Harry\'s Shadow

BY : SpeedyTomato
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius
Dragon prints: 30779
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and make not a knut off this strange work of fanfiction.

 







Summary: On Harry's fifth birthday, it's announced that Sirius Black was found dead in his cell in Azkaban. On that same birthday, Harry's shadow begins to do odd things. That heralds a strange journey that changes plenty of things many planned for since that fateful night in Godric's Hollow.



 





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Beta'd by the most wonderful, amazing and stupendous Tenchi. Woman, you are the best and love you for all you do for me!



With help from Lynn who works with me when it comes to flow, continuity, laying out this complicated mess to make it work and other issues.

Also, to Tash who spent several long hours working with me to make sure this would come across right.



 





!IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE! !READ! ←



 



This is one of those stories you are really going to have to read and remember details on. In the first five chapters, maybe more, I'm going to throw a ton of information in your direction that you're going to have to remember later on. I'm not going to cover it again as we go along, either. So, if you just want to skim or quickly read and not pick up on details, this story is not for you because those details are damned important later on.



 



I'm also going to cover some uncomfortable topics, such as death, in several places. Heed the tags on this story so you don't get upset. Also, despite the age that Harry is when we start, nothing sexual between him and 'his shadow' will take place before he turns fifteen. The relationship will be highly inappropriate, that I give you, but not sexual. If that disturbs you, this story isn't for you.



 



You've been warned.



 



Also, the first five or so chapters are going to be odd in that they are going to be more summarizing events rather than detailing them like a normal story would. As you read them, you'll get why, especially after I start in on the main body of the story.



 



The PsychoFruit



 





Prologue

 





Putting the paper down on the table, Remus shoved it away and shook his head. He was saddened by the headline and story there. Sirius was dead. They found him that way in his cell. Of course, that wasn't unexpected with the Dementors and what Azkaban was like. It was just—not only was this poor Harry's fifth birthday, one he wouldn't get to celebrate with either him or his friends, but one of his first and best friends died. All along, since that nightmare happened so many years ago, he was sure that Sirius hadn't betrayed James and Lily. He couldn't prove it, of course, and no one would listen to him because of what he was, but he knew Sirius. There was no chance his friend would do what they said. Oh yes, the evidence looked bad, especially when it came to Peter, but there was always that niggling. Now the point was moot. There was no sense in trying to prove a dead man innocent. No one would listen anyway.

Picking the paper back up, he glanced at it again, briefly skimming the article there. As expected, those that wrote it called it true justice. No, it wasn't. There was no justice in this situation. Sirius, if innocent, would never be proven so. Harry lost his parents that night and was who knew where with relatives Albus swore would care for and about him. He had lost every friend he had in the world. Though their world touted that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone, he took Albus' line of thinking that he wasn't and it was just a matter of time before he showed back up. He assumed that Harry starting school would trigger the events to put that into play because he would be accessible. At the moment, no one knew where he was, so they couldn't manage anything.

Rather than dwell on the horrible news and reread what was there, Remus tossed the paper into the fireplace, feeling some relief as it caught fire, slowly curling up and blackening among the flames. For him, this wasn't a reason to celebrate. Not only did it bring back plenty of old hurts, but he wanted to mourn his old friend, the one he knew in school and for a time after, without remembering the events that landed him in that horrible prison.

With his head hung down, he sighed, feeling his eyes burn. He wondered if there was a way to attend Sirius' burial. He knew that his old friend's family was gone, all dead other than the cousins. Even if they weren't, chances were his mother wouldn't have done a thing to lay her son to rest. He doubted it, though, and didn't think it was wise to go to the Ministry to find out. That would just draw suspicion on himself. Even after these few years, anyone that had attachments to those in Azkaban for what they did during the war would end up getting suspicious looks. Then the whispers about them would begin. As he was a werewolf, it would be worse and the DMLE might take an interest in him. Though he did nothing wrong and made sure to stay well within the confines of the laws, it wouldn't take much for the DMLE to find something to lay on him because of his condition. Then he would find himself in that dreaded prison. No, it was best to leave it alone.

Though he hated the idea of Sirius being buried on that hateful rock in the North Sea, alone in a cemetery of real prisoners whose families didn't want to claim their bodies, he wouldn't do anything. Instead, he would mourn in his own way, raising a pint of beer he would get in a Muggle pub in the small town not far from here to the memories of happier times. While doing that, he would ignore the bad and just remember the good. When he came home, he would write another letter to Harry.

Those letters—they were more for him than the poor orphaned child that lost everything that night so long ago. He was sure that if he sent them out by owl, Harry would get them, of course. However, Albus insisted they all leave Harry alone. That he would do. He couldn't help himself, though, and wrote to the poor boy. Those letters were his way of dealing with this mess. In them, he would tell Harry all about his parents, their school days, what everyone was like, hoping to give him a history that he wouldn't get any other way. While doing that he was soothing his own conscience about allowing Albus to decide what was best instead of taking the boy like James and Lily wanted. He wanted to tell Harry in person about all those fun times and how great his parents were, but couldn't so he went about it this way. It was a futile effort, really, as he knew he would never give those letters to Harry. The poor boy needed left alone until it was time for him to join the rest of them in their world when he turned eleven. Even then he doubted that he would hand them over. It was—well—he realized this was more for him. And understood that a long time ago. It helped him, not the poor child that lost everything.

Picking up the picture on the stand that was by the chair, he looked at it, heart heavy. It was the one of all of them taken at James and Lily's wedding. Just the Marauders and Lily, no one else. Now—he was all that was left. Just him. James and Lily were lost to the Killing Curse cast by a maniac in his quest for power. Peter supposedly at the end of Sirius' wand after the most loyal of them had appeared to have been a traitor. Now Sirius to that awful prison he was tossed into without a trial. And that's when the tears came. Though a tiny bit of his thoughts were mourning once more for that adorable little boy with the green eyes he had held and played with whenever he could, mostly it was for himself. He had lost all his friends. Oh, he still had acquaintances, but none of them were close to the bond he shared with the three other men in the picture. Nothing in the future would ever come close. They were more than friends, they were his brothers. And he missed them, all of them, even Sirius.

Putting the picture down with a now trembling hand, sight blurred by the tears now streaming from his eyes, Remus mourned for all of them. With that came something he would only admit to himself; self pity. This had cost him so much and he felt a tad bit sorry for himself over it. While there was a tiny bit of hurt over the little boy, the one he promised his friends he would watch out for, most of it was for himself. He was now alone and would be probably for the rest of his life. That realization hurt. Everyone that mattered in his life and cared for him was gone. Now he was alone. Completely alone.

 





Chapter 1

 





Seated in the dirt in the garden, Harry was pulling weeds. Though it was a hot day and a chore that most hated, he didn't mind doing it. After all, he was outside. That was far better than being locked in his cupboard all the time, except for meals and using the loo. As that's where he'd been since the school year ended a couple of weeks ago, he was grateful for it.

Finishing the plant he was working on, he scooted down, without standing, to the next one. Stretching, arms above his head, back slightly bowed, he then slumped, grinning slightly. This was good. It was hot out, no doubt there, but the air smelled nice with the scent of the flowers dancing on it. And he was alone. That was even better. His aunt and uncle had taken Dudley swimming, so they wouldn't be back for a few hours. Which meant he had several more hours of peace, something he adored.

Going back to pulling weeds, the five year old boy, almost six by now he reminded himself, tried to be careful so as not to disturb the plant itself. If he did that, Aunt Petunia would get that look on her face then Uncle Vernon would start to bellow at him before locking him back in his cupboard for who knew how long. No, he didn't want that, so he paid close attention. As summer was really just starting, he wanted to be outside as much as he could, despite how hot it was or the chores he had to tend to.

Carefully pulling the weeds, making sure that he didn't bother the real plants, he thought about his family. Really, he didn't mind what went on, though he knew from school that what this house was like wasn't 'normal'. No one else in his class at kindergarten had to sleep in a cupboard. They didn't have to cook meals or clean like adults did. They weren't considered freaks by their family. They hadn't been just dumped on a doorstep after their parents were killed in car crash with just a note. No, he was different. He supposed that was because he was a freak. After all, his freakishness, and how he made odd things happen, wasn't something the Dursleys wanted to expose anyone to if they could at all help it. It might infect them the way Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon feared he would Dudley. Shaking his head, he sighed. He could understand that, he supposed.

Honestly? He didn't mind the cupboard. It was small, yeah, but safe in there. The spiders didn't bother him a bit. In fact, he found them fascinating. Of course, he didn't bother them, so they didn't bother him. He also had several small toys and had hidden a few books in there that Dudley hadn't wanted when they were given to him as gifts. Those he sneaked out of the trash late one night. Though he wasn't the best at reading, he looked at the pictures and made up stories about them. He liked doing that. It made the time pass quickly when he was locked in there for some reason. Most of the time it was for something stupid. He hadn't moved fast enough when doing a chore. He had cooked part of the meal wrong or burnt it. Dudley had blamed something he had done on him. There was one of those odd accidents that he was blamed for. Those all ended up with him locked in the cupboard for some time. In fact, he was sure that he spent more time locked in there than he did being out. Oh well, it was all he knew, so it was normal for him and he accepted that was the way it was in this house. He didn't remember when the cupboard became his room as it seemed like it was always that way from his first memory. Well, real memory anyway. Other things that came to him, like the woman with the beautiful green eyes that rocked him while holding him close, singing softly, had to just be dreams or something he made up.

After finishing this plant, Harry grabbed the hosepipe and carefully watered it, making sure not to get any of the water on himself. It was bad enough he was dirty, something he would have to make sure he took care of before anyone came back then check to ensure he hadn't dragged any of the dirt into the house. Mud would be worse as it was a guarantee that he couldn't get that all cleaned up without Aunt Petunia noticing. That would lead to another stint in the cupboard. Standing up after he was done, he stepped onto the grass at the end of the garden. Taking his glasses off, he leaned forward then doused his head with water. That cooled him off nicely. Taking a drink from the hose, he wiped his glasses off with the cleanest part of his shirt. The whole row was done. Good! And that was the last of the garden. Which meant he could rest for a while.

Rolling up the hose after turning off the water, planning to put it in the shed, Harry suddenly stopped. Brow drawn down in confusion, he looked at his shadow. It had moved strangely, or so he thought. Watching the long dark shade on the ground, he waited to see if it would do it again or if it was just a trick of the sunlight in some way. After seconds ticked by he saw nothing odd, so he shrugged and went back to rolling up the hose. Once that was done, he then dragged the heavy length of green pipe towards the shed. He couldn't get it up on the high shelf where Uncle Vernon always stored it, but he could put it in there on the lowest one. Uncle Vernon would grumble about that, of course, calling him worthless and lazy, but it wouldn't be as bad as if he left it on the floor.

After sweating and straining to get the heavy hose on the shelf, Harry stepped out of the shed, making sure to shut the door then turn the latch so it didn't fly open. He then walked over and flopped under the big tree in the yard. Sighing softly, he smiled. Not only was it far cooler in the shade, but there was a nice breeze that felt good on his sweaty body. Leaning back against the rough trunk, he got as comfortable as he could. It was then his eyes were drawn to his shadow once more. Instead of vanishing in the shadow the tree cast, it was still there, just a shade or so darker than the one the tree cast. That was odd. As he looked at it, it moved on its own. Of course, your shadow always moved in odd ways due to many things, but not like this. It was—like those other strange things that got him in trouble.

His shadow seemed to shift around then walk up and sit by him, crossing its ankles, wrapping its arms around its legs, then look at him. Brow furrowed, Harry shut his eyes, shook his head then opened them again. He assumed that it was just a trick of his mind from being out in the sun too long. However, when he looked at his shadow, it was still that way, head turned in his direction. This was very odd. Glancing around, seeing that everything else appeared normal, he looked back at his shadow. Oh yeah, if Uncle Vernon noticed something this odd, he was in real trouble and probably wouldn't get out of his cupboard until school started again!

“Can you hear me?” Harry finally asked his shadow, not really sure what to do. His eyes then went buggy when it nodded. This was—weird. Weirder than almost any of those other strange things people blamed on him. “I'm going to get in real trouble for this if someone notices,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Keeping an eye on his shadow, he watched it inch closer until he could feel it touch him. It wasn't the same kind of touch as if a person were doing it, but something very light, almost gauzy feeling, but warm. In fact, it was something that felt good to Harry as he didn't get touched much, unless it was a bad kind, like Uncle Vernon grabbing his arm to drag him somewhere, or a smack on the back of the head from his aunt. When it leaned its head close, he heard a soft voice, something like you picked up on when the wind was blowing just right and a conversation from far away blew in on it, something so soft you almost couldn't make out the words.

“Don't worry, Harry. They won't notice me,” his shadow told him softly.

Smiling at that, though thinking it was strange, Harry nodded. “You have to act normal when everyone is around. If you don't, I'll end up locked in my cupboard forever!” He told his shadow, though was happy with this. That voice—there was something about it he thought he knew or remembered. He wasn't sure about that, of course, but it made him feel good, like it was a nice memory of some kind that he couldn't put his finger on.

“We'll be good friends and I'll protect you,” the shadow said softly. He would, too! He just had to figure out what was going on to manage that. Already he didn't like this situation, what he saw and the things Harry said. It was just going to take time to figure out what was going on and gain the power he needed from Harry to take care of him. It wouldn't take long. Harry was already taking to him without any real wariness. Perfect.

Looking at his shadow, Harry shook his head, not sure what to do. How do you talk to a shadow and make conversation? Was it like a real person? That he didn't know. With a shrug of his bony shoulders, he asked, “What do you want me to call you? Shadow? Or is there some other name? And we have to be careful talking so no one hears me. If they do, I'm in trouble. It would be another of those 'freakish' things that Uncle Vernon doesn't like.”

“You can call me Sirius,” his shadow said softly, making sure to lean in close so Harry could hear him. “We'll do fine. Tonight, after everyone is asleep, I'll work with you on a way we can communicate so no one hears you talk to me or me to you. And, once I’ve been around a while, I'll be able to do other things and help you.”

Liking that, Harry nodded, grinning as he did. This was good. Though he wanted to sit here and talk to his sha—no, Sirius, he had chores to do so he didn't get into trouble. Sighing, he said, “I have to get to work. Even though I'd rather talk, if I don't get all this done before they get home and get cleaned up, I'll be in trouble.”

“I'm your shadow, Harry, I can go with you as you do your chores. We'll talk while you work and get to know each other,” Sirius told his godson softly. He planned to as well, there was much he needed to learn. Though he was tired, manifesting his shadow form had taken everything he had, he would wait to rest until tonight when Harry slept.

Standing, very happy with this, Harry told him, “I have to get the clippers and trim around the house. We can talk while I do that.” For the first time in his life, he had a friend and planned to enjoy that! If it was his shadow, that meant he would be with him all the time. That he loved!

Attaching to Harry the way a shadow would, Sirius moved along with him, talking softly to his godson. Though Harry appeared excited by this, not at all worried or upset, it was best to keep him calm. The quicker they got used to each other, the better it would be for Sirius so he could take over protecting Harry just how he promised. Those years lost in Azkaban were something he planned to make up to his godson.

 





Lying in that awful cupboard late that night, listening to his godson snore softly, Sirius looked around. This—it would stop, fast. Plenty wasn't right here and he planned to make damned sure it changed as quickly as he could manage it. And people were going to pay for treating his godson this way.

Shifting around, he pressed tightly to Harry. At the moment, it wasn't much of a touch, but that would change. James had always said, looking smug as he did, that Harry was powerful. Well, his friend was right. More than he ever knew. Not only was Harry powerful, but there was something else there that added to it. It was a darkness of some kind. He wasn't sure what it was as it was in Harry, but not a part of him. On the flip side, it was powerful enough in and of itself that Sirius could pull from it to move this along faster. Just what he needed.

Shutting his own eyes, holding Harry close, Sirius needed to rest. It wouldn't be a sleep like a human did, as he no longer had his body, but he needed to regenerate. Though he could pull from Harry to do that, he wouldn't as it would exhaust his godson. Harry would be more tired than normal from this anyway, for a time, that he didn't want to make it worse. Just lying here, letting Harry's energy trickle into him, was all he needed. The more he did that over the next few weeks, the more he would build up power then be able to do more.

Sirius wasn't a shadow, though that's how he would appear most times. He was what Muggles called a Shadow Person. What he had done was old, dark magic that made his body vanish, leaving just a shade of himself. It took years to master and accomplish, something made worse by Azkaban. However, the dark atmosphere of Azkaban also helped in other ways to feed the darkness in him he needed to harness to lose his body completely. Earlier this year he had managed that, but didn't take the final step. Instead, he homed in on Harry's energy, something he remembered from when Harry was a child and waited. If he had just vanished out of his cell, there would have been a mess. So, he had to do it another way. That was by using one of the ex-Aurors on staff there. They looked passable to each other. At least they were close enough that he could manage this. He had managed to grab the man's wand yesterday then Stun him with it. A quick transfiguration made it to where they could have been twins. Then came the clothes exchange. Finally, to manifest that final form, he had pulled the energy from both of them. Because Ashen, the guard, had been drunk and on potions at the time, that energy pull left him in a sort of coma. Sirius had managed the final transformation. Then he escaped, slipping down the halls among the Dementors and waited to attach to someone to take him to the mainland.

That didn't take long either. Ashen had died over night. Sirius assumed it was the potions in his system because of his weakened state. Perfect. That way the world would think he was dead. From the gossip he picked up about Ashen from hearing other guards talk, the man was so far in debt to the goblins, and plenty of others, a drunken, potion addicted louse that was let go from the Aurors, most would think he just ran to escape his debts. Another perfect thing. Burials on Azkaban were quick. You were taken from your cell already wrapped in your shroud, dumped in a box then dropped into a hole in the ground before being covered. Even if those spells wore off, it wouldn't be discovered they were burying the wrong person. Which meant he was safe. Perfectly safe. He had then managed to attach to one of the guards who was leaving after their shift was over. Once on the mainland, it was easy to move around, attaching from person to person, drawing energy, until he made his way to Little Whinging, where he remembered Lily mentioning her sister lived. After getting here, finding Harry was a piece of cake. Now they were together and he could protect him.

Feeling Harry's energy and magic flow into him, energizing him, Sirius felt better. He would do this all night. It wouldn't be enough to harm Harry, of course, or drain him like he had Asher, but it would boost his own energy so he could do what was needed. It wouldn't get to the level he truly needed it for about a year, but even starting tomorrow, he would be able to do more than he was now. That's what he was shooting for.

Lying there, curled up to the sleeping little boy, Sirius thought over all he had seen so far and heard. Changes were coming, big ones. That's for damned sure. Because no one, he didn't give a damn who they were, would treat Harry this way. If they thought they could and get away with it, they were dead wrong and would pay. And keep paying until they learned. He was sure that many would catch a clue very quickly and get on the right track. If they didn't—he'd handle it. His own way.

 





 

 




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