Disclaimer: The only thing that 'belongs' to me is Madison and little Jamie. If Harry Potter belonged to me I would be too busy finishing book seven to dally here...
Updated: Wednesday 27th December 2006. Ten days late... I know, I know... what more can I say but, 'Silly Season!' Hope you all had a merry, and safe, Christmas; roll on the New Year!
A/N: If the chapter title doesn't give anything away, then I suppose I should warn you here that this is where the 'tragedy' in this story's genre comes to mind. In hindsight, it is probably a good thing that I didn't post this on Christmas... really not festive material, if I may say so...
Chapter Five: The Honeymoon is Over
The following day, the teenagers returned to the school. As predicted, it had torn out Sirius' heart to farewell his godson without proudly declaring the boy's place in his new family. Madison could only watch helplessly as Sirius restrained himself, clapping the teenager on the back and pulling him into an impersonal, one-armed hug. For days afterwards, Madison argued with Sirius that his godson was never going to become as close as he once was, so long as Sirius held himself back. Sure, she acknowledged that the kid was not used to physical signs of affection and didn't initiate, but that didn't mean that he would never crave that kind of connection with someone. Madison herself had stolen a quick hug, all under the pretence of letting Jamie say goodbye; the look on Harry's face as the small baby wrapped its arms around his neck was the base of Madison's entire argument.
In the end, they had agreed that as soon as they collected Harry from the platform at the beginning of summer, and swept him away to their little safe oasis, they would never hold back on showing their affections. They had barely one summer left before the boy turned 17, and they had their work cut out for them if they hoped to undo so many years worth of neglect.
Returning to Paradise Lodge, weeks turned into months, and things settled down to as much normal as things could get. Jamie's first birthday was a momentous occasion, the re-christened 'Little Foot' living up to his name by getting into everything. Madison was delighted when Harry wrote her, and so, careful not to include any evidence of Sirius, Remus, or their location in the images, she began sending him regular updates on Jamie. The boy was even thoughtful enough to send Jamie a little birthday present – his own miniature Firebolt, identical to the working scale model that Tonks had given the older boy that previous Christmas. Harry had been apologetic about his choice of gift, not quite knowing if it were age appropriate and worried that he may already have one, but Sirius could not get over the irony of the selection, and was careful to make sure that the mini-Firebolt was his son's prized possession.
Jamie's first word had come on Valentine's day, and was, of course, 'Da'. In the months that followed, Remus became 'Moo', and Madison, much to her horror, 'Mad'. Whenever Sirius wasn't taking their son out on Buckbeak or strapping him to his back as he collected driftwood, he was 'educating' his 'Little Foot' on his 'big brother', making sure that Harry was as much a part of Jamie's life as what he would be if he were actually present. Jamie knew that his toy broom was from Harry, and that the bedroom next to his belonged to the older boy. He could identify the Boy-Who-Lived from photos, and shared in the excitement whenever a letter came.
As much as Jamie was steadfastly becoming his father's son, Madison made sure that she secured her own special, mother-son moments. One thing she was determined to make sure of, was that her son had a respect for the environment and a knowledge for art. While his artistic licence was restricted to uncoordinated finger-painting and unintelligible scrawls, Madison wanted to make sure that her son grew to be comfortable in an art room. Furthermore, she didn't infantilise her child by referring to animals and plants by their colour or obvious attributes. A 'horsey' was always a 'horse', and the 'pretty flower' was distinguished with its specific breed. Madison knew that Jamie had no chance of articulating the big words so early in life, but she knew that by constant repetition, he'd never forget what she was trying to teach him.
In turn, Sirius – and by extension, Remus – accepted what Madison was trying to do, and did their part by frequently using magic around the boy. Even though Madison was a Muggle, she was determined to read and learn as much about magical society as possible; not only to better understand the archaic world that her husband came from, but to be someone her son could be proud of, and turn to, once he started Hogwarts – for yes, Jamie Black was indeed, a wizard. His first instance of accidental magic had occurred shortly after the Christmas holiday. Madison had just spent the morning with him, 'painting', before settling him down for a nap. In the process of waking him, Sirius had allowed Jamie to teethe on the handle of his wand as he fossicked for a change of clothes for the infant. Subsequently, his back had been turned when sparks from his wand had hit him, painlessly, and did not realise anything was amiss until he carried his son back out into the living room to be met with gales of laughter. Jamie had recreated his latest masterpiece, colouring his father from head to toe in a rainbow of magical paint that did not fade from his skin for two weeks. So unrecognisable was Sirius, that Madison had felt comfortable sending Harry photos.
The onset of summer saw Jamie approaching fifteen months. Remembering back to the same time in his godson's life, Sirius confessed that he was looking forward to this stage of Jamie's development the most, because this was the time that they really started to become little people. Already, Jamie had almost a full mouth of teeth, and he had graduated from crawling to walking. Some of his cherubic baby-fat had begun to wash away, and he was starting to get a distinctive 'little boy' look about him. His curly hair, originally fine and sandy in colour, was beginning to thicken and darken; although with the amount of time the child spent outdoors, sun streaks were inevitable.
Whilst their little boy was positively thriving, Madison was becoming increasingly worried for Sirius. Extended usage of a Time Turner was generally ill-advised, which was why the Ministry usually kept such tight controls over their usage. Between reliving days over two very different time zones, Sirius was becoming worn down; lack of sleep and a tendency to miss meals whenever he was north of the equator reverting his body back to his Azkaban days. As much as Madison wanted her husband to slow down, she really couldn't blame him for wanting to be in two places at once. Voldemort was back, and the evil wizard's knowledge of the connection between himself and Harry had given everyone cause to be concerned.
Watching her husband fall into their bed, exhausted, the man having taken to napping whenever Jamie was down for the count, Madison realised that she had had enough. Even with the Time Turner, all Sirius seemed to be doing when in her company was either sleeping or spending time with Jamie. She didn't want to begrudge the man time with their son, but a line had to be drawn. If losing touch with her husband was the price to pay for continuing to live at Paradise Lodge, then the price was too high. Wards to rival Hogwarts may have been erected to secure the property from harm, preparing it for Harry's arrival, but with the Dark Lord on the rise, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Sirius just couldn't be on the other side of the world while Harry was in school. Expecting the man to be in two places at once was a tall order, and to insist upon it, Madison realised, would be very selfish of her; both she and Jamie could get everything they needed within Grimmauld Place. Of course, it may not be an ideal situation – both she and Jamie, she knew, would miss the great outdoors – but if they were truly going to be a family with Harry, then they all had to pull together and make some sacrifices.
Upon hearing Madison's proposal, Sirius was adamant that he didn't want to alter or take anything away from the lifestyle she and Jamie got to lead. The way he saw it, his coming and going between the two 'worlds' was his responsibility – his 'job'. While Madison could not begrudge the sense of duty her husband had to contribute towards the building war effort, she struggled to get him to understand that she wanted to make the move for him… to make things easier on him. A proud, stubborn Gryffindor, Sirius did not want his wife to make such concessions; he argued that he did the things he did so that they had the opportunity to life the good life, and that if they were to all become prisoners of Grimmauld Place, it would all be for naught. The man took particular offence to Madison's suggestion that a life with a husband working himself to the bone was hardly a life, and the pair had broken out into one of their first real arguments.
They were no sooner towards reaching a conclusion, however, when they were interrupted by an urgent message from Dumbledore, detailing that Harry had been fooled by a false vision from Voldemort, and had headed straight into a trap. Immediately, all energies focused on Harry, though as Sirius pulled on his robes and prepared to activate a Portkey, Madison could not help but be filled with a pit of dread.
"Why can't you use the Time Turner now, to go back in time and stop Harry from falling for Voldemort's plan?" said Madison, thinking it was ludicrous that man and child be subject to such dangers when there was a logical way around it.
Sirius held her close.
"This could be it, Mad, we could get him, don't you see?" said Sirius, wordlessly drawing attention to the Prophecy that had shaped all their lives. Pulling away, he sighed; "besides, you know how it works. A Time Turner cannot be used to stop something from happening, it can only influence the conclusion – there are too many variables, otherwise."
Madison bowed her head and nodded solemnly. Even as a Muggle, she understood how damaging messing with events in time could do. She pulled on her husband's sleeve, stopping him.
"I hate that you're leaving like this," she whispered, referring to the heated argument they had been in the middle of moments earlier. Though they had never fought as much as they just had, whenever they had broken into petty squabbles in the past they had made a point of making up before leaving for anywhere, or going to bed.
"I know you're only suggesting it because you love me," said Sirius, stroking her cheek, "and I know that you know that I am only insisting on this because I love you and Jamie, and want what's best for you…"
"Yes, but you have to think about what's best for you," pointed out Madison, cutting her husband off when he tried to cut in. "Jamie and I coming to London does not mean that you've failed, Sirius! I know that's what you think, but it's not true. We'll still come here for holidays – it's safe enough for that – but strange as it must sound, I want to be in London. I want to get to know the Order, and become involved in the life my son will one day lead… I don't want our son to grow up too sheltered, I want him to see what is out there and survive."
"I don't know why I argue with you," said Sirius with a small smile, resting his forehead against his wife's; "you're always bloody right."
Madison gave her husband a bone-crushing hug and kissed him on the cheek.
"You can go now," she said solemnly. "Go… help Harry… I'll be waiting."
The full weight of what he was about to do – who he was about to face – bearing down on him, Sirius looked at his wife with a strange expression, and suddenly became reluctant to let her go. Prolonging the moment when he would have to say a final goodbye to his wife, Sirius motioned for Jamie, who was perched atop Remus' arms, the shorter man keeping the little boy occupied until it came time to activate the Portkey.
Whilst Sirius bounced Jamie on his hip and muttered nonsensical words at him, Madison fell out of earshot, becoming distracted by the soothing voice of her husband's best friend, the man reassuring her that everything will be all right, and that Dumbledore himself would be helping them. Her fears momentarily quelled by Remus' level tone, Madison was almost convinced that this was just another routine Portkey trip for her husband until she heard his parting words:
"I love you forever. Remember the promise."
Madison froze, staring until her eyes watered, at the place where Sirius and Remus had just disappeared from. Normally, whenever Sirius had to leave for a Order meeting, or shoot over to London at a moment's notice to answer an unexpected Floo call from Harry, he always parted with 'See you in a few'. Normally, whenever Sirius went over to London for hours at a time, he'd wind back the Time Turner and arrive home after barely a few minutes had passed. The sudden decision for Sirius to declare his love for her, rather than his standard parting message, and the subtle flicker of fear she had detected in her husband's eyes as he read Dumbledore's message was, by itself, enough to turn her stomach inside out. When, then, one… two… three minutes had passed without either man returning via the Time Turner and Portkey, Madison knew that she had a real reason to panic. The moment Jamie began to pick up on her distress and whimper, however, she regained perspective.
'What am I doing?' she scolded herself. Only a few minutes had passed… she could stop whatever it was that prevented Sirius coming back to her with the Time Turner from ever happening at all.
Striding purposefully across the room, she halted in her tracks when it occurred to her that she had absolutely no way of contacting anybody in the wizarding world. An conventional Owl would take close to four weeks to make the journey, and she couldn't call on a magical creature like Fawkes. Wizards didn't have telephones – hell, she didn't even have a telephone – and to be connected to the Floo Network, her house would first need a fireplace. Her husband's mirror would have been an option, if not for the fact Sirius had it with him and if Harry had its twin wherever he was at present, it would be useless to warn him now.
Becoming increasingly despondent, Madison threw herself down on a sofa and buried her face in her hands. From his place in his playpen, where Sirius had left him, Madison could feel Jamie's bright blue eyes staring at her in concern; the child was uncanny in his ability to sense what other people were feeling, and he fed off it accordingly. Not bothering to hide the tears of frustration from her son, Madison looked over towards her child and sighed helplessly.
"This is exactly why I wanted to move us to London!" she said aloud, "my God, Jamie, if you ever use irony in your pranks, I will ground you for life! It's really not funny!"
As the minutes turned into hours, Madison's mood sunk deeper into despair. In making his wife completely dependent on him for contact with the wizarding world, Sirius Black had conditioned his security measure's one gaping flaw. There remained only so many times a woman could convince herself that a broken Time Turner was to blame, before the awful truth hit home. Something horrible must have happened to Sirius – not even he would joke like this. If something had happened to his Time Turner he would have moved heaven and earth to get another one and spare her from this torment. She could try and fool herself with envisioning all Time Turners being destroyed and Sirius having no choice but to wait until the crisis was over before returning to her, but things were simply not in her favour. First, there was the lack of her husband's usual candour when leaving… not only was it an unexpected call, but Remus was, uncharacteristically, going as well and they were both heading off to face Voldemort. Of all the wizards Madison had heard of, only two had confronted Voldemort and lived; and neither of them were her husband.
Madison could not be sure of the time; she must have dozed off, for now the skies outside were overcast with the onset of dusk. Straightening herself up in he chair, she looked around to see what had pulled her to her senses, momentarily forgetting where her husband was and that she was all alone in the house with her son. Then she heard it again – the sound of her son crying.
"Oh, Jamie!" she cried out in alarm, her eyes shooting across the dimly lit room and finding her son still sitting in the playpen that Sirius had deposited him goodness knows how many hours earlier. From the smell of things, the poor lad had a loaded nappy, and, taking in his red face and tear-stained cheeks, had not been happy for quite some time.
Feeling absolutely terrible – for Jamie almost never cried – she rushed over to pick him up, only to be alarmed when he only began to cry louder. Taking her son into her arms nevertheless, she struggled with the child in confusion as he began to kick and claw at her. Then it hit her: the wards. When the wards had been activated, Sirius had explained to her that, as a Muggle, she would not be able to detect when they had been breached, whereas himself, Jamie, and to a lesser extent, Remus, would know. Eventually, a Muggle alarm system that was tied in to the magical wards would be installed to grant Madison the same level of awareness, but with the number of magical people far out numbering the number of Muggles living on the property, it had not been a very high priority. In any event, both wizards went to great lengths to ensure that she was never left alone in the house; one of them was always with her and Jamie… usually.
As soon as she had assured her son that 'she had gotten his message', the child switched off his distress so quickly that Madison could not be sure if she had imagined his cries or not. Approaching the door warily, she began to wonder just who had set off the magical security Sirius had erected around their home. She certainly wasn't expecting any of her Muggle friends to turn up, and in any event, they shouldn't have elicited such a response from the wards if they had. When it came to trespassing wizards, less than half a dozen wizards were privileged with the location of the property that was safely hidden under the Fidelius Charm. No one would have expected Andromeda Tonks to be her 'estranged' cousin's Secret Keeper, or that in fact Sirius Black had a sanctuary worth hiding. Madison could only hope, therefore, that the wards going off was a sign of Remus and Sirius returning, but then why did they not use the Portkey Sirius had made to transport people directly into the house? The odds that both Sirius' Time Turner and Portkey had been damaged… well, Madison did not even want to think what would have had to of happened to Sirius in order for them both to be destroyed.
"Please let it be Sirius… please let it be Sirius…" she chanted softly to herself. In her arms, Jamie clung to her neck with small, sweaty hands, the child's body feeling damp and over-exerted from his earlier episode.
Mentally slapping herself, Madison acknowledged Jamie's needs and rushed off towards his nursery, intent on changing him and putting him in a fresh set of clothes before he developed a chill. Almost as though he could sense his mother's urgency to get the job done quickly, Jamie was both docile and cooperative as she went through the Muggle motions, innately understanding that his Da and Uncle 'Moo' were not there at that moment to wave their sticks at him. Once Jamie was cleaned up, Madison cuddled him close and felt a slight sense of accomplishment for at least doing something right. In fact, with her son in her arms, happy and content once more, her spirits could not help but lift a little. Humming an upbeat little tune for her son's benefit as she dumped Jamie's soiled clothes in the hamper and washed her hands in the sink of the bathroom that was connected to the bedrooms of parent and child, Madison had even began to think about what she was going to prepare for that evening's dinner; going so far as to scold herself for not having the foresight to have something ready by the time her husband returned.
So bewitched by her denial was she, that she almost didn't notice the haggard, broken man, that now stood in the middle of her living room, waiting for her. Upon seeing Remus Lupin's tear-stained face, all Madison could do was stare blankly at him and ask him what he wanted for dinner. The words that left his mouth fell on deaf ears, and she hardly batted an eyelid when strong arms took Jamie from her and led her across to the lounge, to sit down.
"No," she said suddenly, not quite consciously aware of why she had to say the word. The truth of the situation finally hitting home, she repeated the word with more conviction; "NO!"
Madison lost track of time after that, and to look back on that week months later, she would only find that she could not remember much of anything. She didn't remember the days she spent, utterly incoherent and inconsolable, much like she could not recall the point in time in which a tired-looking Andromeda Tonks turned up on her doorstep, her limping and battle-scarred daughter, Nymphadora, in tow.
She didn't remember how, on the second day, a boatload of tourists docked on the beach to ask for directions, and Jamie had brought everyone who knew him to tears when he had started to chase the tourists' black dog around excitedly, calling out 'Da!' at the top of his little lungs. It had taken a choked-up Remus nearly an hour to convince the determined little boy that the dog was not Padfoot, and would not transform into Daddy on command, no matter how much everyone present could wish it to be so.
She didn't remember, then, how Andromeda and Remus had sat down with her and tried to formulate a plan of action, about Harry. Madison was numb, withdrawing deeper and deeper into herself, communicating with slight nods and shakes of her head, only to forget what she had been asked within seconds; she had stopped eating, and once she had cried herself out, she exhibited no sign of actually realising that Sirius was gone at all.
She was completely oblivious to the whispered conversations between Remus and Andromeda, remaining clueless to the concerns they had for her mental state and, in the long term, her ability to take care of her son. Madison did not see how they worked hard to keep Dumbledore away, knowing that to allow the meddling old wizard to see Madison in such a state would only jeopardise any chance she would stand of claiming guardianship over Harry, as well as risk her custody of Jamie. As it was, she had become increasingly detached from her son, her eyes staring through the child unseeingly, the woman completely unable to acknowledge the passing of time, let alone anticipate when little Jamie needed to be fed, washed and rested.
Unable to get his mother's attention, and experiencing his father's absence for the first time in his young life, poor little Jamie was more confused than anything else. His Uncle Moo was his only constant, with Andromeda and Tonks little more than strangers to him. Though it was impossible for the little lad to understand that his daddy was gone and not coming back, Jamie remained an increasingly bright child. Having associated his father with being able to change into a dog, and then having enjoyed endless hours of watching Tonks change her face to amuse him, he had rather rationally concluded that if his daddy could turn into a dog, and Tonks could change her appearance, then said woman could turn into his daddy and make his mummy all better. When the excited toddler had reached this logical conclusion, and presented Tonks with a picture of Sirius, his intentions made resoundingly clear, the young woman had burst into tears and bolted from the room crying.
"Anyone but him! I can't, I can't!"
Leaving a deeply saddened, and slightly unnerved werewolf to console her sobbing daughter, Andromeda had set about pacifying the distraught toddler who, having been denied the one thing he had asked for, was close to pitching a fit – the first in his very young lifetime. Upon setting her eyes upon the devastated, lonely little boy, the expression on his face making him seem so much older as he sat clutching a photo of his father, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, Andromeda found herself choking up. Nothing, she realised – nothing – she could do, would make that little boy smile. Nothing would bring back his daddy, who he could not understand was gone forever. Between herself, her daughter, and Remus, they may have been able to distract the child for moments at a time, buying themselves a few precious hours of reprieve, but no one except that child's parents could possibly reassure him that everything was going to be all right. With a sigh, Andromeda cast her eyes from the little boy, to the door to his mother's bedroom; in her heart she knew that there was only one thing left to do.
Picking the whimpering child up in her arms, Andromeda crossed the room purposefully and headed straight into Madison's bedroom. Depositing the child on the floor by the bed with ne'er a backwards glance, she squashed down the lump that was forming in her throat at the child's vain attempts to gain his mother's attention and closed the door behind her.
Immediately, Remus was on his feet and rushing towards her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, panicked. "She can't take care of herself right now, let alone Jamie! Listen to him! She's ignoring him!"
"Remus," said Andromeda tiredly, her voice shaky with emotion. Sirius had been her favourite cousin, a spirited, loving little boy who had sought from her the affection and praise his parents had denied him. Even when he had been incarcerated in Azkaban, she had not been able to shake the image of the little lost boy who, with the help of his friends, had grown into a bright young man. Many people looked at Sirius Black and only saw a fun-loving prankster, who couldn't settle down; but Andromeda knew better. She knew, that the only thing Sirius had ever craved was the family he had eventually found with Madison and Jamie, and that everything else was just a defensive mechanism. Though she did nothing to help him at the time, a part of her could never accept that Sirius had ever done the things he had been imprisoned for, her last memory of the man confiding in her how excited he was to finally have Harry come and live with him, Jamie and Madison, that upcoming summer. Now, that would never happen… it tore her heart out, and yet she had been so busy trying to pull Madison out of the depths of despair, that she had not stopped and given herself the chance to grieve.
"Remus," she repeated, regaining her voice as she grabbed the man's arm and pulled him away from the closed door. "I know it hurts you to see him cry, but it's the only way any of us are going to get through to her. Nothing else will work."
"But I can't put Jamie through that!" said Remus, reaching for the door handle again, "he doesn't understand why Madison is being this way!"
"Jamie doesn't understand a lot of things," said Andromeda. "But he needs his mother, and nothing we do to try and compensate for that is going to change that."
"I should have done it," sobbed Tonks from where she had stood, leaning dejectedly against the back of the sofa she had rounded. "If I had, he would have been happy… if only for a moment."
"Tonks, I told you," said Remus, heading back towards the distraught girl and wrapping an arm around her. "If you had done that he would have kept wanting you to do it, and then he'd never understand that his Daddy is gone."
As he spoke the last of his sentence, announcing that Sirius was in fact, gone, Remus' voice cracked, and suddenly, he needed as much consoling as the young Auror he was attempting to comfort. Being the older of the three, Andromeda pushed her own feelings aside once more and pulled both 'children' to her, vowing in a string of abstract words that they all had to stick together and 'get it out of their systems'.
In the background, the steady wail of a child calling for its mother reached a crescendo, before stopping abruptly. Three heads snapped up, wide eyes regarding each other in concern as they looked from each other to the closed door in contemplation. All at once, they rushed the door, images of a child knocking himself unconscious or crawling out the window and falling over the balcony hastening their steps. Reaching the door, however, they stopped just as quickly when a woman's voice – one they had not heard sounding so coherent in close to a week – sang softly to her calming son.
Unable to hide the relief on her face, Andromeda looked at her daughter and Remus smugly.
"Hate to say I told you so," she said, with a sad smile, finally letting her own tears to fall.
In the end, it had only taken one word to pull Madison from her grief-stricken stupor. The sound of her devastated son wailing 'Mama' at the top of his lungs pulled her to her senses as surely as though someone had doused a bucket of ice-cold water over her head. Until that time, Madison had always been 'Mad' to her stubborn son, and so, ludicrously, the first thing she could think of when she swept the screaming child up in her arms was that he had been deliberately holding back from calling her 'Mama' all that time, just to tease her; the joke being such a Sirius thing for his father's 'Little Foot' to do.
Murmuring countless apologies into her son's sweaty hair, Madison was horrified at the state of her bedroom, and herself. She had no idea of what day it was, or even how long her son had been holding himself up on the edge of the bed, screaming for her. When the question of who had been caring for her son came to mind, she recalled foggy images of Remus, Nymphadora and Andromeda having taken up residence and trying to keep things in order. A stab of panic hit her as she began to wonder why they had left Jamie alone in the room with her when she was so clearly catatonic, and as she abandoned attempts to tidy her appearance and fully placate her son's whimpers, she flung open her bedroom door in search of her husband's family.
"Madison?" said Remus, pulling away from where he had been wrapped up in a group embrace with the two witches in the room.
Allowing herself to be pulled into Remus' strong arms, Madison could not help but hear her husband's voice sniggering in her head, the man having no doubt made some lewd comment about Remus' animalistic charm with the ladies had he been present. Having anticipated her husband's sharp wit only served to remind her that never again would they hear his leading innuendo, or have the chance to throw things at him when he got a little too sarcastic with his endearments. Dissolving into tears as a fresh wave of grief crashed into her, she buried her face in the crook of Remus' neck and began to sob uncontrollably.
Heartened by the healthy, coherent display of emotion from his best friend's wife, Remus held onto her as best he could and shared in her pain, a solemn, confused Jamie sandwiched between them.
"I know it doesn't seem like it right now," he whispered into her hair, "but everything will be all right, you'll see."
"He's gone, Remus, he's really gone," Madison sobbed into his shoulder brokenly, her hold on the man before her tightening, lest she crumple to the floor. "Nothing will ever be all right again!"
"Nothing will be the same," said Remus, correcting her quietly, "but it will be all right. We just have to stick together – it's what Sirius would have wanted."
Remus' words striking a chord within her, Madison's head shot up, and she looked at Remus with her eyes clear and focused for the first time in many days.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, immediately aghast that she had allowed herself to fall into a hole for so many days without even sparing a thought to what Harry must be going through. At Remus' hesitation, Madison found herself filled with another sense of dread, her over-active mind beginning to entertain the thought that perhaps Harry hadn't made it either.
Seeing the dawning distress on the woman's face, Remus acted quickly.
"Harry's fine," he reassured her, but then hesitated. "Well, he's as fine as you could imagine him being I suppose. He wasn't injured in the battle…"
"I want to see it," said Madison firmly, staring into Remus' eyes and knowing, without question, that Remus had been there. "Show me."
Taken aback by Madison's request, Remus loosened his hold on the woman and began to back away slightly.
"I… I don't think that's a good idea," he said, stammering slightly, his eyes wide at the thought of having to relive the events that had taunted him each and every time he had tried to close his eyes over the past few days. "You shouldn't have to see that."
"You did," said Madison. Lowering her voice, she sighed; "Harry did. Please, I want to understand. I want to see… I want to know… I need to know…"
What she wanted, and needed, to know was left hanging, but it went unspoken between them that she needed to be assured that Sirius had given a good fight. More importantly, Madison felt that if she could witness her husband's death – even after the fact – he would know that he wasn't alone, that she was with him. Deep down, she knew that he would never possibly know that now, but at this point she could only really concentrate on changing the things that she could; and right now she wanted to share in the experience that had taken her husband's life.
"You'll regret it," said Remus softly, all fight leaving him as he promised to show her the memory after careful consultation with Harry, once he arrived.
"Yes, well, I am sure wherever my husband is now he regrets getting his sorry arse killed!" said Madison dryly, revisiting her old friend humour in an attempt to draw herself out of the darkness. "Do not deny me the opportunity of knowing why, as a little ol' lady, I'm going to be inclined to beat him around the head with my colostomy bag when I go and meet him at the pearly gates."
Unable to help himself, Remus laughed. Slightly behind him, Andromeda wiped a drying tear from her eye, and bit back a noise that sounded halfway between a sob and a laugh.
"Merlin, I will never doubt why Sirius chose to marry you!" she said, her eyes shining in admiration. Closing the distance between them, she placed a hand on the widow's shoulder and squeezed it encouragingly. "You are going to be all right – see, you have already taken the first step!"
Letting out a strangled laugh, Madison reached up and squeezed her cousin-in-law's forearm in acknowledgement. Smiling a watery smile, she sighed.
"Well what more can I do? I feel like I am all cried out…" her voice trailed off as she looked down at the son in her arms, pausing to kiss the top of his brow. In a voice barely above a whisper, she continued in a hoarse voice. "Falling to pieces and crying a river is not going to help anyone. It's not going to bring him back."
Thought that final admission had been enough to set Madison off again, the pain in her heart did not seem as debilitating; her tears not as plentiful. She was no longer about to lose herself to her pain, like she gathered she had when she'd first heard; now, she was focused and determined and distracted by something else… two specific somethings, to be exact. Jamie… and Harry. The question of Harry's whereabouts, of his wellbeing, hitting her again, she turned to her husband's oldest living friend, her gaze level as she sought out his eyes.
"I need to speak with Dumbledore," she said determinedly. Heaven help her if Harry had already gone back to the Muggles for the summer. The thought of Harry having to endure the deference of his relatives after having just lost his godfather was absolutely unfathomable, and if Albus Dumbledore had allowed it to happen, there would be hell to pay.
"Ah, Mrs Black… so sorry for you loss," said Albus Dumbledore solemnly, in greeting. "You may not be aware, but I have been trying to contact you for some days now?"
"I was decidedly indisposed," said Madison primly, folding her fidgeting hands in her lap. At Remus' gentle suggestion, she had left Jamie at home and made the trip to Hogwarts alone – well, as alone as a Muggle could make the journey; Andromeda having quickly excused herself in favour of catching up with the school's resident Healer. "My family decided that it was in my best interests to allow myself some time to absorb the news before entering into this discussion with you."
"You have an idea what this conversation will be about?" said Dumbledore, his dull blue eyes widening slightly. If one were to look deep in the man's eyes at the moment, they would likely see a man metaphorically back-peddling, re-thinking his rehearsed approach. It threw him, slightly, to accept that this Muggle woman considered Sirius' 'family' as her own, turning up at the school with the cousin-in-law he was certain the woman could not have seen since her wedding. It hadn't occurred to him that a Muggle would be able to trust and turn to people from a world that she did not belong to. He had assumed that after the loss of her husband in a magical war, the woman would leap at the first opportunity to disappear into Muggle anonymity, forget that the magical world ever existed – until, at least, her son reached the age of eleven.
"I am under the impression, sir," said Madison flatly, "that you and I are here for the same reasons – to discuss what is now best for Harry."
'Of course,' she continued on in her internal monologue, careful to avoid eye contact with the revered wizard. 'What you think is best and what I know is best are likely two different kettle of fish.'
The headmaster peered at her in curiosity, before nodding once.
"Yes indeed," he said congenially, mistakenly assuming that he was home free. There is no way a Muggle woman, having just lost her husband to Dark wizardry, would want anything to do with a boy who was the Dark Lord's biggest target. "I must say that it is commendable that you should spare a thought for the boy when you are undoubtedly going through such emotional upheaval yourself. It is particularly remarkable, since you do not particularly know the boy, hmmm?"
Seeing where the headmaster was going with this, but altogether too emotionally drained to set him straight – she didn't after all, have to answer to him – she merely blinked at the man and pretended that he had not just said anything. No, better to wait for the headmaster to make his intentions clear before pulling out her hand.
"Yes, yes, well…" the headmaster paused to stroke his beard for a moment, becoming slightly disarmed by the strange Muggle woman who he could not quite read. "I am sure you will agree that, as a wizard, I am better equipped to know what is in Harry's best interests right now… what, with the threat of Voldemort and all…" - still, Madison said nothing – "… I am certain that you will have enough on your plate raising your own son, than to be concerned with the needs of a teenager who is of no relation to you-"
"Harry is my husband's godson," said Madison simply, correcting the headmaster.
The headmaster considered her words, and then shook his head sadly.
"Yes, but I implore you to not feel obligated in any way to uphold that which was, at the end of the day, Sirius' sole responsibility. Harry does have Muggle relatives…"
"Are you asking me to relinquish guardianship over Harry?" said Madison levelly, knowing full well what the old man would say next.
"Not at all, my dear," said Dumbledore; "you see, you have to first have guardianship over the boy in order to relinquish those rights."
"You have not lodged our marriage certificate," Madison stated numbly, not really surprised, but disheartened nonetheless that he husband's fears had been merited.
"I do know what we agreed upon, child, but I really do think that it is best for you, and for your son, to maintain your anonymity," said Dumbledore, with misguided concern. "Especially now, after what has happened. I am certain that Sirius would have wanted you both to live your lives without fear…"
'…and with Harry,' said Madison to herself, inwardly scowling at the old man's cheek. Just who did he think he was?
"With all due respect, sir, I do not feel it is your place to make that decision," said Madison. "I resent the implication that my son ought to hide who he is. His father's name is all he has left of Sirius, I will not take that away from him. My son will grow to be proud to be a Black, just as his father wanted. If accepting my husband's legacy comes hand in hand with danger, then I will deal with it. I knew what I was getting into when I got married, sir, and I am not going to dishonour my husband's memory by backing down now. The arrangement was that we were to conceal our identities until Sirius' name was cleared. Remus tells me that the Minister's days are numbered and any new Administration would give my husband a posthumous pardon, and so I hold it to you, sir, to honour your word. "
"You have misunderstood me, child," said Albus, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I do not mean to infer that you deny your love of Sirius and deprive your son in any way; I merely beseech upon you that you consider the virtues of discretion. If you are concerned about the state of Sirius' will, I assure you that young Mr Potter is not aware of his present entitlement, and that, should you wish, we can delay the administration of your late husband's estate until the war is over. Am I correct in the understanding that you are independently wealthy?"
Madison was seething. The thought that this man could possibly think that the only thing she was concerned about was securing Jamie's birthright as an heir, made her sick. Anyone who knew Sirius knew that he hated most all of his family's physical possessions. The money, yes, was some consolation, and it did make life a lot easier for Sirius – the years he wasn't held in hell without a trial, that is – and it was true that Madison had no need to be financially dependent on her husband's estate. For all Madison cared, Harry could take it all… all she wanted was her husband's name to be acknowledged as her own, and for his wishes for her to look out for Harry to be honoured.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir," said Madison, rising to her feet slowly. "I am afraid that you have underestimated my husband, and myself…"she straightened, holding her head high. "Furthermore, you have overestimated the role in which you are entitled to play in Harry's life. James and Lily Potter did not appoint you Harry's guardian, or even his regent. That honour was bestowed upon my husband, who, for reasons out of his control, could not act in Harry's best interests…" - she curled her lips into a grim smile and narrowed her eyes at the headmaster - "Sirius made sure to keep me fully abridged of his intentions, and I fully intend to honour his plans. I am certain that you will agree that as the man trusted most by James and Lily Potter to do the right thing by their son, Sirius remains the authority in this matter. I simply came to inform you that I will be doing all I can to serve Harry's best interests, and to request an audience with him."
Albus Dumbledore opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Wordlessly summoning a magical scroll from a drawer in his desk, he placed the marriage certificate of Sirius and Madison Black between them, the implication that he had yet to file it and thus Madison was powerless remaining unsaid.
"I think you'll find that's a copy," said Madison coolly, drawing Dumbledore's attention to the little 'innocent' incident in which Sirius had transformed and attempted to bury the scroll. All had found the antics hilarious at the time, and it wasn't until afterwards that the most trusted members of the wedding party had learnt that it had a more premeditated purpose of allowing a switch.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the scroll and frowned. Imperceptibly, Madison could detect the grand wizard's demeanour slump slightly. With a sad smile, the stoic widow shook her head slowly.
"The paperwork was filed late yesterday," she said quietly, her heart heavy with the thought that her beloved husband had not lived to see the day where their marriage could be officially recorded at the Ministry, "and backdated accordingly. I would like to see Harry now. It is the last day of term, is it not? You haven't moved him from the school, I hope?"
"No, Harry is here," said Dumbledore quietly, his face seeming to have aged in the matter of seconds. All too well he realised that he had stood the test and failed, possibly losing the trust of some of his key Order members – for he knew Sirius must have had help, formulating this contingency plan for his family. He had indeed, with a measure of regret, underestimated the son of Orion and Walburga Black. Glancing over at a clock, he sighed. "I duly suspect that he is in Gryffindor Tower, preparing to leave."
"Thank you, headmaster, I shall use the portraits to find my way," said Madison tersely, turning to leave. Halting in the doorway, she turned back and zeroed in for the kill. "I find it reprehensible that you actually believed that to send a grieving boy back to relatives who do not care for him was in the child's best interests. If my time with Sirius taught me anything, is that there is much more to living than mere survival. Much, much more."
Staring at the empty doorway, the sound of echoing footsteps travelling down the stairs, Albus Dumbledore leant back in his chair, a solitary tear tracing a path down his weathered face. In the past week, he had not only lost a former student, but a child he regarded as a grandson had left his office with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It had disturbed him when the Boy-Who-Lived had expressed such anger in his grief, destroying a great many things in his office; but nothing could have prepared him for the cool, calculated stoicism of a widow, whose love and admiration for a man the rest of the world was quick to judge and condemn, had played a winning hand.
As venerable leader of the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore had seen – and done – a lot in his time. So fixated had he become on the larger picture, that he had apparently lost perspective when it came to the smaller things. He had placed Harry with his Muggle relatives in good faith, too caught up in the securities that the blood bonds afforded the infant, to pay much mind to the long-term, psychological impact that the stay would impose upon the once-happy toddler. When Sirius had been 'unofficially' cleared, the human side to Albus Dumbledore would have wanted nothing more than to see the godfather reunited with his godson, but far from having the welfare of a thirteen year-old boy to consider, he had the well being of the wizarding world. Voldemort had already proven himself capable of penetrating the Fidelius Charm when it came to Harry, and as much as Albus trusted himself as Secret Keeper for Grimmauld Place, he was only human, and as a human being, he was more fallible than the strength of any blood bond. Privet Drive was, and would remain, the safest place for Harry Potter… and his interests had become concerned not so much with what was best than what was safest.
Watching the determined Muggle woman let herself out of his office, intent on finding her way to her new ward, Albus Dumbledore could not help but replay the woman's parting words in her mind. It was then with great sadness that he acknowledged that whilst he may have done everything he could to ensure that Harry survived, he had paid little to no consideration to how Harry deserved to live. Looking down at the counterfeit marriage certificate that lay scrolled on his desk, Albus realised that there was much more to Sirius Black than he had ever let on. Had the man only been concerned about letting Harry 'live', he could have insisted upon claiming guardianship the moment he got married and his wife could assume the rights that, due to his then-standing criminal conviction, he could not act upon. That Sirius had kept his word and ensured that the record of marriage was not lodged until he was no longer a fugitive spoke of a man with integrity, respect and above all, remarkable constraint. In his heart of hearts, Albus Dumbledore knew that Sirius Black wanted Harry to both survive and live… that he would never have jeopardised the safety of his wife and son by taking Harry in if he could not protect them all. Albus knew that Sirius had been working furiously over the better part of the past seven months to secure his family's Australian hideaway, and that he would never have intended for it to be revealed to Harry unless everything had been done to make sure it was safe. He had to concede that he had been wrong, and that Harry would be better placed with Sirius' wife and son; and he could only hope that all involved could one day forgive a foolish man for his narrow-minded mistake.
As Madison made her way through the halls of Hogwarts, feeling increasingly out of place – and cold – in her thin pink spaghetti top and camouflage shorts as hoards of students passed her, presumably on their way to the infamous end-of-term leaving feast, she could not help but feel a myriad of mixed emotions. Not only was she walking the walls of Hogwarts, a place Sirius had always spoken so highly of, vowing to show her one day, but she had no idea what sort of state the boy she had come to claim would be in when she found him.
At what Madison estimated to be halfway between Dumbledore's tower and the Gryffindor dormitories, she had recognised Ron and Hermione coming down the hallway. Noticing straight away that Harry was nowhere in sight, Madison was overwhelmed with images of the boy being in a state that had resembled her own just 36 hours earlier.
To say that Ron and Hermione were surprised to see Madison in the middle of the corridor, was something of an understatement. Even though they were of the assumption that she, having stayed the holidays at Grimmauld Place, was a witch and Order member, neither could understand why she had an interest in Harry. When she had then foregone her feigned Irish accent in her rush to ask after the boy, to find him, both teenagers were understandably wary.
"Listen, I can't explain everything now," she said. "Dumbledore knows I am here… please, I just have to get to Harry."
Fiercely protective of their friend, both teenagers drew their wands at her. Taking a step back, Madison held her hands up in defeat.
"Do I look like I have a wand?" she said impatiently, "or any weapon at all? Really now, I admire your protectiveness, but shouldn't the fact that you've seen me you-know-where be enough to convince you that I am loyal to you-know-what and would never harm a hair on Harry's head?"
"Just one question," said Hermione. "Why the fake accent? Who are you really? What do you want with Harry?"
"That was three questions, Hermione," said Madison with a small smile. "But all valid. Now, in order: I feigned an Irish accent because I would have left a more lasting impression if you all could tell I am really from Australia. As for who I am, it would depend on which I.D. I chose to show you. My Muggle marriage licence lists my married name as O'Ryan, and my husband's name as Patrick… though you would have known him better as Sirius…" – she paused for a moment to swallow down the emotion that mentioning her husband's name aloud caused in her; and also to let her revelation sink into the minds of the teenagers before her. Fiddling with the smooth, cool metal of the wedding band on her ring finger, Madison took a deep breath and answered Hermione's final question. "As for what I want with Harry… I want to wipe away his tears, to share his pain; to tell him about the godfather who thought about him every single day that they were apart. Most importantly, I want to take Harry to his real home, because that blasted aunt of his sure as hell did not make him feel welcomed."
Blinking back her own tears, Hermione exchanged a look with Ron and, without waiting for the bewildered redhead's reaction, motioned for Madison to follow.
"He's this way," she said simply, by way of understanding.
Letting Madison into the Gryffindor common room and directing her towards the stairs that led to the fifth year boy's dormitory, Hermione bade her well and practically had to drag Ron back out through the portrait hold. Smiling softly at the youngest Weasley boy's apparent lack of tact, Madison clung to the hope that there was still some chance that Harry had come through this latest ordeal with some of his childhood innocence left intact.
Noticing that the door to the dormitory was opened just a crack, Madison duck her head in quietly, not quite knowing whether to knock – thus giving the boy a chance to cover up his emotions – or simply enter. She settled instead to hover in the doorway, partially hidden by the door, but afforded an uninterrupted view of the boy in question, who sat at the foot of his bed, before his trunk, surrounded by books and clothing.
"Sirius," said Harry loudly and clearly, speaking into a device in his hand, which he held up a few inches from his face.
With a stab in her heart, Madison realised that Harry was trying to communicate with his godfather through a mirror; one of a pair that was partner to a mirror that she knew Sirius had carried with him everywhere since Christmas. As the boy became increasingly desperate, compulsively wiping the reflective glass clean and repeating his godfather's name, over and over, Madison could not stop her own tears from falling. The increasingly deflated child was completely unaware of her presence as she stole into the room and crouched beside him; close enough to touch, but slightly out of his direct eye line.
"Harry," she whispered, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder, but halting; choosing instead to hover mere millimetres from contact.
"Sirius!" Harry's eyes, which had begun to droop in defeat, had shot back towards the mocking mirror. When the boy appeared to shrug off his name being called as a figment of imagination, the frustrated child raising his hand as though to throw the mirror down and destroy it, Madison shot out her hand and firmly grasped Harry's wrist.
"Harry," she repeated, the boy now turning to her in surprise, the wrist in her grip falling lax as he began to stare straight through her.
"Madison?" said Harry, after a few moments. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment for having been caught trying to foolishly use a mirror to talk to the dead, he averted his eyes in shame. "Madison, what are you doing here?"
Cupping his chin in her free hand, she coaxed Harry's head up to look at her.
"Don't," she said firmly. "Don't be ashamed of what you just did. I did a lot worse, believe me-"
"What would you know?" Harry blurted hotly. "Who was Sirius to you?"
"Who wasn't he?" mused Madison, unable to articulate a more definitive response. Her eyes began to drift to a point in the wall beyond Harry, blinking unseeingly as she pointlessly attempted to hold back her tears.
Confused, Harry frowned, and repeated his earlier question.
"Why are you here?"
Blinking away the moisture in her eyes, Madison came to her senses; here was a question she could answer. Removing her hand from Harry's chin to run the back of her fingers down one side of Harry's cheeks, her other hand letting go of his wrist and creeping up to brush the long edges of his fringe out of his eyes, she smiled a painful smile.
"I'm here to take you home, Harry," she said in a broken whisper.
End Chapter
Next Chapter: Home? / Epilogue
Due: Before the year is out... I hope!
A/N: Yes, I know, I am deplorably cruel to follow the evil... evil... canon of OotP. But, what can I say, I needed to write it; if only to try and better understand how an author (i.e. JK Rowling) could kill off the last surviving parental figure in a young boy's life. Even though leaving Harry, now, with a 'mother' figure in Madison, it still feels completely and utterly horrible, and I am still no closer to comprehending how JK could do such a thing to our dear old Padfoot. Most of all, it ripped my heart out (and then minced it in a blender) to depict the grief of a fifteen month old child, and I must say that it raised a lot of questions in my mind how an orphaned Harry had been able to emerge from his early childhood intact after, presumably, being ignored and shoved in a cupboard as he pined for his parents. I'd like to take a leaf out of JK's book and vow that there was a 'reason' to sending Sirius through the veil (over three years on and I still can't bring myself to say 'killed'!) but having seen a lot of death in the past few years I can quantifiably say that 'reason' brings with it very little consolation... I am hopeful, however, that the Epilogue might bring with it the same measure of cathartic closure as it did for me, writing it.