2021 Me: Hey, PZ!
2018 Me: Oh, no...
2021 Me: So about that Sorting Hat one-shot...
2018 Me: Let me guess, another court scene?
2021 Me: No! Of course not.
2022 Me: (yet)
2018 Me: Phew! -Wait, what was that?
2021 Me: It's a funeral scene!
2018 Me: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY STORY?!

The following morning Harry and Sirius enjoyed a casual breakfast while Sirius glanced over at the day's mail. "Oh, look, Marcello wrote to us."

"How's he doing?" Harry asked between bites of cereal.

The bites continued as Sirius read the letter. His eyes scanned through the parchment with light intrigue. Eventually he shrugged and answered his godson. "He's doing well. Enjoying the weather and sights in Greece. Says he's gone through some books that you'll find interesting. Honestly, who does research and reading as part of a holiday?"

"Technically he's retired, isn't he?" Harry queried. "He only does warding and security work part time, right?"

"True. Still, an odd way to relax. If it were me, I'd just go enjoy the beaches and sightseeing."

"We could do that, you know." Harry offered. "I've never been overseas before. How about next summer we travel abroad? We can do it after we talk to the goblins about the old Potter properties."

"I…" Sirius paused for a moment. A slight frown on his face. "Travelling. Yes. That's a great idea. I can look up a few places for holiday ideas. ...But, Harry, you don't have to worry yourself about the Potter Manor and all that. I know my grandfather gets all up in arms with you about family legacies and what-not, still-"

"I know." He cut in. "I know I don't have to worry about them. Still… I just think it would be nice, you know? Seeing the places where my family used to live. How they lived. Find old portraits to talk to and stuff, you know?"

Sirius leaned back into his seat. "I suppose. It's been ages since I've been to the manor. Not since the Death Eater attack; but it was home for those few years, at least, for me and James…"

Silence enveloped Sirius like a blanket. Harry watched quietly at the small expressions that flitted across his face. Nostalgic, sad, mirthful, resigned, fondness. Quiet memories that Harry wasn't privy to. Maybe, once Potter Manor and the other properties are restored (and the paperwork finishes for Godric's Hollow to legally become his again), they can walk the old halls and give Harry the chance to hear those stories etched in his godfather's memory.

Now settled into the silence, and with breakfast eaten, Harry reached over to the rest of the unread mail and flipped through them. A Gringotts letter, a business-looking letter of some sort, and one stamped with a family seal he faintly recognized that was addressed to both him and Sirius. Harry opened up the letter and read the contents. A quiet groan escaped him.

"Oh…"

Sirius perked his head slightly, breaking out of his musings. "What is it?"

"Your aunt Lucretia… I'm sorry, but she passed away last night."

Sirius blinked twice. "Oh." He looked down to his lap.

"Her funeral's set for Thursday." Harry supplied.

Sirius released a sigh. "I don't know, Harry. …She and I were never close…"

"But she's Arcturus' daughter. He… I can't imagine how he must feel right now…"

Sirius went to dismiss Harry's point, only to find his godson looking up at him with piteously puppy dog eyes. A look which stirred his animagus instincts of do not make your pack-pup sad! "Oh, alright, fine." He exasperated. The grateful look Harry then offered him was full of so much sincerity that Sirius couldn't help but turn away in discomfort. "I suppose we both need a set of black dress robes. Some flowers, too, or a gift. Not sure what her husband will prefer..."

He stopped in his ramblings, looking across the table before turning to Harry. "You should get dressed, Harry. I'll clear all this up. We'll head out right afterward."

With a nod, Harry left for his room. His mind drifted over to the sad news all the while.

This is the first time Harry's been to a funeral. That said, his expectations weren't far off from the dreary affair. In a wreath-filled room of the Prewett manor, the body of Lucretia Prewett née Black laid in resplendent robes within an ornate casket. Beside the casket, a minister gave service to God and the dearly departed to those in attendance. The number itself was small. Less than a hundred people attended, all wearing black robes and mournful expressions. Harry recognized a fair number of attendees, mainly from the Black, Malfoy, and Weasley families. That said, he could only offer shallow nods to his friends from a distance before finding his seat for the service. After the service and interment, Harry and Sirius went over to the reception, where they lingered on the outskirts near the door.

"Do you see Arcturus?"

"Hmm… over there." Sirius nodded forward to a point on the other side of the hall beyond Harry's line of sight. The two made their way over, only to be stopped a third of the way in by Fred and George.

"Uh, 'scuse me, Mister Padfoot, sir?" One of them spoke.

"Yes?"

The twins glanced at each other with uncomfortable indecision. "I- uh- not sure if this is a bad time; but we want to ask you about something-?"

"-some ideas, in private," the other added, "if that's alright with you?"

"Oh..." Sirius glanced down at Harry, and the boy gave a small shrug of acceptance. "Alright, then. You go on without me, Harry. I'll be right back."

Harry nodded and continued in the same direction while the three wizards went over to the windowed part of the room. As people shifted, Harry found Arcturus standing with an elderly couple offering their condolences. When they left, he noticed the older man's shoulder droop slightly. His face cast into a dark shadow with ill-masked grief, only for a flicker of a moment, before settling into the cool mask Harry was used to. Seeing this change, he tentatively stepped into the man's line of sight.

"Ah, Harry." He glanced above the boy's head briefly. "Once again I see Sirius hasn't deigned to show his face."

"He's here. He was just called away by the Weasley's for a minute. He'll be back soon."

Arcturus' eyes widened in mild surprise. "Oh. I see."

He faded into silence. Harry chewed his lip nervously. What are you supposed to say to someone whose daughter just died? Whatever else everyone else has been saying, he supposed. …Something about that thought weighed uncomfortably on his mind. "...Would you like to go for a walk?"

Arcturus raised a brow at the peculiar question. He continued to not speak, eyes glancing at the people closest in the room. When his eyes returned, he gave the boy a short nod. "A walk will be nice."

They stepped out of the room, down the hall, and out into the manor gardens. The gardens were sparse, with fringes of decayed plants covered under a light snow. Still, they walked on. Arcturus guided them to a pavilion, wherein he cast a warming charm on the bench and sat down.

"So, what is it you wish to talk about?"

"Sir?"

"You asked to speak with me in private. The gardens are empty and no one will be able to hear us out here. So, what is it that you need?"

Harry blinked with confusion. "Nothing." He assured him. "I just thought- having all those people offering condolences and talking about your daughter must be hard on you. I thought you could use a break from it all."

The pavilion went still. Arcturus stared at Harry. Harry blinked back. Then, in a sudden burst, Arcturus laughed. "Oh, dear child," His head shook into his hand, "I cannot even fathom… You are so unlike the rest of our family."

Quietly, Harry sat down next to him. The bubble of laughter faded into a sigh. "The rest of our family… what a pitiful state we are." He glanced at Harry, offering the boy a rueful smile. "Ah, but you understand such a feeling better than most."

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"...Do you know how many family funerals I've attended this year?" With a shake of Harry's head, he answered with numbered fingers. "Three. My cousin Cassiopeia in April. She died in her sleep, bless her soul. With no husband or children to survive her. Then Cygnus passed last month, though I've no doubt the cause was unnatural, no matter what the DMLE says." He gave a deep sigh. "The last we spoke, he was finally warming to the idea of speaking to Andromeda again, perhaps even meeting her family one day; but now he'll never have that chance. And, now, as though the universe found my suffering not deep enough, they've taken my daughter from me."

The old wizard shook his head, tears in his eyes. "A man is not meant to outlive his children, yet I live while my son and daughter are dead. While my youngest grandson is dead. While my siblings are dead. While my cousins…" He looked up to the heavens, then closed his eyes in defeat. "We are well-named, the House of Black. Our given and surnames alike. One by one the stars go out, and what will be left of us? Blackness, emptiness, nothing!"

The tears broke free. A small stream cut down his cheek as the words washed over him. Harry, with shy movements, placed a hand over his. "You won't be nothing. There's… you have uncle Sirius. You're not alone."

A cynical chuckle bubbled from his lips. "And how long will that last, I wonder? I know my grandson well enough. I could live a hundred years and that man will never sire an heir. ...It's a Black tradition, I suppose. You either die a bachelor like my siblings or Cassiopeia; childless like my daughter; or sire just enough children to entertain a dichotomy of perfection and chaos."

A third voice scoffed unexpectedly. "I'm not sure if I should be insulted or relieved by the comparison."

Arcturus and Harry turned to find Sirius, arms crossed, leaning on a pillar of the pavilion. In matching his tone, Arcturus sneered. "That depends, are you referring to following the former Black tradition yourself, or on being a product of the latter example?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Then I will leave you to make your own opinion." He rose from the bench. With a handkerchief he quickly dabbed his face then pocketed the wet material. Arcturus then laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Thank you for the walk, Harry. It was most appreciated."

He then retreated from the pavilion, with only a nod and muttering a quiet "Sirius" in goodbye as he made his way back inside the manor.

"Well, that was something." Sirius muttered. "Everything alright, pup?"

"Yeah." He stood up from the bench. "Despite everything, I think he needed that."

The wizard nodded. "You're probably right. My grandfather's a prickly bastard, but does appreciate you, in his own way."

Harry nodded, thinking about the conversation, and what it means to be one of the last of your family. "I kind of understand where he's coming from. I don't remember my parents or know much about my family. Still, it's not easy being alone."

Sirius' eyes softened. "You're not alone, Harry." He walked over to him and gave his godson a strong hug. "No matter what anyone says; about names or titles or any of that, that's not what makes people family. Love, that's what makes people family; and I love you. Don't you ever forget it."

A sniffle of tears escaped him. Harry squeezed back tighter. "I know, Uncle Sirius, and I love you, too."