Sirius descended the stairs of the Leaky Cauldron, a spark of excitement piercing his usual undercurrent of worry. Spotting him, Tom cheerfully called out, "Morning, Sirius! The usual?"
Sirius shook his head. "Not today, Tom."
Tom raised his eyebrows in question.
"I'm hoping to arrange a special birthday breakfast for Harry," Sirius explained, his voice softer, almost apologetic. 'Eggs, bacon, sausages…"
Tom's wrinkled face split into a wide, toothless grin. "Ah, a feast fit for a birthday lad. I'm on it, Sirius. Will bring it right up when it's ready."
"No, no. We'll dine down here," Sirius said, his enthusiasm evident.
He then turned, taking the stairs with a newfound purpose. As he reached Falcon's door, he paused, his hand hovering above the doorknob as he gathered his thoughts. With a steady exhale, he knocked gently.
A quiet 'come in' granted him access, and he stepped into the soft morning light filtering into the room.
'How did you sleep, angel?'
Falcon looked up from her bed, a letter in her hands, unfolded. "Okay… I got a letter from Hogwarts last night." She paused, gauging Sirius's reaction. When none came, she continued with a challenge in her eyes, "Am I to accept?"
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sirius replied, "Yes, it will do you and Harry good to receive a proper education while I sort out my family's affairs."
The words hit Falcon like a punch, and her eyes welled up with tears. Sirius's heart twisted at the sight.
"Hey, no, please don't cry," he pleaded softly, sinking onto the edge of her bed. He gently pulled her against his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"Falcon, listen," Sirius began, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of emotion. "Hogwarts isn't just a school; it's a place of magic and friendship. It's where your parents met, fell in love. You're going to have a great time, I promise."
He took a moment, letting his words sink in. Then, after several minutes of sniffles and silence, he calmly held out his hand. "Let me see your letter and supply list. I'll send an owl with yours and Harry's replies before breakfast." He kissed her forehead.
"Please, get ready and meet me downstairs," he said, standing from the bed with a weighty sigh.
With the door closed behind him, Sirius sagged against the hallway wall, the reality of his decision washing over him. The thought of sending his children away filled him with dread. Was he making the right choice?
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Sirius and Falcon were already comfortably settled at a small wooden table in the Leaky Cauldron when Harry descended the stairs. Spotting them, he quickened his steps, a delighted grin lighting up his face.
"Happy 13th, champ!" Sirius greeted, standing from his chair to envelop Harry in a bear hug that was perhaps a touch too fierce, his hand playfully tousling Harry's already unruly hair. "Sit down; your birthday breakfast is on its way."
Falcon chimed in with her own quiet wish. "Happy birthday, Harry."
Not long after Harry had settled in, Tom arrived, balancing a veritable mountain of breakfast on a tray. The scent of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air, momentarily overpowering the musty smell of the old pub.
Harry and Sirius began eating with gusto, but Falcon merely picked at her food.
Sirius looked at her worriedly as a thread of tension overtook their table.
Unable to take the silence, Sirius exclaimed, "Hogwarts really is amazing."
"Harry, are you looking forward to it?"
Harry beamed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I can't wait. Do you think they'll let me try out for Quidditch?" He looked hopefully at Sirius.
"They'd be missing out if they didn't. You're a natural, just like your dad," Sirius replied, letting out a warm chuckle. He added, winking at Harry, "And we'll pick up your birthday present while we're out. I know just the place."
His words were cut short as a hushed whisper from a nearby table reached his ears. "Peter Pettigrew…" The name hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver down Sirius's spine and causing his breath to come in short gasps. "Not here," he thought desperately. Not in front of the kids.
Needing to escape, Sirius suddenly suggested, "We should start shopping for your supplies now."
Avoiding the curious gazes of his children, he quickly rose from the table, managing a forced smile. He tossed a few coins onto the table for breakfast and prompted, "Come on, you two. Let's get going."
As they navigated through the pub, Sirius leading the way, Falcon stole one last glance at the whispering patrons they left behind, curiosity replacing her sadness from earlier.
Emerging from the Leaky Cauldron's stuffy atmosphere, they faced an innocuous brick wall, which Sirius approached with a familiar air. Glancing back to ensure Falcon and Harry were watching, he tapped a precise pattern on the bricks with his wand.
With that signal, the bricks began their magical transformation, shifting and rearranging themselves into an archway that revealed the lively and colorful Diagon Alley. The vibrant sounds, enticing aromas, and captivating displays of magic ignited a spark in both Harry and Falcon; twin grins taking over their faces.
Their sense of wonder never dwindled as they ventured deeper into the heart of the Alley. Meandering past several shops with their eyes wide and jaws dropping at every sight, the family soon found themselves before Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Sirius nudges them inside.
They were greeted by racks of robes in various styles and colors. "Welcome to my shop. I am Madam Malkin," greeted a plump witch, her neck draped with a tape measure. "What can I assist you with today?"
"We're here to get Hogwarts robes for these two," Sirius announced, motioning towards Harry and Falcon.
"Ah, right this way. One first year and one… " She looked Harry up and down. '…third," she added, looking at Sirius for confirmation. With a nod of his head that she had indeed guessed correctly, Sirius shuffled off to the side.
Madam Malkin guided the siblings to a pair of stools in the center of the room. As Harry and Falcon settled down, enchanted tape measures fluttered around them, taking precise measurements.
Leaning against a nearby rack, Sirius watched them, lost in thought. He knew without a doubt that Harry would find his place in Gryffindor. There was an echo of James in him, a bravery and a determination that could not be missed.
Falcon, however, was a mystery. He didn't consider her to be traditionally brave like Harry, but instead, there was a wild curiosity in her nature. The Sorting Hat surely had its work cut out for it.
After finishing up at Madam Malkin's, they headed to Flourish and Blotts to collect their books. As they meandered through the stacks of leaning towers of books, Sirius overheard a conversation from a nearby aisle that made his skin crawl.
"I heard they've hired another woman at Hogwarts," said someone with indignation, their voice grating and high-pitched.
"Another one?" replied their companion. "Isn't the one enough?"
"Indeed, they've got some female Auror to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. It's all very untraditional," the first voice said, their tone frosty.
Sirius's brows knitted together as he recognized the familiar, bitter undercurrent in the conversation, an echo of a mindset he'd fought to distance himself from. Echoes of his mother's voice swirled around his mind, "You are the heir to the most noble and ancient house of black. You are to stop associating with the Potter boy and that half-breed at once."
Sirius flinched, remembering the argument that followed. And the bruises.
As they exited Flourish and Blotts, Sirius placed a hand on each of their shoulders, guiding them down the bustling Alley. "Alright, let's get your wands next."
Harry's steps faltered slightly, and he reached for the wand already in his back pocket, which had once belonged to his father. "But Papa, we only need one."
Sirius glanced down, seeing the familiar lines of James' old wand protruding from Harry's clenched fist. It was more than just a tool for magic—it was a tether to a father he'd lost too soon.
"I know, Harry," Sirius replied, his voice softer now. He saw the resistance in Harry's green eyes, so similar to James'. "But your dad would want you to have your own wand. Each wand has its own personality, you know. Just like each wizard does."
Harry raised his father's wand, a flicker of defiance sparking in his gaze. "But I like this one. It's all that's left of him." "Of my father," he said with emphasis.
Sirius felt a tight knot in his chest as he looked at the young boy. He took a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I know, son," he said, "but let's at least talk to Mr. Ollivander, okay?"
Harry's nod was reluctant, but he didn't protest any further.
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A relieved smile tugged at his godfather's lips as he led Harry and Falcon towards an antique shop bearing the name 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC' in faded gold letters.
The tinkering of a bell and a peculiar scent welcomed them, an amalgamation of polished wood and something ancient, as if magic itself had an aroma. Stacked shelves brimming with narrow boxes lined the shop, each housing a wand awaiting its destined hand.
"Ah, Mr. Black and the young Potters," Ollivander's voice echoed through the quiet shop, sending a slight shiver down Harry's spine. "I've been expecting you."
Papa gave them both an encouraging smile before moving off to the side to wait.
Emerging from the stacks was Ollivander himself, a wizened old man with crooked spectacles and wiry white hair, his figure a stark contrast against the rows of dark boxes on the stacked shelves. He glided towards them on an old library ladder and hopped down, an eerie grace to his movements contrasting his evident years.
Ollivander's intense gaze swept over the two children, his eyes briefly sparking as they lingered on Harry. With a measure of resignation, he turned his attention to Falcon. His movements, though efficient, were notably curt as he took her measurements.
Ollivander disappeared amongst the stacks, and in a dizzying routine, he plucked wand after wand, passing them to Falcon. Ollivander's brows furrowed, his lips thinned into a line, a hint of frustration creeping into his previously composed demeanor. It seemed to Harry as if he viewed Falcon as an inconvenience.
Finally, a willow wand with a unicorn hair core was placed in her hands. As she gave it a hesitant swish, radiant sparks in a spectrum of color erupted from the tip, contrasting the unspoken tension in the air.
Falcon smiled and went to stand next to their godfather, where he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
With Falcon's selection concluded, Ollivander turned to Harry with an almost predatory stance. "Now, Mr. Potter," his eyes twitched behind his spectacles, "let's find your wand."
"I already have a wand, sir," Harry responded, pulling out his father's old wand, a piece of mahogany wood filled with warmth from years of use. "It was my dad's."
Ollivander offered a cursory glance before his gaze returned to Harry. "Ah, a fine wand indeed," he acknowledged quickly, "but every wizard should have a wand that chooses them."
"We are, after all, mere cogs. Are we not? Certain fates entwine, even when the twine is unseen."
Distracted and confused by his cryptic comment, Harry nodded and, before he knew it, was forcefully handed his first wand to try.
Now showing a hint of a smile, Ollivander began handing Harry wand after wand. Each was tried and quickly discarded. Ollivander's pile of rejected wands grew, but his determined glee didn't seem to falter.
Finally, he handed Harry a wand made of holly, 11 inches long, with a phoenix feather core. "Try this one, Mr. Potter," he urged, watching Harry closely.
The moment Harry's fingers touched the smooth wood, he felt a warmth spreading through his hand, an energy that made his fingers tingle. When he gave the wand a wave, a stream of gold sparks shot out of the end. It felt right; it felt… like his.
"Bravo!" Ollivander exclaimed, the sound echoing in the silence as he clapped his hands maniacally. He studied Harry with an intensity that seemed to rival his prior urgency.
He paused, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "How curious," he began slowly, his voice dipping into a whisper almost lost amongst the rows of boxes. "The phoenix that donated a feather to your wand, it gave only one other…"
He let the words hang in the air, creating a sense of suspense. "And it resides in the wand that chose…
"… You-Know-Who," he whispered the name with unmistakable fascination.
"Very curious indeed…"
Harry's eyes widened as he glanced at his godfather's pale face. But Ollivander, seemingly oblivious to their reactions, continued.
"Did you know," he started again, his voice carrying an undercurrent of pride, "I sold the very wand that did that. Thirteen and a half inches, made of yew. A potent tool."
Harry's brows furrowed, and his grip on his wand tightened, "Did what…?" he asked hesitantly.
The elder wandmaker straightened his back, his eyes gleaming. "I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr. Potter," he announced, his chest puffing out slightly. His gaze intensified, his eyes boring into Harry's. "Isn't it intriguing," he paused, letting the anticipation build, "that you, Mr. Potter, should be destined for this wand when its brother… gave you that scar… "
Before Ollivander could continue, Harry felt himself being yanked away.
"Harry take your sister and get some fresh air while I pay," his godfather commanded.
Harry took Falcon's hand and led her out the door.
After a few minutes, the man emerged and, though visibly shaken, asked, "Apothecary next?"
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Inhaling the scent of the apothecary, Theo was enveloped by the amalgamation of everything magical and grotesque. Each shelf held glass jars with wonderful things in them, integral to the world of potion-making. The heady scent of mixed herbs pervaded the air, a peculiar mélange of enchanting and revolting odors. As the son of a potion master, Theo found a strange comfort in this place; it was like being comforted by a trusted friend, welcome after his jarring day.
His father, Severus, should've been the one to take him on this right of passage. Discussing cauldron sizes and arguing with the shopkeeper was his father's job, and Theo felt a gaping hole where Severus should've been. Theo appreciated Remus' kindness and patience but missed the familiar rhythm of his father's commanding voice.
"Remember, Teddy, don't touch anything," Remus said, keeping a keen eye on the younger boy who attempted to prod a jar containing something slimy and very much alive.
A man with an apron covered in green slime approached him, "what can I get for you, lad?" he inquired.
Theo, attempting to mimic his absent father's confidence, stated, "One pewter cauldron size 2, a standard set of scales, and the standard ingredients package for Year One."
As the shopkeeper went to collect Theo's items, Remus attempted to lighten the mood. With a gentle nudge and a soft smile, he said, "Can you imagine if your father were here? He would have already barked at the poor shopkeeper about the quality of the boomslang skin," Remus added, his voice taking on a stern tone reminiscent of Severus'.
A small smile appeared on Theo's face. "And what magical alloy do you call this? Unacceptable," he played along.
Meanwhile, Teddy tugged at Remus' cardigan. "Daddy, I want to leave; it's creepy in here." Without a moment's delay, Remus scooped up his youngest son. As Teddy rested his head on Remus' shoulder, the shop bell rang again, introducing a well-dressed man with wavy brown hair and a trim mustache, guiding two children. One was a spectacled boy who seemed to be on the cusp of his teen years; the other was a girl around Theo's age with a dark mane of wild, wavy hair reflecting the dim apothecary light.
The boy's nose wrinkled in disgust at the peculiar blend of scents. However, the girl seemed to drink in her surroundings with an awe that echoed Theo's own fascination with this magical world. Her wide eyes reflected the strange allure of the apothecary. Theo imagined them having a shared understanding of its grotesque charm.
He found himself strangely drawn to her, a pull that felt as though his magic was whispering to hers in a language only they could comprehend. He shook his head as if to clear a spell, but the enchantment persisted. Theo looked at his hands as he felt a tingle in his fingertips. His gaze was magnetically drawn back to the girl who, like him, found comfort in this world of potions and peculiarities, cementing a connection between them that felt mysterious and inexplicable.
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The soft chime of the shop bell signaled Sirius Black's entrance, an echo drawing the shopkeeper's attention. Sirius passed a list to him with a charming smile before his gaze swept across the room. It came to rest on a sight that sent a pang through his heart – Remus Lupin, an old schoolmate, with two young boys, one he held while the other was gazing hungrily towards… Falcon.
A wave of guilt washed over Sirius, the memory of a prank gone horribly wrong flashing vividly in his mind. The hurt in Remus' eyes the morning after that fateful full moon was an image he'd never been able to forget. He grimaced almost painfully, the residue of regret as potent as it had been years ago.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Sirius approached him.
"Remus," he greeted cautiously, the weight of the years and past mistakes momentarily stealing his typically rehearsed charisma.
A strained smile crept onto Remus's face as he turned. 'Sirius,' he said, surprise edging into his voice. The tension between them was palpable, two old friends trying to navigate the awkwardness of an unexpected reunion.
For a moment, Sirius simply looked at the boys next to Remus, his curiosity piqued. But he found his voice again, cutting through the silence with, "And who do we have here?"
"This is Teddy," Remus introduced the younger boy he held first, ruffling his hair gently. He looked to be nearly asleep. "And Theo," he added, indicating the older boy with a nod and smile.
Sirius' eyes softened as he turned to his own charges, pulling them closer. "This is Harry and Falcon," he introduced.
Recognition sparked in Teddy's eyes as he lifted his head off Remus's shoulder. "You're Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived! Do you really have a scar?"
"Teddy!" Remus' voice held a note of embarrassment. "We don't point out people's scars."
"Remus, it's alright," Sirius said with an easy laugh, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately. "Kids will be kids."
The tension seemed to lift slightly, replaced by the shared community of fatherhood. After a brief pause, Sirius extended an invitation, "How about we catch up over lunch? My treat." The hopeful note in his voice echoed the silent wish to mend bridges and put past mistakes behind. "Any recommendations on where to go for lunch?"
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Remus heard Sirius' words, and a moment of irony washed over him as he processed that Sirius Black suggested they go for lunch. Still reeling from the shock of meeting his once childhood friend, Remus took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding, his mind struggling to catch up.
"That's too kind; you really don't…" Remus began, but Sirius interrupted with exaggerated enthusiasm, exclaiming, "Nonsense! It will be a good chance for the kids to visit." Sirius smiled warmly at Theo, whose eyes remained fixed on Falcon.
Remus sighed softly, a hint of obligation creeping in. "Well, there is a new deli with nice outdoor seating," he said, his tone carrying a tinge of weariness.
"Excellent!" Sirius exclaimed, turning to the shopkeeper who had approached with the children's things. After a swift exchange of gold between Remus, Sirius, and the shopkeeper, they made their way out the door, heading towards the deli.
As they walked, the conversation retained a somewhat awkward undertone. Sirius attempted to break the tension by asking, "So, what have you been up to after…"
The unspoken words "after the war" lingered in the air, and Sirius looked at Remus with panic in his eyes.
Remus kindly filled the silence. "I did a lot of traveling, went all over the world working as an on-location editor of sorts for several different magizoologists and magnanthropologists."
Thoughts of how he had stumbled upon Teddy during his travels invaded Remus' mind. The rarity of children surviving a werewolf bite weighed heavily on him. Teddy's mother, whoever she was, had left him at their camp in Romania while they were studying the origins of a vampire-related phenomenon. He was small but strong, and when Remus laid eyes on the young boy, he vowed to become the father he deserved. He immediately returned home and soon crossed paths with Severus while shopping with a young Theo.
Severus… the thought interrupted Remus' musings. He couldn't ignore that Sirius would not react well to their union.
Quickly skipping over the details of Teddy's origins, Remus continued, "After traveling all over, I found myself back here and got married."
Curiosity evident in his voice, Sirius asked, "Anyone I know?"
Remus glanced at Theo, noticing his questioning look at the tension lingering in the air. Remus replied with a subtle emphasis that was clearly a test, "Severus and I have been married for a little over five years now."
There was a pause as Sirius' mind whirled with thoughts Remus couldn't decipher. In a display of surprising maturity, Sirius simply said, "I'm happy for you. You have a beautiful family."
With those words, the conversation began to flow more smoothly. The group arrived at the deli, found seating for six, and a waitress approached to take their orders. As they waited for their food, Falcon turned to Sirius, reminding him with a hint of timid excitement in her voice.
"Papa, don't forget we still need to pick up Harry's birthday present."
Amidst rounds of "Happy birthday," Falcon added, "And may we also pick out pets to bring with us to Hogwarts?"
"Of course, we can, angel," Sirius said. "Anything you want."
Remus hoped that Sirius remembered there was a small approved list for pets, but his manners wouldn't allow him to give voice to his concerns. Instead, he mused over how surprised but pleased he was to hear the Potter kids refer to Sirius as 'Papa.' He marveled at Sirius' evident evolution into the role of father. The reckless hellion of their youth was no longer present.
Remus chimed in, "Ah, that's an important decision. Be careful what you choose. I have a student who finds keeping track of his toad extremely difficult."
Once the food arrived, the conversation died off.
After everyone had a chance to satiate their hunger, Remus broke the silence to admit, "I'll be taking Theo to our record store later."
Sirius interjected, "Oh, the one on Cherry Street? I miss the smell of that place. We snuck many a record to Hogwarts from there."
Prompted by Sirius' remark, Harry's curiosity piqued, and he asked, "What kind of music did you listen to?"
Remus smiled and replied, "Grunge, mostly."
Teddy, eager to contribute to the conversation, added, "Our house elf uses one of those to clean!"
Theo reminded him, "That's a sponge, Teddy…" in a slightly too harsh 'big-brother' tone.
Remus merely reprimanded him with a warning glance.
Sirius shifted his attention towards Theo. With a warm smile, he began, "So, Theo, you're starting your first year? Your father here must be quite proud."
Remus' heart skipped a beat at Sirius' unintentional slip, momentarily taken aback by the mention of his own role as Theo's father. He exchanged a brief glance with Theo, who hesitated momentarily, unsure how to respond. It was a delicate subject.
Summoning his courage, Theo corrected Sirius, his voice laced with a hint of hesitation. "Actually, Mr. Black, Remus is my stepfather."
Remus looked at Theo with kind eyes, silently offering his support and understanding. He knew the significance of Theo acknowledging their relationship before Sirius, and his heart swelled with pride for the young boy.
Sirius, taken aback by Theo's correction, paused momentarily, his expression shifting to one of surprise. He quickly recovered, his face breaking into a warm smile. "Ah, of course! My mistake, Theo. You're lucky to have such a wonderful stepfather."
Remus nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips, grateful for Sirius' acceptance of his family.
