Harry-Dementor

12- A Very Dementor Christmas

Christmas Eve continued to be a tense occasion as Harry, Sirius, and Remus attempted to renegotiate their relationships with each other. Luckily, Snape had left well before dinner, or it may have been a disaster. As it was, the older men had to come to terms with the fact that they could not try to parent the teen that had never grown up with parents or anyone who actually cared and who saw them more as brothers or uncles than parent figures. Plus, neither one of them were equipped to be a parental figure at that time anyway.

Harry had to come to terms with the fact that there were people who cared about him and who he was expected to actually talk to and tell when something was bothering him. Everything may have started with Harry becoming a dementor and not telling anyone, but it spiraled into a long overdue discussion into who they all were to each other.

After Harry explained Sirius's emotions to Remus, since Sirius was incapable of coherently explaining himself, Remus agreed to help him sneak out occasionally through either Polyjuice or as Padfoot.

It was eventually clear to all of them that if Sirius were made to continue to be isolated in the house he hated, he would eventually go completely mad. It helped that Harry was absolutely positive he could break Sirius out of prison whether the dementors were still there or not since he could easily walk through walls and invisibly traverse shadows. They all agreed it would not be their first choice of a good time though.

They were all emotionally drained when they went to their rooms to crash for the night. Harry grinned fondly at the vases of dead flowers in his room as he went to his trunk to pull out the homework he was going to do after putting Jamie to sleep. "I knew there was something not quite right about you," the portrait on Harry's wall drawled in an aristocratic tone.

Harry jumped in surprise. "Headmaster Black? You scared me!"

"I scared a dementor...that's not something you hear every day," Phineas Nigellus Black smirked from his frame.

"Please, you must have been in Dumbledore's office when he found out. It's not like this is new information to you," Harry raised an eyebrow as he organized his textbooks on the desk Kreacher had set up in the room when he had removed Ron's extra bed.

"True, I do love a good 'told you so' moment though. It's exceptionally cathartic," Headmaster Black laughed. "I find I'm less confused about you now...and also more so as well."

Harry crossed his arms and smirked at the man. "Oh really, you can't figure me out, a teenager/dementor? There're so many of us out in the world though."

The portrait rested his chin on a hand and sat more comfortably in the armchair in his painting. "Sarcasm does not become you, young man. As I was saying, you are woefully predictable as a creature and Gryffindor, but I am confused at your willingness to forgive the Slytherin Head of House. I admit I only know what I've heard from watching you from the paintings here, but since there is a painting in the attic and I have this one in your room, I feel that I've heard quite enough."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Jamie may have been in a semblance of a coma for several days, but that just led to him tiring out faster by being up and about during the evening after so long in bed. "It's less that I forgive Snape and more that I forgive myself, if that explains anything."

Headmaster Black glared at Harry enough to communicate that it definitely did not. The dementor sighed and sat on the bed to get more comfortable. "I've been blaming myself for Voldemort's actions all these years, and I finally realized that when Snape was telling me everything was his fault. Yes, he shouldn't have done what he did, but I realized that Voldemort was the one who actually wanted to kill and who made the decision to take a life. If I could see that Voldemort was the ultimate person to blame for my parents' deaths instead of Snape, then I could forgive myself for it and Cedric's death as well. I could let go of responsibility; that it really wasn't my fault at all, but that bastard of a dark lord."