Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…

Parts of JK Rowling's HP7, end scene between Harry and Voldemort; and HP4, graveyard scene.

Inspired by Mono Inc.'s "Potter's Field" ; excerpts from Tears for Fears' song "Mad World"

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IN THE HALLWAYS

… … …

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad,

The dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had.

… … …

Sirius was slinking away from Dumbledore, down the corridor, not looking back towards the headmaster and the hospital wing. Inwardly, he was fuming. His back was tingling where Harry's hand had carded through his fur. It felt itchy, as if some of Harry's magic had rubbed off and was now clinging to the strands.

His ears were still echoing with Harry's words to Dumbledore.

'He stays,' Harry's voice reverberated in Sirius' sensitive ears. 'It's his decision if he'll leave later on, but right now, he stays.'

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks. His fur raised when sudden understanding sparked in his mind. His fury sparked.

Harry had wanted him to stay.

Harry had wanted him to stay, had told him to stay – but Sirius had listened to Dumbledore and left. Sirius was the only parent Harry had and he had left.

Sirius had left. He didn't know what to think about the fact that he had decided to leave when Harry had asked him to stay. But then, Sirius also doubted that Dumbledore would have let him stay without and argument – and Sirius, in his animagus form, hadn't been able to form the words to argue.

'I need you to set off at once. You have to alert the old crowd – Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher. Lay low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there.' Dumbledore's voice repeated in Sirius head.

Sirius huffed.

He was a convict, a known murderer – innocent or not – and yet, Dumbledore had decided that Sirius should alert the old crowd. While alerting the others was a sensible thing to do, Sirius doubted that he was the right person to do it.

He doubted that they would listen to him if he dared to turn up on their doorsteps. They might use him for target practice, but they definitely wouldn't listen.

'Except Remus,' Sirius reminded himself. 'He knows I'm innocent.'

That also meant that Sirius could go to Remus.

It was logical to go to Remus. They needed to recruit. They needed to gather their forces while Voldemort was still weak. Right now, the best thing they could do was find allies and strengthen their forces so that they could easily react whenever Voldemort would strike.

'Remus could go out and contact the others,' Sirius reminded himself. 'And someone needs to go and alert Remus.'

And Sirius wasn't needed here. Harry was in good hands. He was safe at Hogwarts. Sirius took another step forward.

Safe, yes, but also emotionally secure?

He stopped again at that thought. Harry was safe at Hogwarts, yes, but he was also alone. The only adult in his life that cared for him was Sirius…

'Someone needs to alert the others,' Sirius reminded himself. 'And Dumbledore told me to do it.'

But… was alerting the others more important than Harry's emotions?

That thought made Sirius hesitate. He had sworn himself to Harry's wellbeing when he agreed to be his godfather, after all, so he wasn't sure if that meant that he should put Harry first even in situations like that.

Especially, if Harry wanted him to stay…

'Harry is a teenager,' Sirius said to himself, trying to remember his own time growing up. 'When I was a teen, I didn't want anybody to treat me like a child. Harry won't like it if I hover.'

Sirius would have been furious if someone had hovered when he had been Harry's age.

But Harry wasn't Sirius, and Harry had wanted Sirius to stay…

Nevertheless, Dumbledore needed Sirius to alert the others. Sirius's task was an important one for the war effort. He needed to contact the others, he needed to tell them and get them to gather and find recruits. But… Remus could contact the others. Sirius could lay low; he could just go and return to Harry after he spoke to Remus.

But… it was Sirius's task to alert the others…

Still, Sirius looked back the way he came from. He hesitated, then he turned around to heed back, just to turn back around to leave two steps later.

Dumbledore needed Sirius to alert the others. It was important to alert the others.

Harry wanted Sirius to stay. But Harry had other people who were looking out for him.

And Sirius…

"I see you're still here." Sirius flinched and looked up. There was a stranger standing next to him. His dark, red gleaming eyes were looking at Sirius knowingly.

Sirius flinched.

His first thought was that the man in front of him was Voldemort. The red gleam in the eyes, the dark hair and the handsome, yet cold face and immaculate clothes… it all reminded him of Voldemort the way Sirius had seen him last.

Then, the man knelt down in front of Sirius and looked at him thoughtfully. It wasn't a motion that Sirius could see Voldemort doing – not to mention that the man's expression was not something that Sirius could even imagine Voldemort making.

The man's clothing looked a bit old-fashioned. His robes were black – unusual compared to the modern, fashionable wizard who preferred to wear as colourful robes as possible and so like Voldemort's prefered clothing choice – and he was wearing a black waistcoat and tie. A strand of his slicked back, black hair had come undone and hung into his right eye.

Sirius had never seen the man before.

"I'm impressed," the man said, scrutinizing Sirius thoughtfully. "A Black and a grim and yet, still following the headmaster of this school like a good little doggy."

Immediately, Sirius bared his teeth and growled, feeling offended by the man's casual observation. It was only a moment later that Sirius noticed that the man had called him a Black.

The stranger knew what Sirius was – who Sirius was.

Sirius froze, his growl got stuck in his throat.

He flinched backwards, before nervously trying to turn away to get away from the stranger in front of him. He had to flee, he had to…

The man sighed. "Don't act like a half-wit, Black," he said. "I have no interest in turning you in, after all I have no reason to turn in an innocent man – no matter how foolish he is."

The reaction to the insult was automatic and stupid. Without a second thought, Sirius changed his form and glared at the stranger. "I'm not a half-wit!"

"Evidence shows the contrary," the man countered while flicking his finger in a sweeping motion before he stood up to look Sirius in the eyes again. His gaze was cool.

Sirius' glared at the stranger. He couldn't object to the man's statement about evidence. Changing out of his animagus form in the hallways of Hogwarts was more than foolish – and doing it just because a stranger called him a half-wit… well, that was more than stupid. But then, Sirius had always known that he was hot-headed and apparently even twelve years in Azkaban hadn't helped Sirius to cool his heels.

Sirius growled.

The stranger raised an eyebrow.

"Did you really just growl at me, Black?" he said unimpressed. "While I'm more than aware that you're part grim, I expected you to actually act half-way human while you look human."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "That's all you have to say?" he asked, unsure what to do with the man in front of him. The stranger raised an eyebrow.

"No," the stranger replied. "I wouldn't have stopped you if I'd just wanted to goad you into revealing yourself openly as an illegal animagus here at Hogwarts."

"Then what? You came here to reprimand me for my recklessness?" Sirius countered with a frown.

The other man just raised a judgemental eyebrow at Sirius.

"If I had wanted to reprimand you for your reckless behaviour, I wouldn't have needed to wait until you revealed yourself as human." The other man swirled his hand, faster than Sirius could react, and suddenly Sirius had a wand pointing between his eyes. "I would have just stopped you magically and done that afterwards."

Sirius froze.

His eyes met the red gleaming ones of the man in front of him. There was disinterest in the other man's eyes, as if Sirius wasn't even worth the work he had to put into to keep Sirius in place.

"But stopping you magically wouldn't have been worth a damn," the man added. "Because what I want from you has to be your decision." With those words, he lowered the wand and swirled his hand again – the wand gone from his fingers without a trace just the blink of an eye later. "No, I am not here to reprimand you, nor to stop you."

Sirius snorted, feeling a lot braver now that the wand was gone again, though he still felt shaken at the speed of the other one's draw. Sirius still couldn't say where the man was keeping his wand, since it had looked as if it had vanished into thin air to Sirius' eyes. It was a bit of a daunting realisation. "Then what do you want from me?"

"I want you to choose." Those words made Sirius scoff.

"Well, at least you showed me right now that you're already better than my mother ever was," he said, interrupting the stranger before he added. "Now, please, be good and give me a less cryptic answer. So, who exactly are you and why did you stop me?"

The stranger's dark eyes looked thoughtful when he looked Sirius over. For a moment, it seemed like he was willing to answer, then, with a smirk, he instead decided to annoy Sirius even more.

"That depends on your allegiance, Black," the stranger said because, of course, he had to keep it as cryptic as he could.

It felt a bit like a call-back to Sirius school time where some Slytherins had approached him with just as cryptic words and an agenda Sirius had never ever wanted to agree to in any way or form.

Sirius's eyes narrowed and he took a closer look at the stranger in front of him. The man was clothed in black, in clothes that spoke of money. Then there was the speed the other one had drawn his wand with and the fact that the man had approached Sirius just after Voldemort had returned.

On the other side, this was Hogwarts, which made it Dumbledore's but that didn't mean that the man couldn't have something sinister planned…

And thanks to the Triwizard Tournament, all kind of people had gotten access to Hogwarts to watch the tournament. Who said, that some didn't stay? It was a chilling thought and just strengthened Sirius' fear that the man in front of him meant him ill.

"If you want to recruit me for the Dork Lord, you can stuff it," Sirius finally growled, unwilling to take the chance that he might be wrong. "I told it to your cohorts before when I was still in school, I'm telling it to you, now. Fuck off! I will never stand for your blood supremacy shit!"

The stranger blinked and then pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Ah yes," he said. "I should have guessed that you'd conclude that." He sounded half amused, half exasperated. "You are aware, that this is your precious school, still under the rule of your precious Albus Dumbledore."

The stranger didn't sound impressed at all when he said the headmaster's name.

Sirius scoffed. "Just the fact that you speak dismissively about the headmaster tells me that you aren't on our side, not to mention that the Tournament would have let any kind of riffraff in so that they could watch, so who said you didn't stay after?"

The other man just raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't it be harder to get into the school, tournament or not? Also, in your eyes, the fact that I'm American doesn't count when it comes to not being interested in idolising the headmaster?"

"American," Sirius frowned at that. "So, old Voldie is already recruiting over the pond?"

"After being reimbodied barely a few hours ago?" the other man countered. "Unlikely. No, I'm not part of his club. I hunted people like him long before your precious headmaster was anybody special."

Sirius whistled, before commenting sarcastically, "well, considering your age, you actually look quite good, barely a day over twenty-three, I'd say."

The stranger's lips twitched in amusement. Then, from one moment to the other, his well-kept appearance melted, revealing something else entirely. His immaculate face revealing stripes of muscles, his skin removed in places. His hair was suddenly long, with strands missing. Chunks of his body seemed to be missing and his immaculate clothing was suddenly nothing but a ragged, dirty linen shirt that barely let him keep his dignity.

"Do you prefer me looking like this?" the stranger asked as if he wasn't looking like the victim of a Death Eater training camp. There was something cold and cruel in his eyes.

Sirius swallowed and took a step away from the stranger.

His eyes travelled over the dirty linen to where he could see residue of torture curses and blood. He balled his hands. "What… how?"

The stranger raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the wounds that looked like they were still oozing blood. "You seem to look at my clothes and your bias sees me as your enemy," he said. "I wondered if your view of me would change if you saw the way I looked when I was breathing my last."

"You're a pureblood. Purebloods are all followers of Voldemort!" Sirius countered, trying to justify his biased reactions from before, even though he looked away from the other man, unable to keep looking at the stranger's destroyed body.

"As far as I know, you're a pureblood as well," the other man replied unimpressed, making Sirius flinch at the comparison.

"I'm not like you, proud and… a snob, someone who wants to keep our world clean of muggleborns and all that," Sirius denied with a sneer, his eyes flickering to the stranger's face and away again, unable to keep looking at the stranger's gruesome appearance when he looked like a victim instead of like a perpetrator.

"Appearance was part of being respectable when I grew up," the stranger replied unimpressed. "Even true convicts wouldn't have been seen dead in the clothes you're wearing right now, Black."

"Because they're just as snobby purebloods as you are!" Sirius said.

"Because it was like that in my time," the other man corrected unimpressed. "No-maj-born, no-maj, pureblood, half-blood, it didn't matter, we wore all clothing that was less… ragged like yours is right now."

Sirius opened his mouth, but the other man wasn't done, yet. "I'm also not totally sure that I was what you'd call a 'pureblood'. Sure, my father had a magical father just like he was magical, but the only thing I can say about my mother and my grandmother is, that they had magic. I can't say for sure that they were what you'd call a pureblood. It's not something that actually mattered in America."

Sirius opened his mouth, stopped and then blinked. "You want to tell me you're not a pureblood… you look exactly like a pure…" he closed his mouth before he could say anything more, because the man in front of him, bloodied and hurt, didn't look at all like the pureblood he had seen in him before. Purebloods were protected under Voldemort's rule. Even those that had been killed, had been killed quickly. It had been the muggleborns and half-bloods who had suffered before they died, who had been tortured and killed for fun.

The stranger didn't look like he had ever had the privilege of a fast death that Lord Voldemort usually gave the purebloods – with the exception of the Longbottoms who had been tortured to insanity by the Lestranges.

The stranger sighed and then shifted. The shift shifted his clothes as well, revealing a festering gut-wound strained by dark magic Sirius hadn't seen before.

Sirius paled. "How… how did you survive this?" Sirius knew enough about dark curses that he was sure he wouldn't have survived the same one in the place of the other man.

"I never said I did," the stranger commented calmly, his red gleaming eyes meeting Sirius'. "Are you still intending to accuse me of being part of a dark wizard's following? Especially after seeing what the last one I met did to me before I died?"

Sirius' eyes widened and he opened his mouth just to snap it shut before he could even utter one word at the other man's explanation.

"Died?" he slowly repeated, paling slightly.

The stranger shrugged. "That's usually the only way to join the Potterer."

"The Potterer is a legend," Sirius immediately objected. "It's a story to frighten children into behaving on the potter's fields! It's not real!"

The other man just raised an eyebrow at him. "Is this how you've treated your whole magical education?" he asked dryly. "Denying truths that don't fit your world-view? Ignoring things that you don't want to hear?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I think I was right by ignoring all that pure-blood prejudice that my parents tried to force unto me when I was young."

"Pure-blood prejudice, alright," the stranger replied. "But ignoring your culture on top of it wasn't really necessary."

Sirius scoffed. "I have no interest in keeping a culture of prejudice and bias – and that's all that the magical culture is based on."

The other man sighed and then pinched his nose. "Culture has nothing to do with prejudice, because unlike prejudice implies, culture can be learned and made your own."

"Tell that to all your fellow pure-bloods who know better," Sirius countered icily.

"Not my fellow anything," the stranger countered and then shook his head. "Anyway, if you want to keep in contact and stay important for your godson, then it would be best if you actually thought about your bias some more. I doubt he'll keep you around if you deny your culture, so,, for your sake you should learn."

"Harry would never care about a culture that condemns people like him or his best friend because of their blood," Sirius immediately argued.

"The condemnation isn't culture," the man denied. "Stories, behaviour, feasts, and holidays make up a culture. This has nothing to do with bias. The bias people portray might be intertwined with your culture right now, but its still not the only thing to your culture – and though our culture differs from yours, it's easier to interact with each other when you at least have a common base. I fear that the muggle culture the Headmaster of this school seems to like so much, has a lot less in common with ours than the older, magical one."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest the notion that Albus' decision to include the more muggle versions of their holidays was detriment to the wizarding world, when the other man intercepted him, clearly knowing what Sirius was about to do.

"Tell me, Sirius Black," he said. "When did you called on your ancestor's wisdom last?"

"Er… what?" Sirius googled.

The other man looked at him in derision.

"Samhain," he said. "It was once a way to interact with your ancestors. It was once a way to ask for guidance from Potter's Field. So, tell me, when did you last ask for guidance? When did you last ask for the wisdom of those that lived before you?"

"My family was dark!" Sirius growled. "And I am not! I had and I have no interest in learning what they could teach me!"

The answer was a sigh and the man buried his face in his hand. "Your parents either really did a number on you or you're not just stubborn but dumb on top of it," he finally concluded. "I guess, Potter shouldn't try and keep his hopes up about you. It's clear that you have no interest in being part of his connections in this world."

"He's my godson! Of course, I have an interest in staying connected with him!" Sirius immediately objected.

"Your godson is my superior," the stranger said, eyes suddenly cold. "I can say for sure that you won't keep any kind of relationship with him if you ignore his new position. He might be inclined to forgive you at the beginning, but in his veins, the mists of the beyond a flowing – and as much as he'll try to temper himself at the beginning, the coldness and ruthlessness of the beyond is already reaching for him. Deep down, that coldness is his nature, and one day, in the near future, he will be done pretending."

The man's flinty eyes met Sirius'. "And the moment that happens, he will look at you and only see a thing that could have been important but never really was."

With that, the man turned away from Sirius.

"Harry would never do that!" Sirius exclaimed, furious with the stranger. "Who are you that you think that you know him?"

"I am his," the stranger replied, coldly after stopping in his tracks, but without looking at Sirius. "My name, my life, my eternity, is his. He accepted me when I had been denied the most basic courtesy – a grave. And while he's not yet the man he will be one day, the ruthlessness and his unwavering dedication to those that are his, is already there. I know that much. And while you were his the moment he met you, if you deny him his true nature, he will reconsider. He's ruthless enough for that, even now."

"You know nothing about Harry!" Sirius cried, now furious with the stranger who had decided to place himself closer to Sirius' godson than Sirius himself. "Harry knows that I would do everything for him! He knows that Dumbledore and the other people of the magical world would never abandon him! He knows his place!"

"Well, Black," the stranger threw over his shoulder. "Go on, then. Join your precious Headmaster. Follow him by the heel and beg for scraps. I tried for the Potterer. I did my duty as his hunter and the best friend of his future steward. I never cared about you in person. So, go, show your belly to the headmaster, but don't try and come back to beg for forgiveness. We don't need a dog whining at our feet."

Sirius snorted. "And I don't need people whose prejudice could be the Death Eaters'! Harry would never–"

The words stuck in his throat when dark mist thickened around the stranger. Then, shadowy wings spread from the man's shoulders. Red eyes flashed, when the man shot him a short, derisive look over his shoulder. And then, from one moment to the next, the mist around the man twirled into a tornado-like vortex, before a murder of shadowy ravens or crows escaped out of the window. The mist faded into nothing in the middle of the hallway after the tornado had died into nothing, leaving empty space and an empty hallway in its wake. The stranger, though, was gone as if he had never existed.

Sirius, on the other hand, found himself staring at nothing, goosebumps on his arms and a chill running down his back.

When he had heard the stories of the Potterer from his parents, he had dismissed it like everything else that had to do with his parents' teachings of the superior way of the Blacks. He had thought them fancy stories, there, to keep him in line and afraid. Now, looking at the empty hallway, Sirius wondered if those stories weren't truer than he ever wanted to believe.

"Harry," Sirius balled his fists. Somehow, his godson had to do with those stories. "I need to…"

Sirius turned around, turned himself into Padfoot and then hurried back towards the hospital wing.

He needed to go back to Harry. He needed to be sure that Harry was alright.

It took him just minutes to reach the hospital wing again. He banged open the door and hurried into the room. His eyes fell onto Harry's bed.

The bed was empty.

Sirius froze, his gaze fixed on the bed that should have contained his godson but didn't. He whimpered, unable to do anything else as a dog.

"Ah, yes," a voice said and Sirius flinched. His eyes darted to the bed next to Harry's where another boy was sitting and watching Sirius as if he was a fascinating species. "Potter is gone." The boy rolled his eyes. "He's most likely running around the Forbidden Forest, claiming potter's fields." Then he shrugged. "At least I hope he's containing himself to Howarts and maybe Hogsmeade. Otherwise, I will have to chase him down all over Britain in the morning until I find him."

Then, the boy's eyes fixated on Sirius. "Was there anything you needed, Black?" he asked, sounding as disinterested as the stranger in the hallway had seemed to be.

Sirius opened his muzzle and then did nothing. He stared at the boy, unwilling to growl at a seventeen-year-old, unable to talk and unsure what else to do.

The boy sighed, then he reached for the wand on his bedside table and waved it before Sirius could decide if the wand was a thread or not.

Nothing seemed to happen, but the boy put down his wand again and then gestured at Sirius. "You can change now," he said. "Nobody will notice."

Sirius hesitated. He knew, he shouldn't show himself openly at Hogwarts – on the other hand, he already had in the corridor and he doubted that it had gone unnoticed, so changing back into a human now wouldn't matter in the long run. He would get into trouble with Dumbledore anyway.

He mentally sighed, then, following his instincts, he changed back into human.

The boy wrinkled his nose.

"You should really go and look for some better clothes," the boy said and unlike with the stranger in the hallway, Sirius wasn't sure how to react. The boy was still a boy, after all.

"I'm Cedric, by the way, Cedric Diggory," the boy introduced himself. Sirius remembered Amos Diggory who had been a few years older and in Hufflepuff while Sirius attended Hogwarts.

"Any relation with Amos?" he rhasped.

"My father," Cedric said and plucked at his duvet. "He's… not the easiest person to please."

"Well, you attended and survived the Triwizard Tournament," Sirius pointed out. "That should count for something."

The boy, Cedric, winced. "Surviving the tournament was a lot easier than surviving… Voldemort," he finally said derisively. "And I fear that in my father's eyes, surviving anything will never be enough." The boy shrugged. "Not that it matters. I'm seventeen now, I have my own life."

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. "Any girls to share it with you?" he asked, feeling oddly light just because he was actually talking to someone else, someone who he hadn't known before Azkaban. Cedric didn't seem to care that Sirius was a known 'mass murderer', which was refreshing since even Harry and his friends had been convinced of his guilt before he met them.

Cedric shook his head. "No relationship that will survive the next few days, I fear," he said and then shrugged. "I mean, I loved her, but I know she can live without me and I know that I don't love her enough to force her into a life that she might not want to live, so I will set her free before she is dragged into Potter's Field."

Then the boy crooked his head. "You should think about that, too."

"About what?" Sirius frowned.

"You should think about your choice. Either, you follow Potter and step into his world, or you don't and you set him free to pursure the way he needs to go."

Sirius snorted and then decided 'whatever' and sat down on Harry's empty bed. "You're just as cryptic as that strange fellow I met in the hallway just now."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Strange fellow?"

"Well, he didn't say his name," Sirius defended his word choice. "Looked like a pure-blood, at the start, like a well-clothed, dandified peacock or whatever – and then like a Death Eater party victim." Sirius grimaced when he said the last bit.

The boy, on the other hand, suddenly said "Ah!", full of understanding. "Percival."

"Percival?" even the name sounded pure-blooded in Sirius' ears.

"Graves," Cedric added, as if it explained anything.

"Percival Graves?" Sirius repeated. "Like that damn dark wizard hunter of MACUSA grandfather always complained about? The one who was one of the reasons why Grindelwald had a hard time getting a base in America until he vanished without a trace in 1926?"

Sirius remembered that rant of his grandfather all too well. Arcturus Black's father Sirius Black had been one of the wizards that had been thrown out of America by Graves personally. Arcturus had been barely seventeen and had been accompanying his father at that time. The incident, apparently, had influenced him to such a degree, that Arcturus Black, for all his prejudice, had never joined Voldemort's movement.

Sirius had grown up listening to the story of Graves – meant as a warning – and had decided that he wanted to be just like that when he grew up.

"Exactly the same," Cedric said in that moment. "But he didn't vanish in 1926. He died." The boy said that matter-of-factly, as if there was no reason to have ever believed otherwise.

Sirius swallowed.

A dark wizard hunter, back and hunting for Potter's Field…

"I thought those were fairy tales," he finally said. Cedric raised an inquisive eyebrow and Sirius sacked into himself. "Potter's Field and the Potterer. I thought those were fairy tales to make children behave on potter's fields."

Cedric shrugged. "Some are for sure," he assured Sirius. "Others… aren't."

"Graves… he implied…" Sirius hesitated. "Harry… did he… die?" The last word, Sirius ended up whispering, too afraid to say it out loud.

"In a way," the boy replied, suddenly not looking at Sirius at all. "It's a bit more complicated than that, but in a way, Potter died, yes."

Sirius closed his eyes. "I failed him."

"In what way?" the boy countered. "By being hot-headed and going after Pettigrew? By putting revenge before your godson? Or by being more interested in being the Headmaster's lap-dog than being a godfather?"

Sirius flinched.

"He doesn't need you anymore, Black," Cedric said coolly – just as coolly as Graves had been. "He's already grown and knows what he needs and wants to do. There's no need for him to have someone guide him anymore. That time is over."

"Harry has always listened to Dumbledore until now," Sirius countered. "So, he still needs guidance. He's forteen. He–"

"Won't listen to the Headmaster any longer. That time is over," Cedric said and there was compassion in his eyes. "I know that you want to keep him a child just a bit longer and I guess that the Headmaster had good intentions, but… the path to hell is paved with good intentions."

Sirius sunk further into himself.

"I need to talk to Harry," he finally said. "I need to apologise for leaving. I shouldn't have listened to the Headmaster. I should have stayed, but…"

"Leaving was easier," Cedric concluded his sentence softly.

Sirius swallowed.

"Yes," he finally admitted.

Leaving had been easier. It had been easier than fighting with Dumbledore. It had also seemed to be reasonable. The old crowd needed to be alerted and while Sirius was a persona-non-grata with them, he had been here while Dumbledore needed someone to alert the old crowd.

It had been reasonable.

It had been callous.

He might not have been able to argue in his animagus form, but he could have stayed nevertheless. He could have shown Dumbledore that he wouldn't leave. Instead, Sirius had left – just to flounder a few corridors later.

And if Sirius was honest with himself, then he would have to admit, that he had been ready to leave and do as he had been told instead of returning to the hospital wing. He most likely would have left, if he hadn't had the confrontation with the stranger… with Graves.

"You should leave, then," Cedric said in that moment.

Sirius flinched.

"I… Harry asked me to stay," he finally admitted as if that would absolve him from leaving in the first place.

"And yet, you left," the boy countered. "Harry is gone, now. He will forge his own way now, he doesn't need you, so why are you here now?"

Sirius gulped. His throat felt dry, and yet, he forced himself to answer, "because I was stupid and left when I shouldn't have."

For a moment, the boy scrutinized him emotionlessly. Then he shrugged.

"I can tell him you returned when he comes back or when I drag him back sometimes in the early morning," he offered. "Maybe he will accept your apology, maybe he won't."

"He's my godson," Sirius countered. "I'm more than willing to wait here for him."

"You're not part of Potter's Field," Cedric immediately rejected Sirius' offer. "You might have the form of a grim, but you're not Harry's grim. You're just a relict of an ending era. It should be Harry's decision and not yours if he wants to keep you or if he wants to throw you away like garbage."

Sirius winced at that comparison, but he guessed that the boy was somewhat right. He had fallen short when it came to his duties as a godfather and it clearly should be Harry's choice if he wanted anything to do with him or not after all those years, but…

"Harry has been writing me ever since the end of last school year. He wants to stay in contact with me."

"Staying in contact and connecting you to Potter's Field are two pair of shoes," Cedric said softly. "Not to mention that some things just don't keep. They can't withstand the sand of time."

Too true, but Sirius didn't want his relationship with Harry being one of those things that wouldn't keep.

"You don't understand," he finally said quietly. "I need him. Harry is the only thing I have left in the world."

"That doesn't mean that he needs you, though," Cedric pointed out kindly. "You might have been a part of his past, but his life the way you know it, is over. He's Potter's Field's now. If you want to keep in contact, you will have to accept that – and at the moment, it doesn't look to anybody of us that you do."

"You're too hard on him, Cedric," another voice suddenly spoke up. Sirius flinched, looked up and flinched again when a face that really looked like Voldemort's stared back at him from next to the door.

"Tom," Cedric greeted him. "And I wondered already what kept you."

The Voldemort-look-alike waved his hand. "The usual," he said desinterestedly. "They took their time questioning me and then Pettigrew and then the Minister appeared and denied everything."

"Ah," Cedric said. "So, he's reacting exactly like we predicted?"

"If you mean scared out of his mind and willing to sell his grandma for the ability to stick his head in the mud? Then, yes, he's acting just like predicted," Tom replied dismissively. "Where's Potter?"

Cedric shrugged.

"He was gone when I woke up," he said. "But I guess he followed the call and decided to go potter's field hunting."

"Already?"

"He was ready to heed out the moment we landed in Hogwarts. I'm surprised he resisted as long as he did," Cedric countered.

"And the gentleman here?" Tom gestured at Sirius and suddenly, Sirius felt old. He had never been called a gentleman before. He wondered if he had already grey hair now and had been refered as a gentleman by Tom because of that…

"The godfather," Cedric said. "Pettigrew's victim."

"Of course."

Before Tom could say something else, the air suddenly started to feel charged all around them.

Cedric and Tom froze and then looked at each other.

"Already?" Tom asked surprised. "I thought it would take him another month or so to get that far."

"Apparently," Cedric said, sounding just as surprised as Tom.

"Already what?" Sirius inquired and looked around nervously. The grim in the back of his mind howled as if it was calling their pack to a hunt.

"Potter's Field's steward is on their way," Cedric said. It was only then that Sirius comprehended what Cedric's knowledge about Potter's Field and Harry implied.

"You also died, just like Harry," he whispered, feeling thrown and suddenly bitter.

"Not exactly like him," Cedric countered kindly. "But yes, I died. I'm part of the Court of Potter's Field, now."

The charged air felt like it was humming with magic.

Sirius shuddered, the hairs on his back stood and goosebumps travelled down his arms.

Then, with a soundless crack, something seemed to break.

"He's there." Tom whispered when the air around them darkened because shadows and mist started to cloud the room. The caw-caw of crows filled the air while the mist thickened. Then, blood red eyes opened in the middle of the whirling shadows. "The steward is here."

… … …

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take,
When people run in circles, it's a very, very
Mad world, mad world

… … …

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Guess I finally managed to add another chapter. RL really didn't leave a lot of room for long stories over the last few months. *sigh*

Hope you liked it.

'Till next time.

Ebenbild