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Chapter Text

Avada Kedavra.

It was a second heartbeat.

It cursed Harry over and over as he stared at the lifeless face of the wizard who had stalked him for the better part of his life.

He's really dead. It seemed simple enough, but the words fluttered away each time he tried to capture them. Even though Sirius was safe beside him, his grip fierce and real around Harry's shoulders. Snape was there too, just as alive.

And Remus, who kept trying not to stare at Harry with eyes that were too alert. Or maybe it was mistrust in the normally kind gaze.

But none of that mattered.

Sirius was alive and he was free. And now—finally, Sirius could stop hiding. Stop devoting every moment to making certain that Harry was safe.

They were both safe now.

Across from him, Remus' eyes narrowed and Harry realized he was grinning. And maybe the huge grin was inappropriate but he couldn't care in the least. The last weeks had consumed them. With all things Voldemort and those damn streams that waited even now, still and silent, in the back of Harry's mind.

"Sweet Merlin…"

Harry twisted his neck at the low murmur.

Shacklebolt and Tonks were staring down at Voldemort, their mouths slack, their eyes wide. It was the most expression Harry had ever seen from the tall Auror.

Tonks' hair was shifting through a mélange of colours and when they settled, she wore a rainbow. "How...?"

Remus cleared his throat. "He's dead."

Shacklebolt raised a dark eyebrow but Remus only shrugged.

"What happened?" Shacklebolt asked as Tonks dropped to the grass to wave her wand over the body.

Beside Harry, Sirius cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "We didn't have time to discuss it with you… with anyone."

"Did he attack Harry?"

"Voldemort invaded his mind."

Harry blinked; his smile was whisked away. "He did?"

Everyone turned their attention to him. "You didn't know?" Tonks asked with her wand suspended over Voldemort's pale neck.

Harry shook his head. "I mean, I knew he was there at the very end… he was fighting with me but as soon as I saw Sirius' curse, I just threw it at him and—"

"Sirius' curse?"

"You threw it at him?" Sirius' echoed, his grey eyes suddenly saucers.

"Explain that," Snape demanded. Harry glanced at him, found the same confusion.

"I could hear the Killing Curse," he explained, switching his gaze to Sirius. "It was echoing in the streams around Voldemort… I could just hear it, the words over and over..." He shook his head. "It couldn't reach him though—"

"What?"

Unprepared for the distress in Sirius' voice, Harry shifted against the cold ground. "It didn't work… Voldemort was too strong or you didn't want to kill him enough like you and Snape explained; you said you had to want to in order to cast the Unforgivables… It was just floating there so I grabbed it and shoved it at him..."

He trailed off; five stunned faces.

"You…" Sirius' mouth moved but no other words emerged.

After an interminable stretch, Snape muttered, "Typical."

"You directed Sirius' curse?" Shacklebolt said slowly. "From inside your mind?"

"I…" Harry had an odd wish that he didn't have to answer that. It had all seemed perfectly simple at the time. "I had to," he said quietly to Sirius; another wish that they were alone or at least that Sirius would blink. "Voldemort was trying to kill you. I could sense you and Snape struggling, even after you made me leave."

"You should not have been able to sense anything," Snape said with his typical harshness. "Not with the Sleeping Spell—"

"He broke out of that," Remus murmured.

"What sleeping spell?" Harry asked sharply, turning narrowed eyes to Snape.

But it was Sirius who answered softly, "I didn't want you to come after us."

Harry stared at his godfather.

"We could not tell you where we were going," Snape added.

"We didn't know what Voldemort would be able to hear," Sirius explained quickly. "And when Snape discovered he had invaded your mind, we had to act quickly." Anger twisted Harry's stomach but he only nodded; sharply. "I couldn't risk you," Sirius said very quietly, something in his tone asking Harry to understand.

So Sirius had risked himself instead.

Harry clenched his fists and forced himself not to comment. And he wasn't going to ask how they had found Voldemort either. They could keep their bloody secrets; the two of them.

"We will need to notify the Minister," Shacklebolt's deep voice rumbled. "Aurors will need to be called… healers. Snape, you cannot stay…"

Snape gave a curt nod. Wormtail had freely given up his comrades in a desperate attempt to avoid Azkaban.

"Even this...?" Sirius gestured to Voldemort but Shacklebolt shook his head; his mouth was grim.

"Later perhaps."

Sirius found Snape's gaze. He didn't speak but Snape nodded again and stood. His eyes lingered on Voldemort's face before he turned on the spot and disappeared.

"I know you would prefer Harry not be exposed, Sirius," Shacklebolt was saying but Sirius flapped a hand. "But your magic will be traced—Snape's we can explain as lingering. There will be questions about your escape and where you've been—"

"Let's just get this over with." Sirius' eyes darted to Harry. "You all right?"

Harry sketched a nod. He didn't care about the idiotic Minister or the reporters. Not any longer. But he dutifully listened to Sirius explain events in language couched in Dumbledore's wish that details remain secret.

Sirius' meaningful glance told Harry that the unspoken magic he and Snape had used to lure Voldemort had something to do with the Horcruxes.

Shacklebolt took the cryptic outline in stride, nodding in all the right places. And cooking up an explanation which wouldn't terrify the Wizarding population with the horrors of Harry and his new superpowers. Sirius tensed at that. But Harry only nodded and hoped it would be over soon.

"Harry's magical signature is all over him," Shacklebolt sighed. "The examiners will know immediately that his magic was overtaken by Harry's. Even if it was your Killing Curse, Sirius… I will perform a Deletrius Spell on your wand. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to explain exactly how Harry killed him."

Killed him.

The words prickled Harry's skin.

The weight of it and Harry wanted to sick up.

"Come on," Sirius muttered. He pulled Harry up alongside him, kept his arm around Harry's shoulders, but this time it felt almost as if Sirius thought he would bolt if he didn't. "We'll leave as soon as we can, I promise." Sirius' smile was faint. "Belize sounds lovely, don't you think?"

Harry's throat was too dry to do anything but nod. Sirius gripped his shoulder, his miniscule smile fading as quickly as it had come.

And very soon, they were swarmed—first by other Aurors trusted by Shacklebolt, who had to be briefed. The Minister followed after, for a quiet explanation—one during which Fudge's eyes darted to Harry with both awe and fear.

Ministry officials and reporters came next, every single one of them demanding answers from Sirius about Azkaban as soon as their shock of seeing Voldemort wore off.

Flashbulbs blinded them as photographers captured the scene from every angle. The reporters called out questions from behind the wall of Aurors holding them back.

"Sirius! Where have you been hiding?"

"What made you leave Azkaban?"

"Did you seek out your godson?"

"Did you know your godfather didn't kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"How does it feel to defeat the most powerful dark wizard we've ever known, Harry?"

"Will you demand recompense for your false imprisonment?"

"Harry! What will you do now?"

"Sirius, how will you celebrate your new freedom?"

"How does it feel to be the guardian of a hero?"

"Will you return to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Mr. Lupin, what was your role here?"

And on and on the questions came. Almost none of them were answered honestly.

"Where will you go?"

"Will you petition for adoption?"

That one Sirius answered with a very firm yes. And for a moment, Harry forgot his irritation.

But then they were posing for photographs and it came straight back. Fudge stood with all three of them, and then alone several times with Harry—gripping Harry's hand, grinning for the popping cameras and making comments about his role in exonerating Sirius.

When the Aurors questioned them, they gave as little detail as possible, leaving out the destruction of the Horcruxes altogether.

It went on far longer than Harry could tolerate and when his answers became sharp, Sirius refused the Minister's query for an interview.

"Soon," Fudge insisted. "Everyone will want to hear from our heroes."

Sirius nodded as his hand was pumped up and down. Fudge beamed and Sirius managed an imitation of a smile as he herded Harry away from the leering crowd as more questions rang out.

"Let's get you out of here…"

Voldemort's body had already been frozen in several charms and maybe Harry should have wanted one final look, but he didn't even glance back as Sirius put a hand on his neck and guided him away. Relief clear on his face, Remus joined them.

Together, they Disapparated.

Harry wrinkled his nose as soon as they landed. Whatever Snape was drinking, he was probably going to regret it in the morning—whenever the hell morning was.

The professor was slumped in a chair, glass clenched in a white-knuckled fist. "They didn't insist their hero accompany them to a feast? Or a parade?"

"It's barely sunrise," Remus murmured. Snape scowled.

"Astute observation, Lupin. No wonder Shacklebolt allowed you to remain."

"Could we argue later?" Sirius asked tiredly. He massaged his forehead and drew a slow breath; his hands were shaking. Turning to Remus he said, "Thank you for trying to help, Moony."

As a dismissal it was pretty abrupt, but Remus only nodded. His smile flickered between Sirius and Harry. "Bill left?"

"Obviously."

Remus didn't react to Snape's snark either. "Contact me if you need anything, Sirius." He hesitated, sighed and left through the front door.

"I suppose I am expected to leave as well?" Snape drawled into his glass. "What is it going to be this time, Black? Rebuke or coddle?" He snorted. "Need I ask?"

"Find some coffee, Snape," Sirius answered. "Or better, go to bed."

The liquid in Snape's glass sloshed as he raised it with a hand just as shaky as Sirius'. "Not in a celebratory mood? You must be pleased with yourself, Potter. To have killed the Dark Lord without a thought." His eyes were suddenly gleaming as he caressed the glass with a long finger. "That much power…"

Sirius rounded and under Snape's fuzzy gaze, he snatched the tumbler away. "Go to sleep, you drunken idiot."

Snape's lips snapped together. Before he could find a suitable retort, Sirius took Harry's elbow and turned for the stairs.

"You'll celebrate in Belize," Snape muttered as the chair's springs creaked. His grumbles faded away and the library door slammed before they reached the landing.

"What's the matter with him?"

Sirius sighed. "We summoned the incarnations of the Horcruxes... it was disturbing; for Snape especially."

Harry squinted at his godfather. "What does that mean?"

Sirius shook his head. "Memories," he explained, "which Snape preferred not to relive—"

"Not that."

Sirius' eyebrows indicated his surprise at the snappy interruption, but Harry asked anyway, "What is an incarnation of a Horcrux?"

"Oh. Er, well… it's a physical manifestation of the magic Voldemort invoked to create the Horcruxes, I suppose you could say."

That hardly answered the question but Harry was in no mood to beg for an involvement which he had every right to. "Right," he said and turned for the bed. "Sleep sounds brilliant."

Sirius watched for a moment while Harry tried to straighten the rumpled bedclothes. "Here," he finally murmured, "let me do that…"

Harry crossed his arms jerkily and leaned against the wall as Sirius took care of the sheets and then shook out the blanket, taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and fold down the top as if he was some sort of fussy house-elf. Harry scowled at nothing when Sirius stepped back.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome…" Sirius cleared his throat as Harry covered himself with jerks. "Are you certain you feel like sleeping? If you want to talk about—"

"Knackered," Harry told him firmly. And then when crinkles of worry appeared around Sirius' eyes, he relented. "Later, yeah?"

Sirius nodded, but instead of leaving Harry to it, he sat on the edge of the bed. "We can leave as soon as you'd like," he said. "For Belize," he clarified quietly, but Harry had understood; they had talked of it often enough. "Hermione's brochures were rather helpful… that is, if you still want to go the Muggle route. I don't think a Wizarding resort would be a wise idea just now. I reckon Shacklebolt will arrange a Portkey for us, if we ask. Or we could take an aeroplane… I've always wanted to ride one." He half-smiled. "Mostly to irritate my mother…"

He fell silent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Harry considered the fizzing anger in his belly as Sirius cleared his throat again.

"We don't have to decide right now."

"No," Harry finally found his voice, "an aeroplane might be fun." After all, he had always wanted to ride one as well—at least he had each time the Dursleys left him with Mrs. Figg to go to Majorca.

Sirius smiled. "Good," he said. "I don't know how to arrange one… Hermione will, I suppose. I'll sort it out," he said quickly. "You sleep, yes? We'll pack when you wake up and leave tonight? There isn't any reason to wait, I shouldn't think—bit tired of these walls and Snape will probably be glad to be rid of us, though we might need to hide the liquor."

Harry nodded, concern beginning to undermine the bit of irritation left. Sirius never babbled. And he wasn't even smiling along with the liquor comment.

"Good boy," Sirius said, as if he was talking to himself. He patted Harry's leg. "Sleep now. You'll feel better."

"I feel all right—"

"Do you?" Sirius' eyebrows rose. His mouth twitched but at least his shoulders relaxed. "Feel rather dodgy myself… bit of a whirlwind there… and then when you Apparated to us—" He grimaced. "Well, we can talk about all of that later."

"Yeah," Harry grumbled as he hiked the blanket up. "Sure."

Sirius' head tilted, his grey eyes probing. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"

Harry noticed then how strange Sirius looked; there seemed to be more white in his pupils and his eyes were glazed as if he had a fever.

Harry scrutinized his godfather. "You… weren't hurt, were you?"

Sirius' face softened. "No, no," he assured. "Not in the least." He moved Harry's hair off his forehead with a gentle sweep of his hand. "I wouldn't ever want to do that again, but I'm relieved more than anything else at this moment."

Harry could understand that. Swallowing, he murmured, "I thought…"

…you were going to die. The words wouldn't form.

Sirius' throat rippled. "I know, and I'm sorry about that. It happened so quickly and I didn't know you would sense us."

Harry glanced away. His voice was gruff when it emerged, "You should sleep."

"I will."

Harry nodded. "Does Snape know how Voldemort invaded my mind?" he asked when he was looking at Sirius again.

"I don't think so," Sirius began with regret.

"Doesn't matter."

"We could ask him about it before we leave."

Harry shrugged. Sirius' chest rose and fell but he made no sound. He massaged the lines in his forehead again and then spelled the single lamp down. Sunlight was beginning to seep in through the faded curtains. Sirius sighed out loud this time and then tangled his fingers in his lap, his eyes glued to Harry's face.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"You, erm… don't need to stay in here."

"Oh." Sirius stood in one swift movement. "Right, sorry."

"I mean… you need to sleep as well. You don't have to leave," Harry amended lamely. But Sirius shook his head.

And then just as abruptly as he'd stood, he bent and kissed the top of Harry's head, his fingers pausing for a moment to brush over the strands. "Love you, mate," he muttered. His face was in shadows as he straightened. "Sleep well."

Harry's heartbeat was too loud as his godfather's footsteps clipped the floorboards until he'd crossed the corridor and then Harry heard only silence.

--

As soon as he crossed the threshold into his room, Sirius leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His heart was wind in his ears—a roaring typhoon and he had no idea how to make it stop.

How to peel the crawling unease from where it had burrowed under his skin.

Harry's safe.

But no matter how many times his mind repeated it, it was impossible to believe.