Severus was not liking his situation very well. At all. He had only been in this reality a day, but he wished that he was back in his reality.

For most of the day, he tried to figure out how he ended up here. Why couldn't he remember? Did Harry remember how he had jumped realities? Had Harry used his wand, or another magical thing in order to do it?

… Had Severus?

Then Severus began to think about Harry—his Harry. These dungeons were almost the same as Severus's in his reality, except these chambers did not have Harry's things strewn across the floor. Severus remembered, the day before Harry died, how he had asked—or rather, demanded—that Harry pick up his things. Something had happened earlier that day between them… a fight, though Severus was foggy on why and what it was about.

Harry had never come around to picking his things that had littered the chamber floors. He ended up… passing away the next day. Severus was sure that Harry's things still remain untouched on the floor in his chambers.

But that foolish boy! That incompetent, impudent, foolish boy… after Severus had told Harry just to leave things alone, so he wouldn't get hurt…

Harry didn't listen. He risked his life to save the Stone, and ended up dying in the process.

Severus pushed the thought of Harry out of his mind as he sat on the couch, staring at the wall in front of him quietly. He had no idea where his 'clone' was, and so far, didn't really care.

He was so… aggravating.

Well, not he himself… rather, his clone. The Severus Snape from this reality.

Who was, absolutely, positively, utterly aggravating.

It was quiet in the chambers with the other Snape gone, but, still, it was even quiet with his clone in the chambers.

Besides, Severus didn't exactly know what to say to Snape, anyway. Perhaps it was best for them not to talk to each other; this Snape did seem to get on Severus's nerves quite easily, which Severus found to be rather ironic, considering that it technically was him.

Oh, why couldn't he remember what happened? He was going to go mad. He knew it. What if... what if Severus hadn't done anything? What if he had been pulled here without doing anything at all? For a reason?

But, what would the reason be?

There were numerous possibilities over what happened. Anything could have happened.

Severus just didn't know why he couldn't remember, and that's what irked him the most.

--

“What if he ended up sinking into the ground with no way of getting out?” Harry suggested in a humorless voice, with a distant look in his eyes.

Sirius, sitting in the lounge on the couch beside Harry, had his arm draped around the boys' shoulder. Sirius was looking forward, staring off into space.

“Maybe a bunch of bluebirds came into the house and carried poor Snapey off to their nest,” Sirius said.

Harry tilted his head to glance up at Sirius.

“Or maybe… maybe he shrunk until he was only five centimeters tall, and that's why we can't find him,” Harry answered. “Because… he's so tiny.”

“Maybe one of his potions went wrong,” Sirius suggested softly. He glanced hesitantly at Harry, who was looking rather pale, and added quickly, “and then… maybe the potion made him lose all of his hair, and so he's… hiding? Although, he wouldn't have to worry about that grease anymore—”

At Harry's look, Sirius quieted.

“Maybe…” Harry trailed off, faltering. For the past ten minutes or so, he and Sirius had been coming up with “maybe”s as to what happened to Severus. There had been some pretty crazy “maybe”s—but he couldn't stop now. Maybe…?

Harry looked away from Sirius, who was staring down at him questioningly. Probably waiting for another “maybe”. Why couldn't he think of another one?

“Maybe—”

“Maybe we should get some lunch now,” Sirius interrupted. “You must be hungry, considering that you didn't have much for breakfast. How about it—anything you want, we'll just ask Nome.”

“I dunno,” Harry replied, shrugging. “I don't really feel like anything.”

Sirius grew quiet as he thought. “We could go to a restaurant if you feel like eating out,” he mused. “Or we could go get one of those frozen pizzas—they're not too bad. What d'you say? A restaurant?”

Harry had never been able to eat out at a restaurant, whilst living with the Dursleys. It would be nice, just to see what it was like…

“Maybe,” Harry replied, hesitating. “A—are you sure? Do you… have the…?”

“The money?” Sirius guessed. “Sure. Snape always has a small stash… somewhere. We can go out, let Nome not cook anything—but, first, we have to find the bit of Muggle money. It's somewhere in this house, I know that.” Sirius frowned. “Maybe in his study? Or in a drawer in his room… or on a shelf in the kitchen… or in a drawer in his study…”

Harry watched as Sirius named numerous other places in the house where the money could be, looking doubtful with each one he said.

“Why don't we just search the house?” Harry suggested. “And if we can't find it, well, we can just stay in. I don't mind.”

“All right,” Sirius finally agreed. “I'll check his study and you—er, why don't you check your room?”

Harry frowned. “Why my room?”

Sirius gave his shoulders a shrug. “I dunno, we should search the entire house though, right? Who knows? And knowing Snape, he could've put it anywhere. He might even have a safe that I don't know about in this house.”

--

It seemed the money just might've been in Harry's room. At least, Harry thought it was the money, as he stood in front of his closet, head tilted back as he stared at a box on the very top shelf. There was only one way to find out if it was or not.

He had tried pulling the box down several moments ago, but he couldn't reach that top shelf. He was too short, and his fingertips barely grazed the edge of the shelf.

“Sirius!” Harry called.

Moments later, Sirius appeared in the doorway with a hopeful look on his face, saying, “Did you find it, Harry?”

“I think so,” Harry said after a moments hesitation. “There's a box up there, but I dunno if that's the money or not.”

Sirius reached up, taking hold of the box in the very back of the shelf in the closet. He pulled it down, taking the lid off.

“Ah.” He smiled triumphantly. “There it is! So, how about it Harry? Care to join me for lunch?”

--

Sirius and Harry walked down the side of the street; each step was rather hesitant. It was fairly warm out, with a light breeze every so often. Sirius looked so nervous as he walked beside Harry, and Harry knew why. Especially since Sirius had explained about this being a small town. Harry was even nervous himself.

What if somebody noticed Harry, which was pretty much very likely? How would they explain Harry's return? Although, what if these Muggles didn't even know that Harry had died? After all, this happened in the wizarding world, and what if Severus had kept to himself after it happened, and never told anybody in this town yet?

That thought comforted Harry, but only a little. He wouldn't feel comfortable if somebody came up to him, causing Sirius and Harry to explain the reappearance. He desperately hoped that that didn't happen.

“Do you have any place in mind?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence that had formed between them, while Harry shook his head in reply. “There's not many restaurants or diners here, which often did cause problems when it came to this Harry's birthday, you should know.”

A slow smile crossed Harry's face. “Really? Why?”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Every year on… your birthday, Snape and I would take you out to a restaurant to celebrate it. Since there aren't many restaurants in this town, we would have to do repeats—but it was all very good. Each time the food just became even more fantastic than the last time.”

The smile remained on Harry's face at the thought. “That sounds like fun.”

Sirius nodded. “It was. We always went out to eat for supper, though. Nome would always make you a birthday lunch. Each year he always did a fine job, and I have to say, every year I was always looking forward to July thirty-first.”

They fell silent once again, until Sirius said softly, “It's okay to be worried for Snape, Harry. I am, believe it or not.”

“He hates me,” Harry said quietly. “Why do I feel so… so concerned? So—”

“Because he doesn't hate you,” Sirius pointed out. “Sure, perhaps that Snape in your reality does, but this one doesn't, and you know it. That's why you're worried and—and concerned.”

“Maybe,” Harry replied. “Do you think he's hurt?”

Sirius gave Harry a lingering look. Finally, Sirius said, “Do you want to know what I think, Harry?”

Harry bit his lip, looking hesitant. He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“I think,” Sirius said slowly, “that bluebirds carried Snape off to their nest and is, as we speak, feeding him worms. What do you think?”

Harry grinned as Sirius nudged him playfully with his elbow. “I think that he got pulled into the ground and has no way of getting out. I think we should help him.”

Sirius grinned. “After lunch, all right? We really need to come up with new creative ideas, don't you think? We can do that over lunch. What about this restaurant here? They put little umbrellas in your drink.”

Harry returned the grin, nodding as they approached a small, red restaurant. Harry searched for a name, but couldn't find one.

“What's it called?” Harry asked, glancing up at Sirius.

“They haven't named it yet,” Sirius answered. “Actually, it's been nameless for about three years so far. Nobody can decide on a name. Do you know how many times I've tried to get them to name it “Padfoot's Place”? People just don't know a good name when they hear one. So, I've just been calling it Nameless, since that's what it is.”

“Nameless,” Harry repeated, saying the name a few more times in his head. “I like Padfoot's Place better.”

Sirius nodded, looking pleased. “Finally, a person with good taste in names.”

Harry, alongside Sirius, walked up the concrete steps. “What if Severus is stuck up in that chimney back at the manor?”

Sirius gave Harry a look as he chuckled. He held open the door, letting Harry in. “Is he trying to impersonate Father Christmas, Harry? It's a little too early for that.” Sirius winced. “I just imagined Snape in a Father Christmas suit. It's… rather…”

Harry followed Sirius to a table with two chairs. The tablecloth was red, just as the outside of the restaurant. A fan spun above their heads. The main colors of the restaurant, Harry found as he looked around, were red, gold and silver. The walls were painted in a dark red, with various gold and silver lines and curves painted on top. The tablecloths, Harry noticed, weren't just red either; there were also gold or silver.

There definitely was a red, gold and silver theme going on.

“Once every year,” Sirius started after picking the menu in front of him up, “this place always changes their colors. Last year, it was blue, white and silver; this year is red, gold and silver, and who knows what next year will be?”

“How long have they done that for?” Harry asked curiously.

“This is maybe the… I think maybe the third year?” Sirius replied uncertainly. “At one point, when it first opened, they left everything white. That's when it was called 'The White Room'. Then the next year they changed it to a different color and had to change the name—but they couldn't think of a name for it, and that's when they started asking people around the town for ideas, but nothing seemed to fit. Then the year after that they changed the colors again, and ever since, have.”

Harry picked up his own menu and began to skim down the list, saying, “And they didn't use your idea?”

“What, the 'Padfoot's Place'?”

Harry nodded, peering over the top of his menu to look at Sirius.

“Nah.” Sirius grinned. “Although, if I ever open a restaurant of my own, you'll know what it's going to be called.”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “You want to open a restaurant?”

“Well—no, actually, not really.”

Harry laughed. “Uhm—Sirius? Whenever… er… we used to come here, what did, uh, I get?”

Harry watched Sirius curiously as a thoughtful look crossed Sirius's face. After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Sirius said, “Well I think here… you used to get pancakes. The cook would always make a face on one of the pancakes for you, out of chocolate sauce and something else…. You had always liked it, but I don't think Snape liked the chocolate sauce idea for some reason.”

“Yeah?” Harry repeated, frowning. “I think… I think I'm going to get pancakes, too.”

“You are, huh? You know, that does sound good. I'll get the same.”

Harry set the menu down, waiting for someone to take the order. That's what they did in restaurants, didn't they? Harry was proved right as somebody soon did just that. He began to wonder, if back in his reality, this town existed. It probably did; Harry didn't see why it wouldn't.

Though, as Harry's mind started to wander, a thought struck him.

“Sirius,” Harry said, after the waiter had left, “I just thought, well, what does 'Padfoot' mean, exactly?”

“Oh, right.” Sirius paused before explaining. “Well, Padfoot's my nickname. Remus Lupin, James—who's your father… back, right?—and… and Peter Pettigrew, all did, too. We were the Marauders in school.”

“So Padfoot is your nickname,” Harry said slowly. “And… and the rest had nicknames, too?”

“Uh huh,” Sirius replied. “James was—”

“Harry, dear!”

Harry looked up at the elderly lady in surprise. He glanced over at Sirius, who was looking a deathly white at that moment. Harry's eyes widened slightly as the older lady enveloped Harry in a motherly hug.

“Mrs—Mrs Hammond,” Sirius choked out, looking at the lady, who was currently ruffling Harry's hair, in horror. “How—how nice to see you again.”

“Sirius,” the lady said, giving Sirius an affectionate look. “You're looking as handsome as ever.”

The lady, Harry saw, looked like she was in her eighties. Her hair and eyebrows were a greyish-white, and her skin was wrinkled, especially around the mouth when she smiled. She smelled of lavender, apples and cinnamon, Harry found.

“Where's Severus?” The lady, Mrs Hammond, continued curiously. “I haven't seen him at all lately.”

“He's away,” Sirius replied hesitantly. “For… a little while.”

“Well, you be sure to tell him to come visit me from time to time,” Mrs Hammond said. “You two, too. I get lonesome without you three to keep me company. What have you been up to? Harry?”

Harry looked at the lady, startled at being spoken to. What was he going to say? It seemed as if this Mrs Hammond didn't know about this Harry's death. That was a good sign, Harry thought, feeling a bit relieved. Did everybody else not know?

“T—things,” Harry stuttered, blushing. “It was n—nice seeing you again Mrs… Mrs…”

Harry gulped, feeling his face redden even more. Mrs? Mrs what? Mrs… Lavender? No, that's what she smelt like—It was…

“Mrs Hammond,” Sirius intervened quickly, standing up from his chair. “It was so lovely to see you again. I promise Harry and I will come visit you soon.”

“And Severus,” the lady added. “We haven't seen any of you so far this summer. The town and I had begun to think that something happened.”

“No.” Sirius chuckled weakly. “Nothing happened, no.”

“Good.” Mrs Hammond patted Harry's head affectionately, and Harry kept quiet. “You're getting so tall, Harry. You're going to be handsome when you get older, that's for sure.”

Harry turned red as he gave a small smile. “Thank you, Mrs—Mrs Hammond.”

At least he remembered the elderly lady's name this time, Harry thought in relief.

As soon as Mrs Hammond left the restaurant, Sirius was the first to let out a sigh, sinking into his seat with equal relief.

“I wonder how many other people are clueless about what happened,” Sirius said, straightening up in his chair. He let out another sigh. “Er—oh Merlin…”

Frowning, Harry followed Sirius's gaze to see what he was looking at. A young-looking man, clad in a blue jogging outfit, was making his way across the restaurant towards Harry and Sirius's table, after spotting them. As he drew closer, Harry saw that he had light blue eyes and mocha-colored hair.

“Hey there kiddo,” he said fondly to Harry, who glanced quickly at Sirius, who gave a weak smile. “I haven't seen you around lately. Have you been feeling all right?”

Harry glanced over at Sirius again, and then looked back, nodding his head uncertainly to the man in front of him. “F—fine, sir.”

“Sir!” The man echoed, laughing. “You really are quite a chap, eh? I'll see you around, Harry. Sirius.”

Sirius gave a rather false smile to the man, who now had his back turned and was leaving.

Harry frowned.

“Who was that?”

Sirius made a face. “Evan Taylor. I'm not too fond of him—neither is Snape, really. Although that's just because he's jealous.”

Harry's frown became more pronounced now. “Jealous? Why?”

“Evan Taylor usually does treat… you like his long-lost son. I suppose Snape has always just been jealous that Evan Taylor tries to be a second father to you. Or a third father actually,” Sirius explained. “I'll always have that second place.”

Harry was about to answer when something caught his eye. He turned his head to the side to see several people smiling brightly and waving at him —actually, from what Harry could see, it looked as if most of the whole restaurant was either saying, “Hey there, Harry!” or either smiling or waving.

The same was happening to Sirius, and he seemed to notice it as well.

“I told you that it was a small town,” Sirius reminded Harry with a grin.

--

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry stared back at the potions professor, looking startled at the question. He remained silent, and then eventually shook his head.

“I don't know, sir.”

“Tut, tut—clearly, fame isn't everything,” Snape drawled. “Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“I don't know, sir,” Harry repeated, looking over at the girl beside him, who had her hand raised, and was waving it around madly in the air.

“Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape looked at Harry coldly. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Sit down!” he said to Hermione, who began to slowly lower her arm. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?”

Snape paused, his eyes sweeping across the classroom as the students began ink their quills and start writing on their parchments.

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Severus shot up; immediately a frown crossed his face. He had just dreamt—what was it, exactly? Just a dream?

There was a knock on his door: repetitive, loud and impatient. Severus immediately knew who it was, as he slowly stepped out of the bed and walked over to the door. Twisting the handle, he opened the door.

It was, of course, himself—although, he didn't look too happy.

“I assume you're standing outside of my doorway because you had the same dream as I?” Severus guessed, staring coolly back at himself.

“It wasn't just a dream, for your information,” Snape stated, looking at Severus suspiciously. “That happened in Potter's first year. My question, however, is why did we both end up “dreaming” it?”

Severus knew that it was a question that they would have to ask Dumbledore, although he wasn't even sure that the Headmaster knew the answer…

--

Harry and Sirius stood outside of the manor, just silently standing there. A word hadn't been spoken since they left the restaurant. They had walked down the street, where somehow, the word had travelled that they were out, because what seemed, to Harry, like thousands of people had come up to them and said hi, just as some had done in the restaurant.

As Sirius and Harry stood in front of the house, Harry could feel several peoples' eyes on them, wondering what they were possibly doing by just standing, staring at their house. Not moving a muscle.

What were they doing, exactly?

Harry had been sure that Sirius would've been the first to speak, the first to say something—and yet Harry found that it was most likely going to be himself.

“Sirius,” Harry started softly, still staring at the house, though his eyes were transfixed on the french doors in particular. “Why are standing here?”

“Hm?” Sirius sounded rather distant to Harry, even if he was standing right beside him. “Oh. I was just standing here because you were.”

Harry actually didn't believe that. For the first time since they had approached the manor, Harry looked up at Sirius, who was staring at the house fixated, just as Harry had been.

“Why aren't we going inside?” Harry questioned, his voice seeming softer than it had been before.

“I don't know,” came the honest reply. “Why aren't we?”

“Because it's empty,” Harry pointed out, tearing his gaze away from Sirius, fixing his attention on the french doors once again. “It's too… empty.”

“Right.”

There was silence, before Sirius spoke again.

“I'm full. Are you full?”

“Yeah. Why did—what did you say his name was?—give us all that extra food?”

Harry was relieved that Sirius had changed the subject, though he couldn't exactly place why he felt so lonely now with Severus gone. Why? He wanted to know, but couldn't find the right answer.

“His name's Alex, and I really have no idea why he gave us things we didn't even order,” Sirius replied. “It was good, though, and we didn't have to pay for it. Although that was probably because of that incident last summer…”

Harry looked back up at Sirius, to find Sirius looking down at him.

“Yeah. We had a barbecue here—”

Harry's eyes widened. “You—we—had a barbecue?”

Sirius chuckled. “I felt adventurous one time and bought it. Snape wasn't too happy, because none of us were ever going to use it—that's when I had the brilliant idea of having a barbecue. Snape wasn't happy about that either. Since I didn't know how to use the barbecue, and Snape didn't either, we had Alex do that for us. He ended up blowing the barbecue up.”

Harry gaped. “Really? How?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, letting a grin escape. “I don't know—nobody was hurt, but Alex did feel guilty. That was probably what that back there was all about.”

Sirius suddenly frowned, studying Harry's face intently. Harry returned the frown, squirming slightly under the gaze.

“Sirius—?”

“Are you feeling all right?” Sirius questioned, squatting until he was the same height as Harry. “You look pale.”

“I'm fine,” Harry replied. “I just have a bit of a headache.”

Harry quickly looked back up at the manor; Sirius seemed to notice the glance.

“You know,” he started slowly, “I could show you the park down the street, if you don't feel like going back inside just yet.”

“Yeah?” Harry said, nodding. “Okay.”

Harry eyed Sirius suspiciously at the look that crossed Sirius's face.

“How about we race there?” Sirius suggested. “After all…”

Harry grinned. “I beat you the last time we raced.”

“Don't be so sure,” Sirius responded, giving Harry a look. “I was the first to fall in that lake.”

“So?” Harry frowned. “I tried to help you out, but then you ended up pulling me in, too.”

“I know, so therefore, you came in second place. You didn't beat me,” Sirius pointed out. “I beat you.”

“You never said the first in the lake won. You said that the first to reach the lake won.”

“Well,” Sirius said slowly. “The first in the lake wins!”

Harry watched as Sirius began to run, and called after him, “Are we racing to the lake or to the park?”

However, all Sirius replied with was, “Come on, Harry!” so Harry had no idea what their destination was, or where it was located, and all he could do was run after Sirius.

--

“I'll get it!” Harry called out, as soon as the doorbell rang. There was no reply from Sirius, and Harry had to wonder where the adult was. What had Sirius said before he went… wherever he went? Oh, yes, 'I'll be right back.' Harry hadn't questioned, but now he was curious about where Sirius went.

Harry, who was up in his bedroom, raced down the flight of stairs into the foyer, where he opened the door to find the elderly lady that he had met in the nameless restaurant standing on the threshold with something in her hands.

“Hello, Harry,” she said warmly. “Did Severus return yet?”

Harry shook his head, trying not to look too worried as he frantically searched his mind for her name. This had happened in the restaurant, yet Sirius had managed to save him—but Sirius wasn't here now, at the moment.

“Not yet, ma'am,” he said, giving a swift, nervous smile.

“I didn't think so,” she said lightly, holding out a basket to Harry. “That's why I made this for you.”

Harry looked down at the basket in surprise before looking back up at… Mrs Hammond! That was it; that was her name.

“It's filled with various kinds of food,” Mrs Hammond continued, pointing to things inside of the basket. “I thought, with Severus away—he usually does the cooking, doesn't he? And with Sirius looking after you… I just didn't think that he's the cooking type. Am I right?”

She wouldn't know about Nome, Harry realized, giving Mrs Hammond a smile as he accepted the basket.

“Thank you, Mrs Hammond,” he said politely, feeling nervous as her name slipped off his tongue. What if that wasn't her name? What if Harry was wrong, and it was something completely different?

“You're welcome, Harry,” Mrs Hammond replied. Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. “Though I shouldn't take all the credit—I had Alex make most of the things you'll find in there.

“So tell me, you go to a boarding school, don't you?”

Harry gulped. Where was Sirius?

“Y—yes,” he answered. “Boarding school, I go, yes.”

“And I can't remember—did I ever ask what Severus did? For a living?” Mrs Hammond frowned.

Harry whirled around at a sound behind him, letting out a rather happy and relieved, “Sirius!”

Mrs Hammond, obviously not seeing Sirius approaching the doorway, kept the frown on her face, misinterpreting Harry. “Severus does… what?”

“Mrs Hammond,” Sirius said, appearing behind Harry with a smile. “What brings you by?”

“Oh.” Mrs Hammond smiled warmly. “Sirius. I was just dropping by with some food. I realize all of that won't last until Severus returns, whenever that is—especially with your appetite, Sirius—but I just didn't think that you're much of the cooking type.”

Sirius laughed, saying, “Oh, I'm not. Thank you, Mrs Hammond—it looks delicious.”

“Don't thank me. Alex cooked everything.” She patted Harry's hair. “Well, I must leave you, dears. Come by later, won't you?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, and saying another goodbye to Mrs Hammond, shut the door. “So, kiddo, want to eat it now?”

“All of it?” Harry glanced down at the basket that he held. “Now?”

“All right, all right. We'll save it for tomorrow,” Sirius said, giving in. “It does look pretty good, though.”

Harry walked into the dining area, setting the basket onto the table. “Where did you go, Sirius?” he asked.

“The library upstairs,” Sirius replied. “You like books, don't you? I was just seeing if there were any up there that you might like reading. Do you want to go up and look at it? Or, we could find something else to do.”

Harry shook his head. “We can go look at the library. I actually didn't know there was one,” Harry admitted.

“Yup. Most of the books are of potions; I suppose they could be useful to study if you weren't any good—this Harry was excellent at potions. I'm not sure whether you have those skills or not.”

“I'm not very good when it comes to potions,” Harry said. “I think it may be my worst subject.”

“Really?” Sirius looked amazed. “How interesting. I have to say, your whole situation—these realities—are, well… interesting. It still is sort of confusing.”

Harry followed Sirius into the foyer and up the stairs.

“There's one thing that I kind of wish I had,” Harry said, rather softly. “This-reality Harry's memories. I—I just… do.”

A thoughtful look, almost as if a thought had struck Sirius after Harry had said that, fleetingly crossed Sirius's face. He remained silent, though, as he lead Harry towards the library.