It Only Takes a Drop of Blood
Chapter Fourteen: The One Where Sirius Butts In
"Hey Potter!" a voice called through the quiet of Harry's mostly-empty dorm. "Potter, wake up!"
"Whazzit?" Ron half-snorted, blearily sitting up in bed.
A sixth-year prefect stood in the door, arms crossed. "Wake Potter up, will ya? McGonagall's waiting in the common room for him."
Confused, the redhead looked over at his best friend who was asleep in bed, dead to the world. The black tousled hair stuck up every which way and the deep even breathing told Ron that Harry wasn't faking sleep. A knot of concern folded in his belly.
"Harry?" Ron called, climbing out of bed. "Harry!" He pulled the thick quilt away from his friend's face. Still asleep. "Harry!"
It took several rough shakes on the teen's shoulder and several shouts of his name before his green eyes fluttered open.
"Ron?" Harry croaked. "What's going on?"
"You've got to wake up, mate," the redhead said. Worry creased his brow and he sat on the edge of his friend's bed. "McGonagall's downstairs waiting for you."
Harry groaned, slowly sitting up, and grabbed for his glasses. Everything ached and he desperately needed a few more hours of sleep. He yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. When they finally opened fully, he saw Ron's face—suddenly he felt queasy.
"What?" he asked hurriedly. "Did someone die?"
"What? No!" Ron said with a startled jump. "No, why would you think that?"
"You, your face," said Harry. "What's wrong?"
Ron stood, a weak smile coming to his lips. "Nothing, nothing at all. Sorry," he said, grabbing a jumper to force over his head, "must be a little jumpy still. Weird dream."
"Okay," Harry said slowly, getting up. "Well, guess I'll be going then. McGonagall, you said?"
"Yeah," said Ron. As his friend hurried out the door and it shut behind him, he sat down and his smile fell. "Yeah."
"Professor?" Harry called concernedly as he entered the Gryffindor common room. Most of the students were down at breakfast, so it was easy to spot his Transfiguration professor in one of the wingback chairs near the fireplace.
"Mr. Potter, good morning," the woman greeted, standing up. "I apologise for the short notice, but you have a visitor."
"A visitor?" he repeated. "Who?"
"I believe he would like that to remain a surprise," McGonagall said, her eyes bright. "If you will take a moment to get dressed, I will take you to him."
Harry nodded hesitantly, completely dumbfounded as to who could be visiting him at Hogwarts. The last time he had visitors, the Weasleys came to wish him luck for the Third Task.
"Oh, and Mr. Potter?" He turned to her. "You may want to bring along a cloak. It's quite cold outside."
Bewildered, the young wizard went back upstairs and threw on whatever clothes he had on hand.
"So what'd McGonagall want?" Ron asked, coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his middle.
Harry tugged a clean set of robes over his head and straightened his glasses. "Dunno," he said, shrugging. "She says I have a visitor and she's taking me down to meet him."
"Did she tell you who it is?"
Snagging his wand from the bedside table, Harry shook his head. "It's some sort of surprise. Guess I'll find out."
Ron smiled and shrugged. "Have fun, then," he offered.
Harry waved and hurried down to meet McGonagall in the common room. Without preamble, she swept them out of the dorms and down several flights of stairs to her office on the first floor, just off the main staircase.
"He's inside," she said with a smile as she opened the door. "I'll give you two a moment, Potter. Do try to keep my office intact."
"Professor?" Harry asked, stepping inside. The teen's jaw dropped when he saw the man pacing a trough in the rug. "Sirius?!"
Before he could breathe, Harry's godfather swept him up into a bone-crushing hug. It took a mere moment for him to return the embrace.
"Sirius, what are you doing here?" he asked, blinking furiously as Sirius released him. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but if Umbridge-"
"Harry, I'm free," Sirius cut him off, bouncing on his toes.
"Right," he breathed, remembering the headlines from last night. The teen couldn't help but let out a few laughs at his godfather's exuberance. "So what's the first thing you're going to do," Harry asked, "now that you are a free man?"
The older man barked a laugh and tossed an arm around Harry's shoulders. "How about a breakfast at the Three Broomsticks with my favourite godson?" he suggested.
"I'm your only godson," Harry pointed out, his grin so wide it nearly cracked his face.
Sirius scoffed and tousled Harry's hair. "You coming, or what?" he teased, heading for the office door.
Feeling better than he had in months, Harry followed Sirius out of his professor's office and bounced down the staircase to the Entrance Hall. As they walked out the sturdy oak doors into the cool autumn morning, he couldn't think of a time when he felt more at peace.
His godfather walked with a spring in his step and his eyes twinkled with laughter and mischief. The frost crunched easily under their feet as they crossed the grounds for the main gate. A chill wind blew through their hair, but as Harry's stood even more on end, Sirius' fell neatly back on his forehead.
The older man's hair and beard were stylishly cut and trimmed, and robes he wore were clean and a deep ruby red - obviously new. For the first time in years, Harry could easily see Sirius's resemblance to the man in his parent's wedding photos.
"How's Lupin and everybody?" Harry asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. His cloak chased away most of the chill, but his fingers were getting cold despite that.
"Just fine," Sirius said. "I invited him to come along but I think he wanted to spend the morning with Tonks."
"Tonks?" His eyebrows rose. "What does she have to do with anything?"
A wicked smile lit Sirius' face. "Oh, didn't you know? My cousin and best friend have been dancing around each other for months now."
Harry choked. "Remus fancies Tonks?"
Sirius burst out laughing at Harry's incredulous tone. The teen pouted at his godfather's laughter at his expense, which only set the man off on another fit.
"It's not that funny," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively. An uncomfortable flush rose to his cheeks.
Recovering, Sirius shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes, mirth still hitching in his breath. "It was," said the man. "You should have seen your face!" He chuckled.
"Well, I mean, come on! Remus and Tonks," Harry pointed out. "I just didn't expect that, is all."
"Oh, well, if that's all," Sirius chortled, tossing an arm around Harry's shoulders.
They were now nearing the outskirts of Hogsmeade, where like his last unauthorised visit to the town, the crowds were thin. The sleepy little hamlet was just waking up, so Sirius and Harry were uninterrupted as they entered the Three Broomsticks.
The few patrons in the pub ignored them as they found a booth in the corner. Madam Rosmerta bustled up to their table, her bouncing curls and rosy cheeks beaming brightly at them.
"Good mornin' gents," she greeted. "What can I get for you?"
"We'll have two breakfasts," said Sirius, winking handsomely at her, "and two Butterbeers, please."
She looked to Harry, who nodded in agreement. "Excellent, I will be back with those drinks in a moment."
As she hurried off to the bar, Sirius relaxed back in his seat. "It's been ages since I've been here," he said, looking around at the atmosphere, "but it hasn't changed a bit." He sat up slightly. "You know, this is where your dad asked me to be your godfather."
"Really?" Harry smiled. "What happened?"
"Well, your mum had just found out she was pregnant," Sirius said wistfully, "and your dad was panicking, so we took him out for a few drinks to calm him down. Just the four of us. And he's sitting over there, in that corner booth," he gestured to the back corner of the pub, just four tables down from them, "and Remus and Peter go to get the drinks. I'm there with him, listening to moan about how he wasn't ready and how he'd be a horrible father, when the idiot comes right out and asks me to be godfather."
Harry watches as the expressions play out on Sirius' face. The incredulous and pleased look reaches down into his belly and tugs it up to his throat.
"So I tell him he's mad, because who in their right mind would make me a godfather?" Sirius laughed. "But he just says 'me, that's who'." The man's eyes started to mist over and his voice cracked. "Said he couldn't think of anyone better than his brother to watch out for his child."
Sirius sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. He forced a grin at Harry, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "So I said yes," he said.
"Wow," Harry said. He looked back at that table, trying to imagine his father and Sirius sitting there and having that conversation. "He was a bit mad, wasn't he?" he quipped, wanting to fill the heavy silence. The grin on Sirius's lips turned into watery chuckles as the boy and his godfather filled the quiet pub with their laughter.
"Here ya go, gents," said Madame Rosmerta as she dropped off their drinks. "I'll be back in a mo' with your food."
"'Ta, madame," Sirius cheered as he gripped his mug with fervour. "What'd' ya say, Harry? What shall we toast to?"
Harry cupped his warm drink and thought for just a moment. "Freedom," he said in a low tone. "Let's toast to freedom."
"Hear hear," his godfather returned, his eyes sparkling. "To freedom."
Their mugs clunked and they drank deeply, frothy moustaches adorning their lips. Sirius set it down with a sigh and Harry eyed the nervous quiver of the man's jaw.
"Sirius?" he probed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" the man returned quickly. "Nothing at all. Just... You know your parents made me your godfather."
Harry grinned amusedly. "Yes, I believe we've covered that," he said with a wry twist of his lips, rubbing his sleeve over his mouth.
Sirius rolled his eyes and threw a napkin at Harry's face. "Yeah, cheeky," said the man. "But I meant that they made me your legal guardian, in case they ever... you know." Sirius sat up straighter in his chair. "Since I went to prison, I obviously was deemed unfit and they gave you to your aunt, but now that I've been proven innocent —"
The breath caught in Harry's throat.
"Harry, I'd like to file the papers to become your legal guardian," his godfather said in a rush.
A hazy feeling came over him, like his brain was floating away from his body even though he was still in his seat. Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was all a dream.
"Harry?" Sirius probed, a quiver in his voice. The sudden release and influx of air to Harry's lungs brought immediate clarity to the boy's mind. "Look, I know it's really late and you're practically all grown and everything, but I'd really like to get the chance to —"
"Sirius," the teen murmured, cutting him off. One hand was gripping the wood of the table so hard, his knuckles turned white. "You — you really want me?" he asked. A pocket of hope was fluttering to life in his chest, ready to go out at the slightest chance of wind.
The man looked incredulously into his godson's eyes. The surprise in those grey orbs turned warm and steady in the next moment. "Yes," he said with a calm surety. Sirius gripped Harry's arm, the only part of him in reach, and repeated his words. "Yes." His smile led the flicker in Harry's chest bloom to a roaring fire. "I've always wanted you, kid."
The fire in his chest seemed to set off several things at once and in turn Harry found himself snivelling back tears while trying to get his throat to un-choke. Sirius came round the other side of the table and pulled him into a side-ways hug, ignoring the obvious sobs coming from the teenager.
For the second time today, Harry felt the warm press of his godfather's chest against him. This time, however, the hug lasted longer as it took him several minutes to stop the tears and get under control again. Sirius gamely rubbed his shoulder the whole time and smiled brightly when Harry pulled back, carefully ignoring the tear tracks and his godson's flaming cheeks.
Harry took the napkin Sirius had thrown at him before and wiped his face, dabbing at his snotty nose and trying not to call attention to his obvious breakdown in the middle of the pub. The other patrons, however, were pointedly putting their attention elsewhere, if they had noticed, and Rosmerta hung back, chatting to a customer in the far corner.
"If you agree," Sirius started, breaking their silence, "then I'll have the papers drawn up this afternoon. It may take a little time for the ministry to process it all, but my solicitor says that we have a good chance. Especially because your aunt is a Muggle and all."
"Yeah, of course I want that," said Harry in one breath. The next, however, brought a pall over his features. "But what about Dumbledore? He said that I was protected at Privet Drive, because of my mum's blood or something —"
Sirius frowned. "I'll speak with him," the man promised. As wrinkles started to form above the boy's eyes, the man sent him a reassuring smile. "Harry, don't worry. I'll sort it out." He gripped his godson's wrist. "Let me handle this one," he said firmly. "I promise that I'll consult you before we make any decisions."
Harry slowly inclined his head. It wasn't typical of him to let someone else figure out something that had to do with his own life, but for once… maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing. He could at least give Sirius a chance, especially if the man wanted to be his guardian. "Okay," he said, lifting a shoulder.
"Okay," Sirius repeated, a grin on his lips.
Speaking of giving chances... "Sirius —"
"Yeah, kid?"
Harry bit his lip. It would change everything to tell him. Sirius would be in more danger than ever if he knew, but if he couldn't tell his godfather, who could he tell? Sirius could take care of himself and he was already doing better now that he was out of that house. He could definitely handle this news. Maybe. Probably.
"There's something," he started, trying to work the words past a heavy and unsure tongue," I want to tell you —"
"Here we are, two breakfasts!" Madame Rosmerta interjected, cheerily plopping the plates on their table. Harry jumped and in that moment caught several pairs of eyes and ears peering curiously at their table. "Enjoy!"
"Thanks, Rosie!" Sirius said, with a nod. When she walked away, the man refocused on Harry, his gaze steady and sure. A tinge of uncertainty made them shine worriedly.
When Harry didn't finish his sentence, he probed in an expectant tone. "You wanted to tell me something?"
The teen smiled weakly and shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "It was nothing." Some of the heads turned back to their own meals but there were enough stares to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.
"Okay, if you're sure." If Sirius understood his sudden furtiveness, he didn't make it known. The man shrugged and in an instant the mature look on his godfather's face disappeared in the half moment it took to take in the food. "Look at this breakfast!" he crowed, grabbing his fork. Sirius plunged in, almost swallowing whole as he stuffed his face full of eggs and toast at the same time.
His stomach well-armed from watching Ron eat all these years, Harry grabbed his own utensils in hand. His mouth watered at the smells wafting up from his own plate and he dug in with equal fervour, if with better table manners than his godfather. As the delicious food filled his hungry belly, Sirius smoothly changed the subject, recounting more tales from his misspent youth with Harry's father. Delicate conversations were better off left for safer quarters.
"Sirius," an austere voice said, garnering the attention of the younger wizard. Patrons and waiters alike ignored the oddly dressed man as a Notice Me Not charm flashed to cover the corner table. Sirius turned and flashed a bland smile at his former headmaster.
"Dumbledore," he said. "What brings you to London?"
"May I?" The man asked politely, ignoring the question and gestured to the metal chair opposite Sirius. He sat, though the expression on his companion's face indicated he may not be so welcome. "I thought a spot of tea might be just what I needed."
Sirius raised an eyebrow and sipped at his beer. "It's not really that kind of place," he said, gesturing at the Muggle pub to his back. "You may have more luck just down the street."
"Perhaps I may indulge with a ginger beer, then? I've heard they are delightful," Dumbledore said brightly.
The other man leaned forward. "We both know that you're not thirsty," Sirius said, an edge in his tone, "so what is it that you want, exactly?"
"Right to it then, I suppose?" At the flat stare he got in return, Dumbledore sighed. "You have filed papers to become Harry's guardian." It wasn't a question.
"Yep."
"Why?"
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Not that it's any of your business," he said tightly, "but Harry's my godson. After his parents died, he should have come to me. Since that decision was taken out of my hands," his voice turned needle-sharp, "I think it's time we corrected that clerical error. Don't you agree, Headmaster?"
"Sirius, think rationally," the man started, his long fingers resting tensely on the arms of his chair. "With all that Harry's gone through, don't you think he should have some stability? Ripping him from the only family he's known..."
"Those people are not his family," Sirius hissed, clenching a fist around his drink and cutting Dumbledore off. "Everyone knows that." He slowly took a swig. "I visited them the other day. Wanted to have a little chat, see? It's easier to file for guardianship if you've got the consent of the child's previous guardians."
The colour drained from the headmaster's face. "They didn't," he breathed.
"They did," said Sirius, finishing his drink quickly. "First they squealed like pigs when they found out who I was. That oaf of a man practically spit in my face, but once I mentioned getting custody of Harry," he let out a short, unamused laugh, "they couldn't bend over fast enough. Petunia signed the papers in fifteen minutes. Bastards."
"Sirius, please. It's not safe-"
"I'll tell you what's not safe!" Sirius interrupted, slamming his fists down on the table. People nearby jumped but blinked absently as they couldn't visually identify where the sound came from. The ex-convict lowered his voice to a deep growl. "Those animals were not safe. Do you know how they treated him? They had locks on his room and bars on his window! His room was full of trash and broken furniture. Harry doesn't leave a thing of his there during the school year. Did you know that?" Sirius's eyes grew flinty. "That house wasn't his home. It was a prison."
Dumbledore's voice was grave and his blue eyes were dark and earnest. "It is not comfortable, I know, but the blood wards can protect him. Nothing, not even Voldemort, can touch him if he calls Petunia's house his home! Sirius, we are talking about his life!"
"Yes, I realise that, thanks," he said sharply. "In case you forgot, Voldemort took Harry's blood last June in that ritual. I think the blood protection is a little moot, don't you?"
"The wards still hold," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort will not get through them as long as he wishes the boy harm."
Sirius snorted. "Well, that's a relief," he mocked. "We just have to hope that a bunch of wards can distinguish state of mind before it protects Harry from a mass murderer. Excellent."
"The sarcasm is not appreciated, young man," the older man scolded, eyes flashing. "This is a very serious matter. Voldemort will come after Harry the moment his protection is weakened in any way."
"It's like you think I'm an idiot," Sirius muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. "Dumbledore, that protection, while strong, rests on the assumption that Voldemort hasn't already found a way around it. Conveniently enough, I've got a house that's warded and Unplottable. Not to mention other protections," he said, raising an eyebrow at the headmaster. "Unless you lose your mind and decide to go making friends with unsavoury characters, I can think of one place where Harry will be safe. Guaranteed."
"There's more to it than that-"
"You haven't noticed, have you?" Sirius asked, cutting him off. His grey eyes were probing, sad.
"Noticed what?"
"You've been too busy, I expect, to even talk to him. Harry's noticed, we all have," Sirius said hollowly. "He's upset, you know? He thinks you hate him or something." Dumbledore refused to meet the younger man's eyes, his head dipping in shame. "I'm sure you have your reasons," Sirius' tone dripped with disdain, "but in all that, you haven't even bothered to notice that something's going on with Harry."
Dumbledore's head snapped up. "Is he alright?" he asked sharply.
Sirius shrugged, frowning slightly. "As far as I can tell," he hedged. "He's lost some weight and I don't think he's sleeping well." Sirius bit his lip. "Could be nightmares or maybe it's something else. Dunno. Whatever it is, though, it's bothering him. I think he was going to tell me when I saw him last week, but we were interrupted."
"It's natural for the boy to be troubled after the events of last June," the old man reasoned sagely. "Seeing a classmate die and being tortured would be tough for anyone, but Harry's a strong lad. I'm sure he'll be fine with adequate time to grieve."
Sirius shook his head. "You don't understand at all," he scoffed. "It's more than that. Harry's being secretive, probably even from Ron and Hermione. Something is going on, I know it."
Dumbledore gave him a quelling look. "Then let me handle it, Sirius. If something's really the matter with Harry, then I'll get to the bottom of it."
"Right," Sirius said, raising a sardonic eyebrow. "You'll get Harry to confide in you after ignoring him for months. I'm sure that'll go off splendidly."
"Harry's a sensible young man and I'm sure that once I speak with him, he'll be more willing to be forthcoming."
The younger man barked out a laugh. "You are so completely oblivious," he said, shaking his head. "Harry doesn't trust you anymore. I honestly don't think he trusts anyone under the age of 17, which is probably thanks to those bloody relatives of his, and precisely the reason why I'm filing for guardianship." Sirius leaned forward. "Harry needs someone to look out for him. He needs to know that there is an adult out there who trusts him, wants the best for him and isn't afraid to love him."
Dumbledore jerked, as if he'd been slapped. "You think I don't love him?" he asked hoarsely.
"I think Harry knows that you don't."
Weariness and despair flooded those eyes just a moment before they hardened. "While your heart is in the right place, Sirius, I'm afraid that I cannot approve this guardianship. It's too dangerous-"
Sirius broke out laughing. This wasn't his normal, barking laugh. No, it was tinged with sardonic humour and as the chuckles subsided, a dark and twisted sneer fell on the handsome man's face. "It's not up to you, Dumbledore," he said. "It never was."
The older man froze as Sirius leisurely pulled out his wallet. "It amazes me that you still feel the need to try and get your way," the younger man said, counting out a few bills, "especially when we both know that your word at the Ministry is less than dirt right now." Sirius dropped the money on the table and casually stood up, leaving the silent headmaster staring at him.
"Funnily enough, I have no such problem. If circumstances were different I'd probably have as much say as you, but Fudge is prepared to do just about anything to keep me from slandering the Ministry after the trial. So when I asked for custody of my godson," Sirius shrugged. "Let's just say he expedited the process. Seemed to think it was a good idea to get the Boy-Who-Lived into a protected home with his rightful wizard guardian."
"Sirius," Dumbledore pleaded, getting to his feet.
"The papers have already been filed, headmaster," Sirius said, pulling his wand out with a flick of his wrist, "and Fudge has already assured me that custody will pass to me by this time tomorrow." His steady gaze locked with the old man's. "It's already done."
"You're making a big mistake."
Sirius shook his head. "I made a mistake fourteen years ago," he said regretfully. "Now, I'm fixing it."
The morning of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match was filled with excitement and a chill in the air as eager students and teachers climbed the stands. Sirius Black straightened his new robes with a flick of his wrist and plopped down between a couple other adults in the teacher's box. He'd only seen Harry fly once, as a dog in the boy's third year, but it was different seeing everything as a human. It was all in color, for example.
The wizard munched on some candy he'd picked up at Honeyduke's on his way in. As he levitated over his seat, he grinned at the man sitting next to him.
"Want some?" he asked, shaking the bag lightly.
The wizard gave him a mild look, complete with raised eyebrow, before turning back to the pitch. Sirius turned away, digging his hand back into the bag, and lightly mocked the look before stuffing his face once more. Wizards really couldn't enjoy the good things in life anymore.
He had nearly finished half the bag when the stands began to roar with applause. Sirius leaned forward to see the backs of the Gryffindors as they and the Slytherins walked out onto the field. Sirius grinned fiercely and gave a big whoop when his godson strode out, broom in hand, and the name Potter glittered in gold on his back.
The stands quieted slightly as the teams lined up at the center of the pitch and mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch flew in the middle, her hand up, ready to give the signal. Sirius watched in open-mouthed fascination as the chop went down and all the players simultaneously kicked off.
Harry went higher than the rest, shooting up on the exquisite Firebolt - given to him by his ever-so-awesome godfather - and started looping gently around the field.
Sirius watched every twist and turn, loop and roll, every charge and stop that his godson made. The boy was born to fly and swam more easily through the air than a mermaid in the sea. The wizard could care less about the game. All he wanted to do was watch his godson fly with that happy smile on his face.
And then, just like that, Harry's concentration snapped back onto the game and he shot forward faster than Sirius could blink. In under a minute, Harry floated upwards, his fist in the air, wings fluttering from between his fingers. He'd caught the snitch!
The red and gold stands roared with approval and the entire Gryffindor team cheered as they floated to the ground to hug their seeker. Sirius hollered and stamped his feet with the rest, a beaming smile on his face. Then a Bludger slammed into his godson, throwing him off his broom and into the unforgiving, frozen ground of the Quidditch pitch.
Sirius was on his feet and pushing and shoving his way to the stairs as fast as he could scramble. His heart was in his throat, breath caught in his chest and he was finding it very hard to hear past the roaring of his ears. When he broke past the students and began thundering down the stairs, he saw Harry stand up next to one of the girls on his team, the others milling around them. He was all right. Sirius drew in a shaky breath and kept going, determined to hug that kid for scaring the life out of him.
But before Sirius could even make it to edge of the pitch, a fight broke out. His stomach dropped when he saw Harry and one of the Weasley twins break away from the group and lunge straight at the Malfoy kid. Sirius hit the pitch and broke into a dead run, pulling out his wand.
"Harry! Harry, stop!" he hollered, trying to make himself heard over the roaring of the crowd and Harry's teammates.
Then a flash of light and Harry flew back. He reached the boy just as Madame Hooch started yelling, wand and whistle in hand. Ignoring her, Sirius took in the bloody, beaten Malfoy on the ground and Harry's red, furious expression, his mind whirling.
"- straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"
Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off, ignoring everyone. Sirius hesitated for half a moment before following. As they walked up the hill to the castle and then to McGonagall's office, he chewed his lip and nervously ran a hand through his hair. This was it - his first test as a guardian. Should he lecture Harry? Pat him on the back? Ground him? Tell him never to do it again?
His parents weren't exactly the model for good parenting - they'd have cursed him and locked him in his room for Muggle dueling. James' parents would have taken away his broom for a week - which never really seemed to make an impression on his friend. And when Harry was a baby and got in trouble, Lily scolded him and took away his toys. Somehow, Sirius doubted that would work for the fifteen-year-old version.
Just as the three of them reached the door, McGonagall showed up. Her furious expression silenced Sirius as easily as it did when he was a teenager and he stood silently in the background just as if he were the one in trouble and it was 1975 again.
She railed into Harry and George and was just hitting her stride when a simpering voice cut in.
"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" asked Dolores Umbridge a sickeningly disgusting voice.
Sirius watched with morbid fascination as McGonagall's expression grew even more dangerous when Umbridge unfurled her newest decree. He'd heard the Hogwarts teachers ranting about these things in the Order meetings, but as the woman proceeded to read it, his blood began to boil.
"So… I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again," she said smugly.
Harry's face went white and Sirius' heart reached out to him.
"Ban us?" his godson said faintly. "From playing… ever again?"
"Excuse me, Professor," Sirius interjected, not having the heart to see his godson so devastated. Harry's head snapped around and his eyes widened, noticing him for the first time. "But as Harry's new guardian, I feel that I should have some say in his punishment. Don't you agree?" He smiled thinly at her. "I believe the school charter states that while professors and staff of the school can issue punishments for infractions, the parents or guardians of the students have the right to overrule staff decisions in regards to their student. Do I have that right?"
Umbridge's smile grew tight at the corners and she nodded stiffly. "That is correct, Mr. Black," she conceded.
"Excellent," Sirius said cheerily. "Then why don't I propose this: Harry will serve a week's worth of detentions and is banned from playing in the next Gryffindor Quidditch match. If a majority of the staff agrees that he has shown a conscious effort to control his temper and behavior by then, he will be reinstated to the Gryffindor Quidditch team and allowed to play in the final game of the season. I believe that's fair, don't you?"
While Harry's expression was still mostly horrified, the colour had returned to his face. McGonagall was trying not to look too smug in the back and Umbridge looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.
"I suppose so, Mr. Black," she said. "As to his broomsticks, I will want to confiscate it in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of his ban."
"I understand your sentiments Professor Umbridge," Sirius said smoothly. "However, flying is not only cathartic but also an excellent form of physical activity. If we are trying to teach Harry healthy ways to deal with his temper and avoid physical confrontations, then I don't think it would be a good idea to ban him from flying altogether. Perhaps supervised flying time would be an excellent alternative? I'm sure Madame Hooch wouldn't mind holding onto Harry's broom and monitoring those sessions."
"That sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Black," McGonagall said approvingly from behind her desk. "Don't you agree Dolores? Perhaps a controlled environment will help the boys learn how to control themselves better."
"And," Sirius added, "it might be a good idea to think about punishing Mr. Malfoy for his unsportsmanlike behavior after losing the match. While he may not have thrown the first punch, his behavior is not commendable either."
Umbridge's expression was downright nasty. "I will consider it," she said, the sweetness gone from her tone. "Thank you for your input, Mr. Black."
Sirius inclined his head, a smarmy grin on his lips as Umbridge stormed out of the office.
"Well, that went well," he cheered, looking to his godson, the Weasley boy and McGonagall. "Who wants hot chocolate?"
"… and then he took us to the kitchens and the elves gave us hot chocolate," Harry explained later that evening, shaking his head and grinning. "I think the Dementors might have actually done him in."
"Well at least you two are only banned for one game," Alicia said. "I don't know what we would have done without a Seeker or a Beater for the rest of the year."
"We only get them back if they can control themselves by the last game," Angelina pointed out, "we still need a new Seeker and Beater before the next match or we won't even play in the final, and they can only fly if Madame Hooch supervises practices."
"It's unfair, I agree," said Alicia, "but it's better than nothing. What did Crabbe and Malfoy get?"
"Malfoy got two days of detention and Crabbe got lines," Ginny said miserably. "I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
Harry grimaced. "If Sirius hadn't been there, they would've probably gotten off." He stared miserably at the dark window, where snow was falling. Sirius had left after the hot chocolate and Ron hadn't come back yet.
"I'm going to bed," Angelina said, standing up. "Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, this will all be a bad dream."
Gradually, the rest of them left, leaving only Harry and Hermione by the fire.
"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked in a low voice.
Harry shook his head.
"I think he's avoiding us," said Hermione. "Where do you think he -?"
The Fat Lady's portrait creaked open behind them and Ron tumbled into the common room, pale and shivering.
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"Walking," Ron mumbled, his Quidditch robes stiff and dotted with snow.
"You look frozen," said Hermione. "Come and sit down!"
As Ron warmed up by the fire, he avoided Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry," he mumbled at last, looking at his feet.
"What for?" said Harry.
"For thinking I can play Quidditch. I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."
Harry snorted. "If you resign," he said, "there'll only be four players left on the team for the next game. George and I got banned for the next match."
"What?" Ron yelped.
Hermione explained the whole thing as Harry stared moodily at the fire. He only looked up when Ron started to blame himself.
"This is all my fault -"
"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," said Harry angrily.
"- if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch -"
"- it's got nothing to do with that -"
"- it was that song that wound me up -"
"- it would've wound anyone up -"
"Look, drop it, will you!" Harry burst out. "It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything!" He shook his head. "It's my fault, anyway. I was the one that lost my temper, I punched Malfoy… I'm the one who let him get to me. We're just lucky that Sirius was there and kept Umbridge from kicking me off the team for the rest of the year."
Ron said nothing, miserably staring at the damp hem of his robes. "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."
Harry grimaced, not answering.
"Well," said Hermione, her voice trembling slightly. She was standing by the window, having got up when Harry wasn't looking. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."
"What, that Sirius is my guardian?" Harry said with a small smile. "We already knew that, remember?"
"Well, yes, that, but that's not what I meant." She smiled, turning away from the snow-flecked window. "Hagrid's back."
They visited Hagrid that night and found out about his mission to visit the giants before Umbridge showed up. After she left, the half-giant unceremoniously shooed them back to the castle and to bed.
The next day, Hermione went back to Hagrid's to talk to him about his lesson plans while Harry and Ron worked through their massive piles of homework. At breakfast the next morning, the three of them sat in a stupor - Ron and Harry in homework comas and Hermione in hopelessness.
Then an owl swooped down, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet on into Ron's eggs.
"Oi!" Ron yelled, shaking his fist at the bird. "Aim properly, why don't ya?"
The bird click its beak at him and Hermione paid, rolling her eyes. Ron lifted the paper out of his eggs, gingerly wiping the stain with his napkin.
"So what's it say Ron?" Harry probed, not looking up from his toast.
The ginger-haired teen unfolded the newspaper and stared at the front page, his face going white. The freckles contrasted sharply with his skin.
"Ron, what is it?" asked Hermione, craning her neck to see.
He turned the paper to show his friends the blazing bold headline and pictures of ten escaped Death Eaters.
"There's been a breakout at Azkaban," Ron croaked.
A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you've been having a wonderful New Year's Eve/New Year so far! I know I always say this, but I'm sorry for the time it took to finish this chapter. As you can tell from the title, Sirius insisted on butting in everywhere this time, which made it very difficult to get some of the things done that I had planned. Things are starting to change from OOtP, so I hope that's another point of fun for everyone reading. We'll really start to see these changes happen in the next chapter and onwards, so buckle in. I'm hoping it'll be fun for all of us. I meant to add more events to this chapter, but I thought it'd be better to give y'all another chapter now rather than wait a few more months for me to finish the rest. It'll just show up in the next chapter. Please let me know what you think!