Chapter Eight
Treats

Hedwig showed up the next morning - Harry was awoken by a very large, white, angry bird on her chest.

"Sorry, girl," she muttered, sitting up.

Hedwig hooted reproachfully.

"I know! I should have seen it coming. I'm sorry, Hedwig. Ron took care of you?"

Hoot, hoot.

"I won't leave you again, I promise."

Black barked. Hedwig's head swiveled, and she glared at him. He put his head in his paws, an obvious gesture of submission.

Harry laughed, and got out of bed. Hedwig, having asserted her dominance as the alpha in the room, swept over to perch on the edge of the chair, set in front of the desk.

Black returned to human form, pointing his wand at the door. "You've got a clever owl," he remarked. Harry noticed, then, that her bed was filled with letters, and parcels.

"Did you carry all these yourself?" Harry asked.

Hedwig just hooted, smugly.

Black laughed, his thoughts bright and clear.

Harry leaned over, and began to sort. Both Ron and Hermione had sent a bunch of letters, asking if she was alright, or talking about their summers - Hermione was in France, and Ron's family had gone to Egypt. They got increasingly more worried as the summer went on, and the article that appeared in the Daily Prophet had only added to that panic.

Harry found a few other notes, mostly from concerned adults - Hagrid, the Weasleys, even one from Dumbledore, and her Hogwarts letter. When she turned to the parcels, she realized that they were birthday presents.

Ron had sent her a Pocket Sneakoscope, Hermione had sent her Broomstick Polishing Kit, and Hagrid had sent her The Monster Book of Monsters. Her booklist told her it was the required text for Care of Magical Creatures. How oddly prescient of him.

Harry watched as the thing flopped off the bed, and scuttled towards Black. He growled, and it fled underneath the bed, to hide like some childhood monster.

"Presents?" Black asked.

"My birthday was a week ago," Harry explained. "That's what these presents were for."

Something twisted his face. "I'll have to get you something, too." His guilt tilted into something dark, something like self-hatred.

"What?" Harry asked. "My birthday?"

"Well, I owe you twelve years' worth of birthday and Christmas presents. Have to make up, somehow." The thought was completely serious. He was thinking of it, in those terms.

"You don't need to-"

"I do," he insisted. There was something quiet and desperate in his eyes, and in his thoughts. "I broke out of Azkaban for you, Harriet. I know I haven't been a decent godfather so far - I can't even adopt you, like I should be able to. But I will. I'll find out the Death Eater who framed me, and I'll make things right."

"Framed?" Harry asked.

"I didn't kill Pettigrew. I wanted to, but he was dead when I showed up. The Aurors didn't bother to ask questions - they locked me up anyway. Skipped the trial and everything."

"So, you don't know who framed you?"

He grunted, and ran a hand through lank hair. "No idea. Wish I did, though. But that's fine - no more bloody revenge for me. I made that mistake once already."

Harry raised her eyebrows. He was dead serious.

"Gonna follow me around for the rest of my life, then?" she asked.

He shrugged. "At least until you take out the Dark Bitch." Again, completely serious. At least for the summers - he couldn't feasibly do it at Hogwarts.

Harry laughed. "You really don't have to get me anything," she repeated.

"I insist." He coughed, and glanced at her, eyes shifting around sketchily. "I do want to talk about something, though."

Harry looked up at him, worried. "What?"

"I get it, don't worry," Sirius said. "I was young once, too. And my family was always big on the Dark Arts. I knew a lot more about that kind of thing when I was a kid than I'd have admitted to pretty much anyone, even your father." He looked away.

Fascinating. Harry wasn't nearly as repulsed by the idea of such a thing as he thought she might be. She frowned. She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"But I'm not your dad, I get it. I recognized that circle in the floor when I got you out of your cell. I don't wanna say anything, because it wasn't a huge deal compared to making sure you're alright, but I don't want you doing that sort of thing."

Harry opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I'm not going to forbid you, mostly because I don't think you'd listen to me, if I tried to put my foot down."

She looked down on the ground. "Sorry," she muttered, genuinely remorseful. Her hands trembled, and she shoved them into her pockets to make them stop.

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said. "I just want you to know that I'm here. I've been where you are. You gotta keep hold of yourself. Rule it. Don't let it rule you. I suppose I can't really hope to be a good role model, so I'll have to settle for being an example of what not to do."

"That's the only thing I've done," Harry told him, honestly.

"Good." Sirius actually looked serious, for once. "I wasn't being a good role model, when I went after Peter. Don't do that."

"Okay," Harry said. "I promise."

They stood there, looking at each other, for a long time.

Her stomach growled. "Guess I should go find some food," she said. Sirius was a dog again, and padded up to her, obediently. "You're very cute," she told him. "But I'm going to get changed, so I'm going to kick you out." He whined, and went to the door. She shut him out of it, and within two minutes, was out of the door again, absentmindedly patting her hair.

"Come on, Snuffles," she urged. He barked, happily.

It was strange, to go from having no freedom to having all of it. Black, for all he was her godfather, was not much one for responsibility. He seemed content, to let Harry do what she wanted, as long as he followed her around. Harry found him easy company - he loped longside her as a dog during the day, and cracked her up at night, leaning against the dog bed that Tom had procured for the room, on the floor.

They breakfasted in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry would munch on bacon and eggs, and Snuffles would lounge under the table, begging her for scraps. He got them, more often than not. Sometimes, if he saw witches he thought were pretty, he would sneak off and beg them for attention, looking like nothing more than a lovable stray. Harry thought he was wasting his time - half those witches would run screaming if they knew who he really was.

Harry's favorite place in Diagon Alley was Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, because he was always happy to see her. Snuffles, too - he always set a small plate on the ground for him. It was vanilla ice cream, because dogs couldn't have chocolate. Harry wondered if this extended to animagi, too, but it wasn't worth explaining why her dog was an animagus, to try and find out.

Still, she eventually grew bored of wandering up and down the street, exploring the wide variety of shops, and watching the various inhabitants who came to shop in the long, lazy summer. It wasn't particularly a warm summer, however, so Harry found herself in trousers and sweatshirts more often than expected.

There were, however, some things she actually needed to buy. Since she was at the mental hospital this summer, instead of the Dursleys, she actually got more food than usual, so she'd grown an inch or two this summer, so she had to get some new robes. She considered getting more clothes, because she'd lost some of her clothes getting sent to the asylum, and even more leaving it, but wizarding fashion had never appealed to her.

Therefore, Harry spent one day in Muggle London, having gone to Gringotts to exchange her money for Muggle money. Here, Snuffles got a lot more funny looks than he had in Diagon, but Harry was able to get some clothes to replace the ones she'd lost - and, it was nice to not have Petunia lurking over her shoulder, critiquing her choices. She could get as much black, and as many boyish clothes as she wanted.

Harry stopped at Flourish and Blotts, too, for more quills, ink, and parchment, and to buy her new textbooks - ones for the new year, and for her electives.

It was at Margaret's Musical Mysteries, however, that Harry encountered her first spot of trouble. It was run by a pretty woman named Margaret, who was Muggleborn. She had an entire shop dedicated to music - enchanted record players, and a whole wall full of records of Muggle music. Wizard music, too - though, there was surprisingly little of that. There was even one old, battered Walkman that held up to three tapes in a magical compartment, but spate them out when they were done playing.

But, the real kicker of Musical Mysteries was that Margaret had a dog, a big chocolate lab named Clementine.

Clementine liked Snuffles, quite a bit. Harry grinned as she watched the two dogs twine around her, sniffing butts and wagging tails.

"Hey there," she said, holding out a hand for Clementine to sniff. She gave it a quick lick, and then went back to circling with Snuffles. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

"I see that my dog likes your dog," Margaret commented, genuinely amused.

"Yeah, er, Snuffles?" she called. He ignored her. "We can leave, if you like," she offered.

"It's fine," Margaret said. "Clem really seems to like him."

"I, er, she shouldn't - he's not, er, ready for a relationship," Harry volunteered.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's a bit… immature. I wouldn't want him to break Clem's heart."

Margaret burst into laughter. "They're just dogs, kiddo."

"Yeah, but Snuffles is a real scoundrel," Harry told her, completely serious.

"It'll be fine," the woman told her.

Harry really doubted it, but she couldn't really stop it - none of them would listen, if she did. What the hell. Sirius was an adult. He could make his own decisions.

"Well, I'll see you back at the ice cream parlor," she said to Snuffles.

A few minutes later, she was seated at a table at Florean Fortescue's, writing to Cecilia.

Black is flirting with a dog that belongs to one of the shopkeepers here.

Cecilia's writing was erratic. Please, that's rich. Is he seriously interested in other dogs?

I don't know? Is that how Animagi work?

I'm not 100% sure, mind, Cecilia wrote, because I'm not one myself. I do believe that it does happen, however. Someone, somewhere has undoubtedly slept with an animal. I imagine that some animagi are unlikely to admit to it, if it is true. Animagi are known to take on some of the traits of the animals that they can become, but it seems to vary, depending on the person, and the animal.

Harry considered that. I guess it has to be more than just him, though. But maybe doggy children are in his future.

Yes, he seems like the type.

Why didn't you become an Animagus?

My animagus form would have been a snake. A python, to be specific. It was too large to hide effectively, too slow to sneak around, and too small to be of any use in combat. Cecilia decided it wasn't worth the time investment. Snakes are, in many ways, very limited creatures.

Oh, Harry wrote. Maybe I should do it.

The usefulness tends to vary considerably, based on which animal you get. Black, as a dog, can accompany you without suspicion. If he was a different animal, such as a wolf, or a lion, he would attract considerable attention.

That's a good point. I think it would be nice. He told me that my father was one too. A stag.

There is sentimental meaning to you, then. I am sure you can achieve it by your fifth year, if we work at it.

I would like that.

Harry leaned back, and smiled, stretching out in the sun.

A few days later, Black disappeared for a while, grumbling about finding Harry something good enough to give as a birthday present. Harry didn't protest him leaving - she spent the day curled up in her room in the Leaky Cauldron, scribbling away in the diary.

Cecilia seemed pleased, to have someone to chat with.

When Black returned, padding into the room with a small satchel wound around his neck, she closed the book and sat up. He closed the door, and turned back into a man. He handed her the satchel, grinning like a loon.

"Happy birthday," he said. His mind was bright with pleasure. He had that kind of mind, she was realizing. He was… very emotional. It permeated almost everything he did, and fluctuated wildly. A very in-the-moment sort of thing.

Harry dumped the bag onto the bed, in front of her, hands shaking. A couple of things tumbled out - a pair of girl's school shoes, a gaudy silver ring, and a bright red rose that seemed just-picked.

"What are these?" Harry asked, fingering the crest. It was three ravens, on a shield.

"Family heirlooms," Black said. "The useful ones, at least. The shoes are spelled to not make a noise - if they don't fit you, we can get them resized. Dear cousin Bella always had big feet, ha. The rose - you can put that in your hair, and it'll fix it." As he spoke, memories pushed out - he recalled laughing at a dark-haired girl for her feet, and then her cursing him, shrieking and chasing him down the hall.

"Fix it?" Harry interrupted, forcing that aside.

Black shrugged. "I dunno. It styles it, I guess? Magically?"

Harry eyed him. "Very descriptive."

"I think it's a girl thing."

"Huh," Harry mused. "I'll have to give it a whirl."

"And the ring," Black added. "It's got a trigger, so to speak. You wear it on your wand hand. If you swipe over the gem with your thumb, it activates, and your wand won't leave your hand."

"Really?" Harry breathed. "That seems… useful."

"Yeah. It seems more useful than it is, though. The thing is, you literally can't be disarmed. That doesn't mean that you can just ignore Disarming Charms, or other stuff. A solid Expelliarmus will break your wrist, if it hits you. Your wand will still be in your hand, but that's worse, in some ways, than a lost wand.

"It is useful, though, because your wand will never fly out of your hand accidentally, and you can't drop it, so…" he trailed off, looking awkward. She could see him breaking his wrist, actually, and dropping it in a drawer. "Well, just, see if you like it."

"I will," Harry promised. She couldn't help the smile that tilted her lips. He was scattershot and awkward, but the gesture was undeniably sweet. "You didn't have to get me all this, Black, but I appreciate it."

He shuddered. "Call me Sirius, please." He felt awful, that she called him that. Guilty, again. Like he had failed her.

"Alright, Sirius," Harry said. "But really, you didn't have to."

"I did. It was either this or a Firebolt, but you convinced me you already have a decent enough broom. I'm still not sure this is enough."

"It is, trust me," she told him. She plucked the rose off the bed, and threaded it carefully into her hair. He grinned, a wolfish thing, and laughed.

She beamed back at him. She'd never had an adult that cared about her before, like he did. He wasn't really adult-like, more like a wild older brother. A bit like Fred and George might be, if they lived together. But he'd broken out of prison for her - that fact had taken a little while to sink in, but it had.

"I, uh," she said, slowly, feeling a little nervous about bringing it up. "You said that you and my dad were, uh, cousins."

He frowned, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Yeah. First cousins, once removed, even though we were the same age." he said. "My great-aunt was his mother. She and my mother weren't all that close, you see. My mother was a right bitch. She considered marrying a Potter to be beneath Great-Aunt Dorea." He grinned, nastily. "Too bad it wasn't up to her."

"So, uh," she said. "My grandmother was a Black?"

"Yes," he agreed. "James' parents took me in, after I left home, in fifth year. They were always good to me. Like I said, he and I were like brothers. I had a bedroom at their house, next to his."

"Most people - even in Magical Britain - don't look like us," Harry said. "So that's a Black thing?"

"Yeah," Sirius said. "It's a Black thing. One of my ancestors, Henry Black, invested in the East India Company. You know what that is?"

"Uh," Harry said.

"Muggle thing. Britain basically conquered India, linked to all that colonialism business. But we have a pretty big set of holdings in India, and an allied House in Bengal, the Kalo. My family got up to some nasty stuff, and the alliance ended up with us basically enslaving them. Blacks marrying Kalos, and all that. After the Statute of Secrecy, it was hard to keep marrying pure, so some families tried different things to prevent some of the nastier effects of inbreeding. So, a new source of blood - and the Kalo were as pure as any, just… Bengali.

"But one of their Heads, Rajat, saw his House getting exploited, and did some sort of nasty ritual as revenge." He grinned. "This was long before I was born, of course. Rajat cursed us, so now we have some trouble with insanity - commonly dubbed the Black Madness, and we always seem to die, before our time. Of course, Henry's son, Sirius, did some nasty magic himself, so we've got some impressive advantages - a predisposition towards Metamorphs, Parseltongue, and a real nasty affinity for the Dark Arts, as well as a bunch of magic power - so it sort of balances out.

"But the other thing Rajat did was, well, he didn't want anyone to forget that we fucked over India. So all trueborn Blacks look like," he gestured between them. "It's kind of funny, since it's become a point of pride, even if he meant it as an insult - some religious thing, I'm not sure. But my bitch of a mother used to go on all the time about Blacks breeding black, and all this tripe. Toujours Pur, and all."

"I… the muggles," Harry said, feeling a little off-put. "They had some nasty names. But I always wondered why no one who's magic seems to care."

"Yeah, well, Blacks have made it a thing," he said, laughing. "It's kind of funny - the old pureblood Houses are all interbred. I have cousins in all kinds of families, and they marry into us. But the color comes with the name, now. If a Black marries out, the color almost always vanishes in a generation or two. And no matter who many proper pale Brits we marry, we're still smooth like cocoa." He waggled his eyebrows. "Girls love a bit of Black in them."

"Oh," Harry said. "So it's just… I have the blood, I guess?"

"Yeah," he said. "The eyes are all Lily - I'm sure you've heard that a million times. But James was as dark as me, and you've got his skin." He flashed another grin. It might have looked nice, if Azkaban hadn't ruined his teeth. "Part of the reason we became friends on the train, first year."

Harry glanced down, examining her hands. "That's, uh. I'm really glad." She was smiling. "You're basically my uncle, and my godfather. It's nice. I mean, growing up - most people. The only people that looked like me were the people that worked at the takeaway. And, well," she shrugged. "Uncle Vernon had opinions about that sort of thing. He had opinions about my father, too."

"Twats," Sirius sniffed. His thoughts were torn - he hated what his family had done, but he wasn't ashamed of it, either. "Ignore them."

"I'm not going back," she said, harshly. "And no one in the magical world really cares."

He nodded, slowly. "You're not going back."

And she found herself trusting him to make sure that promise came true.

One morning, right before she had to return to Hogwarts, Harry was just finishing up her breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius a faithful shadow at her feet, when Hermione and the Weasleys appeared, one by one, through the fire.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, bounding forward. He'd been hoping to catch her. The whole family had, in fact. They'd come to the Leaky to do so on purpose. Interesting, and a little bit heartwarming.

Sirius let out a low whine, beneath her.

"Don't worry, they're good people," Harry whispered to him. Straightening up, she called, "Mr. Weasley! How was Egypt?"

"It was great, really great. Bill is doing very well at Gringotts. We had a lovely time. How was your summer?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't wanna talk about it," she said. Her hands trembled.

Thankfully, he didn't push. Mrs. Weasley, finished checking that she had all of her children, bustled over and swept Harry up into a hug. If she was being honest, the overwhelming affection that Mrs. Weasley felt was just that: overwhelming.

"Harry!" Hermione echoed Mr. Weasley. She had no small amount of relief, in her mind. Silly, like she thought Harry wouldn't be able to handle herself.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Good to see you!" Ron agreed. "We weren't sure, when Hedwig showed up." Ron, luckily, had faith. Though, all of them had no small relief that Harry was back and safe. Harry preferred Ron's mind, probably.

She was getting better at this sort of thing - sitting in a room and feeling out individuals among the masses. It was interesting, it was easier to just - surf, or something like it - along a crowd, rather than read just one person. It was… distracting, was the best word for it. Again, easier to read than to ignore, so that made sense.

"Yeah," Harry said. She didn't feel much like an explanation, in front of everyone. "I'm fine now, though."

He didn't really want to accept that. "You had us really worried, you know."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "She doesn't want to talk about it."

He frowned, about to say something before Harry cut him off. "Not now," she urged. She would explain, but she didn't want to admit this much weakness in front of the Weasleys.

Fred and George were mocking Percy - Harry saw that he was wearing his Head Boy badge, but it now read, 'Huge Buffoon." Given that term didn't even start till tomorrow, she figured that he deserved to be mocked, just a little bit. Their thoughts were, well, obvious. She didn't need Legilimency to know them - amusement, from the twins, and an embarrassed frustration, from Percy.

Ron and Hermione gave her significant looks, but relented. "Let's go get our school stuff," Ron said. "Mum looks like she's about to start yelling." True enough, Mrs. Weasley looked as if she had finally noticed Fred and George.

"Sure," Harry said. She put the money on the table for her breakfast, and stood up. Snuffles got up, too, from under the table and brushed up against her. Harry leaned down to ruffle his neck.

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "That's not a…"

"This is Snuffles," Harry said. "He's a good boy."

"Since when did you have a dog, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Long story. But he's well-trained." Snuffles huffed, and she amended, "Most of the time."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said. It was clear that she didn't believe Harry, and there would be more questioning later. Harry didn't even need her legilimency to see that.

Ron, meanwhile, was still gaping. "Harry, how did you make friends with a Grim?"

"A what?"

"A death omen," Ron told her, picturing a horrible demonic-looking thing. "A big bloody black dog. My uncle Bilius saw one once, and then he died, right away. You're supposed to die, right after you've seen them."

"Snuffles can't be a Grim," Harry said. "He's been following me around for weeks. Fed him once, and now he won't leave me alone."

"Right," Ron said, but he still looked pale.

"Anyway," Hermione cut in. "Let's go to Flourish and Blotts. I want to buy the new textbooks!"

"Sure."

Harry managed to stave off most of the questioning while they were out shopping. The shopkeeper nearly shat himself when Ron and Hermione both asked for The Monster Book of Monsters, and Hermione bought books for all the new subjects.

"All of them?" Ron asked. "Are you mental? What do you need to learn Muggle Studies for? You're Muggle-born!"

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" Harry added. Hermione ignored that, and stalked off to the bookshop.

Ten minutes later, she came back with ugly ginger cat. Ron had gone off, to get a new wand.

Snuffles, inexplicably, got along famously with the newly-dubbed Crookshanks. Harry just rolled her eyes, and went with it. He thought the cat was brilliant.

"Is he coming to Hogwarts with you?" Hermione asked, eyeing Snuffles.

"Dunno. If he wants, I can't stop him," Harry said.

"He's a dog, Harry."

"Yeah, but maybe he's got lady-dogs to chase. He's a big boy, Hermione, he can take care of himself."

Ron turned up, sniggering, and Harry risked a glance into Hermione's head more directly. She thought Harry was entirely too flippant, and that Harry was a bad pet owner. Harry had to admit that stung more than she'd anticipated.

As Cecilia had mentioned, sometimes it wasn't great to know what everyone else was thinking.

"I can't believe that you got that thing," Ron said, almost offended. "Des is going to be beside himself."

"Crookshanks isn't going to hurt him," Hermione replied, primly.

"He'd better not," Ron said. "Des was here first."

Desperaux was Ron's rat, complete with floppy ears and a pale, smooth expanse of fur. He liked to run away, sometimes, but always came back.

"Don't worry," Hermione said. "Crookshanks will be in my dorm, and Des in yours." She felt… oddly unconcerned, with the fact that cats hunted rats.

Ron folded his arms. "He'd better."

"Are you going to be bringing Snuffles, to Hogwarts? I don't think dogs are allowed," Hermione continued, wrinkling her nose.

"He'll be fine," Harry urged, feeling slightly fed up, and indignant that Hermione hadn't even asked Ron if it was okay, to get a cat. "I'll explain later."

"You keep saying that, Harry. When is later going to be?" she pressed.

"When we're alone," Harry said, sharply. "We can go back to my room right now, if you like."

Ron and Hermione had no real objection to this, so they set off back to the Leaky Cauldron. When they sequestered themselves in Harry's room, she shut the door, and cast a bunch of quick locking and silencing spells, then turned around, and nodded.

"If you're wondering where I was, I don't want to talk about it," she said, eyes on the floor, in the middle of the room.

"Harry…" Hermione ventured. "If you don't want to say, we understand, but Ron told me what you told him, before you disappeared."

Harry was sure she didn't want to know her thoughts. "Yes," Harry admitted, voice clipped. "The Dursleys sent me to a mental hospital. That's where I was most of the summer."

"Oh, Harry."

Harry didn't want to look at them, but Ron cleared his throat.

"Hermione explained it to me," he said. "Wizards don't really have loony bins too. It must have been horrible, locked up with the crazies."

"it wasn't like that," Harry snapped. "It wasn't great, but most of the patients were really nice people. They were just sick - their minds worked against them, more often than not."

Hermione squinted at Harry. "That's unexpectedly thoughtful of you, Harry."

Harry was quickly learning that, contrary to popular belief, Hermione did in fact censor a lot of what she thought. She shrugged.

"I said before, I don't really want to discuss it. But I got out. That's the complicated bit." She met both of them in the eyes, but didn't push through. "None of this leaves this room, alright?"

"Right," they both agreed.

"I was rescued by Sirius Black."

Ron laughed, awkwardly, and Hermione snapped, "That's not funny."

"It's not," Harry agreed. "It's true." She glanced at Snuffles. "You might as well explain."

And then he was a man again - looking better, since she'd met him. She'd taken some shears to his hair, so it looked better, if not great. She'd bought him new clothes, too - right now he was wearing black trousers, and a loose grey pullover, on top.

"Fine," he grunted. His voice still had that raspy quality. Harry supposed that there wasn't much conversation in Azkaban.

Ron went, if possible, even paler, and Hermione screamed.

"Quiet," Harry hushed.

"It's alright, Harry," Sirius said. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'm innocent. I didn't do any of the things I went to Azkaban for."

"Harry," Hermione said, exasperated. She didn't believe anything Sirius said. And it was a little annoying that she didn't trust Harry's judgement. "Of course you can't trust him if he says he's innocent. Do you have any proof?"

"I'm not dead, am I?" Harry let her annoyance color her tone. "If he was working for Voldemort like everyone says he is, I would have been dead weeks ago. He could have just stabbed me or cursed me instead of breaking me out of the mental hospital."

"Maybe he's trying to play the long game, or something," Hermione said, stubbornly.

"But what on earth could he possibly have to gain?" Harry asked, venomously. She was a little annoyed, by this. "He had me alone, in the Muggle world. I had no defenses, nothing else. If he really wanted to hurt me, or even kidnap me, he had all the opportunity in the world. But he brought me here, to the Leaky Cauldron. Where I'd be safe. He takes care of me."

"I'm her godfather," Sirius put in. "And her second cousin." He was a little surprised, at the way she was speaking to Hermione. Maybe Harry wasn't being fair. "Fudge visited Azkaban - left me the paper, for the crossword. And the front page was all about how Harry had disappeared. So I broke out."

Hermione was glancing between them, her jaw set. Ron just looked as pale as ever.

"Right, mate," he said. "So you didn't kill Pettigrew?"

"No. I wanted to - he was Lily and James' secret-keeper. He certainly deserved it. But no, someone got to him before me, and left me holding the wand."

Hermione huffed. "So nobody figured that out? It didn't come up in your trial?"

"I never had a trial. Ol' Crouch just tossed me right into Azkaban."

"He did not!" she protested. It was almost amusing, if it wasn't kind of horrifying. Still annoying, that it hadn't quite sunk in for Hermione that the people in charge weren't always right.

Sirius shrugged. "It was a war. Not getting a trial wasn't that uncommon. Pettigrew was dead by the time I got to him - it looked cut and dry."

"That's a serious miscarriage of justice!" Hermione protested. "Tell someone, like Professor Dumbledore!"

"It's life." Sirius didn't seem all that concerned. "Besides, Dumbledore is as likely to turn me in, as he is to get me a trial."

"There," Harry said. She was annoyed now. Did Hermione think she was stupid? Apparently. "He's staying. He broke out of jail for me, and he was my dad's best friend. I'm not passing that up, even if he is a murderer."

"I just-" Hermione started.

"Leave it, Hermione," Ron warned her. He had finally snapped out of his shock, apparently. He addressed Sirius. "If you hurt Harry, you'll have me to answer to."

Sirius just grinned. "Of course."

"Anyway," Harry said. "I'm going to go find some lunch. You should come."

"Alright," Ron said. Hermione just nodded, and Sirius was already a dog again.

an: I am genuinely curious to see what you think of my Black Family worldbuilding, here. It's a little bit out there, and as a white person I always struggle to include race in a meaningful way because I worry about my own judgement of it. However, while it might seem like this bit in particular is included solely for the diversity points, there are some important plot elements that will bring that bit of worldbuilding up in a meaningful way that impacts the rest of the story.

I also don't want to imply that there is no racism in the magical world, simply because Harry hasn't experienced any. I don't think that's true - however, I also think it can be true that Harry didn't have anyone say anything to her face.