Chapter 8

Grimmauld Place remained the same as he had seen it the last summer. Domineering, stuffy and encroached in secrecy. "Was the recipe to the Vacilanium Carteocae one of the secrets that the house held?" Harry wondered. He certainly hoped so.

"Are you alright, Harry? You seem preoccupied about something. The Weasleys and Hermione should be here soon. Do you want to tell me anything?" Professor Lupin asked rather hesitantly. Harry also hesitated. Professor Lupin looked tired and weak. Harry realized that Sirius' condition had affected him badly. It left him helpless and vulnerable as he now risked losing financial and more importantly emotional support.

"No, Professor. If I ever need anything, I'll be sure to come to you", Harry replied with a warm smile on his face and was rewarded with a look of gratitude. Harry then excused himself and went to see Sirius. Sirius looked the same as he had when Harry had last seen him. Extremely thin, pale with a ragged breathing and absolutely no consciousness. His hair, however, had been cropped neatly and was just above the collar and he was clean-shaven. Obviously, Sirius was under good care. He looked as if he was asleep and would awaken any minute.

"It was a cruel spell", Harry realized both for the victim and those who loved him. One that made you still have your loved one and yet not really have him. Alive and yet not really living. The people who cared had to live in constant fear of losing – losing a friend, a confidante, perhaps a lover, a husband or a father.

A father. That was Sirius to him, wasn't he? So what, if he was imperfect? Mrs. Weasley seemed to think him inadequate, Dumbledore thought that he was childish, Snape irresponsible. But to Harry, he was perfect. As was every parent in a child's eye. Harry had had a lot of time to think things over during his time at the Dursleys. His training with the founders had also widened his perspective, perhaps made him wiser. Sirius might have his faults. His father might have had his too. But Harry loved them both with all his heart. Suddenly, Harry felt a fierce protectiveness over both of them. Nobody was ever going to say a thing about them and get away with it. Everybody had their faults, didn't they? Mrs. Weasley, though kind, could be overprotective and pushy at times. Harry remembered the tiny Easter egg that she had sent Hermione in her fourth year. Snape was certainly no saint himself, Death Eater or not. Professor Dumbledore, as Harry had learnt the last summer, could push his own goals at the risk of what was dear to others. "Heck! If everyone had a fault, why should only his father and godfather be punished for theirs?"

Harry reached for Sirius' hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was nearly cold, with only a slightest hint of warmth to indicate that he was still alive. "Hang in there, Sirius. I'll find the recipe and that scum of a Wormtail. You're going to live and be free. Marauders' honour", Harry promised silently. When Professor Lupin, Hermione and the Weasleys came up to the room later, Harry was still kneeling beside the bed, his hand clenching Sirius' tightly.

Harry had not noticed the new visitors and only looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Hermione. She looked worried and scared. Worried for him and scared for Sirius. Harry was surprised to realise how glad he was to see Hermione. He stood up and pulled her into a hug. "I missed you, Hermione. I need to talk to you," he whispered. Hermione did not reply but tightened her embrace and gave a slight nod. Harry then greeted the Weasleys and assured a worried-looking Mrs. Wesaley that he was alright. Ron was looking eager to talk to him and Ginny too looked pleased to see him.

Harry left the others to visit Sirius and excused himself to his room. Professor Lupin had the room adjoining to Sirius, who was in the master bedroom. There were two other rooms in the master wing but these were unused. The rest of the Order members including the Weasleys were housed in the large visitor wing whilst Harry occupied what was known as the children's wing. Harry had protested at the title but the rooms were large and comfortable, a far cry from his quarters at the Dursleys.

Exhausted, Harry took a cold and refreshing shower as he tried to sort out his thoughts and plan his actions. "Time was of essence", Professor Slytherin had said. Where could he start? "With a talk with Hermione", the answer came instinctively. She was the one capable of records and research. She would know what to do next.