The first owl arrived over breakfast.

Lily Evans was stirring sugar into her cup of tea while her older sister, Petunia, nibbled on a bit of buttered toast. There was a soft hooting sound, and the owl swooped in through the open window, an envelope clutched in its talons. It landed with a clatter, nearly knocking over the vase of dahlias that sat in the middle of the table.

Lily had barely steadied the vase before two more owls soared in. One joined the first atop the table and the other perched on the back of Petunia's chair.

Petunia stiffened. Her expression soured.

"Tuney —" said Lily, but it was too late.

"Birds," spat Petunia, much the same way one would say 'cockroaches'. "Birds in the jam." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

"Did I hear somebody say 'birds'?" Lily's mother poked her head into the kitchen. A paisley handkerchief pulled her wiry copper hair away from her face, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth that belied her age. "Oh, but that is more than usual! What's the occasion, Lily?"

One of the owls let out an offended hoot as Lily pulled the plate of toast out from under its talons. "Erm, O.W.L. results, I think," she said. "Wizarding O-levels."

"You people have O-levels?" asked Petunia, wrinkling her nose.

"Tuney, don't say 'you people'," reprimanded her mother. "It isn't polite." She took a seat beside Lily and stroked the nearest owl with a finger.

Petunia crossed her arms. "You always take her side. There are bird droppings on the table and you're getting angry at me."

"Well," said Lily, "if you weren't so rude about everything —" Her mother shot her a sharp glance and she broke off, scowling.

"I didn't want breakfast anyway," muttered Petunia. She turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs.

Lily's mum watched Petunia leave, still stroking the owl absentmindedly. "I'll bring her more toast later."

"I'd just as soon let her starve."

"Lily," said her mother sternly. "Be good. It's hard for her to be your sister."

"Yeah, and it's hard for me to be her sister."

"Try to be kind to her," said her mother.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"I saw that, young lady. Your sister will come around. Be patient with her."

"Why should I? She's horrible."

"All the more reason to be patient," said her mother. "Does Petunia seem like a happy person to you?"

"I dunno," said Lily sullenly.

Her mum tickled the owl's belly, and it flapped its wings delightedly. "Petunia compares herself to you and feels inferior."

"I don't see why. We're completely different, she shouldn't —"

"But she does. And can you blame her? You have always had many talents, even as a child, and you're a witch to boot. You are gifted in ways she will never be. It makes her feel ordinary."

"That's not fair, though," said Lily. "I didn't ask to be magical. It just happened."

"Petunia didn't ask to be who she is, either," said her mother.

"Well, she could afford to be a little nicer about it," said Lily.

Her mother smiled, and the soft lines around her eyes grew deeper. "Tuney might not show it, but she loves you. You two will grow out of this quarrelsome phase."

Lily snorted. "I highly doubt —"

"Shall we open your letters?" said her mother. She stopped tickling the owl long enough to remove a thick, cream-coloured envelope from its beak and offer it to Lily.

Lily bit back a retort. She was quite certain Petunia would always hate her, if the previous sixteen years were anything to go by. But she'd had this argument with her mum before, and they never got anywhere.

"Yeah, alright," said Lily at last. She took the envelope and slit it open. Inside was a heavy piece of parchment.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Lily Evans has achieved:

Ancient Runes - O

Arithmancy - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - A

Potions - E

Transfiguration - E

"Ancient Runes, outstanding," read Lily's mother over her shoulder. "Arithmancy, outstanding. Astronomy… Charms… Lily, this is fantastic. You've really worked hard, haven't you?"

Lily smiled as her mother embraced her. "Yeah, I have."

"You got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, though," said her mother, pulling back and frowning at the letter. "That's like getting a 'B', isn't it? I thought Potions was your favourite subject?"

"Oh," said Lily. Her cheeks grew hot. "Yeah, it is. It's just — d'you remember how Sev and I had a falling out? It's sort of… related to that."

"I never liked that boy," said her mother, which made Lily laugh, because it was blatantly untrue. Her mum had always been fond of Severus, right up until Lily had told her they were no longer mates, at which point her mum had done a complete and total about-face on her opinion of anyone with the last name 'Snape'.

"Well," continued her mum, "an E is still nothing to sneeze at! We ought to celebrate, get you something nice. What would you like?"

"Ice cream," said Lily at once. It was only half past ten but the kitchen was already warm.

Her mum laughed. "I can get you something better than ice cream! What about a new wand? Do witches outgrow their wands?"

"Witches need ice cream," said Lily firmly. "Especially if it's going to be as hot as yesterday, I think I'm sweating already…" She reached towards the jam jar, where one of the owls had deposited its envelope, and pulled the letter out by its corner.

"More post from Hogwarts?" asked her mum.

Lily wiped the jam off the envelope and squinted at the return address, which was now slightly blurred. "This one's from my friend Marlene, I think."

Inside the envelope was a bit of parchment, accompanied by a clipping from the Daily Prophet.

Lily,

Tell me it's not as hot in the Midlands as it is in Scotland — never thought I'd look forward to a Hogwarts winter, but there you are.

Don't know if you've been following Wizarding politics but I thought you'd find this article from the Prophet interesting. Something to keep an eye on, at least.

Write soon, stay safe, and buy me a few Muggle records while you're in Cokeworth, will you? Whatever's popular, I'm not picky. Will pay you back on the train.

— Marlene

PS. Have you got your O.W.L. results yet? Mine came last week. Did very well — McGonagall's even set me up an Auror apprenticeship!

Lily set the letter down, smiling. She and Marlene fundamentally disagreed about what could be considered interesting; an article on Wizarding politics sounded about as dull as Professor Binns' lessons. All the same, she examined the clipping from the Daily Prophet, which had a purple stain in the corner from the jam.

Caradoc Dearborn Proposes Latest Muggle-Centric Decree

Caradoc Dearborn, controversial Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, has brought forward a new bill to the House of Mages. This proposed 'Muggle-born Protection Act' would provide additional layers of security for non-magical members of the wizarding community.

"It is my hope that the Muggle-Born Protection Act will bring a halt to the targeted attacks and disappearances that have plagued wizarding Britain of late," Dearborn told the Daily Prophet. "Half-bloods, Squibs and Muggle-borns and their families must be protected at all costs, and with the full force of the Ministry."

Dearborn became a household name in the '60s, after his Muggle wife suffered a gruesome death — allegedly at the hands of the Knights of Walpurgis, though no charges were ever brought to the Wizengamot. Since then, his single-minded focus on Muggle rights has seen mixed success over the years, and many of his detractors hold that the well-being of Muggles falls outside the scope of the Ministry of Magic.

His previous proposal, the overly-ambitious Squib Rights Act, suffered a crushing defeat in the House of Mages. When asked if this new decree might undergo a similar fate, Dearborn declined to comment.

Lily examined the picture that accompanied the article. A massive, broad-shouldered man was scowling as he climbed the steps to the Ministry of Magic, swatting reporters away with a hand. Instead of the usual Ministry robes, he wore a crisply-tailored suit.

"Is that man a wizard?" asked her mum. "Odd that he's wearing a suit, isn't it?"

"The article makes him sound a bit eccentric," said Lily. She slid the clipping back into its envelope before her mother could read it. She'd never told her mum how bad the situation in the wizarding world was getting, and she wasn't about to start now.

The last owl, still perched on Petunia's vacant chair, gave a soft hoot and extended its leg, where a roll of parchment was tied.

"Another letter from a friend?" asked Lily's mum as Lily undid the string holding the parchment to the owl's leg.

"This one's from Hogwarts, I think," said Lily. The scroll was sealed with red wax bearing the Hogwarts crest. Her mum peered over her shoulder as Lily unfurled the parchment. Hopefully this letter was less controversial than the last.

Miss Evans,

Professor McGonagall has informed me of the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, as well as your interest in becoming a Healer. If you are still interested in pursuing Healing as a career, I would like to extend to you the offer of an apprenticeship for this upcoming school year. You can expect to learn the basics of Healing, including the treatment of minor injuries and the dosing and application of simple Healing potions.

If you find this arrangement agreeable, please send a reply via owl at your earliest convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H. (Registered Mediwitch, Board Certified Healer)

"Healing — is that like nursing?" asked her mum.

"Sort of," said Lily. "It's a bit like being a doctor, too. There aren't really nurses or doctors in the Wizarding World, though. They have a different hierarchy."

"My daughter, a Healer," said her mother, pulling Lily into a hug. "I am so proud of you, Lily!"

Lily buried her face in her mum's tangle of hair. Her mother always smelled sweet, like honeysuckle. For a moment, Lily felt as if she were five years old again, utterly safe and full of love. Her throat tightened. "I wish dad were here for this."

Her mother drew her arms tighter around Lily. "He'd be telling everyone we know that his daughter got 9 O.W.L.s."

Tears pricked Lily's eyes, and she smiled into her mum's shoulder. "He'd be breaking the Statute of Secrecy left and right, then."

"And he wouldn't care one bit." Lily's mum pulled back, the corners of her eyes red. She reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind Lily's ear. "It's a quarter to eleven. Shall we go to the ice cream parlour?"

Lily grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

James Potter was practising Quidditch manoeuvres on his Comet 260 in the back garden of his parents' summer home in Norfolk when the handle of his broomstick began to vibrate.

James swung himself upright and paused, listening. A low growl rumbled through the air. It sounded like the engines of the aeroplanes Muggles flew, but the sky was clear, save for the occasional fluffy cloud.

The rumble grew louder and louder until it was thunderous, resonating through James' chest. He squinted; a dark blur was streaking over the trees at the edge of his parents' property, barreling towards him.

James pulled down on the handle of his broomstick and dove forward just as the shape roared over his head, black exhaust billowing behind it. The contraption — some sort of large, metal broomstick? — landed in the grass with a thump and skidded to a halt. Its rider bent to kiss its handlebars and dismounted, raising a hand towards James in greeting.

James touched down on the grass, his mouth open. "Sirius?"

"The one and only," said Sirius. He pushed back his hair, which was badly tangled. "How're things, Prongs?"

"Er — fine," said James. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "I sort of burnt all my bridges at Grimmauld Place. Long story. Been living as Padfoot for"—he cocked his head, calculating—"a week or so? Hard to tell when you're a dog. Anyway. Been getting hungry, and your mum makes those incredible dumplings, so…"

"Ah," said James. Upon closer inspection, Sirius looked thinner than usual, and there appeared to be a mixture of dirt and dried blood smeared across his face. "Er, you sure you're alright, mate?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm great," Sirius' gaze roved somewhat maniacally over the lawn. "Just need a place to store Elvendork, here…"

"Elvendork?"

Sirius grinned wolfishly, looking suddenly more like himself. "The bike. Also known as the love of my life."

"Some name, Elvendork."

"It's unisex," said Sirius with a wink.

James laughed and clapped Sirius on the back. "I'm sure we've got plenty of room for Elvendork. How about some dumplings, eh?"

They burst into the kitchen, where an impressive array of food was already displayed on the table. There were dumplings — several kinds, in fact — along with banana crisps, rice, and several vegetable dishes. Euphemia Potter, James' mum, was at the sink, washing up.

"Look who came to visit, Mum!" said James as he slid into a chair at the table.

James' mum smiled and set her dishrag atop the counter. If she was surprised to see Sirius, she didn't show it. "Sirius Orion Black. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Pleasure's all mine," replied Sirius, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you for the dumplings."

"Lottie told me you were coming," said James' mum, referring to the family house-elf. "She sensed you flying over Essex and mentioned you might be hungry."

"That's an understatement," said Sirius. He took a seat at the table and helped himself to an entire plate of dumplings. "Thanks, Mrs Potter. Seriously."

The lines around Euphemia Potter's mouth turned downward into a frown as she watched Sirius wolf down the dumplings. "Sirius," she said gently. "What happened?"

Sirius stopped chewing just long enough to make eye contact with her. "Nuffing," he said around a mouthful of food. "'M fine—"

He broke off as a handsome barn owl soared into the kitchen and landed gracefully on the perch beside the table. Tied to its leg was a thick envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes wide. "Is that —"

"Ickle Potter's O.W.L. results?" finished Sirius. "Oh, this'll be good." He set down his fork and swiped the letter from the owl's leg.

James flung himself across the table, knocking over the bowl of banana crisps in an effort to wrestle the envelope out of Sirius' hands, but it was no use. Sirius tipped his chair back on its legs, out of James' reach, and opened the envelope.

"Ordinary Wizarding Level Results," Sirius read aloud. "Are you ready for this, Mrs Potter? 'James Potter has achieved'… Hmm…" He scanned the parchment for a minute before tossing it in James' direction. "All O's except an E in Muggle Studies and a P in History of Magic. Not bad, Prongs! Reckon I'll have you beat, though. Think they know I'm staying here?" Sirius peered out the window hopefully, craning his neck.

"I can't believe I got an E in Muggle Studies," said James. He glanced at the parchment before handing it off to his mum. "I actually tried on that one."

"Yeah, well," said Sirius, "you've proven more than once you can't tell a phone box from a lift, so..."

"I'm more immersed in Muggle culture than you, at least, Scion of the House of Black," retorted James. Sirius winced, and James immediately regretted the joke. "Erm — I mean —"

"Nah, it's a fair point," said Sirius, returning to his food. "I had a very enlightening summer, though." He glanced at James' mum, who was headed to the drawing room with James' O.W.L. results, Lottie the house-elf trailing her heels. Sirius lowered his voice and continued. "My parents caught me, er, studying a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

James stared at Sirius. "You didn't."

"Sure did."

"Was the Muggle an Elvendork or a Wilberforce?"

"Neither," said Sirius. "She was more of a Bathsheba, actually. That's her bike, out there." He jerked his head towards the garden, where the motorbike was leaning on its kickstand.

"I didn't know Muggles had personal flying machines," said James.

"Yeah, they don't," said Sirius. "That's kind of a… new feature for Elvendork. It didn't do that when Dorcas rode it."

"Dorcas," repeated James. Sirius gave a quick nod, his eyes on his plate. "You said your parents caught you with her. Did she get out alright?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "I told Kreacher to get her to safety, but her bike was still in the street when I left Grimmauld Place. I spent a while in London as Padfoot, trying to find her, but I couldn't even figure out where she lives." His eyes darkened. "I keep thinking — if Kreacher found a loophole… if he took her somewhere she shouldn't be…"

"I'm sure she's fine," said James. He tried to sound convincing, but the words rang hollow.

"Yeah," said Sirius dully. "Probably."

The Potter's summer home only had three bedrooms — one for Fleamont and Euphemia, one for James, and one for Lottie — so Sirius assumed he'd be staying with James. That evening, however, Fleamont Potter Apparated onto the doorstep, embraced Sirius (who froze as if he'd been Petrified, despite himself) and summarily Transfigured the closet next to James' room into a fourth bedroom. The next day, Sirius woke to find several fine sets of robes hanging neatly in the wardrobe, and Lottie admitted she'd gone shopping. Euphemia cooked him a full English breakfast, and afterwards he and James went outside to practice Quidditch.

And so Sirius found himself settling into a new routine with a new family. James' parents were generous and kind, which was wonderful and only occasionally suffocating. They didn't seem to mind his moods, though. On the days he didn't leave his room, Lottie would place a plate of dumplings outside his door, and when he eventually emerged the Potters would act as if he had never shut himself away at all.

Strangely, Sirius' O.W.L. results didn't come his first week with the Potters, or the week after that. Before he knew it, he and James were taking a Portkey to King's Cross for the start of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and he still had no idea if he had achieved any passing marks on his O.W.L.s.

"Maybe Minnie wants to go over the results with you in person," said James, leaning casually against the barrier that separated Platform Nine and Three Quarters from the rest of King's Cross.

Sirius snorted and pushed his trunk through the barrier, not bothering to be subtle about it. "Doubt it. Bet you five Cauldron Cakes they sent my letter to Grimmauld Place. I almost wish I still lived there, if only for the look on my dear mum's face when she sees I got an O in Muggle Studies…"

"There's no way you got an O in Muggle Studies." James balanced his broomstick precariously atop his trunk as they pushed through the crowd. "I didn't even get an O, and I actually revised for that one."

"Bet you ten Cauldron Cakes I did."

"Done," said James, craning his neck as he looked around the crowded platform. "I don't see Moony or Pete anywhere. Reckon they're already on the train?"

Sirius shrugged and followed James onto the Hogwarts Express. After a few minutes of searching, they found Remus and Peter in the last compartment of the train.

"Alright, lads?" asked James, pulling open the door of the compartment. "Pete, you look bronzed! What happened? I thought you hated being outside!"

A flush bloomed across Peter's tanned skin. "My mum and I spent the summer in Spain. You would not believe how hot it gets there."

"If it was anything like England, I can imagine," said James. He slid into the seat beside Remus, who was paging through a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Anything good in there, Moony?"

"Yeah, actually," said Remus, holding the paper out to James. "You know Sally Dearborn, in the year above us? Her father made the front page, look…"

Sirius leaned forward to better view the article. Caradoc Dearborn's Decree Gains Support in the House of Mages, the headline read.

"Caradoc?" said Sirius. "Isn't he that madman whose Muggle wife was murdered? It was horrible, too, wasn't it, I remember my parents saying the Aurors found her nearly —"

"He's not a madman," said James. His eyes flicked back and forth across the paper as he skimmed the article. "Bit paranoid, maybe, but not mad. My dad works with him sometimes and says he's alright."

"They say he went funny after his wife died, though," said Peter. "Seeing Death Eaters everywhere. Didn't he send Sally away to some monastery in Asia for defence training until she was ten?"

"That's not true at all," said Remus. "I was a prefect with her last year and she's more normal than you'd think. A bit intense, but who wouldn't be? After her mum..."

"I still think her dad's a nutter," said Sirius.

James shrugged. "I think you'd like Dearborn, Pads, he's all about Muggle rights." He folded the paper and handed it back to Remus. "This Muggle-Born Act of his sounds like a good thing, doesn't it?"

"I'm not so sure," said Remus, whose skin was more sallow than Sirius remembered. Was the full moon close, or had he always been so pale, and Sirius had forgotten? "I think a program like that is an obvious target for What's-His-Name and his followers. If they manage to infiltrate it, they'll have easy access to the names and location of hundreds of Muggles with connections to the wizarding world."

"You're so gloomy, Moony," said James. "I'm sure Dearborn's thought of that. There's probably loads of precautions to prevent that from happening."

"Let's hope," said Remus darkly, tucking his copy of the Prophet into his trunk. "So what's new with you lot? Is the Potter country home still standing after this summer?"

"The house is in one piece," said James. "Not for lack of trying on our part, though, mind you."

"Our part?" repeated Peter. "You stayed with the Potters, then, Sirius? And we weren't invited?"

"You got it, Pete," said Sirius with a yawn. "We decided you two are a couple of boring tossers and we have more fun without you." He jostled Peter, who looked horrified. "Don't be an idiot, of course it wasn't like that. I just needed somewhere to stay after I got kicked out of the house, and the Potters took me in. That's all."

Remus frowned. "They kicked you out of Grimmauld Place?"

"Well," said Sirius, "it might be more accurate to say that it was a mutual parting of ways. They caught me, er, in a compromising position with a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

"Merlin's tits," said Peter. "I can't imagine that went over well."

Sirius lifted a shoulder, trying to seem nonchalant. "Whatever you're thinking's probably accurate."

"Are you alright, then, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, fine," said Sirius, glancing out the window. "It was a long time coming. I only wish I'd done it sooner, honestly."

Peter laughed, but Remus continued to watch Sirius, his brow wrinkled.

Sirius stretched one leg across the aisle to tap Remus on the foot. "Moony, if you don't stop worrying, your face is gonna get stuck like that, and then you'll have an ugly problem to go along with your furry one. I'm fine. Honestly." He bounded out of his seat and began to rummage in his pockets. "Anyway. Who wants something from the trolley? My treat."

He stepped into the corridor of the train after taking James and Peter's orders; Remus had insisted he was too nauseous for sweets. He closed the compartment door with rather more force than he'd intended and began to stride along the corridor, whistling.

There was a long queue for the trolley, and Sirius took his place at the end with a sigh. He hated waiting in queues. They made him fidget.

The queue moved slowly, and out of boredom Sirius began to peer into the surrounding compartments. The one to his left was packed so tightly with Hufflepuff second years that it resembled a tin of sardines, and the compartment on the right appeared to be for the fifth year prefects. Simon Ashworth, the Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was inside, chatting with —

Sirius whirled around abruptly, hoping the prefects hadn't seen. Regulus.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Regulus was looking straight at him, his expression unreadable. They stared at each other a moment before Sirius turned on his heel and pushed roughly past the other students in the queue as he stalked down the corridor.

There was a squelching sound behind him as the compartment door slid open, but Sirius didn't slow. He was nearly back to his compartment when a hand closed around his upper arm.

"We need to talk," said Regulus.

Sirius barked a laugh. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I'm sure you don't," said Regulus. His voice was smooth, but his hand trembled slightly as he let go of Sirius. "Regardless, I would like to speak to you."

Sirius made a show of checking his Muggle watch, angling it towards Regulus. "You have two minutes."

A flicker of annoyance passed over Regulus' face, but he dragged Sirius into an empty compartment. "Mother and Father saw you transform."

"Golly, I hadn't realized," said Sirius sarcastically. "Is that it? You're worried they'll report me for being an unregistered Animagus? Because if they do —"

"They're not going to report you," said Regulus.

Sirius blinked. "Oh. Well, good on them, I guess."

Regulus took a breath before responding. "They're not going to report you because their memories were modified."

Sirius stared at his brother. "Their… what? You — Merlin's mutilated —"

Regulus cut him off. "It wasn't intentional."

"Ah," said Sirius. "And here I thought you'd grown a pair of Bludgers for once. So what happened?"

"As soon as you left, they started to shout about reporting you to the Ministry. They were furious. I — I didn't know what to do. So I, er, Floo called Uncle Alphard —"

Sirius whistled. "You didn't."

"It wasn't on purpose!" said Regulus. He looked suddenly five years younger than he was. "He was the only person I could think of who could help — he's got ties to the Ministry, and unlike most of our relatives, he's not completely psychotic —"

"Yeah," said Sirius, "but don't pretend like you didn't consider that Obliviation would be the most likely outcome after getting him involved. I mean…"

"Well, I wasn't certain that's what he'd do! He could have —"

"He's a bloody Obliviator, Reg! His entire job is to make people forget things, don't act as if you didn't —"

"I told you, I wasn't thinking!" said Regulus, beginning to sound panicked. "I didn't know… I just…"

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the luggage rack. "So how much did they forget?"

"Most — most of what happened," said Regulus. "Everything about you being an Animagus. And everything about the Muggle girl."

"And Kreacher?"

Regulus looked away, his expression pained. "Uncle Alphard Obliviated him, too."

"Good," said Sirius. "One less thing for me to worry about."

Regulus' lips pressed into a line, as if he wanted to retort but thought better of it. "It had to be done. They weren't going to stop at just reporting you. They were angling for Azkaban."

Sirius swore. "Those bloody psychopaths."

"They could have done it, too," said Regulus. "You did use your Animagus form to maul a high-ranking Ministry official."

"Oh, yeah," said Sirius. "The bloke with the creepy mask. Well, I hadn't exactly planned to do that. It just happened. Animal instinct, you know. Whatever happened to him?"

"Uncle Alphard modified his memory as well before taking him to St. Mungo's. Animagus wounds are magical, you know, so he was able to tell them it was a chimaera bite and they couldn't tell the difference."

"Good lord, Reg," said Sirius. "You really did me a favour."

Regulus almost looked like he wanted to smile. "Don't get used to it."

Sirius grabbed onto the luggage rack as the train took a sharp turn."I dunno, Reg. The Potters have plenty of spare rooms at their house. They always wanted a big family, you know."

"Sirius," said Regulus, exasperation creeping into his voice, "I can't. Now that you're gone, it's on me to be the heir —"

"That's not true and you know it," said Sirius. "It's been on you since I was sorted into Gryffindor."

Regulus swayed a bit as the train straightened its course. "That's why you can't expect me to do something like this again for you."

"I still don't understand why you can't just give them the two-fingered salute —"

"I wouldn't expect you to," snapped Regulus. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know that you're not going to be arrested and fed to the dementors. For now."

"And I appreciate that," said Sirius as Regulus made to leave the compartment. "I'll be sure to send Uncle Alphard a thank-you card."

Regulus paused at the door. "You're your own worst enemy, Sirius. You know that, right?"

"Our parents have drilled that into me since I was eleven," said Sirius casually. "Thanks for the reminder, though."

Regulus closed the compartment door gently behind him. Sirius waited a minute before exiting the compartment as well. He slammed the door so hard that the glass shattered, littering the floor with jagged shards.

All that trouble, and he still didn't have any sweets from the trolley.