A/N: Hey gang! We're getting into the Grimmauld place shenanigans and then onto the actual plot. Enjoy!
They wait till morning to talk to Harri, but Sirius can't sleep the whole night, and neither can Padfoot. He switches back and forth, pacing as both dog and human until Remus hisses at him to stop. He ends up sitting outside Harri's room as Padfoot, just listening to her breath.
Eventually, Remus falls asleep, curled up tight on the couch. His limbs are too long for the couch, and from Padfoot's vantage point his limbs are too thin. He wants to soothe him, ease the worry lines from his face, but there's a part of Sirius that recoils at the idea. Padfoot thinks this notion is ridiculous, the separation of their pack. Of course, it's difficult to mend a fractured pack when their alpha is gone.
The both of them are up before sunrise, giving up on the notion of sleep. Padfoot shifts back to Sirius, following Remus into the kitchen. He slumps onto one of the chairs, watching Remus make tea.
"We'll have to go as soon as she's up,' Sirius says softly, his voice not much of a croak.
"How will you tell her?" Remus asks, pouring a few cups of tea.
"She's too smart to lie to," Sirius sighs. "I'll just explain it to her."
Not before long, Harri trudges into the kitchenette, huddled in one of Remus's baggy sweatshirts and his socks. She smiles sleepily at the pair, taking her customary seat next to Sirius.
"Morning, pet," Sirius says, smoothing back her mane of hair, but there's no point in trying to tidy the infamous Potter hair.
"Morning," she mumbles, taking a few sips of her tea. She greets Remus too, hopping up to hug him as she fishes out the biscuits.
"Listen, Harri," Remus says, sitting on her other side. "You and Padfoot are going to a new place today."
Harri's brow furrows as she frowns thoughtfully.
"They're coming for us, aren't they," she says, sounding years older than she is. "Why aren't you coming with us too?"
"It's best if we just lay low for a bit," Sirius explains. "There's a place we can go to, and when things sort of blow over, Moony can come with us if he likes."
Harri nods, staring into her teacup. She swirls it around, drowning a biscuit in her tea.
"Have we done something wrong?" she asks softly.
"No, we haven't," Sirius says resolutely. "They just think we have, but once we sort it out, it'll get better."
"How will you sort it?" she asks, digging out her sodden biscuit and gobbling it down. Remus sighs, petting back her hair.
"Dunno yet, but we'll sort it," Remus assures her. Harri looks up at Sirius suddenly, eyes absolutely blazing. He's forcibly reminded that she's James daughter, through and through.
"I'll protect you," she says sharply. "No one will chuck you in jail."
"Thanks, Hazza," he mumbles, ducking his head. He's thinking of James, and that night he showed up at the Potter's soaked the bone and bruised to high hell. James had gathered him up so gently, his grip firm, whispering that he would kill Orion himself with his bare hands if he so much as looked at Sirius again.
"Best to leave as soon as possible," he says, clearing his throat. "I'll disguise you—"
"You can't!" Moony interjects. "The trace, Sirius, it'll still be on you, and your wand."
"The tra—" Sirius can't breathe, suddenly. He hadn't thought—fuck, he hadn't thought at all. Remus and Harri are both saying something, he knows, but he can't make it out, everything's gone fuzzy—
"Sirius!" Remus says sharply, grabbing his shoulders to steady him. There was a moment, Sirius remembers, when he was a third year, when Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin and Sirius had panicked, gasping out that he'd lost his family, that there was no one else, when Remus had suddenly stepped into his space, grabbing his shoulders and holding tight, grounding him.
"I forgot about that," he says weakly. Harri's watching him, worry etched into her little face.
"What's that?" she asks, reaching for Sirius's hand. He takes it gladly, a lump lodging in his throat at the gesture.
"It's a way for the ministry to monitor magical children," Remus explains. "To make sure they don't use magic outside of school."
"Why not?" Harri asks, tilting her head.
"So, no one gets hurt," Sirius interjects. "Any way around it, Moo—Remus?"
"Not that I knew, but I dunno, I can look into it, I suppose," he muses, ignoring Sirius's slip-up. "Might be a bit sus, though."
"Never mind then," he sighs. "I don't mind playing muggle for a while."
Harri stands carefully still while Moony transforms her hair pin straight and short, her eyes dark brown. He changes her nose and her smile, too. Harri marvels at herself in the mirror, astonished at her appearance.
"When can I get a wand?" she asks as Moony tuck her hair under a cap. He chuckles softly, smoothing her sweater. He'd gotten a few clothes for her, a few pairs of leggings and a dress. She loves them, and she's said thank you a million times, but she loves his sweaters the best, even if she has to roll the sleeves almost all the way.
"Not for a while," he says. "When you're older."
"How old?" she presses.
"I got mine when I was eleven," he says, guiding her out of the bathroom. In the living room, Sirius is packing her rucksack with the other clothes, as well as a few snacks.
"That's so far," Harri says, put out. She won't be seven for weeks, and even then, eleven is years away.
"You'll survive," he says, amused. He helps her into an older jean jacket of his, and while it might be too hot for early July, Harri doesn't mind it. Padfoot turns into Padfoot the dog and Harri follows him out.
Moony gathers her into a tight hug, squeezing just as tight as she does.
"When are you going to come see us?" she asks. Moony swallows, ducking away.
"Dunno," he says, and Harri swallows hard. "As soon as it's safe, alright? Take care of Padfoot for me, alright?"
"I will," she says. "I promise." Moony's smile goes sad and suddenly Harri's worried.
"Who'll look after you?" she asks urgently. "You'll be alone." Padfoot nudges her hand, reminding her to hurry.
"I'll be alright," he says, voice thick. "Stay safe."
Padfoot takes her sleeve between his teeth, tugging her along. Harri follows, throat working. She's not a little girl anymore, and she must be strong, she promised to take care of Padfoot. Still, she can't help but sniffle a bit.
They walk for a while, taking alley ways and side streets until Harri's feet begin to ache. She keeps quiet until suddenly they stop. They're in between a park and a row of tall, narrow houses, all connected. Padfoot trots into the bushes and becomes Padfoot-the-person again.
"Alright, Hazza?"
"Yeah," she says, looking around. The building is nice, but dark, though Harri can see a few weak lights shining out from a couple windows. "Where are we?"
"Muggle London," Padfoot says, scoffing. "Dear old dad figured no one would find us here."
"Your parents live here?" she asks hesitantly. Padfoot scowls and instantly, Harri knows they're bad. His face is strange, almost scary. This is probably what Moony meant when he said to take care of Padfoot.
"My parents are dead," he says baldly. "My dad died two years after we graduated—er, after I graduated. My mum died a few years after."
"I'm sorry," she says, slipping her hand into his. Padfoot softens, smiling tiredly before hauling her up onto his hip.
"Nothing to worry about now," he says soothingly, grip tight. "Can you see that building? The darker one? Number 12." Harri squints, then shakes her head.
"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," Padfoot says, and suddenly, Harri can see it. She blinks in surprise, stunned at the way the dark, crumbling house had suddenly appeared. It looks worse than the other and suddenly, she's nervous.
"There?" she asks, pointing. Padfoot nods grimly, walking over.
"Let's hope this works," he mutters, setting Harri down on the stoop. Padfoot pulls out a switchblade, dragging it over his palm with hiss. Harri looks away as he smears the blood over the doorknob, and to her surprise the door swings open. Padfoot grins, stepping hesitantly inside.
"Just stay there for a mo', Hazza," he says. "I'll let you know if it's safe to come in."
Harri shifts her weight from foot to foot anxiously, waiting for Padfoot. There's a muffled thump, a bitten-off curse, then an ear-splitting shriek. Harri drops her rucksack and tears in, finding Padfoot sprawled on the ground, clutching his knee.
Harri gawks at the source of the screaming, which is a woman on the wall. Harri blinks, covering her ears. No, not a woman, but a painting. She's stunned that the painting is moving.
"Scum!" she shrieks. "Defiler of my blood! Filthy criminal!"
"Shut up!" he roars back. Harri shrinks back against the wall, crouching and covering her ears. "Shut the fuck up, you hag!" She hides her face in her knees, blinking back sudden tears. Harri breathes hard, trying to be strong. The screams muffle and suddenly, there's a hand on her shoulder. Harri looks up suddenly, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Oh, pet," he sighs. "I'm sorry, that must've really scared you." Embarrassed, Harri swipes at her tears.
"I'm alright," he says. "Just loud."
"You don't like loud, do you?" Harri shrugs, making her way back to retrieve her fallen rucksack.
"What was that?" she asks, ignoring his question. Padfoot scoffs, shaking his head.
"My mum," he says. "What's left of her miserable, shriveled soul."
Harri doesn't know what to do with that, so she makes her way back to Padfoot, slipping her hand in his as she surveys the place. It's dusty and crumbling, dark and scaring looking. Padfoot squeezes her hand gently, leading her into the darkened parlor.
"Well," he says, looking around with a grim smile. "At least this means Kreacher is dead."
"Who?" Harri asks, taking a hesitant seat on the dusty sofa.
"Er, house elf," Padfoot says, poking around. Harri wants to ask what that is, but he looks busy. "Right, there'll be a little cleaning to do. Up for it?"
"I don't mind," she says hopping up out of her seat.
"Let's go see if the water runs," he says. Harri follows him up the stairs, staying in his footsteps like he told her to. The bathroom, like the house, is dank and scuzzy. The taps work though and there are towels—albeit moth-bitten. They soak the towels and bring them downstairs, running them over all the surfaces. Turns out, Padfoot really doesn't much about cleaning, so Harri takes the lead.
While Padfoot wrestles with the windows, trying to pry them open, Harri scrubs at the floor. Something shifts in the corner of her eye and she frowns, crouching to peek under the sofa. There's something small and dark moving under there, and before she can tell Padfoot, it lunges at here.
She screams, swatting at it. More of them come out, leaping at her, and thankfully, Padfoot pulls her away, batting those things away. She clings to him, glaring at the things. They're little clumps of darkness, with gaping mouths.
"What is that?" she demands. Padfoot stomps on them hard, which sends the survivors scurrying back under the sofa.
"Bloody dust bunnies," he mutters, setting Harri on top of the sofa. "Wish I could use my wand."
"But if you do, the ministry will find us, right?" Harri says nervously. Padfoot scowls, shaking his head.
"I know, Pro—fuck, Hazza, I meant." He flushes, kicking away one of the towels. "Could do with a bloody house elf right about now."
"What is that?" she asks, braver now.
"Er, magizoologically speaking, they stem from goblins, but they're domesticated." Harri looks at him blankly and Padfoot barks out a laugh.
"Little creatures who do the housework," he explains.
"Right," Harri says. "You had one?"
"Nasty little fuc—er, thing," he says. Harri quirks an eyebrow at the almost swear. "Alright, put your bloody eyebrows away. I can swear, just not you."
Harri laughs, settling on the couch. She pokes at the cushion, then brings her hands down hard, letting the dust fly up.
"I dunno how to clean up a sofa," she admits.
"Might have to just burn the thing," he says. "I'll go upstairs and look for some blankets. Might just have to have biscuits for dinner."
Harri grins, thrilled at the news. Padfoot scoffs, shaking his head and chuckling as he heads up the stairs. Harri pokes around the living room, opening drawers or at least trying to. Many of them are locked, but Harri pries open one of them. Inside lies an ornate silver box, words Harri can't read engraved in a pretty, curling script all along the edge of the box.
Carefully, she opens the box, gasping softly at the pretty jewels inside. There are trinkets of all colors, sparkling beautifully. She picks up a stunning silver ring, turning it over in her hands.
"The little brat has something it shouldn't."
A/N: So, I don't know when Walburga and Orion died, but my headcanon is that Orion died first, just before Sirius got taken in, and Walburga died later, after the loss of her entire family hit her. Of course, I'm sure there's canon, but clearly, I don't fuck with canon. Let me know what you thought!