A/N: Yes. A new story. It has me really excited, and I hope you will like it. The idea that engaded me was, 'What if Harry and Sirius got to know each other in a situation where Harry doesn't know that Sirius is innocent?' And I wanted to try writing an older, 'canon' Harry. :) Well, there are plot-bunnies you can put aside, and there are stories which start writing themselves in your head. This is one of the latter. And it is like recreation for the muse. But don't worry! I'm not abandoning 'The Heart's Desire'. The next chapter is half written, and I plan on updating both stories fairly regularly. :)

Thankfully I have ambush99 in the boat with me on this one too. Thank you so much for always coming through for me. I'd be a mess without you!

This one is for jogger. Because she is all things wonderful.

Shadow Of A Doubt

by Zaira Albereo

~*ZA*~

Chapter 1 – Clutch of Circumstance

He had not thought that the place would be a freaking nightmare.

He had not thought about many things it seemed. Harry didn't know what he had expected, but certainly not this. And now that he stood here, in the howling winds in the middle of the sea, on a rock that was much too small to be rightfully called an island, he wasn't so sure anymore whether this had been a good idea.

The rock was maybe as big as the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle. But it was much colder and the weather was a lot worse. The sky was a dark, stormy grey and hung so low that Harry thought he would almost be able to touch it if he reached up. The wind threw gushes of spray into his face, and he was feeling the water run into the collar of the grey cloak his companion had given him not ten minutes ago in a place that must have been what Harry could only guess was many hundred miles away.

Harry was a little scared. Just a little, but then he had not even reached his destination yet. No, his destination was right in front of him, only about a mile away on another, slightly larger piece of rock. A foreboding tower of black stone rose up high into the sky, and it seemed to exude a frosty breath that reached across the dark and stormy waters, making Harry shiver even deeper inside than the cold of the wind and water. It was as if it reached right down into his very soul, taking all his hope and happiness.

His companion, a wizard by the name of Hardstone, cast some sort of spell, although Harry couldn't hear the words above the roaring of the wind. A huge silver form erupted from the wizard's wand, and Harry watched, stunned at how it seemed to be running out over the waves, weightlessly, but then turned around in a circle, coming back towards them. When it stopped in front of Mr. Hardstone, Harry could see that it was a large, silvery cat. Or maybe the ghost of a cat, because it was not corporeal.

''What is this?'' Harry yelled over the noise.

Mr. Hardstone looked at him, seemingly scrutinizing him. ''Something to shield and protect us.''

Harry stared at the cat. ''From what!'' he yelled again.

''You will see,'' Mr. Hardstone said ominously, looking over to the tower with a grim face.

Harry swallowed as his heart met with his stomach.

~*S*~

It all had started with a letter.

The letter had arrived the usual way, or rather, the usual way for wizards. A large brown barn owl had swooshed down through the open window on a sunny Saturday afternoon at half past three, stirring up the rolls of parchment on his desk, and, after a complimentary round around his room, had landed on the back of the chair.

Harry, who had been dozing on the bed, resting after three hours of strenuous weeding in his aunt's garden, struggled up on his elbows and straightened his lopsided glasses. The owl hooted at him indignantly and held out its leg towards him. Harry blinked. The owl looked very official, like one of the Ministry owls, and Harry had very bad experiences with those.

Frowning, he got up, and carefully approached the bird. The letter he carefully untied from the owl's leg looked just as official, and Harry's heart started to beat a little faster. He reached for one of the owl treats on the desk, but the large bird seemed to give him an appalled look and took off.

''I didn't want to bribe you, you know?'' Harry called after it, annoyed.

But the owl had already vanished behind the tree tops. Harry just hoped his uncle had not seen it. Biting his lip he sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the creamy white letter. It was addressed to Mr. Harry Potter – personal & confidential. He swallowed nervously. That sounded... important. Turning it around, he saw that there was an emblem on the back. A large M, on golden ground, perched on the pans of a scale, with the latin words 'Ignorantia juris neminem excusat' around it. The letter really was from the Ministry.

Harry desperately tried to remember if he had done anything that could count as an offence in the wizard world. He was rather sure he had not done any accidental, much less any voluntary magic. He had been in enough trouble because of it last year. Harry stared at the words. Ignorance of the law excuses no one. This could only be bad. Apprehension was beating down his curiosity, but nevertheless he ripped the envelope open, as he would have pulled off a band-aid.

His heart started to hammer, when he read the letterhead.

Department of Magical Law Enforcement - Azkaban Wizard Prison Service.

His stomach dropped a little. This had to be a mistake. What could the wizard prison want from him? Thirteen year old Harry Potter? Swallowing hard, he began to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We write you today to inform you that a request has been made by a prisoner in our facility to invite you for a visit. Since the prisoner in question is under top security measures, only family members who are fourteen years or older receive such permission. It has been confirmed that prisoner No. 396, Sirius Black, is indeed your godfather, so that Azkaban Wizard management herewith grants you visiting rights after your birthday on July 31st. Please contact us to make an appointment.

Gloria Cattermole

Azkaban Wizard Prison Service

M.o.M.

After he had read the whole thing three times, and it still said the same thing, Harry's hands sank down on his lap. Still clutching the ominous letter he stared out the window, as if the answers to the questions falling over each other in his head would come flying like the Ministry owl had just fifteen minutes ago.

He had a godfather!

Why had no one ever told him about that? Well, that might have something to do with the fact that the man was in prison. But since when had he been there? And more importantly what for?

Harry had only learned about the wizard prison Azkaban in his second year, when Hagrid, the gamekeeper and now Care of Magical Creatures teacher of Hogwarts's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had been taken there because the Ministry had thought he'd opened a secret chamber inside the school and let a monster loose on the students. Hagrid was twice as tall and strong as a normal wizard, and Harry had never seen him frightened. Until the moment he was told that they would bring him to Azkaban. When the Ministry admitted it had made a mistake, and he was finally released, Hagrid had lost a lot of weight and never talked about his stay in the infamous wizard prison.

And now he, Harry Potter, had a godfather in this place? And why did the man want to see him? Why now, after all the years he'd never heard from him? Oh, right,... the letter said you were not allowed to visit when you were younger than fourteen, because he was under 'top security measures'. Did that mean he had done something really bad? Or maybe he was under such high security because he had tried to break out before...

Harry suddenly remembered the childish dreams he had had when he was a little kid. He had imagined some mysterious family member searching for him and showing up at the Dursleys to take him away into a new and better life. Depending on what had been taking his fancy back then, these men were pirate captains, undercover agents, or – after reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo' – wrongfully imprisoned nobleman. Harry shook his head. He had out-grown these fantasies a long time ago. But he still had to admit that he was curious about what the man wanted from him.

Prisoner No. 396, Sirius Black. The name didn't ring a bell. He was sure he had never heard anyone speak about him before. Sirius Black, his godfather. What kind of person might he be? Well, duh Harry, probably a criminal, since he's in jail. He rolled his eyes at himself. Well, maybe he had not done something too bad. Maybe he had tried to rob Gringotts or something, that would actually be kind of cool. He couldn't be a really bad person, could he? Seeing that he was his godfather, didn't that mean that his parents had appointed him for that? And didn't that mean that he probably had been someone they had liked and trusted? But of course that had been fourteen years ago...

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about this mysterious godfather, and what reason he could have to ask him to visit him. He wanted to know more about this man, but whom could he ask about it? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had not known his parents all that well, so the chances were slim that they would be able to give him information about any friends of theirs. Professor Dumbledore might at least know something about the man, after all he seemed to know almost everything, but Harry had no idea where the headmaster went during the summer. And wouldn't it be kind of rude to bother him with such a thing in the holidays? But no way could he wait for six long weeks, until the start of the new term! Harry briefly thought of Mr. Lupin, his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher from last year, he had after all been at school with his parents. But he had even less of an idea where the kind wizard had gone after he had resigned from his position at the end of the school year.

He needed someone else. Someone who knew his parents, knew the people they had been friends with... He pulled up his feet on the desk chair, resting his chin on his knees, while he stared at the trunk at the foot of his bed. It was a wild chaos of clothes, quills and books. And then his eyes fell on the photo album that Hagrid had made for him in his first year. He had sent letters to all of his parents' old school friends... of course! He could ask Hagrid! And Hagrid had been in Azkaban too. Maybe he had even met Sirius Black?

Hastily, Harry searched for an unused piece of parchment on his desk and grabbed his quill. After dipping it into the ink, he wrote.

Dear Hagrid,

How are the holidays so far? Have you already planned any new classes? Over here it has been a slow summer so far. My aunt put me to work a lot, and Dudley, my cousin, you have met him once, has been put on a diet. Unfortunately we all have to join in, so he won't feel so bad about it.

Today I received a strange letter from the Ministry. Apparently I have a godfather who wants me to visit him. I never even knew I had a godfather, and I wondered if you might know him? His name is Sirius Black. It says he is in Azkaban right now, which came as a bit of a shock. I would be happy about any information you could give me on him!

I hope you are well.

Harry

Harry scanned over the letter, and nodded to himself, pleased. He rolled it up and put it down on his desk. He would send Hedwig later tonight when it got dark. No use in risking the wrath of his uncle.

~s~

That evening, Harry sat down for dinner in front of a plate with an apple and a slab of cheese. It was the same food any of the Dursley family members got, but Harry's apple was the smallest, and his cheese was only half as big as Dudley's. Harry sighed inwardly. As soon as Hedwig was back he would have to write Ron a letter with a plea for help. His cousin, who was easily as wide as he was tall by now, might benefit in reducing his weight by half, but things looked very different when you were as skinny as Harry to begin with.

Harry seldom participated in any dinner conversation, or really any conversation at all with his relatives. His uncle liked to pretend that he wasn't in the room, as long as he didn't want Harry to fetch and carry that was, and the average time between Harry joining in a conversation, and him saying something that sent Uncle Vernon through the roof, was two minutes. So it was better to keep his mouth shut. Therefore Harry didn't pay much attention, only listening with one ear in case any alarming words fell. Like right now.

''... Marge hasn't heard anything from her either, it is rather impolite,...''

After almost jumping at the name of Harry' least favourite Dursley, he relaxed again. Thankfully it seemed another visit from Uncle Vernon's bulldog of a sister was not planned. After all the last time had ended in a fiasco, even though Aunt Marge herself wouldn't remember it.

''...after all she is Dudley's godmother...''

Harry's ears perked up again. He had not even considered to ask... but then Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister after all.

''Did you know that I have a godfather?'' he blurted out without thinking.

Silence settled over the table as three heads turned towards him. They always seemed surprised to notice he was still in the room.

''Nonsense!'' Uncle Vernon barked, ''What are you talking about? If you had a godfather we wouldn't have to take your ungrateful hide in to clothe and feed you!''

Harry swallowed back any comment about the Dursley's generosity. He was much more interested in the nervous twitch around his aunt's eyes he had noticed. Sensing his only chance to get some information tonight, Harry turned to his aunt.

''His name is Sirius Black! I know he must be a wizard, but maybe-''

''Haven't we told you often enough not to mention that unnaturalness under this roof!'' his uncle roared, slamming his hand on the table.

Harry knew that this was exactly the moment he should be shutting up, but he was certain that Aunt Petunia had reacted when she heard the name.

''Do you know him?'' There was a badly hidden note of hope and excitement in his voice.

''I most certainly do not!'' Aunt Petunia replied coldly, standing up to clear the table. ''A hoodlum and lazy layabout, just like your father, I bet. No one ever came to claim you! And whoever would want a freak like you?''

Harry ground his teeth together, standing up as well. His aunt was pushing all his buttons.

''My father wasn't a hoodlum! He was a great wizard and-''

Aunt Petunia slapped him. Harry staggered backwards. That had not happened since the summer they had locked him in his room, two years ago.

''Not another word from you, you ungrateful freak!'' Uncle Vernon bellowed, his head turning purple. ''You stay in your room until we tell you otherwise! And if I hear so much as a sneeze from you,-''

''Fine!'' Harry cried, and turned around to run up the stairs and slam his door shut behind him. ''As if I would actually want your company,'' he hissed out of earshot, throwing himself down on to the bed.

An hour later, when he had calmed down a little and Hedwig had woken up from her nap, he sent the snowy owl out through the window, hoping that he would have more luck with Hagrid.

~*S*~

They took some sort of boat, just big enough for two people, to cross over the storm-lashed sea towards the tower. Mr. Hardstone had tapped his wand on the rusty looking chain, which led from the prow into the water and seemed to pull the boat by some magical force. Despite the high waves, the boat was smoothly gliding over the water but, whatever magic was responsible for that, it obviously couldn't keep the spray from showering Harry with a salty downfall. The big cat walked next to the boat, not at all disturbed by the storm or the wild waters.

It took, at the same time, an eternity and almost no time at all to reach the main rock. Harry's stomach was in knots by then. And then he saw them, although what it was that he was seeing he couldn't say. Cloaked figures, too tall and out of proportion to be human, who seemed to glide or fly rather than walk. There were dozens of them surrounding the tower, their long, ragged cloaks flapping around them in the storm. And only looking at them made Harry feel like his blood was freezing in his veins.

''Stay close to me, at all times, you hear me boy?'' Mr. Hardstone yelled.

Harry nodded hurriedly.

The silver cat prowled alongside them and, when it moved closer to him, as if on silent command, Harry felt a wave of relief flood through him. He carefully reached out his hand to stroke the fur of what looked like a silver panther, but all that he felt was a warm, tingling sensation that lit a spark of hope and joy inside of him. Harry instantly felt better. He really started to like this cat.

Mr. Hardstone seemed to be communicating with the ghastly, cloaked beings, although Harry wouldn't know how, since no word was spoken. But after a few moments they withdrew, and Harry saw what must be the main gate into the tower. It was easily three times as high as any human being and made of what looked like solid iron. But in the left of the huge wings was a smaller, man-sized door of rusty bars, and that was where Mr. Hardstone was leading him now. From under his cloak he pulled out a chain that hung around his neck, and which had a key attached to it that looked a little bit like the one Harry had to open his vault at Gringotts. Mr. Hardstone turned the key but, instead of the door opening, the bars seemed to slide back into the iron gate, leaving an opening for them to go through.

Mr. Hardstone stepped to the side, and silently gestured for Harry to take the lead.

~*S*~

The day that followed the arrival of the fateful letter Harry stayed in his room as his uncle had told him and, when the rays of the afternoon sun fell on the lawn in front of his window, he was already starting to dread the confinement. His relatives had locked him in before. The summer after first year they had only served him food through a cat flap. When he was younger they had even locked him in the cupboard under the stairs but he was older now and, since he'd gone to Hogwarts, he was used to having room to move. A whole castle and extended grounds to roam about.

His gaze fell on his precious broomstick. The Nimbus 2000 had seen many Quidditch matches during the last three years, but was well-cared for. His whole body itched to grab it, mount it, and just kick off. But that, of course, was impossible. Sighing, Harry slumped down on his desk chair and pulled 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' out from under a pile of parchment. For the next hours he tried to concentrate on his Herbology essay, failing more or less spectacularly.

~s~

It was sometime in the early hours of the morning when Harry was stirred by an insistent tapping. Still half asleep, Harry wondered since when the Dursley's had started to be so considerate to knock before storming into his room.

''What's it?'' he mumbled sleepily, turning around on his stomach and burrowing his face in the pillow.

The tapping was persistent. With one hand Harry fumbled for his glasses. The clock on the night table said quarter past three. And then he noticed that the tapping actually came from the window. Suddenly wide awake, Harry swung his legs out of bed and rushed over to it. There were two owls sitting on the windowsill. One was his own snowy white companion. The other wore the crest of the Hogwarts school owls. Wondering why Hagrid had not simply sent Hedwig back with his reply, Harry opened the window to let the birds inside. Hedwig flew up and landed on his shoulder, nibbling on his earlobe affectionately. The other one just stretched out its leg, hooting softly. Harry detached the letter and, after taking a treat, the owl flew up again.

Harry stroked Hedwig's wings gently. ''You were fast,'' he said, and she rubbed her beak on his cheek.

When Harry didn't react she nudged him, and only then did he see her outstretched leg with another letter tied to it. Confused he removed it, and Hedwig flew over to her cage to take a drink from her water bowl.

Turning on the lamp on his desk, Harry sat down, studying the two letters. He unrolled the scroll he had just untied from Hedwig's leg and read.

Harry,

Don't under any circumstances go and visit Black! That fellow is a madman, it's what he is! You can't trust him! He is dangerous! I talked to Professor Dumbledore and he will be in touch. Don't do anything until then!

Hagrid

Harry looked at the letter appalled. Don't do anything? What did Hagrid expect? That he'd just march out the door and take the next bus to Azkaban? He didn't even know where that was! So the other letter was probably from Dumbledore. Harry only hoped that it would hold something more of an explanation than 'Black is a dangerous madman'.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Hagrid has informed me of the letter you have received from the Ministry regarding your godfather. I know you must be quite shocked about this revelation. I can only ask you to remain calm and patient until I can explain the circumstances. I will arrive at your relatives' house on the afternoon of Saturday the 24th at 3 o'clock. Mr. Arthur Weasley, whom I believe you've met before, will accompany me. Please inform your aunt and uncle of our visit.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Harry stared at the letter stunned. Professor Dumbledore was coming here? To Privet Drive? Harry started to feel rather queasy. Suddenly the whole thing felt much more real than it had before. If Professor Dumbledore was bothered enough to come here, it had to be more than a misunderstanding. And he had confirmed it, had he not? 'regarding your godfather' the letter said. Not 'regarding the man claiming to be your godfather'. He really had a godfather after all...

He would have thought that he had gotten used to the idea by now, but up till this very moment it had seemed more like the story from a book, not something that would actually happen to him for real. He wished the letter had said more about why Sirius Black was in prison. And for how long. Maybe he would be released soon? Maybe that's why he wanted to see him, maybe he wanted to claim his godson after he got out. Harry's heart skipped a beat. It occurred to him that some people would actually frown at his excitement to go live with a former convict, but it was a sign of how much he hated his life at Number four, Privet Drive.

Reading Dumbledore's letter again, he frowned thoughtfully at the mentioning of Mr. Weasley. Why would the headmaster bring him along? Maybe because Harry was going to the Weasleys for the rest of the summer? That would be great. Ron had said something about the Quidditch World Cup coming up, but that was only at the end of August. Would the Weasleys be okay with having him for such a long time? But what else could be the reason for Mr. Weasley's visit.

Tearing off a piece of parchment, Harry scribbled a short letter to Ron explaining about what had happened and asking if he knew why his father would join Professor Dumbledore for his visit. Just when he was about to roll it up, he remembered the diet situation and wrote at the bottom:

The Dursleys have put me on a diet (long story) but I'm kind of starved, maybe you could send me some food?

If nothing else, it might be another argument for him to leave the Dursleys at least for the summer, if not for good. After he checked on Hedwig, he decided to let her sleep at least until the morning and went back to bed too. But sleep wouldn't come anymore. He was much too excited, and also dreaded the idea of telling his aunt and uncle about the upcoming visit over breakfast.

~s~

It was a bright and sunny afternoon though, looking back, Harry thought that at least his aunt and uncle would have preferred it if it had been overcast and raining. They had not been happy when Harry had told them about the two wizards inviting themselves into their house. But when his aunt had heard the name Albus Dumbledore, she had turned pale and hushed her husband, sending Harry out of the room. Harry had tried to eavesdrop, and had heard his aunt's urgent whispers, but he couldn't make out the words.

''I hope they won't be tardy!'' his uncle snarled when the clock approached three o'clock. ''I don't have the time to wait around for your lot!''

Harry kept himself from pointing out that, since it was a Saturday afternoon, his uncle would normally do nothing besides sitting in front of the TV with a cold beer anyway.

''I'm sure they'll be on time,'' he mumbled.

''And they better not come here looking all freaky! Don't want to make a spectacle for the neighbours, you hear me boy?''

Harry didn't say anything. It wasn't like he had any influence on Professor Dumbledore's wardrobe anyway and, whatever he said, he knew his uncle wouldn't be appeased.

~s~

They arrived with the strike of the clock, and Harry couldn't hide a small grin at that fact, as he went to open the door. But it died on his face when he saw the serious look on Professor Dumbledore's face. He immediately felt like he had done something wrong. At least Mr. Weasley gave him a friendly smile, but he too looked worried.

''P-Professor, Mr. Weasley,'' Harry stammered, ''Why don't you come in?''

''Thank you, Harry,'' Dumbledore said, and there was this small twinkle in his blue eyes, as they surveyed Harry for a moment over his half-moon spectacles, before he stepped inside.

Mr. Weasley followed him and squeezed Harry's shoulder lightly. ''Hello, Harry,'' he greeted him warmly but with a hint of sadness which Harry couldn't really estimate. Feeling worried and confused, Harry let the father of his best friend lead him down the hall after his headmaster.

After a few quiet words from Dumbledore, too quiet for Harry to hear, his aunt and uncle retreated into the kitchen, leaving the two men and their nephew alone in the living-room. Normally Harry would have been surprised that they were so docile, but Albus Dumbledore obviously had a way to get people to do exactly what he wanted them to do, even his magic-hating Muggle relatives.

Harry stood just inside the door, looking from one wizard to the other, feeling more than a little awkward. Why did he feel like he had done something wrong?

''Sit down, Harry,'' Professor Dumbledore said, giving him one of his odd smiles.

Harry shuffled over to the couch and perched on the edge of the seat. He felt uncomfortable looking up at the two older wizards. Professor Dumbledore sat down in an armchair across from him, managing to look like it belonged to him. Mr. Weasley kept standing slightly to his left, looking a little uncomfortable himself, but sending curious glances around the room, undoubtedly secretly studying all the Muggle devices of Harry's relatives.

''Now Harry,'' the white-haired headmaster began, his tall form bowing slightly forward, his elbows on the armrests and his hands folded, ''I know you must have a lot of questions. And I promise you that I will answer them if I can. But I also want you to trust me. Should I decide that there is something that I can't tell you, it is for a very good reason. Do you understand that, Harry?''

Harry nodded, looking nervous. Dumbledore just had this effect sometimes. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, ''Why did nobody tell me that I have a godfather, sir?''

''A rightful question, Harry, but I can assure you that it was not my intention to lie to you. Sirius Black is indeed your godfather. But since he has been in prison for years, I thought you would not benefit from knowing about him, quite the opposite, I thought it might disturb you.''

''It did a little bit at first,'' Harry admitted. ''But then I was... curious, I guess. About what kind of person he is. What has he done to be sent to Azkaban?''

Dumbledore sighed almost regretfully. ''Ah, you see Harry, this is the reason I would rather not have told you about Mr. Black. As you might know, there are different offences that can earn a wizard a sentence in Azkaban. But in the case of your godfather, it was a truly horrible deed. He got a life sentence, and will never get out of there again.''

Harry's eyes widened. A life sentence? That didn't sound good. There went the idea of Sirius Black being about to be released and coming to claim Harry.

''What did he do?'' Harry asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted to know.

''He committed the most horrible crime of all. He committed murder,'' Albus said gravely, looking at him with a trace of pity and sadness.

Harry hung his head. ''M-murder...?'' he mumbled. ''Who did he...? I mean... what happened?''

''He killed thirteen innocent people with a single spell.''

''Was it an accident?''

''I'm afraid it was not.''

''But... why?'' Harry asked uncertainly.

''That's something I can't tell you, Harry.''

''W-what? Why not?''

''Because I do not know the answer myself.''

Harry fell silent for a moment. He wasn't sure why he was so disappointed. He should have expected something like this. People were not sent to Azkaban for nothing.

''Is there something else you want to ask me Harry?''

Harry nodded. There was something else, but he felt reluctant to ask. On the other hand it was the one thing he really wanted to know.

''Professor,... do you know, I mean, it must have been my parents who made him my godfather, wasn't it? So, why... would they have chosen... someone like him?''

The headmaster sighed. ''I am sure your parents would not have chosen him if they had known what he would become, Harry. But sometimes it is very difficult to see into the heart of people. They believed they made the right choice.''

''So... he was a friend of theirs?''

There was a moment of hesitation before Professor Dumbledore answered. ''He was a friend of your father. To be honest with you; Harry, he was his best friend. But sometimes people change... I wish I could tell you more, but there isn't always an easy explanation.''

''So... what do I do now?'' Harry asked.

''What do you mean?''

''He said he wanted to see me...''

''You don't have to meet him, Harry,'' Mr. Weasley cut in. ''Don't worry. You will never have to see him.'' Mr. Weasley's words were meant to reassure, but Harry strangely enough didn't feel relieved.

''Yeah... but... if I wanted to... could I?''

''Why would you want that, Harry?'' Albus Dumbledore inquired calmly.

''I don't know... it's just, he wants to see me, obviously, and I thought,...he must have a reason.''

''Harry, Azkaban prison is not a nice place.'' Mr. Weasley said, and his eyes were kind and sympathetic. ''People who stay there for very long, like Sirius Black has by now, they often become detached from reality. I don't think he can tell you anything that will be helpful to you, Harry,''

''Arthur is right, Harry. Azkaban really is no place for such a young boy.''

''Oh.''

''It would be best to let it be, Harry. Take my advice on that.'' Albus smiled at him and got up from his chair. ''Now if we have answered all your questions, I can only wish you a pleasant summer till we see each other in September.''

''Ehm... thank you, sir.''

''Me too, Harry,'' Mr. Weasley said, smiling at him, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. ''And if you need anything, you know how to reach us.''

''Oh, yeah,...'' Harry took the offered hand, feeling a bit stunned. Was that all? ''Thank you, Mr. Weasley.''

He followed them to the door, trying to identify this feeling of sickness and dread in the pit of his stomach. When they had reached the door he got up his courage and asked,

''Mr. Weasley, Ron said that maybe I could visit over the summer...?''

''Oh, yes, of course, Harry. We would be delighted. I probably will be able to get tickets for the Quidditch World Cup at the end of August. But I'm sure Ron will keep you posted on it.'' He gave Harry a last smile. ''Have a pleasant summer, Harry, and I hope we will have you with us later on.''

And then they were gone.

Harry fled up the stairs and to his room when he heard the door to the kitchen open. He could hear Uncle Vernon complain loudly about the impertinence of sending him out of the room in his own house, and the lack of manners in general. He really couldn't face the Dursleys and their snide remarks, not now. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, pressing his eyes closed and trying hard to shake off the heavy weight of disappointment. But there was a lump in his throat that almost hurt, and when he let himself fall onto his bed, burrowing his face in the pillow, his eyes were prickling. He felt silly and angry at himself. He really was no crier.

So Sirius Black was a murderer. And not just in one case, no his godfather had to go and kill a dozen. How could that be? How could his parents have made such a mistake? His father's best friend. It would have been so great if he could have... no, no use in would-haves. He wasn't a child anymore. He knew that life wasn't a fairy tale.

But he would have liked to just talk to him. Ask him why he wanted to see him. He didn't expect much, at least that's what he told himself. He just wanted to know. But of course they would tell him to be a good boy. And have a pleasant summer. Oh, yes, he would have a great summer weeding, and scrubbing and cleaning, living on half a grapefruit and a slice of toast. This wasn't fair! It wasn't!

Harry turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. He really had wanted to meet this ominous godfather, of course that was before he turned out to be a murderer. But still... he had known his parents. His father's best friend! And of course he wasn't allowed to go. Or was he?

Harry bit his lip. Strictly speaking, they had not said that he wasn't allowed to go, had they? They had only said that it wouldn't be wise. That there was nothing to gain. But what if he thought differently? Harry knew almost nothing about his past or his parents. Should he really let this opportunity to find out more about them go? So the man had killed thirteen people with one spell. Harry still wasn't afraid. He had killed a Basilisk only a year ago, he could handle a criminal!

Determinedly, Harry got up and went to his desk, rummaging for the letter. There had been a slip enclosed to make an appointment. When he found it, he studied it thoughtfully. It was an application form for an appointment, leaving blank spaces to add the visitor, the one you wanted to visit and the date. Below that it requested the signature of the wizard, or of the guardian if the wizard was still underage.

Harry grinned satisfied. Now that wouldn't be a problem.

~*S*~

It was cold and dark, and there was something in the air Harry couldn't quite grasp. An anxiety that was made even worse by the faint sound of howling and screaming. Harry was starting to think that this might have been a very bad idea. Maybe he should have listened to, well, everybody really. But there was no turning back now, and so he followed Mr. Hardstone and the cat down the long gloomy corridor.

Harry's trepidation grew with every step he took, and his mind felt suddenly blank. He had no idea what he was supposed to do or say when-. His attendant stopped in front of a plain wooden door and fished for the key once more. Well, it definitely was too late for second thoughts now.

Mr. Hardstone held the door open for him, and Harry stepped into a dark room, scanning it immediately for the person he was supposed to meet. But the room was empty apart from a desk, a chair, a lamp and an old chest of drawers. The other thing it held was a window. But it wasn't a normal window, for one, it wasn't leading outside. It opened to another room, this one much more brightly lit, and with even sparser furniture. A rough wooden table and two chairs. But that wasn't what Harry was looking at right now.

There was something else in that room. Or rather someone else. A man. He stood in the corner opposite from Harry, his arms wrapped around himself as far as the shackles holding his hands together allowed it. He was tall but his shoulders were hunched, and he seemed to tremble a little. He looked like he was freezing. His clothes, Harry noted, were hardly more than threadbare rags. Harry stepped closer to the window, watching the man. He couldn't see his face, since his head was turned into the other direction, and his long, filthy mane of dark hair fell down, covering his features.

''He can't see you,'' Mr. Hardstone said. ''It's a one-way-window. All he sees is a blank wall.''

Harry nodded. He remembered such things from Muggle movies. Only there, it was always a mirror on the other side.

So this was Sirius Black.

He had expected something else. Someone broader and heavier, someone who sneered and put his feet on the table, and maybe spit on the floor or lazily smoked a cigarette. Someone more confident.

And then, suddenly, the man moved, raising his head a little and turning it towards Harry, or probably more the room in general since he couldn't see him, could he? He looked like he was taking the room in for the first time. Like he did not even known where he was. He seemed to be moving as little as possible, and it took a while until his drawn-up shoulders relaxed slightly. And suddenly Harry understood that the man wasn't cold, he was frightened.

TBC

Oh, you know what I need now, don't you? Please. I'm all anxious. What do you think? - Leave a review! :)