"Just a minute, I'm coming!" Hermione yelled, also cursing under her breath as she almost tripped over a pile of books on the floor.

She took a deep breath, straightened her blue wool sweater, and muttered a spell to tidy her living room. A few seconds later, she was standing in the doorway, looking like a charming mess. While she tried to make her clothes more presentable, she didn't even consider that they were embedded with Crookshanks' fur. Then, of course, her renowned hair. Half of it was in a tight bun, and another half was hanging around her head in several directions.

"Sirius, what a lovely surprise!" she smiled brightly, stepping aside to let him in.

"Hermione! Sorry for barging in like that. Hope I'm not interrupting," the man replied, pecking her on the cheek.

She took his coat and quite unceremoniously thrust in on the pile of her jackets, which covered the hanger so entirely, it would be impossible to say if it was still there.

"Of course not. I could use a break," Hermione assured. She might have had little time to spare, but looking at Sirius, who kneeled to pet her cat, she was undeniably glad to see him. There was some stuff about the man she didn't get and nearly gave up trying to. But the sheer fact that he could be standing in front of her in flesh and blood, after coming back to them when they had trouble seeing the way forward, offered some reassurance in tumultuous times.

The war might have ended, but its misery and pain were still very much upon them. Of course, Hermione couldn't speak for everyone in the Wizarding World. At least at the Burrow, though, no one felt like celebrating. Hell, no one even felt like talking. According to her count, all the Weasleys, Harry, Fleur, and she exchanged no more than a few sentences in the last few days, which was quite an achievement, considering that most of them seldom shut up. But what was there to say?

Even the grief was confusing, though it hadn't fully kicked in yet. There were so many people to mourn, so many memories flowing through everyone's heads, so many wishes that some things would have gone differently. Then, all the stuff to take care of, not knowing where to start and not having the strength to as much as think about it. Not to forget physical wounds on top of emotional ones. And they were all jumpy and anxious, having trouble realizing that they were relatively safe.

But a week after the war, something shifted, if only temporarily.

"Alright, everyone! I know it is not easy, but we have to stick together and make things work somehow. We are not letting all the work and sacrifices be in vain!" Molly shouted from down the stairs, seemingly using all the force and passion she could muster.

"I will see you all at breakfast in five minutes! I don't want to hear that you are not hungry or that you will take a sandwich to your room!" the fiery woman added.

The determination in Molly's voice appealed to Hermione. She popped out of her bed as if it was burning and briskly ran out of the room. She knew that the motivation would run out soon. In the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny preparing to go at a much slower pace.

No one dared to defy Molly Weasley, despite having faced much worse things very recently. Still, her plan to get everyone together certainly looked more promising in words than action. The messy kitchen, usually filled with chatting, laughter, friendly insults, and tones of food consumed at an unimaginably quick pace, seemed rather bleak that morning. People made half-hearted attempts at making a conversation, pretended to be interested in what they were reading in The Daily Prophet, and moved their food around their plates. Still, it was a start.

Suddenly, the relative silence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and someone coming in. Friends rarely knocked at the Burrow's door (knowing that no one would hear them). But given the circumstances, everyone in the kitchen jumped a little. They all hastily reached for their wands.

"I will go check," Harry offered, standing up.

"Easy, I'm already here. Will you find a place for me, Molly?" the visitor asked.

While his tone was uncharacteristically timid, nearly everyone recognized it even before seeing him in the door. If they were more or less quiet before, the silence that followed as their tried to process what was happening was nearly deafening. Arthur's coffee missed his mouth and spilled on his shirt, but he was too shocked to make a sound when it burned his chest. Harry had to sit back down, gripping the edges of the table.

Hermione was first to compose herself, even if she came out as much less astute than usual. "H-how? Y-you—r-real?"

The visitor was no other than Sirius Black, looking as if the time had stopped for him. He didn't seem any older, thinner, chubbier. Even his hair and beard were around the same length as the last time he was seen. Perhaps they were slightly more disheveled, if at all possible. And he did look humbled, which was rare for him. Other than that, though, he was just as they remembered him. Wasn't that too good to be true?

Sirius fought an urge to joke about finally making Hermione stutter. It was his usual strategy for unloading tension. But not this time.

"Well, it is a rather long story. I don't quite know where to start. Mind if I sit first?" he answered, leaning in the doorway.

Someone shoved a chair in his direction. It was rather awkward since they made him sit almost in the entrance, far from the table. Still, no one could quite believe their eyes and ears, so caution was understandable.

"Start with how we can be sure that it is you," Harry said in a near-whisper. He looked stiff — as if not moving would help him avoid the wave of conflicting emotions that could hit him at any moment.

Sirius looked at his godson and felt his heart clenching. He couldn't know half of what Harry went through. All his knowledge of the war since his disappearance came from newspapers. And he could only read those from the last few days, so he only had pieces of the official account. Still, looking at Harry, he saw a man, not a boy, a warrior irreversibly changed by what he had to endure. And though he tried to learn his lesson and accept things as they were, he couldn't stand that he wasn't there for the person he loved like his own son.

Someone tapped their fingers on the table, bringing Sirius back to the moment.

"Well, I came back a week ago straight to the place where I disappeared. So, as if they had nothing better to do at the moment, the Ministry used their full power to make sure that it is really me," he explained, reaching into his robe for several pieces of parchment. "Arthur can confirm that these are valid."

Sirius handed the bundle to Arthur, who took several moments examining the papers and performing spells on them. Then, scratching his face to get himself out of the shock, he quietly attested, "they are fine."

"Forgive me, I want it all to check out like nothing else, but at the same time, it's hard for me to get my hopes up. You could have made someone forge those documents," Hermione pitched in tentatively, looking at the table.

"Well, if you have any Veritaserum or any other way that would convince you, I will gladly go for it. I know it's hard to believe. I can't believe it myself," Sirius admitted, trying to hide the mild frustration that was rising in his stomach. He yearned to reconnect with his friends, with Harry, but how could he convince them to stop seeing him as a ghost or a cruel trick?

"How did you escape after you were captured at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, feeling stupid and lame and not being able to stop herself.

"You used the time-turner, freed Buckbeak, and flew on his back to free me from the North Tower," the black-haired man replied quickly.

"How did you communicate with me when you were still in hiding, and I was at Hogwarts?" It was Harry's turn now, whose voice started sounding moderately hopeful.

"Through the Floo."

Harry's and Sirius's eyes locked for the first time. The younger man's lips curved into a cautious smile. He was well aware that, for all its wonders, magic could play nasty tricks. Use people's emotions and desires. Yet, he was also quite confident that it couldn't fake the spark in his godfather's eyes.

Finally, Arthur took hold of himself, at least somewhat recovering from the surprise. He stood up abruptly and said, with the determination that was rare for him, "Alright, stop this nonsense."

Hermione was ready to retort back, but he was faster. He held out one of the parchments so everyone could see. "This can't be falsified. It is not created by a wizard. The verdict comes straight from the Blade of Truth. A person whose identity is in question has to cut himself. Then, the blade itself uses his blood to reveal his true self on the parchment. It was created centuries ago during a rebellion against the Ministry. Back then, the opposition frequently posed as high-placed officials. To combat the chaos that ensued, the most powerful men of that time joined their magic and forged an enchanted obsidian blade that couldn't be corrupted. Well, it would be a waste of time to go into details now, but to sum up, you can't defy it like you can't defy the Goblet of Fire."

As soon as he finished, he approached Sirius and extended his hand to help the unexpected guest rise from the chair. He enveloped him in a tight hug. "Welcome back, friend. There are no words to say how much it pleases me to see you again."

The visitor cleared his throat. His voice faltered slightly as he said, "Likewise, Arthur. And thank you for taking care of Harry."

Molly had a plate full of food ready and almost crushed Sirius with another hug. "Sorry for the cold welcome."

Soon, a whole bunch of (mostly red-haired) people formed a line. The embraces, heartfelt words, apologies, and even subtle jokes seemed to have no end.

Harry purposely waited after everyone else got back to their seats. He slowly walked to Sirius's chair. He intended to say something, but what was running through his head was quite unintelligible. In the end, he threw himself at his godfather, his body shaking and tears leaking from his eyes. Sirius held him tightly. He sniffed as he moved one hand up to stroke Harry's hair.

At first, Sirius, too, was speechless. Eventually, he rasped, "I'm so proud of you, Harry. I wish I could have been there."

"All that counts is that you are here now," the younger man replied in a muffled voice.

Soon, they were all sitting around the table, sipping coffee and tea. Enjoying an unexpected blessing, the Weasleys and their guests were talkative for the first time since the battle. It would not be accurate to say that there wasn't any residual awkwardness hanging between them. But they all appeared to accept it and relish the moment anyway.

"Alright, this might not be the most important thing right now, but—uhm—you know me. What happened to you?" Hermione asked.

Ron rolled his eyes, though his gaze quickly melted into one that showed admiration.

"Well, we had to get there at some point, so thank you for bringing it up," Sirius started, his sleek fingers playing with a teaspoon. "I don't think I can fully explain it to someone who hasn't experienced it, but I will try my best without taking the whole day."

Everyone looked at him expectantly. "Huh, it is surprisingly easy to get people speechless around here. Anyway, it turned out that you don't immediately go to the afterlife after falling behind the veil. It is more like an in-between place. Keep in mind that "place" is a working term. You aren't in your bodily form, and it resembles a river with a swift current. Still, it is kind of possible to work against it as long as you have a strong conviction that it is not your time to go yet."

"Does anyone ever feel that it's their time?" Ron interrupted. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Ron. I suppose you are right. But you aren't fully yourself anymore when you are there. It is as if it has stripped you down to your absolute essence. Almost nobody wants to die. But in their very soul, people usually accept that it is the time to go. I assume so, at least. Perhaps, out of the people who died in the same way, nobody, in their purest form, felt like they haven't fulfilled their most important task on Earth," Sirius continued.

"Were you—well, struggling to get back from this place for years?" Harry asked. It was his turn to feel heaviness in his heart.

"You could say that, though it is not bound by time and space, so I didn't perceive it like that. Human language doesn't have accurate words to explain it. The thing is, both my essence and some higher forces must have agreed that I wasn't done here yet. But I couldn't get back right away," his godfather replied patiently.

"Why now? Do you know?" Hermione voiced one of the million questions that were racing through her mind.

Molly got up to cook more hot water. She could have done it without standing up, but she long ago discovered that doing things allowed her to deal with highly emotional situations.

"Yes. I think so. At first, I had no clue. It just threw me out in the same spot in which some of you have last seen me. But when I finally got my hands on the newspapers, I realized that the balance of the world had to be maintained. There had to be an exchange for me getting back. In this case, it could only be Bellatrix's death," he took a brief pause.

"So, as weirdly timed as it may seem, I could only come back when you, Molly, killed my cousin. Since then, I was held at the Ministry and begged them not to leak the news."

"Why? Why wouldn't you want us to know right away?" Harry asked softly, his head resting on his intertwined hands.

"I figured you have to take care of yourselves. And no one would let you, especially you, Harry, anywhere near me before they cleared me," Sirius explained, sliding his chair closer to Harry's and squeezing his shoulder.

"That, and I focused on getting myself together. Imagine how weird it is to go back to being an actual person from barely having a glimpse of your identity. Or trying to figure out why I got back in this particular moment."

Sirius didn't elaborate on the last part, but as soon as he realized that he was back in the Ministry (and, more importantly, back in the world), he was convinced that he came back to help defeat Voldemort. He had no idea how much time had passed. It might have been days, months, years. But his mind didn't even consider that Voldemort was already gone. He had a strong sense that he came back for a reason. And the war was so massive in everyone's minds, in his mind, before he disappeared, he couldn't think of anything else. Now, he had to get used to his human body and relationships all over again AND find his life purpose. Welcome back, teenage years.

Over three years had passed since that day. While the Wizarding World was as far from harmony as it possibly could, so far Hermione didn't hear anything about Sirius finding his place in fixing it. Then again, it appeared like no one had any idea how to approach the task anymore.

"So, what have you been up to these days?" she asked politely, entering the living room with a tray containing a tea set and a plate of cookies.

"Well, it is the whole reason why I come here unannounced today. Before I tell you, though, I need to ask you something. How is your Auror training going?" he replied while the woman was settling on the opposite side of the table.

Hermione gave a lengthy but somewhat noncommittal answer, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the subject. Even her body tensed up, with her hands gripping the armchair just a little too tightly. One thing was that, for some reason, Sirius refused any serious involvement with the Aurors. He only agreed to run occasional training sessions for candidates like her, Harry, and Ron. She could understand why. It seemed like the bureaucracy, the outdated methods, and the lack of proper role models made the department unfit for the challenges of the wild post-war world. Then again, most potential role models were dead, while others took high offices to have more impact. Sirius was one of the few people left who could change something in the department. Yet, he kept his distance.

"So, to be sure, it does not seem to you like the department and the training don't get you or anyone else closer to solving this mess?" Sirius was more straightforward, looking far more relaxed, his arms stretched out on a large, comfy armchair.

"Of course it does seem like it," Hermione huffed, fidgeting with her sweater. "It is downright useless, which is frustrating as hell. I had many ideas for who I wanted to be after the war, and most of them didn't include becoming a warrior for life. And before becoming anything, I wanted to get my parents back," she took a deep breath. "Now, I have to dedicate almost all of my time to something that obviously won't work because I refuse to agree to live in a world like this one. It seems like between the training and trying to find ways to reverse the spell and bring my parents back, I have far less time to spare than when I was using the time-turner at Hogwarts."

"My relationship with Ron was collateral. Between being nearly hopeless, tired, and adult, none of us even knows how to be friends anymore. And our refusal to give up feels more like giving up every day. Maybe, just maybe, it would be different if people like you didn't just turn away from it all. Forgive me for being blunt," she would probably continue her rant, but she brushed her cup of tea with an impetuous gesture.

It fell to the floor and broke, scaring Crookshanks, who stormed out of the room. The interruption gave Hermione a chance to collect herself. She didn't mean to go too far, knowing there were no easy choices in their situation. In anyone's current situation. Still, it took some effort to get over the accumulated frustration.

For most people, the conversation could get unpleasant there. But of course, Sirius wasn't most people. He grinned widely, which completely threw Hermione off.

"Now, that's more like a woman I come looking for. To be clear, I'm aware that I've not come back for a lengthy retirement. I simply don't think that, in this case, anyone can fix the system from within. But I have something else in mind," he said.

Since Hermione appeared to be too deep in her head to do it, he took out his wand and fixed her cup.

"Thanks," she muttered, pouring fresh tea into it. "What do you mean?"

"Okay, I guess it is time to show my cards. One thing, please, hear me out until the end," the man realized that the plea would be challenging for Hermione.

Still, she nodded her head, allowing Sirius to pitch his idea, which was more of a story.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! It's my first Harry Potter story in years. And the first-ever in which I dare to do what I've always wanted - bring Sirius back and play with the idea of Draco Malfoy growing as his life circumstances finally improve. Have a lovely day, and I hope you stick around!