised that Harry would never want the house and Dumbledore knew that. He simply left it on the list so that it wouldn't look so empty, knowing that Harry would allow the Order to use it.

I will admit, however, that I was most definitely planning on leaving Harry my motorbike… if he could find it. I never considered that Hagrid might have kept it…

We watched sadly as Harry's days at the Weasleys played out. No one in that household but Arthur and Hermione meant him well, but they were under the effects of love potions themselves. I glared angrily at the screen whenever Ginerva was near him.

And then there was the Hogwarts horror that Lily commented was like watching a soap opera. The only plot of Voldemort's going on was Malfoy's mission to kill Dumbledore, which no one except Harry seemed to care for, even though he had no idea what the kid was up to. Ron and Hermione argued, Harry fought off the potion as long as he could before slipping, Ron accidentally got dosed with an extremely gone-off love potion, Harry nearly killed Malfoy, and all the while, Dumbledore was showing Harry memories that he could have summarised for him in a few hours. Lily and James knew the old man had already seen all of the memories he showed Harry, including the real Slughorn one. The man just didn't want Harry to be able to fend for himself.

Then, when Dumbledore was flung off of the Astronomy Tower, James suddenly stood and began pulling me out of the house. "Sirius, you need to apply to be the one to see Harry when he dies before Dumbledore does. If Dumbledore sees him, Harry will have to return to that horrible world where he doesn't have a mind of his own!"


Two hours later, I arrived back at our home yelling at everything in my vicinity. We were too late. As soon as that bastard learned the ins and outs of this place – which was soon – he'd applied. And it had gone through, because the idiot at the desk was one of his blind fanboys.

I dropped myself onto my chair angrily before sending a blasting hex at a nearby vase. Only when Lily began berating me did I come back to reality somewhat, and I was reduced to anguished tears.

"How long is this going to last? How long is my baby boy going to have to go through this?" I screamed, hoping beyond hope that someone who mattered would hear. But it was useless. Harry was doomed.

As I sat there nearly pulling my hair out, James was punching the wall, swearing violently. Lily was in tears herself, but was still there enough to try and stop her husband. It was only when the time stream restarted that we all forced ourselves to calm down and watch over our little boy.

Even through my grief, I let out a smile when Remus and Tonks finally got together. Remus had been avoiding her for far too long, although it did upset me when I realised Harry was so far gone that he hadn't realised they were forming a relationship.

When Harry 'temporarily' broke up with Weasley, I let out a relieved sob. Maybe they'd forget to dose him or something. Maybe he'd figure it out.

But of course, my luck has never been too great.

Watching the horcrux hunt had been a nightmare. We in the Potter's house had cheered when Ron had left, but yelled at Harry when he was stupid enough to welcome him back. Hermione seemed to have broken through the potions a lot better than Harry during the time he was gone, but as more love potions were administered by the redhead that became hard for her to maintain.

James and I grinned when Harry broke out of Gringotts on a dragon, but that cheer was deflated quickly. For it wasn't much later that the Battle of Hogwarts began.

We were on our toes the whole time, watching as people were killed all around, the time stream pausing repeatedly as people were brought through to the afterlife. Before long I was collecting Remus, Tonks and Fred, the only dead Weasley who had cared for Harry.

Back at the house, we watched in horror as we saw the memories that made Harry believe he had to sacrifice himself. As Harry slowly walked towards the forest, Fred mentioned that he'd heard Bill mention a sort of cleansing ritual that extracts foreign souls from people and objects. Dumbledore was making Harry kill himself when it wasn't even necessary. What the hell did the bastard want with him?

When Harry called us with the resurrection stone, we told him we were proud of him. We were. We always will be, but when Harry let go of the stone without asking anything that could have allowed us to reveal the manipulations to him… We realised we were too late to prevent Harry's suffering.

Lily let out an anguished cry when she saw Harry's lifeless body fall to the ground, and James and I made our way to fight our way to see Harry… only to be held back by Dumbledore. "Leave this to me, children," he said. "You'll just make matters worse," he said.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, DUMBLEDORE! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WILL SCREW THINGS OVER! WE JUST WANT OUR CHILD TO BE HAPPY!" I screamed into his face, James having landed a punch that had broken his nose.

But it was all in vein. Harry wasn't here to press charges against Dumbledore, so he would be free to roam among the normal dead people.


Things just got worse over the years. Our Harry was firmly in the redheads' grasps, and would likely never think for himself again. He was a shadow. A puppet.

We watched as he proposed to a woman he didn't love with a distant look in his eyes. As he married said woman, even as part of his subconscious was screaming at him to murder her. As he had three children with a woman he would never love, one of which we were sure was his subconscious' idea of a cry for help. No one would name their child Albus Severus. No one in their right mind, anyway.

Then it came. The day when the grief suppressing magic broke. It was only a few days until his fortieth birthday, but Harry would never understand the meaning of night and day so long as he lived. Never again.

He was walking to the dining room to dinner when it happened. He'd begun to look around with a depressed and lost look in his eyes, face twisted in confusion as to why he'd be feeling that way. Then his pace had slowed down, and he began hyperventilating. When the magic broke completely, he let out an anguished scream before falling to the floor, fists clenching his hair. Teddy, James, Al and Lily rushed to see what had happened, and Ginerva arrived not long later with an irritated glint in her eyes. We watched as Teddy and James tried to calm Harry down while the younger kids stared in fear and Ginerva looked confused. Then finally, with one last sob, Harry switched off.

Months later, we were certain that some people were figuring something out. Ron had been slacking off on the love potions lately, allowing Hermione's intelligence to begin flourishing again. She was no longer under the effects, but would behave as though she were until she found a way out. She, Luna and Neville visited Harry regularly. Neville would be particularly depressed because it reminded him of his parents, and they weren't even sure what had caused Harry's mind to snap, although Hermione was beginning to work it out. Hermione would alter between being unbearably sad and gazing at Harry calculatingly. Luna, who used to be so cheerful and eccentric as a teenager had grown more and more depressed over the years, because she knew Harry was under the influence of love potions but couldn't speak lest they up the dosage, leaving Harry with literally no control over himself at all.

Harry's children rarely visited, for Ginerva had forbidden them. When they did, it was when one of the three friends could sneak them out. They had heard Hermione's suspicions that she and Harry had been under love potions, and that something else influencing Harry must have broken, causing a sudden rush of intense emotion that caused him to lose himself in his mind. Having learned occlumency from a private tutor during periods when their father was able to make his own decisions to an extent, it was safe for them to walk around with this knowledge.

A tear ran down my cheek when Harry's true friends came to a conclusion on his forty-sixth birthday. They were by his bed, watching the figure whose hair had turned completely white from the emotional strain. They were going to kill him. They would remain behind to take care of the kids, but Harry had to go. He deserved to be released.

This time, I was permitted to see my godson. And I wasn't going to give it up for anything.


Hearing the signal that Harry was ready for company, I walked forward on shaky legs. His figure was there, through the mist. He was young again; how he was before people began meddling with his thoughts. Nearly sixteen, he was. I smiled sadly at him when he saw me, and I gave him the most heartfelt hug I have ever given when he ran up and hugged me. "Hello, Harry," I whispered into his hair, silent tears cascading down my cheeks.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry breathed, face still buried into the crook of my neck. "Why am I fifteen again?" he asked innocently.

"Because that's when you died." I choked, running the back of my hand down Harry's cheek.

The teen was confused. "But I remember years after that. I can't have died at fifteen."

"Not physically, maybe," I admitted with a wry grin. "But you were never really you from the hour Dumbledore told you the prophesy." Harry could tell there was more to the story; I could see it in his eyes. So I ruffled his hair. "Let's go home, yeah? I can explain it all to you with your mum and dad, Remus and Tonks."

My godson's eyes lit up; the first time I have seen them do so since that Christmas I spent with him at Grimmauld Place. Harry may not have been able to live while he was alive, but if I wasn't going to make sure he loved his afterlife, then I'm not his godfather.

I laid an arm over my godson's shoulders and led him home for the first time.


ALTERNATIVE ENDING - begins just after Dumbledore died

Then, when Dumbledore was flung off of the Astronomy Tower, James suddenly stood and began pulling me out of the house. "Sirius, you need to apply to be the one to see Harry when he dies before Dumbledore does. If Dumbledore sees him, Harry will have to return to that horrible world where he doesn't have a mind of his own!"

Two hours later, we returned to the house feeling smug. We'd finished off the paperwork seconds after Dumbledore entered the room, leaving the old man raging about how he was the best wizard of all time, and should therefore be the one to see him. Thankfully, the dude at the desk wasn't some Dumbledore worshipper.

"Mr Dumbledore, you are not even in the top ten list of 'best wizards of all time'. The only real achievement you made in life was manipulating someone who should have been very near the top of that list, resulting in them being a mere powerful wizard," he stated matter-of-factly. "The man who is at the very top of that list, Merlin, happens to be an old friend of mine. Just thought you should know."

No one in the afterlife liked Dumbledore, for the word of his manipulations had spread. People had taken to keeping an eye on the man, and so the dead people knew pretty much everything he'd done wrong. However, what amused me the most was his little sister.

Just after the desk dude had dismissed Dumbledore, a young girl had barged into the room, screaming about 'big brothers', 'stupid old cunts', and 'I wish hell were real.' It truly was a shame, really. Then again, it allowed me to watch as Dumbledore was put down by someone he obviously expected to like him.

I smirked when it seemed that Tonks and Moony were finally getting together. We were even gladder when Harry broke up with Ginny. However, we knew it was only temporary and still had part to do with the love potions. "Noble git," Lily had sighed.


Watching the horcrux hunt had been a nightmare. We in the Potter's house had cheered when Ron had left, but yelled at Harry when he was stupid enough to welcome him back. Hermione seemed to have broken through the potions a lot better than Harry during the time he was gone, but as more love potions were administered, that became hard for her to maintain.

James and I grinned when Harry broke out of Gringotts on a dragon, but that cheer was deflated quickly. It wasn't long later that the Battle of Hogwarts began.

We were on our toes the whole time, watching as people were killed all around, the time stream pausing repeatedly as people were brought through to the afterlife. Before long I was collecting Remus, Tonks and Fred, the only dead Weasley who had cared for Harry.

Back at the house, we watched in horror as we saw the memories that made Harry believe he had to sacrifice himself. As Harry slowly walked towards the forest, Fred mentioned that he'd heard Bill mention a sort of cleansing ritual that extracts foreign souls from people and objects.

When Harry called us with the resurrection stone, we told him we were proud of him. It was better for Harry to die now than live life the way Ginerva Weasley would make him. It hurt, telling him that dying didn't hurt – which it hadn't for me – because this should never have been necessary. He should have grown up with us four, free of soul fragments and manipulations from old men. But this was the only way he would be happy now.


Twenty seconds after the clothes had been summoned, I entered the station and slowly approached my godson, smiling sadly as tears threatened to break free from my eyes. When he saw me, a few did.

Grinning like a maniac and crying himself, Harry flung himself into my arms where I held him close. We simply stood there crying onto each other's shoulders for a while before I finally moved back to look him in the eye. "Ready to come home, puppy?" I asked, stroking his hair.

"As ever." Harry smiled.


A/N: Okay, in all honesty, that was the original ending. But hey, might as well make the story canon as far as we can go, right? I prefer the official, modified version. Then again, I'm me, and my logic tends to be different to everyone else's.

Do let me know if I fucked up with the spelling somewhere or whatever. Not that I think I'll be able to fix it, since I'm putting the fic straight into 'Complete' mode...