A/N/Warning: It's been a while since I've read the book. I could possibly have written some things wrong. This is also flash fiction written for a challenge.
The halls had scorch marks. Harry supposed after being compromised, that it could have been a lot worse, though maybe he just hadn't gotten to the worst part yet. He wasn't even sure why he was there, especially at 3 AM when everyone else was sleeping. His footsteps fell loudly to his ears in a place where everything except a distant familiar scream was silent.
He had already gone up the first floor and the second. What he was searching for he didn't know. The place had a fine new layer of dust and he wouldn't be surprised if some new creatures moved in or old ones back in. Regardless, he kept moving, his feet seemed to know where he was going even if Harry didn't.
Grimmauld Place, he hadn't been back here since they had to leave it months ago. If anyone had been there or tried to stay there, he didn't see any signs of it. Other than the patches of scorch marks and the occasional newly broken item there were no signs that anyone else had been there or that others had found it. Up and up he went, passing Walburga's room and ending up on the fourth floor.
"Oh," Harry said, suddenly realizing where he was going right before he opened the door. Sirius' room, full of Gryffindor banners, motorcycles and bikini-clad women. The dust was even thicker here than everywhere else, he doubted if Kreacher ever forgave Sirius. The room was musty but it didn't stop Harry from sitting down on Sirius' bed and letting out a plume of dust into the air visible with the light he had just turned on.
Harry swallowed harshly as he looked at all the pictures and banners on the wall. Something settled pressing on his chest. A room left abandoned for years, without an occupant.
As he scanned the room, again and again, Harry could almost imagine a 15-year-old Sirius kicking up his feet on the bed and smirking at the walls. Sometimes, he wished he had known him back then, other times he remembered that Sirius's antics weren't always altruistic.
Still, he missed him. Sometimes the grief was soft, like a persistent dull pain you could almost ignore if you weren't thinking about it. Other times it was sharper, more gnawing
Imagining his godfather, and how shortly he knew him. How much Harry wished he had asked more questions. How much he wished he was able to spend more time with him. Most of the time he didn't like to think about it but early morning hours like this crept up sometimes, though this was the first time he had returned.
The room slowly filled with more natural light and Harry took a look at the time. The Weasley's would worry if they noticed he was gone and they would soon if he didn't return if they hadn't already. Sleeping wasn't coming for everyone the way that it used to.
He realized that he had slumped until he was almost laying down over time and tried to straighten up only for the comforter to pull a little more than intended and causing him to fall down on the floor.
Dust shot into the air again filled his lungs and caused him to cough once and then again for good measure. He put his hands out to push himself back up when he stopped.
He spotted a yellowed item under the bed. Cautiously, he moved the comforter knowing the sort of creatures that took residence in this house. He slid along his stomach with an arm outstretched inching towards the yellowed item until his fingers finally found purchase and pulled himself out.
The item in question was a piece of paper folded into quarters. Harry unfolded it carefully, trying not to expect much. It was probably a random sheet of paper or an old homework assignment. However, he stilled momentarily as he realized what it was.
A letter. He had a letter in his hand and a brief glance at the end and the word Prongs, and Padfoot at the beginning, meant that this was probably a letter from his father to Sirius.
Padfoot! This one is a good one. I know you're going to say, I'm nutters, but I know this one will work. We sneak into the kitchens before everyone wakes up. We have the house elves make 50 chocolate chip pancakes and put James and Lily on every single one in whipped scream and then we head back up the Great Hall and see Lily's reaction. Now I know what you're thinking but I know that Marlene was telling me the truth. I've seen Lily eat pancakes. I know that this time it will work! Oh and can't wait to see you in two weeks!
Prongs.
It was a rather short note but Harry found himself smiling as he imagined his Dad and Sirius scheming in the kitchen feverishly and messily putting whipped cream on dozens of pancakes, whether or not it actually happened, all to try to catch his mother's eye. From the context, it seemed like it was probably too early to actually be effective but eventually, it would be reciprocated. He still missed Sirius and now his Dad and Mum even more but where before there had only been grief there was a little bit of light and joy in finding this little lost piece of his father and godfather in their childhood.
