DARK STAR

Her triumphant noise was countered by the startled cry of the other occupant. It took Nowi a moment to realize that it hadn’t been Henry that entered the room, and a ink smudged face turned towards the dark haired man who was standing at the door. 

Her eyes lit up brightly, like a child at christmas and she scrambled off her chair to rush up to him, standing on her tiptoes to get whatever height she could to peer up at him. 

"Erm -- dragon...?" 

Judging by her ears, Sirius would have pegged her as some kind of elf, but here she is referring to herself as a dragon. Ignoring the small prickle of annoyance he felt at being addressed as "the dog" (Henry was to blame, after all, and not his little friend), Sirius held up a hand, hoping it would silence her. 

"Just...hold on." 

Sirius snatched a pair of shorts from his bed and shuffled out of the room, shutting the door behind him long enough to slip into them. He paused, toweling off his hair before considering a return to his own bedroom. He was seventeen; it wasn't exactly like he was breaking any laws, right? Being nude in front of someone? It's not like she saw anything, and besides: she broke into his room. Or...maybe Henry let her in.

Either way, Sirius had not intended for this to happen. So he broadened his shoulders, held his head high, and sauntered back into the room with a smirk. 

"Firstly," Sirius said, shutting the door behind him, "my name is Sirius. Secondly, I'm not a dog; I'm a human who can turn into one. And thirdly..."

Alright, was THIS Henry’s room? 

He had said Eori, and it had been quite a trip to come out here, so she wasn’t leaving until she at least found him. 

But so far it was four different rooms and no luck. Certainly she had to get it right eventually. There had to be something that would tip her off that it was Henry’s room. 

Nowi scrabbled up the bushes, hefting herself up to peer through the window. 

Oh! This was it, this was the room! She recognized the few items from the apothecary. 

It only took a few moments for the little thief to jimmy the window open, and she wiggled her way into the window with a bit of effort. Only to lose her grip and fall the rest of the way. 

Nowi tumbled into the room with a soft shout of surprise and panic, brushing herself off and peering around. There was no Henry here. And by the state of the other bed, there was no roommate here either. 

What was she supposed to do until he got back?

The blonde glanced about the room, with the pair of beds, small closet, the desk pushed right up against the wall strewn with parchment and quills. 

Still, he wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered back to his room, feeling strangely at ease. His roommate wouldn't be around tonight, which meant he had the place to himself. Which meant he could do whatever he pleased, for the first time in ages. Sirius slipped into the room and made a move to turn the oil lamp on --

Before realizing someone else had already turned it on for him.

At the sight of the elf-eared girl at the desk, Sirius started so badly that he almost dropped his towel -- but thankfully saved himself (and the girl) from that unpleasant act. Still, Sirius sputtered and staggered, leaning back against the door to brace himself.

"What the hell -- Who the hell are you?" 

Harry groaned with frustration.  There’s a tournament he needed to attend to- It might be bloody brilliant if his friends- Ron and Hermione might drop out of the sky accidentally but he might think it’s ill-wishing. They might worry about him right now or his whereabouts are either.

Look on the bright side, at least he won’t have to deal with Malfoy’s snobby insults thrown at him including the Dursleys.

"What the? Hey, Hey, Hey! Watch it!" Harry was pulled into a headlock and his hair was being messed up by some guy he doesn’t know. The odd male was mentioning about Prongs and Moony.Aren’t those his dad’s or Professor Lupin’s nicknames?

Unless- 

This can’t be a coincidence. Harry recognized him almost anywhere! His godfather, Sirius is here in Pyli, Harry was relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one dragged here.

When Harry looked closer, he noticed Sirius is younger than the Sirius from his time and he looks much older than his own usual age either. Harry decided to accept his godfather’s apology and nodded. He remembered Hermione’s warning about time paradox issues and chose not to disclose himself for now. I think it may be best for me not to blurt out with joy and say ‘Hi Sirius, it’s me. You’re my godfather from my time.’ randomly That may be too awkward. Harry mused, the whole news might be uh, shocking to him. 

"Not a problem at all." He replied while he looked rather sheepish himself. It seems both individuals has been studying each other for some time now. The whole situation must be so awkward.

"Honestly?" he said, still chuckling slightly. "You look so much like a couple friends of mine, it's actually sort of frightening." 

"Friends" was a pretty rich way of phrasing Sirius's relationship with Lily Evans. Now that she and James were dating, she had warmed considerably to most of the other Marauders, but Sirius was still something of a sore point with her. Sirius guessed she still had not quite forgiven him for his transgressions against Snape; though he and Lily were no longer friends, Sirius knew she disapproved of Sirius's attitude where Snape was concerned.

As such, it seemed ludicrous to Sirius to even conceive of a child who was half James, half Lily. Though they seemed quite fond of each other now -- and though Lily was a nice girl -- Sirius secretly believed them to have too little in common to really last.

Still, James was like a brother to Sirius, and the quizzical contortions of this kid's face were too similar to Prongs's facial expressions to go unremarked upon. Sirius drew his shoulders up a little, scrutinizing the boy. 

It’s not like he wants to believe it, honestly.

He’s broken out of his fevered, almost frantic train of thought when they stop in front of another mirror, and what colour is left in his face drains at the sight of his worst nightmare. Wide eyes are fixed on the image of Severus Snape, and he swears that every hair on his body is standing on end. The memories of that particular event are still fresh in his mind, the what ifs haunting him every day. Had James not intervened at the last moment, he would most certainly have been dead by now.

A freak, right. That’s what he is.

He wants to speak, object to what is being said, assure Sirius that it’s okay because in the end, nothing horrible came of it, but Remus finds himself incapable of doing so. The mental imagery of a Dementor approaching him, lowering its hood to take his soul away, is too clear in his mind, and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

Most of all, though, he finds himself disturbed by the lack of response from his friend. Sirius, who always has a snarky remark ready, is left silent for the first time since he can remember. His eyes dart back to the mirror briefly before Remus focuses his attention on the other, steadying his hands before pulling on Sirius’ arm.

"C’mon," he mumbles, "we’ve got to find the exit." Now it’s his turn to drag Sirius away, backtracking the way he thinks they came, but finding his sense of direction jumbled through sensory overload. He mutters a curse under his breath, attempting to get his bearings and finding it nearly impossible to do so, with mirrors looming on every side.

<Truly pathetic.>

He looks down at the ground before closing his eyes, willing himself not to listen.

<Look at you. You’re barely worthy of being a Gryffindor. Where is your bravery? Your courage? You’re a coward.>

His reflection snorts disdainfully.

<You’re better off as a Huffelpuff. But that’s not the worst part, now is it. No, the worst part is that you try so hard to fit in, but you just can’t quite get it right. You’re just that one weird kid who hangs out with the cool guys. Always in the shadow, watching. Dumbledore had hoped you’d be able to keep them in line, that you could be the voice of reason, but they just don’t listen, do they.>

He doesn’t remember exactly when the tears had welled up, but when he opens his eyes, he notices that his cheeks are wet, and he takes a shuddering breath.

<It’s sad. You just want to belong. Be loved. You’re so scared, aren’t you. What a joke. Who could love someone like you. You’re not even pleasing to look at. Not like James and Sirius are.>

"Shut up!" The words have left his mouth before he’s realized it, voice cracked and hoarse, expression contorted into a snarl. "Shut up."

Sirius's heart gave a weird, acidic throb, and he tugged on Remus's forearm, coaxing him away. 

"Remus...Moony, mate, it's not worth it. Just...c'mon." 

Sirius managed to tug his friend away from his own reflection, long enough to steer him in a direction that looked promising. While they walked, Sirius muttered constantly into Remus's ear -- dumb, pointless jokes and anecdotes, the likes of which he used to swap with James to get a reaction out of their other two friends. Sirius felt he could use James's help more than anything in this moment; he had never been all that good at comforting people, and while he and James could be held as equals in the department of making mischief, James had a softer touch, a warmer personality that came as a result of having a close-knit, loving family.

Sirius had been taught how to love by the Blacks, and the shortcomings of such an education were becoming more apparent to him with age.

Finally, however, he and Remus breached the exit of the Hall, stepping out into the warm glow of the summer's end. Sirius took a deep, steadying breath. As shaken as he was by Snape's account, it was clear that Remus was under considerably more stress. Remus came first; Sirius could dwell on his personal issues afterwards.

Sirius sat Remus down on a bench near the edge of town and jogged to a nearby vendor; he returned with two sizable bars of chocolate, and handed one to his friend. He grinned, weakly. 

"You always said chocolate was a cure for all ills, didn't you? Well, let's put that theory to the test." 

Sirius took a bite of his own chocolate bar, chewing contemplatively. It was a long time before he cleared his throat and picked nervously at a thread on his trousers, turning slightly toward Remus. 

"You're not a monster." He spoke quietly, as though it were a personal secret. "I can see you think you are, but you're not." 

What happened to Remus wasn't his fault. That seemed obvious to state, even internally, but it clearly bore repeating. Remus was an innocent kid who had been dealt a very poor hand. That was the person Sirius knew his friend to be, the person he, James, and Peter all knew Remus to be. It was heartbreaking, really, to conceive of a Remus who felt otherwise about himself.

Sirius's thoughts flickered uncomfortably back to what Snape had said, and he allowed himself to wonder what Remus thought of him, using his poor friend as prank fodder to get back at a boy who -- let's face it -- had never really done all that much harm to Sirius himself. But he shook those thoughts away, turning his full attention back toward Remus, whose shoulders appeared to be shaking; though, maybe that was just a trick of the light.

Either way, Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

"You're okay." 

"Did you just liken me to a pearl?"

Hilarious. However, the sentiment is appreciated, and the werewolf hums. It’s entertaining to see how the mirrors twist and shape their features; there’s a really simple charm to it, something that could keep Remus occupied for a while. He feels content, just being able to spend some time together with his friend like this, even if he can swear that sometimes, he sees a pair of glowing yellow eyes peeking at him from the corner of his vision.

When he hears that growl, he’s sure he just imagined it. It’s nothing. But then Sirius holds him back, and he frowns, glancing back at him.

"Of course it isn’t. It’s only the afternoon. Honestly, it’s probably-" He trails off when a whimper reaches his ears, and without really thinking, he turns to approach the source of the sound. No, he definitely did not just imagine that. Upon reaching the mirror, his eyes widen; a shaggy maned, bloodied, wiry framed werewolf stares back at him. He reaches up, hesitantly, and presses his hand against the smooth glass surface, only to watch his reflection do the same.

Black lips pull back into a terrifyingly toothy, wicked grin, and instinctively he takes a step back.

<Monster.>

Remus swallows, trying to get rid of the lump rising in his throat, looking back at Sirius. Surely these mirrors were simply enchanted to give any visitors a good scare. But then, why did that voice sound so much like his own?

<Oh, don’t deny it. You know that’s all you are.>

His reflection turns to face Sirius as well, yellow eyes narrowing maliciously.

<I’m sure your ‘friend’ will agree with that. You’re really worth nothing more than a monthly laugh at your expense. A joke.>

The werewolf shifts its attention back to Remus.

And then the reflection started speaking, and Sirius's vague irritation turned to outright anger.

This wasn't true. It wasn't remotely true. The things this reflection was saying were so ridiculously outlandish and obviously intended to hurt Remus that Sirius was struck by the vague, inane desire to shatter the glass with his fist. He scowled. 

"This is stupid," he muttered. "It's just a cheap trick. Come on, Moony, let's -- Remus." 

Sirius jolted a little when he noticed the look on Remus's face: a look of dull, practiced despair. Sirius's narrowed eyes widened a bit, softening at the corners. Oh. 

He really believes it. Everything this reflection is saying. Everything about himself, and...everything about me.

Sirius seized Remus's upper arm and dragged him away from the mirror, his own pulse thudding uncomfortably as they went. He felt vaguely sick. Were these reflections accurate representations of one's inner thoughts? If that was the case, then Sirius had no idea what to say. He had always considered himself a good friend, always hoped he was doing his duty to Remus and the others.

Well...almost always.

Sirius made the mistake of pausing in front of a lone mirror, and, as though it really had been reading his thoughts, the reflection displayed was warped and distorted -- until they faced the bloodied, gaunt figure of a fifteen-year-old Severus Snape. Sirius growled. 

"Damn..." 

This really was a cheap trick, after all. 

< Hello, Padfoot. > 

Severus's reflection sneered as he said it. Sirius half-expected him to turn to Remus, the probably source of those phantom wounds, but was surprised when Snape's attention remained fixated on Sirius himself. 

< I hope you enjoyed this little prank. Hope it was worth the price of an innocent life. > 

At that, Sirius actually rolled his eyes, unmindful of the prickling dread that spiked the hairs on the back of his neck. "Please, Snivellus. You left that shack without a scratch on you." He yawned for effect. "Besides; I wouldn't precisely call yours an 'innocent' life." 

Snape's eyes flickered briefly in Remus's direction, then back to Sirius.

< I wasn't talking about me. > 

Sirius suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in ice water. 

< Imagine what would have happened to your precious freak of a friend, had they discovered my lifeless, bloody body in that shack? Imagine what the ministry would have done to a fifteen-year-old menace, the monster that was Dumbledore's best-kept secret? A lifetime in Azkaban wouldn't have sufficed, surely; for him, I think...a Dementor's Kiss. >

< And for you, Sirius Black, the perpetrator of all this tragedy...Well, it would be safe to assume you would get no such punishment. You, with your perfect marks and your handsome face and your pureblood lineage. You'd have gotten off scot free. You'd have lived the rest of your successful life in the shadow of your friend's loss. And the knowledge that it was all your fault. > 

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to produce an adequate retort. He...he wanted to contradict Snape, to tell him to piss off, to insist his words weren't true. Not true, not true at all.

Harry grimaced slightly at the joyous activities held in the city. His first day in Pyli was rather.. interesting and he has a guide to make him aware of the ongoing festival.  It seems that there is a festival of the sort. Overall, he chose not to dwell on the matter because he wanted to find his house. With his Firebolt and his wand in his possession, he can fly almost to anywhere but alas, he can’t since the whole premises of Pyli is so unfamiliar to him that it kind of made him wary of such things. This is nowhere different than London, itself. His guide already told him of the festival as it was dedicated to a Goddess named Kohrak. Hermione would definitely love to learn about this and Pyli’s mysterious history.

He doesn’t remember why he was here or was brought to at the first place. He cared about  the next task of finding a dragon’s egg, unless this is some alternate reality he ended up with. Harry wandered through the vendor’s shop with curiosity. Usually, traveling alone isn’t new to him at all ever since he can find some equipment by himself  He has done it twice in his previous years in Hogwarts so wandering away from his guide wouldn’t hurt a bit, wouldn’t it? 

Mental that one, I’m telling you. Harry thought while he raised an eyebrow. One of the mages in hand has tried to make contact with him but Harry made it a point to avoid them. He certainly wouldn’t want to interact with one of the mages since they’re too immersed in the festivities. Something Harry cannot really comprehend its meaning. More importantly, he would be intimidated to talk to these ‘mages’ for a direct approach.

It wasn't like he hadn't smoked before; Sirius used to do it all the time while living in his parents' house, if for no other reason than to annoy them. Now that he was here, however, he found he was smoking so much because he was so nervous. He had Remus, but the full moon was approaching, and it troubled Sirius to think that he might not be able to comfort him during that period; after all, he could only transform for fifteen minutes at a time currently.

Sirius missed James. A part of him needed James; though Sirius could often be described as the method to James's madness, he also depended heavily on James as a source of solidarity. James was his family. Without him here, Sirius found himself often unable to determine the right thing to do.

Then, as if manifested by Sirius's hoping alone, a head of messy black hair, an a familiar skinny, robe-clad frame brought its way closer.

Sirius perked up, doglike, when he noticed James. It was James. It looked exactly like him: the messy hair, the glasses, even the posture...though James tended to carry himself with more sureness than he was now. Still, without giving it a second thought, Sirius put out his cigarette and bounded over to his friend, just in time to hear him ask his tour guide about Hogwarts.

It was James. Sirius had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. 

"Prongs!" he barked, pulling James into a headlock and tousling his hair. "I knew they'd drag you into this place at some point! I only hoped it'd be before the full moon; I'm not sure I can manage Moony all on my own, not when -- Oh -- Bloody hell, sorry." 

It...wasn't James. That was clear to Sirius now that he got a better look at this boy. He looked almost exactly like James Potter, but the glasses were rounder, the stature shorter, the eyes -- well, the eyes were precisely the remarkable, bottle-green color of Lily Evans's eyes. Besides that, there was a curious, lightning-shaped scar on this boy's forehead. Sirius released him, feeling sheepish. 

"I thought you were my best mate," he confessed, feeling guilty. "Sorry. Shouldn't have jumped on you like that." 

"Nya ha, that is surprising,” Henry said with a snort. “To consider a cadre of cutpurses could be concerned with costs, coin, and commodities conned~! What is this world coming to?”

"Ehhh, I’m not really one to judge though," Henry said, kicking his feet up on the desk, "Not like the Mage’s Guild is reducing every baddie in the area into a pile of wet ash and charred bone; all the study, study, study, it felt like I was back at the Plegian Mage Academy! Throw in a couple of wryvens, a lot more sand and an alchemy professor who featured bad students as ingredients for the next lesson and I’d feel right at home!"

Henry frowned ever so slightly at the next question, puzzling over the dog-boy’s point before shrugging helplessly. 

"I don’t know where the bad guys are!" Henry said simply. "I’ve seen a lot of bad people since coming here but no Bad Guys yet. None that have made my Death By Fireball list at any rate. I wouldn’t worry; they’ll stick their heads up sooner or later. The thing about Bad Guys is that they never stay subtle for long. Always wearing long black cloaks, casting weird hexes and keeping human body parts in jars or something!"

Henry tucked the edges of his cloak around his body, giving Belgarath a shake before turning back to the dog.

Still, Remus's voice in the back of his head told him he was just being oversensitive, as usual. Sirius shrugged, grabbed his equipment, and made for the door. 

"Guess I'll be on my way, then. Sniffing out quests." He smirked. "You're welcome to join, if you want. Not exactly like I'd mind the company." 

Sirius paused in the doorway, lingering. 

"Mmmm, perhaps," Henry said with a shrug. "Though it’s just as likely that we’re here to do something painfully mundane; one time I had to protect a village from a hoard of vegetarian zombies that were eating up all the pumpkins! Quite an experience lemme tell you!”

"But you’re quite the bloodthirsty little pooch, aren’tcha?" Henry chuckled, spinning around in his chair idly. "I could practically see your tail wagging when I mentioned a war just now; most of the people I’ve met are so keen on getting home that they’re too busy to stop and smell the severed limbs. I’m sure one of the guilds would be happy to take you in though; they usually pay good money for stomping on monsters."

Sirius was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake, joining the thieves. There were perks, of course, to being involved in the most enigmatic guild in the land, but...they weren't precisely the strongest, even if they were the most cunning. Sirius shrugged.

"I suppose I could just go out and find someone to fight." As if it were that easy. "I need to flex my muscles somehow. I won't get anywhere sitting here talking to you. No offense," he added, despite the fact that he was pretty sure Henry wasn't the type to get offended by anything. 

"You mentioned something before about 'bad guys,' though. I guess my question is: Where...are they." 

"Please, I’m nothing close to righteous." It’s said quickly, almost wryly, and quickly shrugged off. Moving on to the next topic.

"Well," Remus muses, "it depends, I suppose. If it’s like Divination, then you should take it with a mountain of salt, probably. It’s hard to do right. Still, it’s interesting, isn’t it?"

That’s mostly directed at himself, as he doubts that Sirius actually finds any of it interesting. Still, as long as they’re entertained, that’s what matters, he believes. A keen eye is kept on their surroundings as they approach the tent, and when Sirius holds open the tent flap with a flourish, Remus laughs.

"Oh, Mr Padfoot, aren’t you a charmer," he grins as he passes through, turning around to face Sirius again once inside. "What ever would I do without you." It’s an off-handed remark, tone light and joking, but he’s not quite sure of the extent to which he means it.

His eyes catch the various tables and stalls, however, and Remus is already trotting off, taking in the large variety of tarot cards and crystal balls and other knick knacks. It doesn’t actually look too different from what he knows about Divination, which makes him question what kind of wizardry people actually employ here. Are they all from within Pyli? Or perhaps from an outside kingdom? So many questions, so little time to get them answered…

He blinks, once, twice. He could have sworn… Well, no matter. His attention has already been directed towards the glinting of mirrors in a far corner of the tent, and he places a hand on his friend’s arm.

"Wait, look, is that a hall of mirrors? We should go check it out."

Still, Remus seemed happy, and who knew? It could be fun. So, he shrugged.

"Why not? Beats paying a stuffy old bag to feed you a false fortune."

A fortune teller near his left scowled deeply at him.

"From now on, Moony, this is your party. You lead, I'll follow. You say, 'Go jump in a lake'? I say, 'Cannon ball or swan dive?' The world is, essentially, your oyster." 

Sirius folded his arms and accompanied Remus into the Hall of Mirrors, observing the many, varied glasses in the room. It was interesting. Sort of entertaining, even, in a childish way; though Sirius would be lying if he said it wasn't funny to look at Remus's reflection, stretched so that he looked about twelve feet tall.

Still, Sirius couldn't see what the attraction was here. Was this what Muggles did for amusement? If that were the case, Sirius felt sorry for them; it was bad enough, having to live without magic, but to have no legitimate means of passing the time --

"Hang on."

Sirius went rigid, still and alert when something met his ears: the low, feral snarl of what was unmistakably a werewolf. Reflexively, he looked to Remus, then glanced around the hall, throwing an arm in front of his friend.

"Is that...? But it's not a full moon..."