AN: JKR's. Her billions. My godson and his little tyrannical coterie playing on my affection, yes, those are mine. The rest, no.
(warning: POV switch, per request of godson.)
Chapter Five
Sirius Gets Serious
On an island far away from almost anything, yet remarkably near quite a lot, Sirius Black ran on four feet, salt and water and sand in his fur.
As an animagus, he transformed into a large black dog, nicknamed Padfoot, which wasn't terribly original, but not as bad as, say, Wormtail. It was a welcome relief from adult human responsibility.
The whole thing began when Lupin became their friend. Studious, responsible, shy Lupin had a problem. He was a werewolf.
It seemed unfair that he be subjected to confinement and madness all alone, and that was when Sirius, with James Potter, began the illicit research and practice to become animagi. Their forms were large enough to help Moony run free without causing harm. James was a stag, and would run ahead, while Sirius played pack-brother to wolf-Remus, and they made certain the worst he ever did was kill a rabbit.
And, once, he swallowed a moth, but that was entirely accidental.
Moony these days had a potion, solitary confinement, and the island for the safety of himself and all others. Without magical Brits around to sneer at him, he had become a healthy, smiling Lupin, not the shabby skulker of yore.
Sirius, mind-mucked by a decade and more in prison, looked better. He mostly even felt better.
As long as he ran a lot on four feet.
Dogs had simpler lives. Human mind in dog body created its own problems (his tail, blast that thing, never obeyed orders!) but generally, as Padfoot, he only needed to run, feel, smell, and occasionally water a shrub to mark his territory.
Lupin greeted him as he came onto the terrace of the main house, lounging in sandals, shorts, and loose linen shirt printed with soft blue flowers. "Drink?"
Shaking sand off himself, Sirius dropped into the other chaise, and took the tumbler. "Loup garou, eh?"
Lupin nodded acknowledgment. "Right in one. The local methods of dealing with us are fascinatingly bizarre. I learned a lot with le madame."
Sirius snorted his whiskey half up his nose at the way Lupin said the words. "Too easy, Moony, my lad, too easy."
Lupin ignored the juvenile reference to the owner of a brothel. "The French brought the plague with them. The natives had their own, of course. Rather different, and I hope never to meet one."
"There's worse than werewolves, hags and vampires?" asked Sirius, and ate a handful of macadamia nuts in one chomp.
"Wendigo might frighten Fenrir Greyback, but there's one called a skinwalker.* At first blush, like me. At second? It's possession." Lupin shuddered. "It walks in your skin. Imagine a dementor living in your body, if you can."
"I prefer not to, thanks, old friend, I want to sleep tonight. Eventually," admitted Sirius and stretched out his human legs. Every now and then, he liked to check that he hadn't left any dog features on himself. "What about our nearest neighbors? Anything to fear?"
"Stay out of the swamps."
"Already my plan. None too fond of large reptiles with big teeth."
"Who is?"
"Fair point."
They drank in silence. They watched the moonlight skip across the waves, dim because it was between new and full, and listened to the insects.
"You're worried about Harry."
Sirius grumbled, "You're not using legilimens on me, are you, Moony? Because I can be a dog any day, you only get to be a wolf for a little while."
"You're always a dog," retorted Lupin mildly, and tossed a Brazil nut into his mouth. "No need to bare your teeth at me. You don't run like that unless you're worried about Harry. And he doesn't fly like that unless he's distressed."
"Can you be less observant for a day? A week, even? My psyche needs its space."
"Talk, Padfoot. Harry won't. Not even in his sleep."
Sirius swirled the last swallow in his tumbler, and groaned, blowing out a breath dramatically. "Fine. Hermione didn't come with us."
"I had noticed her absence, yes."
A rude gesture was all Sirius used for a reply. "Harry… He said things… He shocked me, Remus. It was Snape-level. He tore her to pieces with words. Destroyed her. I never thought he was capable of it. Called her a coward, a squib, deserved what she got."
Lupin hummed a moment. He finished his drink, and set down the tumbler, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Good night for fishing. I should go out. Swordfish for breakfast."
Sirius smiled a little. Lupin knew what to do and say. He usually did. Sirius joked too far, James pushed too hard, Lupin kept the balance, and Peter had done nothing whatsoever but cling and follow, and feed their self-importance back at Hogwarts.
"He has Lily's temper and James's temper. We should aim him at some seafood. We'd save on food purchases."
Sirius barked a half-chuckle, with tears in his eyes. "At her worst, Lily never said such. Nor James to Sniv… To Snape," he corrected himself. He had to admit, Snape was still utterly unlikeable to him, and vice versa, but Snape knew when to step up and they hated the same people. Two black forms in the night, that was him and Snape, broken in ways others couldn't grasp, shouldn't grasp, and maybe that was why they despised each other.
He's the dark mirror of me. I'm the dark mirror of him. Stars and seas, what a mess.
A finger snap nabbed his attention.
"I froze up, Moony. I needed to shut him up and get him out, and I froze. Useless. His rage. He scared me. He knew how to hurt her, and used it." Sirius shivered, and scrubbed his face with his hands, remembering too late that he hadn't washed them after his run. Ah, son of a…
"Do you think Hermione was correct in her surmise that she was used as bait to get Harry?"
"What else?" sighed Sirius and flopped backwards, all four limbs splayed. "It's Voldy or Dumbles."
Lupin stood, stretched, and tossed the last splash of his drink in Sirius's face.
Lord Black rose in fury. "What the bloody he…"
Lupin's cold stare stopped him.
Sirius began to hyperventilate.
Not cold not cold never cold again please never cold again please…
"We had a working theory, but new information requires that we alter our hypothesis," snapped Lupin, teeth clicking a bit like a wolf's as punctuation. "They went for Hermione Granger. With no idea if or when we might appear. Once is chance. Twice is coincidence."
Sirius flapped a hand negligently, and nearly turned Lupin's shirt into actual flowers. Whoops! A bit too loose with the magic! "Yeah, I've heard…"
"This is conspiracy, Sirius."
"Thought conspiracy needed a third time."
"We miscounted," said Lupin, and stalked down the veranda, shaking his head.
"Miscounted?" called Sirius softly, then strode after his friend. "Hey! Moony, I'm tired, give me a clue! Four or five of 'em!"
Lupin's eyes flashed dangerously near amber. "Dumbles wants Harry, yes. To get Harry, he would use Hermione, no question. However, we now have three attacks on Hermione, not two."
Rubbing his temples, Sirius muttered, "I'm really getting tired of bringing up the intellectual rear."
"Yes, well, it's no joy for those of us who march in the front," snapped Lupin, heading toward a small boathouse. "We all know Dumbles took it too far when he bound Hermione's magic. That was the first attack on her, Padfoot. Removing her from the magical world."
"He did that to hurt Harry!"
Once again, Lupin gave him the glare that said Sirius had lost the plot.
Sirius had new sympathy for Harry when trying to keep up with Hermione. "For us lesser mortals, explain in words? Short ones?"
Lupin stopped on the boardwalk, near the boathouse entrance, and seethed, "Yes, lesser mortals, that is precisely the problem, we are seen as lesser mortals. Dumbles is as guilty as Voldy. He didn't remove Hermione only to hurt Harry. He did it to protect himself."
Chortling, Sirius slapped Lupin on the back. "From what? A smart young witch? No, he knew it'd hurt Harry!"
"He knew it would hurt magic!"
Shocked by Lupin's vehemence, Sirius stepped back, lost his footing, and fell off the boardwalk. Fortunately, the tide was out, and he hit sand. Unfortunately, sand hurt. And, when he stood, it would itch.
Lupin flicked a hand, turning sand into a stair to the boardwalk. "I apologize. Hermione was bound. She was no longer a threat to anyone. She was obliviated. A muggle, for all intents and purposes. Why go after her again?"
"Harry," said Sirius, aware he sounded like a parrot only taught one word. Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry…
"She could have been killed either time, Padfoot," ranted Lupin, pacing the boardwalk with his hands tightly fisted against his sides. "She should have been. Dumb luck saved her both times. Blind luck. Timing. The kiss of a dementor kills!"
"I know!" screeched Sirius as quietly as possible, hands to his head. "I know! I… know…"
He fell to the weathered boards, and hid his tears in shame, mind spinning.
Cold gray cold gray cold hurt cold gray never had joy to lose no fear to give only the cold gray…
A square appeared before him. He stuffed it into his mouth, a habit of eating from his time in Azkaban.
The chocolate helped. It always helped. God bless the Spanish for invading the Americas. This and coffee!
Lupin sat next to him, and looked infinitely older than his actual age. "That was poorly stated on my part. Forgiven?"
"Always, Moony. A dementor is too much. So was a whole lot of Death Eaters with a ministry toad in tweed, now you point that out. Did she really make that many enemies?"
"Yes," said Lupin tersely.
Sirius caught his breath. His answer came by reflex. "That's ludicrous. A teen without magic? What threat is that?"
Lupin raised his eyebrows and studied Sirius the way he once studied textbooks.
Sirius flushed red, then paled to ghastly white. "Oh… No. He wouldn't. He… He went too far, yeah, but here I am, magic intact!"
"You're Lord Black, of the House Black, and so forth and so on and all that, with money and prestige and ties to both sides of the politics of the Ministry of Magic." Lupin gentled his tone. "You're not an easy target. But a muggle-born witch smarter than purebloods? One who defied Dumbles and even hurt him, with a flare of half-wild magic? She has to be destroyed, Sirius. That's how they see it. All of them. Malfoy, Dumbles, Voldy, probably even the Weasleys. She ruins their world by being what she is, doing what she's done. Our world, I'd say, but I am also unwelcome."
Unable to protest, Sirius moaned and held his head in his hands. "I need more whiskey."
"You need a night's sleep. Just don't forget this, Sirius. A muggle-born hurt Dumbles. It doesn't matter that Dumbles claims to love muggles. He doesn't. He tolerates their magical offspring. Dumbles wants the muggle-born grateful to him. Like he does the werewolves. The centaurs. The half-giants. Never believe he's what he says, Sirius."
At this, Sirius grumped, "Since when do you think that?"
"Since I saw how warm and welcoming the Dumbledore contingent is to werewolves," said Lupin flatly, and pointed. "Go. Tomorrow, you and I will discuss this with Harry. No, he's not old enough. Neither are we."
Sirius proceeded back to the main house, no longer fearing the cold, or the gray. He feared so much more, and none of it could safely be named.
His laughter broke out with sharp hysterical edges.
He retained exactly enough sense to muffle his tearful shrieks before he entered the house.
He Who Must Not Be Named. He Who Also Must Not be Named! You Know Who and You Know Who Two! So many enemies, so little time!
No wonder my family followed Voldy. It's much easier to take a side and stop thinking.
HP HP HP
Harry slouched in, mouth turned down, eyes slightly narrowed, hair more mussed than usual. His fresh scar was already far fainter than the old one, leaving Sirius to wonder precisely what exactly had been overlooked in Harry's life.
What else, he reminded himself. Hermione had proved a veritable fountain of information, much of it enraging.
Harry sat down with a thump, causing the chair to creak, and folded his arms. His foot jogged against the floor. "What?" he sneered.
Wow. He outdid Snape with that one.
I hate playing parent. What do I know? I avoided my parents!
Okay. I can do this. I survived Azkaban. A teenager can't be worse.
Thirty seconds later, Sirius revised his opinion as Harry's snarling rant and spiteful spit-flecked words went on unabated.
"… you know? You had everything! Mum, Dad, brother, house, money, whatever you wanted! Nobody ever told you what to do or what to be! Nobody left you!"
Sirius Black became Lord Black, Headmaster Black, scion of an Ancient and Noble House. He stood, and roared, "Enough, you entitled little brat!"
Harry made a face.
Sirius leaned over his desk, hands braced on the comforting solidity of the wood, glossed with citrusy wax every day by the house elves. "Yes, you! Entitled! Coming in here, to tell me I don't know about pain? I spent over ten years with a dementor outside my door, you bloody idiot, and, yeah, it isn't fair you had it rough, you have to deal with all this crap, but guess what, Harry? So do we! Everyone alive and magical! Now get your head out of your…"
"Ahem!"
Lupin's interruption was perfectly timed.
Sirius inhaled, exhaled, and sat down, mimicking Harry's resentful posture. "You need something, Professor Lupin?"
"I thought we agreed this was a group discussion."
"Oh, good, two of you telling me how much I need to grow up and save the world! If I wanted that, I'd be at Hogwarts!"
Harry's explosion caused Lupin to shrug. "Padfoot?"
"Yeah, Moony?"
"We cannot make him care. Nor shall we attempt it. Remember, he is his father's son. It was Lily who had all the heart."
Sirius didn't show his amusement, but inside himself, he cackled with glee. Oh, Remus, well done! Now I'm glad I showed you the memory of Hermione punching Dumbles!
White under his tan, Harry cried, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll excuse us, Mr. Potter," said Lupin calmly, "but we have to discuss an adult matter, and as you have no desire to participate, I suggest you join the others for their free period."
The green eyes turned to stone. "Oh, you're going to be like Dumbledore and decide my fate for me? Great! Thanks! Tell me what you come up with! Oh, except nobody ever does!"
"It's cute, isn't it," remarked Sirius with deliberate indifference, but it was a struggle not to laugh in the kid's face. Lupin was a master. "They outgrow the tantrum thing, right?"
"Usually before this age, but James was never a quick study, either," said Lupin blandly. Sirius applauded silently. Oh, he was quite the Marauder, was Remus Lupin!
Taking up his own cue, Sirius yawned extravagantly, making certain Harry noticed he was wearing his headmaster robes (gray with dark green trim, opposite to the student uniform of dark green golf shirts and gray shorts or trousers, as preferred). The entwined gold embroidery of IAM shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the multipaned windows, and filmy white curtains. His broad gesture also drew attention to the malachite-inlaid box on the desk, the very item to inspire the uniforms one late night. Next to it stood a polished chunk of the same banded green stone, with entwined IAM carved into it. Gold filled the letters.
That's right, Harry. Remember who I am, thought Sirius, his eyes hooded. I am IAM. I own it. I run it. I've been a nice godfather. Now, what happens if I choose otherwise?
"Have a seat, Professor Lupin," he stated, watching the color ebb and flow across his godson's anger-suffused face. "You may go, Mr. Potter. You are no longer invited to this discussion."
Harry slammed the door.
Sirius leaned back, counting aloud softly. "One. Two. Three. By ten?"
"Seven… oh yes," agreed Lupin.
The door slammed open at nine.
"You can't decide my life without me!"
Missing his mustache more than he ever thought, what with needing something to stroke to hide his nerves, Sirius smiled sunnily at Harry. "Oh, it's your life, is it? Always your life? For your information, Mr. Potter, this discussion is about Hermione Granger."
Lupin gave Sirius a quick thumbs up of approval as Harry sat down flat, trembling and on the verge of tears. "Hermione?" he said in a tiny voice.
"Yes. After three attacks on her, by both sides of magical Britain," lectured Lupin, "we thought it might be wise to decide what to do, if anything. After all, if a muggle is subjected to repeated attack, who is safe? What do we do, if anything? Do we have any moral obligation to a community that ostracizes werewolves, muggle-born magicals, elves, and virtually anyone else? Now, as a pureblood, you have a rather different perspective."
"Me? I'm not a pureblood!" yelped Harry indignantly.
"Both your parents are magical, your father of a long line, like Sirius here. My status altered when I was bitten; Hermione's is equally precarious. Given how randomly magical ability appears in the population at large, or does not, this binding and banishing of muggle-borns, be it by Dumbles or others, means magic will die out. It's inevitable."
Sirius cheered his old friend. When Lupin pulled out Lecturing Lupin, nobody had a chance. Silly Sirius, Lecturing Lupin, Jeering James… What had Peter Pettigrew been, anyway?... Puling? He couldn't recall. Ah, now that'll bother me till three in the morning. Hate that.
"She made her choice," said Harry, all fire gone. "She… They… It doesn't matter. We're out of Britain, right? Not our problem."
A wave of nausea rolled through Sirius. He could hear James, so very long ago, as vividly as if James spoke in his ear:
We're not Slytherin. They're not our problem.
Not our housemates, not our problem.
Just firsties. Not our problem.
Leave Remus. It's not our problem he doesn't want to have fun.
He could hear his old, terrible thought.
Hagrid has Harry. I can go after Wormtail! It's not a problem!
When his vision cleared, Sirius discovered that all the furniture in the room had rearranged itself, along with its occupants, and the window panes had turned smoky.
His laughter filled the space until he heard it.
"Whoops," he said, and sat down. "Had a moment. Do forgive me. Tea!"
A house elf in clean gray and deep green tunic popped in with a tray and all necessaries, then popped out again.
"Milk? Sugar?" inquired Sirius as if he hadn't put his desk where the bookcases were, and turned the glass brown-gray. "Scone?"
Sweat stood out on Harry's forehead, as well as Lupin's.
"Something I did?" quipped Sirius. "Ah, Earl Grey, my favorite!"
HP HP HP
Sipping a cup of coffee enhanced with a shot of rum, Sirius watched as Harry flew high enough to become a mere dot, then rocketed down at a speed to frighten falcons.
Lupin walked up next to him, followed his gaze, and said, "Well, he's certainly handling it well. Bit of that in my coffee, please?"
"We are going colonial, my dear Moony," drawled Sirius and poured the rum. "Upset?"
"Yes."
"Don't look at me like that," said Sirius. "The roof is still on."
"And he didn't melt the floor, but I'm not throwing a party." Lupin sipped, nodded, and sighed heavily. "No world fits Hermione now. I wish Harry could understand that."
Sirius opened his mouth to say it was not their fight. His shoulders slumped. "Brightest of her year, loyal, logical, fearless when needed, sensible the rest of the time. It was the worst thing Dumbles could do, wasn't it?"
"Oh, yes. He can't have anyone too clever, you know."
"Did he allow Voldy into the castle to stop him, or to test Harry?"
"Both and neither. Dumbles forgot to tell us all something. What it is, I do not dare guess." Remus Lupin watched as Harry skipped his broom along wave crests. "How badly did he hurt her?"
"He gave my mother a fair run."
Lupin's eyes shut. "It seems simple at that age."
"To me, to James, to Harry, yes," agreed Sirius, and bumped his friend's shoulder with his own. "We're a right pair of dismal old grouches, Moony."
They finished their enhanced coffee, the sky going apricot-papaya and blazing to a swirl of frangipani flower colors over a white-capped ocean.
As the sky slid from pomegranate to indigo, Sirius startled himself as well as Lupin by saying, "Whatever Harry wants, I know what we have to do. Stop them."
"Which them?"
"Both. All. Any. First, however, we have to save Hermione Granger."
Lupin sputtered briefly. "Kidnapping is Dumbledore's game!"
"Yeah, well, it's effective, isn't it? Besides, if we go back…"
"We?!" Lupin's expression was, in a word, priceless.
Sirius laughed, threw out his arms, and shouted to the sky, "Marauders on the prowl!"
"You've lost it," muttered Lupin. "Gone absolutely round the twist!"
Chuckling, Sirius spun in place, hair flying wild, feet not touching the sand and gravel of the beach. Wave-foam swirled around him, spun out in tendrils. "Not to be mad is its own form of madness!"**
He continued to spin, to laugh, to feel the freedom, to weep until his eyes ached because the dawn would bring duty, and he had so very much of it.
HP HP HP
Rearranging his office again took Sirius perhaps ten minutes.
Sketching out the problems Lupin foresaw for the magical world took forever.
Maybe six hours, he compromised.
Feels like six hundred.
Raised as he was, Sirius knew the lineages and intermarriages and statuses of virtually everyone in magical Britain for the past century, up to and including Harry's generation.
When he decided to conjure all of the family trees at once, and force them to overlap, several matters resolved themselves immediately.
We are incredibly inbred. In fact, I may just have found out I am my own second cousin, and Neville Longbottom's as well. No, it would be fourth. No, third. Oh, what in the name of unicorns is wrong with us?
Sirius decided to walk into the middle of the lines and names, mumbling to himself. The Blacks were related to… Well, everyone, even Dumbledore, going back to a squib who married a squib whose grandchild became Dumbledore's father. The connection to the Prince-Snape line was closer, through a squib who married a squib whose child married a Prince, thus eventually spawning Severus Snape. He had no relation whatsoever to Minerva McGonagall, although he did to James Potter (which he'd known) and to Arthur Weasley's wife (which he had not).
Is there anyone we didn't marry somehow? Why do all the squibs marry each other? Betrothal contracts usually only apply to…
And I'm making Moony's point. Even at the level of squibs, the families kept it within the magical community, to see if maybe there'd be magical offspring, didn't they. Mustn't let a muggleborn happen. No muggle-raised, either, if they could help it.
He was trying to untangle some of the strands to separate out squib-to-squib marriages that produced magical offspring when he found a knot he did not expect.
Oh… and not even his fertile mind could create a profanity significant enough.
He cast his patronus, ordered it, "Moony, my office, bring Harry," and slumped to the floor, hands dangling limp across his knees.
Harry's voice cracked with worry as he barreled through the door. "Sirius? What's wrong? What…"
"Moony," rasped Sirius in a dull gray mood he had not felt for some time. "First of all, I request you do not gloat when I tell you that you are correct. The control being kept over even potential magicals is sickening."
Lupin crouched next to him. "What's second?"
"We'll need no one to be able to hear anything from this room, and right now, I think I might accidentally remove ears instead of casting a silencing charm."
Lupin took him seriously. That done, he moved into the thicket of genealogy, frowning, until Sirius flicked his wand and lit the tangle making him sick to his stomach.
"Very well, we already knew you and James are related through his grandmother," remarked Lupin, and glanced at Harry, who shrugged broadly.
Hermione would see it instantly, but then… That is why they want her kind out of our world. Her kind? What kind is that? She's a person. What in the name of the stars do I do with this information?
Right, I give it to Remus. He's the smart one. Like Hermione. And the magicals can't have that, can they?
"Black and Prewett, Black and Tonks again," said Remus Lupin thoughtfully, tracing upward from Sirius's name. "Help me out, Sirius, which one of your many, many, many ancestors is your concern?"
"Most of them," croaked Sirius, struggling against an urge to become Padfoot and begone. "But start with Tabit."
A pleasant quiet took over the room. Sirius cherished it. He knew it would not last.
"Oh."
"Yes, Moony. Oh."
"What?" asked Harry.
"Cushioning charms," suggested Lupin.
"Yes," said Sirius, and cast some on the windows. Then he rose to his feet, took up his duty as head, as headmaster, as godfather, and gently put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "See here, Harry, this is Sextans Black. He had three daughters."
"Okay?"
"Lyra, here, married a Gaunt. And our blasted-off daughter Tabit Black married… a Dumbledore."
"So?" said Harry, and never had Sirius been more tempted to hug the boy, or thump his own head against a wall.
"Who is Gaunt's heir, Harry?" he questioned as delicately as he could, when desiring a lot of liquor, and something to hide his shaking hands.
"Volde… Wait, what?"
As expected, Harry's shout hurt their ears.
"I share ancestors with them?"
Lupin grimaced. "Harry, please…"
"Those? And they're what, cousins?"
"Second cousins, I think, actually, but yes," said Sirius numbly. "I'm none too thrilled myself. That's my family tree there. And that's how interconnected magical British families are, Harry. You're also distantly related to Malfoy, Longbottom, Bones, and nearly everyone else, the same as I am. That is what Moony meant, about Dumbledore hurting magic. When he cast out Hermione."
Harry's eyes shone hot. "You mean he really is just as bad as Voldy. He only wants muggle-born if they obey him."
"Essentially, yes," said Sirius, and waited for the explosion of uncontrolled Harry-magic.
It came, and it blasted the genealogy into tiny floating spots of color, before Lupin whisked them away.
"I can't be related to that!"
"At this point, Harry, I'm fairly certain you can be related to all of them, as you saw," scolded Lupin. "Wand down!"
Harry lowered his wand, scowling at it. "Then… That… Wait, if I'm their cousin…"
"Third or something, but yes," agreed Sirius and wondered if he should try this drink he'd heard about once, something called moonshine. It sounded beautiful, but allegedly could dissolve things.
"This is why things are like that? So everyone is cousins?" demanded Harry, his voice squeaking slightly as it slipped up and down an octave. "Dumbles and Voldy both want control over everyone magical?"
Sirius braced himself for worse than disintegrating family trees. "He doesn't kill muggles or half-bloods, no, but he certainly is agreeable to the keeping of magic to a relatively small groups of, well, relatives."
Harry spun, jaw clenched, and might have punched the wall if not for the cushioning charm. All he ended up hitting was, thankfully, air.
"We're all their toys. It doesn't matter, does it. Malfoy, Dumbles, Voldy, all the same," screamed Harry, tendons standing out on his neck. "The same! There aren't any good people!"
Lupin gave Sirius that look. The one that said he had to be the adult.
Sirius consequently levitated a pitcher of water and upended it over Harry's head.
Could have used aguamenti. Too late now.
Sputtering, Harry squinted at the room, shaking head to toe, and not from cold.
Kid, I wish I didn't have to do this. I wish it wasn't real.
"We need to stop them," said Sirius somberly. "The problem is, them has become a very big number."
"I'm on the list of them!" yelled Harry, and swung to kick something. It, too, was cushioned, and so he only lost his balance. "Let me break something!"
"If you insist," said Sirius, and handed him the carved hunk of malachite from his desk. "Go ahead. Snap away."
I am being my father. This is remarkably unfair, and amazing good reason to be drunk beyond belief.
"No," said Harry, and backed away, tossing the malachite onto the floor. It bounced, and hit Lupin in the shin. "No. We don't need to stop them. They can just… Whatever! They can go whatever and I don't care!"
"About the Weasleys? Hagrid? People like McGongall?"
Sometimes, Sirius forgot his godson was still a teen. Then his godson reminded him. "Why should I? When did they care?"
Sirius lost his temper. Furniture danced on the ceiling.
"Enough! They broke bars off your window for you! Bought you broomsticks! Sent you gifts! Protected you! Grow up! Your mother didn't die so you could be as nasty a little lizard as Malfoy!"
Harry's chest heaved.
He tried to punch Sirius.
Lupin blocked the blow, and Harry ran from the room, leaving a near-visible trail of rage behind him.
"A few words too far, Padfoot."
"Maybe," sighed Sirius, "but we have to stop that kind of thinking, Moony. We need to get this school running and ready, and we need Harry to realize that we should try to save the ones we can."
Lupin rubbed his eyes. "I'm not old enough to feel this old, ye immortal stars. I agree. We have to try. Change the minds, yes, but save some lives if we can. But how?"
"I have no idea whatsoever."
"I've a last bottle of firewhiskey."
"Excellent," grinned Sirius. "Dump it over me and start a blaze, would you?"
HP HP HP
*This version of the skinwalker is taken from lore given me from a 100% authentic tribal member, although the term also can refer to shape-changers in other regions. I went with this version as far more terrifying.
**Paraphrasing Blaise Pascal somewhat.