How to Prevent a War

A New Way Out

Harry was sitting on his bed in number 12 Grimmauld Place, listening to the soft snores of his best friend and roommate as he stared out the window. He couldn't sleep, again, as he kept recalling Cedric's death. A small voice in the back of his head kept on telling him how it was all his fault that the kind Huffelpuff had been murdered by the Dark Lord, no matter how many people told him otherwise.

With a sad sigh, he slipped out of the covers and padded out of the room. There was no way he was going to get any sleep now anyway, so he could just as well make himself useful. Being as quiet as possible, Harry snuck down the stairs towards the library with the idea of research. There had to be something there that could help him take down the newly resurrected Dark Lord, he was sure of that. The Black library was a cluster of dark and light magic after all, and held many books that would belong in Hogwarts' restricted section.

"Let's see what we can find I guess," he muttered as he slipped into the dusty room filled with ancient books and tomes.

Slowly, he let his fingers touch the many ancient tomes lining the bookshelves, fingering the aged leather as he searched through the many dubious titles. He frowned slightly as he let his eyes wander through the large collection of knowledge. In all honesty, he had no idea what he should be looking for. Where did he look for Voldemort's weakness? Was there even such a thing? There had to be. Everyone had a weakness, and so, he would look at every corner of the world to find it. He would not stop until Lord Voldemort was no more.

With renewed determination, Harry grabbed several promising looking books and sat down in one of the heavy chairs in the back of the library. He'd read every single book in there if he had to, but he would find what he was looking for. Of that, he was certain.

. . . . .

Harry was halfway through his fifth book of that night when Sirius walked in. The last of the Black House watched his Godson with curious eyes before he walked over to one of the other bookcases and grabbed three of the oldest books in the room before bringing them over to the boy and dropping them on the coffee table next to the chair.

"You've got more chance to find anything in these," he told the teen.

Harry jumped a bit and stared up at his Godfather, blinking a few times to focus his tired eyes before looking down at the new books. He frowned a bit, but nodded all the same as he put the book he was currently reading away and grabbed one of the ones Sirius had brought. Sirius would indeed have a better idea where to look for the information than Harry did, but he had been reluctant to ask his help. Harry was worried that if he found something, it would be deemed too dangerous by his guardian and he would be forbidden to act.

"Couldn't sleep?" the ex-convict asked.

Harry shook his head and looked at his Godfather with a pained, guilt ridden expression.

"I keep dreaming about Cedric."

Sirius nodded in understanding. He was about to say that it wasn't Harry's fault the boy had died, but he was aware that it wouldn't help the green eyed boy in the slightest. Harry would always blame himself for the actions of Voldemort, simply because he had survived while others had not. Only 15 years old and already heavy on the hero-complex and years of survivors guilt.

With a sigh Sirius sat down in the chair next to Harry and grabbed another book from the small table in between them. Harry looked up at him again, and Sirius gave a tired smile that made him seem years older than he actually was. Azkaban had not been kind to him.

"So," the older man said, grinning.
"What exactly are we looking for here?"

Harry gave a small smile in return and chuckled. He was so lucky to have Sirius with him. Honestly, he wouldn't know what to do if he ever lost his only link to his parents, the only true family he had left.