Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe.
Robert Barnaby shifted uncomfortably in his bike seat. His starched collar grated against his neck, the sweltering July sun beating down upon him.
Relief flooded through his body as the light before him switched to green, and he was able to jet into the spot of shade he had spotted in his next street.
A man in his mid-forties, Robert seemed perhaps unremarkable to the human eye. Standing at a solid five feet nine inches, with brown hair and muted green eyes, it would even be safe to say that he came off as unimpressive.
At first glance, one would not see the calculating look in his eyes nor the way in which they absorbed everything they looked upon. One would not realise Robert's dear love for reading or his irrepressible habit of spinning all that he observed around him, into part of a story.
It was these traits, however, that led Robert to come very close to unmasking a secret that had been kept from his kind for centuries.
Through his job as a postman, Robert encountered a great deal that intrigued him. Curious packages delivered to even curioser people, strange houses and mysterious inhabitants; he had once even spied an owl carrying a letter. But nothing intrigued him quite so much as the curious mistake in Grimmauld Place.
Long had people wondered about the absence of a Number 12 from the street, the houses going straight from Number 11 to Number 13, yet no one could accurately determine the reason.
Government error, was the popular argument, but to Robert this seemed too silly a mistake to make, even for the government.
And so whenever Robert came to deliver letters to the Grimmauld Place residents, he would always stop for a moment and look at the joint between the two houses.
And if he had not done this, on this exact summer day, he would indeed have missed the very strange conversation he was about to overhear.
"Did you really have to scare those Muggles?" an exasperated voice sounded from Robert's left, and as he looked up he saw that it had come from a man of about thirty-five.
Relatively tall, with sandy brown hair and a kind, albeit worn looking face, the man had stopped on the path in order to question his companion. Who was in fact, an enormous, shaggy black dog.
Only in London, Robert thought as the man continued, but what on Earth is a Muggle?
"I wasn't even meant to let you out," he said, undeterred by the dog's apparent lack of remorse "and you made it worse by drawing the attention of everyone we passed you sod. And- don't give me that look, Pads, I remember what day it is."
At this the dog gave a pitiful whine and pawed the ground, before looking back at his owner and thumping his tail back and forth.
Rolling his eyes, the man just shook his head and continued walking; only now noticing that he had drawn the attention of Robert.
"Er-good morning," he called with a hesitant smile, before turning to his dog "Come along…Snuffles."
At the dog's name, both man and dog shuddered, looking as though they felt dirty hearing and saying it.
Realising he had stopped longer than necessary, and his looking was now bordering on rude, Robert kicked his bike back to life and continued his delivery, already weaving tales of the curious man who felt he could communicate successfully with his pet dog.
If only his curiosity had caused him to turn back, Robert would have seen the man and the dog stop outside the joint between Number 11 and Number 13. And he just might have heard the man say with a hint of satisfaction "Dumbledore is going to kill you for this. And if he doesn't, Molly will."
Harry Potter awoke to a large crash. Already disoriented, his hands fumbled around on his bedside table, scrabbling about for his wire-rimmed glasses.
Finding them, he hastily put them on, and breathed a sigh of relief as the world became clearer.
Glancing at the face of his best friend, Ron Weasley, with whom he shared a room, Harry gave a questioning look at the sound of another smash.
"That sounded expensive." Ron winced, muffled voices now permeating through the floorboards.
Although best friends since eleven, after meeting on the train to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley could not appear to be any more different.
Harry had wild, black hair that stuck up at all ends, inherited from his father, and almond shaped vivid green eyes, inherited from his mother. His forehead featured a lightning bolt scar, which he inherited from the evil wizard Voldemort at the ripe old age of one, marking him as the Chosen One with the ability to defeat him.
Once tall and gangly, Ron Weasley was now simply tall and broad, and had the trademark red hair of his family. As a side effect for his gingerness, he had fair skin dotted in freckles which annoyed him to no end. His favourite feature, if he had to be so unmanly as to name one, was his blue eyes.
Despite their obvious physical differences, however, the two boys now wore identical facial expressions. Apprehension embodied.
"What is that?" Harry questioned as more muffled sounds came from the carpeted floor of their room, only growing louder as time went on.
"I think, now I can't be sure because I could only hear parts of her yelling, but I think that Sirius has snuck off again. And this time, he took Remus with him."
Harry groaned. They were currently staying at his godfather, Sirius Black's house, which was also the location for the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation dedicated to destroying Lord Voldemort.
His godfather was meant to stay in the house at all times, due to him being an escaped prisoner from the wizarding prison of Azkaban, although he was wrongfully accused of his crimes. Despite all this, this was the third time this month that Sirius had snuck off to the outside world. Though, Harry couldn't exactly blame him, as he knew how his godfather hated being confined to his parents' old house.
A noisy crack sounded in the room, making the two fifteen year olds jump, as two wizards materialised before them.
Wearing unnerving identical grins, the twins Fred and George, Ron's brothers, had just apparated without warning into their bedroom, an unfortunate habit they had begun as soon as they had gotten their apparition licence.
"You two heard then?" Fred, at least Harry suspected it was him, asked as he sunk down on Harry's bed, with George doing the same on Ron's.
"Sirius running off again?" Harry clarified through a yawn, still not fully awake yet.
It was much too early in the morning to worry about delinquent godfathers in Harry's opinion.
"Bless, he's so stubborn," George replied fondly "At least he took Remus this time."
"And I suppose it's not like he will be recognised, being in his Animagus form and all." Ron agreed, stretching his body.
Sirius had learned at the age of fifteen how to become an Animagus, or to have the ability to change into an animal at will. Along with James, Harry's father, and another friend Peter Pettigrew, the three had dedicated themselves to undertaking the dangerous, and in their case illegal, task when they learned that their fourth best friend Remus Lupin was indeed a werewolf.
As being an animal was the only way to keep the werewolf Remus company, Sirius had learned to change into a dog, James a stag and Peter a rat, and they ran around Hogwarts with him during his time of the month.
Thought best friends in their time at Hogwarts, Peter later betrayed them all in the First War. The Dark Rebellion marked the rising of Lord Voldemort, to the height of his power, and it was soon after that he targeted Lily and James, Harry's parents.
His family was forced to go into hiding, and were to be protected by a Fidelius Charm, where their location would be known only by a Secret Keeper, Sirius Black as chosen by his parents. However, a snap decision caused Peter Pettigrew to be named Secret Keeper instead and as a spy for Voldemort, Peter soon deceived his friends.
It was because Peter gave away their location, that Harry's parents were and he was left with his scar, after Voldemort tried to kill him too. Harry had learned all this in his third year, as he met Remus and the recently escaped Sirius.
"Harry?"
The sound of his name called Harry back to the present, and his attention was drawn to his other best friend who had just walked in.
Hermione Granger was an exceedingly clever girl with exceedingly bushy hair. Shorter than both Harry and Ron, to their immense relief, she was one of the brightest witches of their age and was often commended for her use of logic and intellect.
Now, however, she appeared very much frazzled and her voice was shrill as she continued "Harry, Mrs Weasley wonders if you might check Sirius' room. He's apparently hiding from her and she doesn't want to break anything. Else."
Admitting that resistance was futile as Mrs Weasley more often than not got her way, Harry pulled himself up and made his way to his godfather's room.
Squinting in the dingy and darkened corridor, Harry glanced at the faded and peeling green wallpaper that appeared in most of the rooms. The house belonged to Sirius' family, and was decorated in the Slytherin House colours.
As purists, wizards who valued the purity of magical blood, the Blacks were amongst the cruellest of the old wizarding families, and disowned Sirius when he was sixteen, who then moved in with James, as he was a Gryffindor.
Harry started as the voices from earlier became louder as he heard a "No I won't calm down!" followed by a great bellow of "Filth in my house! Traitors! Usurpers! The shame!"
It seemed that Mrs Weasley's wrath had awakened the portrait of Sirius' mother, Walburga Black, who at every available opportunity shouted slurs to anybody she came across. It was one of the nicer features of the old Black family home.
Rather than listen to the rest of the argument, Harry went to the stairs, jumping them two at a time in his haste. He slowed as he reached the landing, coming face to face with a mahogany door that bore the inscription Sirius. He had never before been inside Sirius' room, and it felt like a great intrusion to do so now, especially since he may have chosen a more inventive hiding place.
Feeling that he'd rather face an angry godfather rather than an angry redhead, Harry opened the door, his jaw dropping as he pushed it wide.
Whatever he had expected Sirius' room to look like, it wasn't this. Forgoing the green and silver décor that dominated the rest of the house, the young Sirius had covered everything in red and gold. Not only that, he had plastered Gryffindor merchandise on all of the walls, and some on the roof, as a reminder of his being sorted into that Hogwarts House.
Muggle pictures of girls and motorcycles were hung haphazardly around the room, juxtaposing with the moving magical photos of his friends. Quidditch posters of the Wigtown Wanderers were interspersed on the remaining wall space, and Harry strongly suspected that Sirius only supported them because their robes were blood red.
Seeing movement in the corner of his eye, Harry turned to the left wall, and smiled as he realised pictures of Sirius' Hogwarts years dominated the space.
His excitement grew as he saw young Marauders, the name that Sirius, James, Remus and Peter used for themselves, waving and grinning up at him.
One photo in particular, in which James pushed an unsuspecting Sirius into the Black Lake, made Harry laugh out loud.
There were ones depicting what seemed to be intense wizarding chess matches, meetings for planning pranks and midnight adventures around the wizarding village Hogsmeade, all which made Harry ache with sadness and longing.
Looking over at Sirius' bedside table, Harry noticed a stack of aged parchment.
Picking up the first, he saw a crude sketch of Severus Snape, his father's sworn enemy, being drowned in grease.
The second was a hasty note scribbled from his father to Sirius.
What do you think about me covering the Common Room in lilies, Pads? Maybe that'll work.
Prongs, I think it's high time we found you some help.
Flipping to the third, Harry smiled as he realised they were notes made during a class.
Moony! Give us a look at your notes, I have no idea what McGonagall's banging on about.
Sirius, you had your chance. But instead, you chose to throw paper at Anna. I'm not bailing you out again.
Come on, mate, have a heart. It's like I have a compulsion not to listen. It's practically a disease. I'm sick, Moony, and I don't feel I should be punished for it.
…this is the last time that this is happening.
It was the next parchment that caught his eye, however, as his mother's name jumped out at him from what looked like a letter.
Sirius,
What in Merlin's name are you getting Lily for her birthday? I've gotten her a book every time for the last nine years, and I have a feeling that she may be catching on. Before you suggest it, I already tried asking Remus but he just shrugged and said 'Oh, you know.' which is the most unhelpful advice I've ever gotten. And James won't tell me because he has some huge surprise planned for her. Of course, Anna's already got her this perfect present and frankly, I'm too scared to ask Peter.
Be a pal and say you'll let me go halvesies with you? Don't make me remind you of the chicken incident of 1978, because you know I won't hesitate to bring it up to you-know-who (clue: it's not Voldemort).
Marlene.
Harry's mind began working in overdrive. The name Marlene sounded faintly familiar but he was fairly sure that he'd never heard of an Anna before. So who were these people?
Looking back at the wall, Harry scanned it until his eyes fell upon a photo of three teenage girls in a dorm room.
The first Harry recognised instantly as his mother, with her long, straight red hair and bright green eyes. She seemed to be laughing uncontrollably at some unheard joke. The second had loosely curled blonde hair that cascaded down her back and big, blue eyes and she occasionally winked at the camera. The third had light brown hair with a fringe, blue eyes and gave off a wicked air about her.
Inspecting the wall more closely, Harry started noticing the three girls in other photos, now that he knew to look for them.
The blonde was helping Lily ambush James with a round of snowballs.
The brunette shouted in a sleeping Remus' ear, causing him to wake violently and fall off the Common Room couch, much to her delight.
The three girls studying in the library, well Lily was studying whilst the blonde threw Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans at her and the brunette smiled at a boy sitting at a neighbouring table.
The blonde, dancing with Sirius at Lily and James' wedding, as the brunette danced uncomfortably with Peter in the background.
Sirius and James staring wistfully at an unknowing blonde and Lily from their Charms desk.
All seven of the Gryffindors making ridiculous poses in front of the Common Room fire.
James hugging a crying blonde at what looked like their graduation.
The brunette trying to force Lily into Gryffindor colours for a Quidditch match, and then attempting to apply face paint.
Harry's eyes then drifted over to a worn photo, placed next to the bed, of the three girls at eleven, whispering together before collapsing in a heap of giggles.
"Harry?" a voice called from the door, making him spin around to see the cautious eyes of his godfather.
"Sirius, who are these people?" Harry asked with desperation in his voice, as he realised these were people who he didn't even know existed.
These people were friends with his parents, knew them.
Sirius' eyes moved to the wall of moving photos and he seemed unable to tear them away.
"I'd better get Remus." Sirius replied in a hoarse voice, eyes filled with a sadness Harry hadn't seen before.