It Only Takes A Drop of Blood

Chapter 6: Orders and Diaries

Harry fully intended to ask Sirius for more information but Mrs. Weasley, probably knowing what Harry wanted to do, kept a beady eye on all of them for the next week. The whole lot of them were pushed into cleaning the house, most likely to keep them occupied and out of mischief. But the Weasley matriarch was even more effective at keeping them from spying on the Order.

The house was a beehive of activity for the resistance movement and members would enter and leave at all hours of the day. Often, they would linger in the hallway or the kitchen, discussing all their secrets in a bare whisper.

The one time he had managed to slip away from Mrs. Weasley, Harry had crouched near the stairs to try and catch snippets of the conversation. Unfortunately, his best friend's mother caught on quickly and roped him back into the infested rooms for another go before he could hear anything important.

"What'd you hear mate?" Ron asked quietly, leaning his head slightly towards Harry as they pulled items out of a cabinet in the drawing room. His best friend frowned at a silver cup that looked like it must have once contained blood before he chucked it over his shoulder.

"Rubbish," Harry practically growled as he yanked out an ornately-carved wooden box. "Your mum found me before I could get anything good. Tonks was whispering something to another witch—Emmeline, I think her name was?—but I couldn't hear her over Kingsley. He was telling Sirius about how he got a load of Aurors to ransack an abandoned toy store for Sirius. Someone had rigged all the plush toys to attack intruders. Was pretty funny apparently."

Ron huffed exasperatedly and chucked yet another silver-what's-it. "Rotten luck. Have you had a chance to talk to Sirius yet? Maybe he'll tell us something."

Harry shook his head and grabbed for a silver locket that was just out of reach. "Not yet. Every time I try to talk to him, someone has something for one of us to do. It's a conspiracy." He exchanged a frustrated look with Ron.

"You'd think that they would know better by now," Ron said absently. "They lock us in this ruddy place with nothing to do but clean and do homework, and then wave this gigantic big secret and say, you don't get to know what it is; it's like begging us to just go and snoop! And with the three of us, you'd really think that they would know better than to give us that temptation."

"That's a very good point, Ron," Hermione said, out of nowhere. Both boys jumped as they hadn't seen her sit next to them. "Honestly, aside from the danger of Death Eaters, what have we got here that we couldn't get at home?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. But this keeping us out of it for our 'own good' is rubbish. Why won't they just listen to me?"

He sighed, turning a silver locket over in his hand. It had a snake on the front, curved into a S-shape. He tried opening it but the lid wouldn't budge. Harry grunted, trying to pry it loose without success.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Some sort of locket," Harry said, trying one more time. "I can't get it open."

"Here, let me try," Ron offered, holding out a freckled and dirty hand. Harry passed it over, but Ron seemed to have less luck than him.

"It's probably charmed or something," Hermione suggested, holding out a hand. "Maybe Mrs. Weasley could open it?"

"Nah," Harry said, taking the locket from Ron. "I'm just going to chuck it. It's probably empty anyway."

"Probably is," Sirius offered from behind him. "It looks like something my brother had once," he said from afar. "He probably left it here before he died. I'd just chuck it, if I were you."

Harry threw it into the growing pile of discarded goblets, jewelry and knick-knacks that had been hiding in the cabinet.

Sirius eased himself down beside the teenagers and looked into their faces. "I know what you want," he said suddenly. "And I really do believe that you are right in wanting to know. But I'm not allowed to tell you." He gave Harry a regretful smile. "Dumbledore's orders for you, Harry and Hermione, and your mum's for you Ron."

Harry scowled and looked at his fingers. They were long and black grease coated his finger tips like oily slime. The rubbish had definitely made his hands dirty.

Sirius had paused for a moment but his hoarse voice brought Harry's head up again. "Everyone else wants you to just enjoy the next year and focus on school. I know that's not what you're concerned about and it's no fun to be told to keep your nose clean. But that's what you need to do. Stay out of trouble," he said quietly.

Harry shrugged and nodded slowly with his friends, outwardly showing only regret. Inside, he was glaring, fuming and yelling curses at his godfather, the Order and Dumbledore. He was so sick of their molly-coddling!

Sirius left, dully accepting the teenagers' responses, knowing that his little speech made no difference. They were still going to do whatever they could to find out as much as they could. He let a small grin creep on his face. Good for them.

Harry bit his lip as he craned his head around the corner. His eyes swiveled left and right, quickly determining that no one was around. He padded to the second door on his left, wincing at the loud creaks and moans that the floorboards made when he accidentally trod on a weak spot. At last, he eased the door open, edged his way in and shut the door.

Harry turned and sighed. The dusty smell of old, moldy books and dark, dirty corners shot up his nose as he gazed around the library. He hurriedly walked through the stacks, looking for something that might give him information on magical travel. Muttering absently to himself, Harry grew more and more panicked as he came up with nothing. Just as he was about to give up hope of ever finding something, he stumbled upon a small collection of five books that had "Travel" in their titles.

Three were books on time travel (How to Curse Your Enemies Before They Are Born: An Exercise of Time Travel) and another was on magic carpet spells (Carpet Travel Made Easy). But the last one sounded plausible. It was titled, Magical Transportation for Trolls, and sounded like the very book Harry needed.

Pulling it off the shelf, he quickly thumbed to the index, glancing down the list of topics to find the one that he needed. There! A grin stretched across his face in victory. He tucked the book in the crook of his arm and snuck back out of the library. There would be hell to pay if he was caught in here unsupervised and Harry wasn't willing to tempt fate for too long.

It wasn't until he was safely in his and Ron's room, that he cracked open the book to find the section he needed.

Portkeys are made using the spell Portus (POR-tus), which is performed by pointing your wand at the object for enchantment and saying the spell while imagining the destination clearly. If the charm is done correctly, the object will glow blue and shake for a moment before it settles down. Typically, Portus is used for single-trip travel, as the object needs to be re-charmed before it can be used again. However, by using the spell Portus Redeunt (POR-tus re-DE-unt) and thinking of first the destination and then the departure point, the castor may charm the object to make a return journey. The number of journeys made before the charm needs to be re-done depends on the strength of the charm and the castor.

The Department of Magical Transportation's Portkey Office regulates and monitors the creation and use of Portkeys in Magical Britain. Portkeys are typically made from Muggle rubbish (objects on the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects), as decreed in 1934, to prevent the use of Portkeys by Muggles. One such incident that resulted in the formation of this law, was the sudden appearance of a Muggle pickpocket in the Minister of Magic's bath when he picked the pocket of a Ministry Liaison Officer.

Portkeys have been used in transportation for large events such as the Quidditch World Cup and were once used for transport for underage wizards to Hogwarts, after the imposition of the Statue of Secrecy in 1692. This practice did not continue because, for one reason, a third of students missed or could not locate their Portkeys and, secondly, many children were overcome with hysteria and nausea.

Harry copied down the bit about the spells and closed the book. Thinking it over, he had realized that the only logical way to travel to a Muggle hospital while he was at Hogwarts, was by Portkey.

He couldn't Apparate or Floo from the castle and he couldn't sneak to Hogsmeade every week to do it either, as that would be too noticeable. For similar reasons, he couldn't take the Knight Bus as he'd be recognized on such a regular route and it would be dangerous with Voldemort out there. Muggle transportation was out as there were no trains or buses anywhere near Hogwarts or Hogsmeade.

Therefore, the only logical method was to make a Portkey. If he created one in Hogwarts, it probably wouldn't be detected and with the second spell, he could avoid more Underage Wizardry notices.

The only flaw with his plan lay in the next three weeks. Because the Order had prematurely seized him from the Dursleys, Harry had lost the anonymity that his relatives had given him. As a result, he would have to figure out a way to get around the Order, Mrs. Weasley, Sirius and his friends for three to four hours without getting caught. While on lockdown.

Harry groaned and flopped back onto his bed. The mattress's springs dug slightly into his bony back. He had lost weight over the last few months but it wasn't as obvious to Harry before his flight to Grimmauld Place. This summer had been less taxing than most, as he didn't have as many chores at the Dursleys and ate more food, thanks to his wages at the hospital. His growth spurt had given an excuse for the pinched and unhealthy look that was common for growing teenage boys. His past experiences with the food-related punishments his relatives meted out and the little time he spent looking in the mirror had given Harry little reason to see anything different about this summer.

Of course, that didn't keep Mrs. Weasley from trying to stuff him with food as often as she could. Harry didn't think it was humanly possible to have a hollow leg, but with the number of servings she gave him, he would have to develop one just to hide it all. Luckily, Ron had enough legs for the two of them, as Harry had so far been able to shove food on his friend's plate when Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking. Sirius had caught him in the act a few times and nearly choked laughing at Harry's mournful look when Molly filled his plate for a fourth time.

Shoving the thick text under his bed—he'd return it later—Harry went to his trunk and pulled out his mother's diary. He'd been steadily reading the leather bound books and had arrived at his birth in no time. His mother's handwriting had improved as she got older and her entries grew longer, especially after she had started dating his father. Harry relished the bits he learned about his parents, like how his dad had taken Divination and Muggle Studies up through fifth year and how his mum liked the color purple even though it clashed with her hair color.

Harry flopped back on the bed and cracked open the book. Mrs. Weasley had given the rest of them the afternoon off while she and some of the other adults in the house removed the curses and hexes from some dangerous objects they found in one of the spare bedrooms. She didn't want them cleaning, just in case, so off they went. Hermione was helping Ron do some of his summer homework, some that Harry had already finished, so he had been given some time alone—something that was incredibly hard to find in Grimmauld Place.

This had given him the opportunity to sneak into the Black Library as well as finish his mother's diaries. As he got steadily closer to 31 October, 1981, he was both apprehensive and curious to know what had happened when his parents were in hiding.

So Harry read. Most of the entries were about him and his father and all of the things his mother did to keep busy in their little cottage. His mother had stuck small photographs of the three of them in her diary, one particular one documented his first steps. Harry wistfully watched as his younger self stumbled into his father's waiting arms and was then hugged warmly by the man with messy hair and glasses. Another of his favorites had him 'helping' his mum bake cookies with flour in his hair and on his nose.

Focusing on the entries, Harry frowned as he read several entries in March of his parents' last year.

13 March, 1981

I woke up this morning feeling ill, so James occupied Harry downstairs while I slept. I don't feel much better, even though I've spent the whole day in bed, but hopefully I'll be able to get up tomorrow. James is not the best housekeeper and the last time I was away from home for a few days, the house was a pigsty when I returned!

Anyway, James promised to bring Harry up to see me before he goes down for the evening, so I'll be able to kiss my baby goodnight. He's been such a darling for his daddy all day and I hope that our luck will hold out when it comes to bedtime.

-Lily

17 March, 1981

I am still feeling unwell after four days and James is incredibly worried. I have been feeling slightly better in the mornings, but find myself in bed again by the late afternoon as my energy drops. He wants me to see a Healer at St. Mungo's but we both know that leaving the house while in hiding is dangerous, especially to go to a high-profile place such as a hospital. I'm sure this is just a Muggle flu or something. James panics easily.

James has been doing a wonderful job with the house, something I never imagined possible. He's definitely using magic, Vanishing Charms were always his specialty, but as long as the house is clean, I don't mind. Harry's been fussing more often as he's missing me. I don't want to get him ill but I do miss playing with my baby.

-Lily

25 March, 1981

I am feeling much better now and have been spending the whole day out of bed for a few days now, to James' relief, but I've kept quiet about how tired I feel all the time. I haven't been very hungry and I've lost some weight but most of that was post-baby fat anyway. I don't want James to worry but I am concerned that this is something more serious than the flu. If I don't feel better soon, I'll have to risk going to St. Mungo's.

-Lily

1 April, 1981

James is always a nightmare on April Fool's Day. He charmed my hair to match my eyes and gave Harry a clown nose. Thankfully, he isn't as outlandish as he was back in school, but I worry about the day when Harry grows up enough to wield a wand. His father will have him charming robes pink before he can levitate a feather!

Harry and I spent a lovely afternoon baking scones. He loves playing with the flour and, of course, eating the scones! Just like his father! I had to get James to do the washing just to get him out of the kitchen while the scones cooled. If I didn't, he would have eaten the whole tray before Harry and I got even one.

Sirius, Remus and Peter will be visiting soon, according to Sirius, as they haven't seen us in almost two months. I'm just glad that I am over that bug from last month or I wouldn't have the energy to keep up with the four of them and Harry. Thank goodness they didn't come today or I really would have lost my mind with all the Marauders on April Fool's Day!

-Lily

His mother had been ill? It sounded a little too familiar to be comfortable. Continuing on, he found little to worry about until he came to July 15th, two weeks before his first birthday.

15 July, 1981

I've been feeling off for a week or so but today I couldn't get out of bed. James has been worried because I'm running a slight fever but I'm sure it's just because I'm run down. Perhaps I caught what Remus had the last time he visited? I'm quite tired, so I think I'll finish this for today.

-Lily

20 July, 1981

I don't think I have Remus' cold. My fever's gone but I'm still feeling weak and my joints ache an awful lot. I've also got these nasty bruises on my back, but I have no idea where they came from. James has been run ragged trying to care for me, Harry and the house. Harry was colic-y last night and no one got much sleep. James's old school things are all over the room, as he gutted his trunk to find something new to amuse Harry with. I barely have the energy to lift my wand, let alone help clean up the mess. We're both worried but with the threat of Voldemort growing, it might be too dangerous to leave the house.

There is talk of a traitor in the Order, Remus said, and people are pointing fingers at each other. James is worried, I can tell, but now that Harry's asleep for the day, I hope that he can get some as well.

He's returning to bed, so I'll nap with him.

-Lily

23 July, 1981

I'm feeling stronger than before and can stay awake for longer, but I still find myself retiring to bed for a few hours in the afternoon. James and I discussed St. Mungo's but I convinced him to wait for another week or so. This could be something similar to what I had back in March and I'm sure it will go away soon.

Harry is doing much better and James is eagerly planning his birthday party. Sirius, Remus and Peter all are invited and I'll bake a cake on the 30th. James hasn't had much of a chance to buy him gifts, but Sirius promised to do the shopping for us, so James is preparing it. I've also added some sensible toys to it but I'm afraid that we are probably spoiling Harry a bit too much. The list is already 10 items long! But I don't want Harry to miss out on a lovely birthday and because of the Fidelius, we haven't had much opportunity to buy him new toys in the last six months.

There is another thing that has been worrying me. When Harry had that bout of colic, I picked up an old deck of Tarot cards that James had left lying around. I was a bit sick of reading, so I was just doing Tarot readings for the fun of it, but something odd kept coming up. Every time I did a reading, the cards were always the same! No matter what I did, no matter how often I shuffled, I would get the same cards. I thought that James might have charmed them but he said he hadn't. I don't believe in all that Divination rot but maybe this is something worth looking into…

I should probably go and check that James hasn't put a broomstick on the list, as he's been wanting to buy one since Harry was born!

-Lily

1 August, 1981

A lot has happened since I last wrote an entry.

Harry's birthday was lovely even though the boys couldn't come. Something came up with the Order and so it was just us and Bathilda, who was quite a dear. My boy just loved his presents and Sirius gave him a toy broomstick that he absolutely adored. He nearly killed the cat and managed to smash that horrid vase from Petunia.

James has been restless again, even though Peter came to visit last weekend while I was ill. They had a good time together, but I can tell that James misses being outside this house. If only Dumbledore would return his cloak… then perhaps James wouldn't be so anxious. We'd also be able to make a trip to St. Mungo's for me.

I've been feeling off still and I'm worried. My hands have started shaking and I am constantly running a temperature. I can barely eat anything and I've lost a lot of weight. Peter remarked on it when he visited but James told him I've been ill.

I've looked into that Tarot card reading and I'm afraid that I might know what's going to happen. The cards say that I'm dying. That I will die soon, within weeks. Now, it all sounds like rubbish and maybe I'm just paranoid because I'm scared but something tells me that it's the truth.

The cards also say something else but I'm not sure what they mean. There's going to be an attack, I think, in another few months and two people will die then. I'm not sure what it all means but I've told James. Maybe he will understand it, as he actually took Divination.

Diary, I worry about our future. What's going to happen to us? Will we survive this war?

Just in case, I've started gathering a trunk together. I'm putting some things in it for Harry, just in case something happens to me or to James. I've told him about it as well, so I'm sure he'll put some letters in. We haven't written wills but Sirius knows what is to be done in case something happens to us and I know he'll handle it if the time comes.

Peter told us that the Order thinks the spy is in our group. Sirius and Peter think it's Remus but I can't believe that any of our friends would side with Voldemort! I know he hasn't been around that much but that's no excuse to doubt Remus.

I should go, Harry's crying and I think James is probably too exhausted to get him.

-Lily

That was the last entry. Harry flipped the remaining pages and looked around for more but couldn't find anything. A chill ran down his spine and he swallowed thickly. He had a horrible feeling that he knew what happened to his mother. Rooting around in the trunk, he pulled out the letters. Maybe his dad wrote something there…

Finding the oldest one, Harry started reading. The first two letters were started around his first birthday and were light-hearted. The third letter was harder to read. Harry's throat constricted and he could barely read the letter through the water in his eyes.

His mother died. She'd been ill for little over a month and just grew horribly worse after his birthday. Her hands shook so much that she couldn't hold a pen and she could barely eat. His dad had been out of his mind with worry. James had been able to call a Healer through Bathilda but the Healer couldn't do anything to help her, as her illness was inexplicable. The Healer had given his dad some potions but they only worked to ease his mother's pain and to keep her alive a little bit longer.

The ink on the letter was smeared with dried tears and the parchment was growing wet from Harry's contribution. His mother had died and he had a feeling that he had the same disease. Leukaemia. It wasn't something wizards would be familiar with and it did work quickly. Many of the symptoms she described were ones he had experienced in the last six weeks and he knew from the pamphlets at the hospital that leukaemia affected people through 21 years of age. His mother was 21 at the time.

Harry carefully put away his father's letters for the time being. Curling up on his bed, he hugged his knees to his chest and let fat tears leak out of his eyes. His glasses sat haphazardly on his bedside table and Harry processed this new information.

His head ached by the time his face dried and Harry had exhausted himself. Without realizing it, he slipped off into a restless sleep where he heard his mother scream and saw a flash of green light.

"Harry?" a voice called out to him from the dark depths of his dream. "Harry, wake up!"

"Geroff," Harry mumbled, batting away the annoying and insisting hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, come on!" a familiar voice said. "Mum says it's time for dinner and if you don't get up she'll think you're ill or something. Wake up!"

Groggily, Harry forced his eyes open to blink lazily at the red-orange blur in front of his face. "Whatisit?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand and reaching for his glasses with the other.

"Dinner," Ron said simply, appeased that his friend was awake. "You have enough time to wash up if you want."

Harry yawned and stretched a little. "Yeah, I'll do that," he mumbled, getting up for the toilet. "Be right down."

Ron chuckled and said something in agreement before going in the other direction. Harry's head was too thick with sleep to remember what his friend said, so he decided that it probably wasn't that important anyway.

Stumbling into the loo, Harry washed his face and brushed his teeth. That always made him feel more awake after a long nap. Blinking at his reflection, Harry thought dully that something was important…. "Oh, right!" he muttered to himself, digging into his pocket.

He had to take three doses of prednisone a day for nearly a month, which he took orally. It was easiest to take it before meals, since those happened three times a day anyway. Popping it into his mouth, he swallowed it down with a handful of water. He shuddered and tucked the orange canister in his pocket once more.

His stomach growling noisily, Harry followed his nose to the kitchen. His friends were already seated, the table was set and Mrs. Weasley looked to be setting the last of the food out on the table.

"Harry! Come, sit down, we're just about to start," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered, plopping down between Ron and Sirius.

Hermione and Ginny were sitting across from him, giggling and whispering. Harry looked at Ron and they silently agreed that they probably didn't want to know what the girls were giggling about.

Quietly, Harry spooned food onto his plate and ate carefully. He tried to join conversations, he really did, but every time the conversation paused, Harry's mind wandered to his mum's journals.

It was all too much to take in, considering that he had been told for his whole life that his parents died together, when in fact his mother died in August—two months before his father. But what did that mean?!

Harry distinctly remembered two sets of voices when Dementors came round. His dad's saying he would hold off Voldemort and his mum's, asking Voldemort not to kill him before she screamed as she died. So how did it all fit?! Was this just some hoax? Did the Dursleys write those diaries to trick him or something?

Immediately as he thought that, his mind wiped it away. Yes, his relatives would do something mean-spirited like that but they wouldn't put in the effort to write all that just to mess with him. It could be a trick from Voldemort but there was no way that Dark Wizards could have gotten through the wards to leave that trunk at the Dursleys. And Harry didn't believe that anyone in the Order would be that cruel to do it either.

That left the only other option: it was all true and something was wrong with his memories. Harry chewed on his lip, pushing peas around absently on his plate. He still hadn't finished all the letters, so there was a chance that his father explained it all…

The teenager took a deep breath, his lungs expanding and his chest filling with air. He blew it out, relaxing his limbs. He'd just have to wait and see. If he didn't find answers, he'd just have to figure it out elsewhere. Perhaps Dumbledore would let him borrow his Pensieve? There was a miniscule chance that his memory of that night could be enhanced to see what really happened.

As his mind started to spin off, thinking wildly about being able to see what really happened that Halloween, Sirius's voice startled him.

"Harry? You alright?" his godfather asked quietly. When Harry met Sirius's eyes, the dog animagus smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied automatically. Staring down at his food, a thought hit him. Before he could change his mind, he blurted out, "Actually, can I show you something? It's important."

"'Course," Sirius agreed. He seemed unconcerned but the lines on his forehead showed his worry.

Neither of them had eaten very much nor were they hungry at the moment. Sirius politely excused them from the table, nodding to Mrs. Weasley as they left.

Harry felt the gazes of several people, including Ron and Hermione of course, on his back but he ignored them as he walked up the stairs with Sirius. He felt like his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest every time he took a step as it thudded noisily in his ears. Harry knew his godfather would get upset over the trunk and he dearly hoped Sirius wouldn't do anything rash or stupid.

But at the same time, all these secrets were eating him up from the inside and he knew that it wouldn't hurt to share this little one with his godfather. He was, after all, his dad's best friend.

The creak of Harry's room door echoed ominously in the silence. Harry crouched, fumbling with the latch on his trunk. His fingers were rubbery and weak, shaking as he pulled out the smaller box.

Turning to Sirius, he set it down on his bed and stuttered out an explanation. "I.. er, I was cleaning the Dursleys' attic earlier this summer, when I found this," Harry said. He pulled his wand from his pocket and fit it into the now-perfectly-fitting crevice. "It was an accident, but I figured out how to open it. Sirius… it belonged to my parents."

Sirius's eyes were sad and tearful as he sat on the bed next to his godson. Harry carefully pulled out the diaries, letters, rings and wand to show him. His godfather reverently picked up each of the items, musing over them carefully and through a tight throat.

"Your mum used to keep a diary," he started, holding one in his hands. "I remember watching her in the common room some evenings. She'd curl up by the fire, on that large red armchair with the golden trimmings. You know the one?" he laughed ruefully. "James once tried nicking her diary in third year. I think he ended up with green hair, boils all over and whiskers for that one."

Harry smiled sadly, a warm feeling growing in his chest. Sirius continued, "We always wondered what she wrote about, your mum. She was popular, you know? Had lots of friends but was brilliant too. She made everyone smile and had a way of making you feel like you were important. But she had a temper too! I can't remember how many times she hexed one of us for our pranks. I think your father did it on purpose, just to get her to look at him."

Idly, Sirius picked up the wand. "This was your mum's too," he said, caressing the slender wood. "She was always the best at Charms. Potions too. Lily was always writing comments in her books, a right graffiti artist she was. Pince twitched every time Lily brought a quill into the library."

Harry soaked up the information like a sponge. This was more than he'd ever learnt at one time about his mother. He had so many questions on the tip of his tongue but he was afraid that if he spoke, Sirius would stop talking.

His eyes swiveled to the rings, now resting delicately in Sirius's palm. "I gave these to them at the wedding," his godfather said quietly. He swallowed roughly. "James kept reminding me to bring them; he thought I'd forget! He was so nervous that day… I had to keep charming his shirt dry because he was sweating so much. Your mum, though, she was calm. She looked so happy and beautiful."

Sirius's voice trailed off. He cleared his throat, holding the rings out to Harry. "You should keep these," he suggested, "You may want to use them in the future." Sirius waggled his eyebrows, eliciting a teary laugh from Harry.

The teenager took them and looked at them carefully. He was reluctant to put them back in the trunk, to hide them away. "Sirius… do you have a chain that I could use?" He looked up at his godfather, hoping that he would understand what Harry wanted.

The older man's eyes softened and he nodded. "Come with me," he said, leading the way.

The house was quiet, the others were still down in the kitchen—probably to give them privacy—as they made their way up to Sirius's mum's room. Walburga Black's bedroom was a mess of torn blankets, dirt, and dead mice; it stunk dreadfully. Buckbeak, the hippogriff Harry and Hermione had saved in his third year, was chained to the once-magnificent bed.

Without blinking, Harry and Sirius bowed to the proud creature, waiting anxiously for him to give his approval. When the hippogriff sank to his scaly knees, they both stepped forward. Harry patted Buckbeak in greeting while Sirius rustled noisily in the side armoire. Grunting, cursing and crashing could be heard until the older man emerged victorious.

"Here," Sirius said, holding out a simple and thick silver chain. "Most of this is rubbish but I'm sure this is fine to use."

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile. He quietly threaded both rings on the chain, slipping it over his head. They clinked reassuringly against his chest and he grasped them tightly. He looked up at Sirius, expressing his appreciation with his eyes.

Sirius cleared his throat, grabbing his godson in a one-armed hug. "C'mon. We should probably go see the others," he suggested. "They might think we got eaten by the cupboard or something."

Harry snorted, knowing that that assumption wasn't far off from reality in the Black ancestral home, but followed his godfather down the steps. They were both quiet but Harry offered hesitantly, "I'm not done reading yet but Dad wanted you to see the diaries and letters after I finished. He said he had something important to tell us. I could leave them for you when I go to Hogwarts… if you want?"

Sirius swallowed, trying not to let the tears spill over on his face. He wasn't sure if he could bear to read some of the last words his all-but-blood brother left for him. But he knew that he would hate himself forever if he didn't read them. "Yeah pup, that'd be good. Thanks."

Harry felt warmth rise through him as Sirius squeezed his shoulder and ruffled his hair. Maybe, he thought, this is what it is like to have a father.

A/N: So I decided to be fair and just post this chapter for y'all. I'm still working on the second half of this, which will now become Chapter 7, and hopefully Chapter 8 will soon follow.

I'm sorry about the wait but my year abroad is pretty hectic. Please check my author's page, as I frequently post updates about chapter progress and projected dates of completion. For all those of you who have reviewed, thank you so much for your support! I love getting reviews and hearing that people are still reading and eager to see more from me. Cheers everyone and a belated Happy Halloween!