Sirius was standing in the middle of Buckbeak's shed holding his cup with steaming hot tea. He had gotten up very early, or rather, he could not get much sleep since he felt overstimulated by the Order meeting and the commotion at the house.
Leaving his tea mug on a wooden barrel, Sirius stroked Buckbeak's feathers. Buckbeak nuzzled closer to Sirius, his large beak nudging gently against Sirius's hand. Sirius chuckled.
"There you go, Buckbeak, my old mate. You're a majestic creature, you are. I've made this stable just for you, a sweet place to call your own," he told the creature affectionately.
The shed was located at the neglected backyard of Grimmauld Place 12. Sirius had spent a whole week meticulously planning and designing this shed as a stable for Buckbeak who until then was in Sirius' mother's room.
He had built it with muggle wood supplies he got by himself, as he always liked to use his hands, to make things from scratch and to enchant his creations to fit their purposes more conveniently. He had done the same with his old motorcycle all those years back.
The shed looked like an inconspicuous wooden cabin on the outside but inside it actually had all sorts of amplifying enchantment work: it was almost like a large stable with many food stations for the temperamental Hippogriff and large cushions for him to rest, as well as a lot of hay.
Sirius sipped his tea while his other hand still rested on the tall creature next to him. He enjoyed those moments, and he had formed a bond with Buckbeak. But if Sirius were to be honest, he also came here to clear his mind. Like at the moment with Harry since Sirius had that horrible nightmare and had lunged at the boy in his panicked state.
He winced at the thought and a pang of guilt washed over him immediately after. He didn't have time to talk to Harry last night because of the Order meeting. By the time supper had ended and all the guests left, Harry had already gone upstairs to bed.
He knew that their conversation was due today since tomorrow his godson, along with his friends, were off to Hogwarts.
"You and I, we've been through a lot, haven't we?" he asked the creature that headbutted him playfully.
Buckbeak let out a low rumble, a sound that could be mistaken for a growl to the untrained ear. "Oh, none of that, Buckbeak. I know you're just showing your appreciation," he patted his neck.
"Alright, old friend," Sirius said after a while, watching Buckbeak eating. "Time to face the day," Sirius let out another deep sigh and decided it was time to start his day and stop sulking.
With swift motions, he quickly tied a loose rope around Buckbeak's neck, creating a harness. With his steaming tea in hand, he turned to Buckbeak and grinned mischievously. "You know what we'll do, Buckbeak? It's high time we had a little adventure in the backyard. The muggles won't see a thing!"
Buckbeak let out a huff, sensing the thrill in Sirius's voice. But just as they were about to step outside, Sirius's eyes widened in surprise when he spotted Harry, in his blue striped pyjamas and robe, standing on the porch with a small smile on his face.
"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "What are you doing up so early, my boy?"
Harry, looking slightly awkward, approached Sirius and Buckbeak tentatively. "Um, I saw you and Buckbeak. Mind if I tag along?"
"Of course," Sirius said. He gave Buckbeak a small smack on his backside, prompting him to go around the yard for a run, and motioned Harry to sit on the small bench next to the shed and he placed his tea on the ground. In the meantime, Sirius grabbed a rat from the bucket that was left outside and threw it at Buckbeak who lunged to grab it. "Here you go, you devil," Sirius said amused. "Sit, Harry," he exhorted.
Harry sat next to him on the bench feeling the crisp air of the early morning in his cheeks that were getting a little red. He shivered and Sirius noticed.
"Here," said Sirius and took out his wand to swiftly cast a heating charm. "Better?" he asked, rubbing his hands.
"Yeah, thanks," said Harry, looking less uncomfortable.
Sirius sipped his tea again. He knew this conversation needed to happen. But instead his godson asked him about the Order meeting, distracting him from his thoughts.
"So, how was the meeting?" asked Harry curiously. "I could not get a chance to catch up with you or Remus last night. Mrs. Weasley was fussing with the supper and with everyone being there and–uhm–yeah," he rambled.
Sirius was listening attentively, like a dog that heard a noise.
"The meeting went well, Harry. We managed to recruit someone new, and we discussed things... important things, you know about next steps now that a lot of the Death Eaters are actually in Azkaban." He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting away, avoiding direct eye contact with Harry.
Sirius could sense Harry's anticipation, he could feel that his godson had questions, but he did not want to burden him more. The kid had to start those blasted lessons with Dumbledore also. Sirius wanted to be wise with what he told Harry from now on.
Harry waited for him to say something.
"Look, Harry," Sirius began, "we should leave the Order business as is for now. I actually wanted to talk about what happened the other night," he said and paused again. Hearing no objection from the boy, Sirius continued. "I know I've been a right mess lately. Locked up in my room, stewing in my own thoughts... It's not fair to you, and I apologise for burdening you with my troubles. I seem to have a knack of making everything worse," he said in a self-deprecating tone, touching the space between his nose and his forehead.
"No, Sirius, I–" started Harry but Sirius raised his hand.
Sirius did not like delving too deep into his feelings. Sirius was a man of action, not one to dwell on his own emotional state. He preferred to keep his vulnerabilities hidden. Yet he pushed himself to continue.
"I'm sorry for not being the godfather you deserve," he admitted, his voice laced with a mix of regret and frustration. "I should not be dragging you down with my own baggage. You've got enough on your plate already." His eyes darted away again.
But then Harry turned around abruptly to face him.
"What? No! I mean, I understand that this was not your fault–the nightmares, and everything. That's –that's what I have been trying to tell you, I guess," he said looking a little embarrassed as Sirius met his gaze.
Sirius nodded quickly and made a gesture with his hands, conveying he knew this.
"You know, I would know because I have personal experience with nightmares. My dreams almost got you killed in June when Voldemort messed up with my thoughts," the boy said bitterly.
"Harry," Sirius said sharply. "That–what happened at the Ministry was not your fault. Do you understand me?" he repeated assertively.
Harry shrugged.
"Do you understand, Harry?" Sirius repeated.
Harry had an odd look, he was thinking.
"Sometimes I wish it did not have happened. If I had listened to Snape, and to Dumbledore, if I had been better at Occlumency–" he rambled.
"Snape is an arse and he did not care to teach you, that slimy git," said Sirius in an irritated voice. "As for Dumbledore, let's say his plans do not always go according to plan. They can blow up and muck things up," he continued bitterly.
A moment of silence passed.
Eventually Harry nodded and this brought a flicker of relief to Sirius's eyes, although he still struggled to fully express his emotions. He gently patted Harry's shoulder, silently conveying his gratitude.
"I'm glad you understand, Harry," Sirius replied, his voice softened slightly. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But you're right, nightmares... they're something I know all too well. I just wish you didn't."
Harry kept nodding, and slowly a small faltering smile appeared on his pale face.
"Now, listen, Harry. I need you to promise me that no matter what Dumbledore's lessons entail, no matter what he expects from you, you'll come to me when you need me. You're not under any obligation to toe the line with whatever Dumbledore says or wants you to do. Your safety and well-being come first. Okay?" he pressed.
"Wait, Dumbledore told you about the lessons?" his godson asked.
"Yes, he did. Or rather, he had to," said Sirius. "Can you promise that you will come to me if you need me?" he asked earnestly.
Harry's confusion was evident, but he recognized the earnestness in Sirius's words and nodded in agreement. "Right, Sirius. I promise. I'll reach out to you if I need help, no matter what Dumbledore says."
"You can use the mirror I gave you last year. It's actually better to use the mirror and reach only me directly," Sirius continued, his hand lingering on Harry's shoulder.
Harry still looked surprised, but he gave a short nod to confirm Sirius' request.
"Good on you," Sirius said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and anxiety. "Remember, Harry, we're in this together. No matter what comes our way," he said.
Harry gave him a faint smile.
Sirius then tapped his hands on his legs and with an energetic motion, he got up. He gestured towards Buckbeak, attempting to shift the focus to something more lighthearted. "Why don't we take a ride on Buckbeak? Get some fresh air and clear our heads. And then, we could go out, us and your friends, and get some breakfast. You are after all back to school tomorrow, no nonsense," he winked at Harry and the boy laughed wanting to spend a final day with his godfather now that his good spirits were restored.
Pia was pacing in her office at the Scottish newspaper she had been working for the last few years. It was a small and cramped space, but she had decorated it diligently with luscious greens and purples and had a comfortable sofa for late nights.
She had not heard from Emma for the last weeks since she wrote to her to confirm that she had finally entered the ranks of the Order. That was good , but what about the meeting? Did her sister attend, and how did it go? Was she recognized? Pia expected a letter immediately after, but none came, which worried her–but mostly, angered her.
In the beginning, she thought that perhaps something went wrong. Perhaps Emma was recognized.
No, it couldn't be, Pia thought, as she tapped her wand on her cup of coffee and heated it instantly, making it steamy hot.
No one from these members could remember Emma, she thought, taking a sip of her coffee. She liked it scalding hot.
Em was only thirteen when Peter died, and it's not that his contemporaries at the Order knew the Pettigrews.
That is why Pia initially thought that her sister would be above suspicion, she would be inconspicuous: a young new member, a healer, a planned recruit with common associations, the Shacklebolt woman. Pia made a loud slurping sound as she gulped some of her coffee and finally sat on her desk, looking skeptical.
Of course , Em would be a great fit; she always had an approachable air with people she did not know well, and a bitter voice spoke into Pia's head. She was their parent's favourite, after all–or at least their mother's, she corrected herself.
Pia never got along with their mother. Even as a child, Pia remembered that their mother was more occupied with trying to keep the home afloat, to relieve their father from long and stressful days since Alfie Pettigrew was prone to bouts of anxiety. He had shifting emotions, and often, a temper. He was a man who always had to work hard for what he had, he was a half-blood wizard at the Ministry when all the elites valued blood purity. Pia always admired her father and she thought that she could provide more understanding to him than her mother who often was too closed-off, too melancholic, and too reserved, except when it had to do with her younger children.
Portia had that same temperament, and Pia never connected with her first youngest sister either. Pia was instead focused on Peter, who she felt needed a firmer example, structure, and someone to look up to–their mother and Portia could not be that for him. Pia knew that from a young age so she decided to take Petey under her wing, to look after him at Hogwarts.
With Emma, she initially did not need to do that because their mother adored her from a young age, she was her only preoccupation when everyone was off to Hogwarts or on to their things.
Of course, all that changed bitterly , Pia thought, scratching her chin.
Everything changed when Portia was gone, then Peter was gone, then their mother–when she could not handle her grief, and Em found her like that in the kitchen, cold and still, her lifeless body next to a broken chalice with a concoction she made from the venomous vortex, a plant she used as a garden pesticide in small doses that were not harmful to wizarding folk. No one could imagine, no one could expect.
That moment Pia had the full reigns of her sister's life, her only sister who could still become someone, who could still be moulded into something important even if for a bit she was just a traumatised girl, a lost teenager who had found her mother dead on the kitchen floor. Pia remembered how she needed to be held, how she could not sleep, for months, sobbing into her pillow.
She swallowed her coffee bitterly, letting out a breathy sigh, as she remembered this.
Had her sister Emma forgotten all Pia had done? Had she forgotten that she was the only one who could take care of her when their mother was gone and their father suffered from intense nerves and slowly became unrecognisable, decrepit in his isolation?
It could not be that her sister was ungrateful. Pia did not raise her to be ungrateful.
Yet she could not shake that something was out of order , that Emma, despite her infrequent reassurances, had a mind of her own and she was up to something.
She knew her sister. She knew that she could be stubborn, that she was prone to be secretive, even. Perhaps this was Emma rebelling again, like that summer when Arty left all those years ago.
She did not want to think of that now–she certainly did not want to resurrect this memory of her wayward boyfriend from all those years ago. But Pia noticed that Emma was pulling away, like then. She was becoming reactive, unpredictable, and harder to manage.
As Pia's thoughts drifted back to that fateful summer, a shadow cast itself over her memories. She knew that since that moment, there was an undercurrent of tension between them, even though Pia tried to ignore it. Now, Emma's behaviour felt similar to what it was back then, first the obstinate defiance, then the years of silent accusation, of brooding resentment coded in cordiality, desperation, and inability to speak things as they were.
No, she could not let this occur again, Pia thought. She got up and took a fresh roll of parchment and summoned her best quill, the one for important things. She had had enough waiting for crumbs from her sister. She decided to remind her that they were not only sisters of blood but also circumstance.
She asked her magical quill to pen the letter by reciting the words in a frustrated voice.
I find it rather intriguing how conveniently you've managed to keep me all in the dark about your life. It's almost as if you take pleasure in leaving everyone who loves you hanging, wondering what you're up to. Well, I assure you, it hasn't gone unnoticed.
I am waiting for an update on important developments.
Your only sister,
Pi.
As Pia folded the letter with her short stubby fingers, her face contorted with a mix of determination and frustration. She meticulously aligned the edges, ensuring a crisp and precise fold. With a purposeful motion, she reached for her stamp, adorned with the logo of her newspaper: a stork. Perhaps this would be cryptic enough.
Pressing the stamp onto the envelope, she imprinted it with a symbol that held both power and authority for her–and this was what she wanted to remind her sister of.
Then, with a short clap of her two hands together, Pia summoned her elderly owl, Petrarch.
"Make sure this letter gets to that ungrateful brat of a sister of mine in London," she commanded. "She needs a wake-up call, and this letter will be a reminder of her obligations to our family," she told the bird in a biting tone.
It was as if the bird knew of her disappointment because he flew out of the window of her office at once. With a final glance at the window, Pia released another breathy sigh, hoping that her words would resonate and bring about the change she wanted to see.
Remus Lupin sat uncomfortably on a large armchair at the library of Grimmauld Place 12. He was feeling the upcoming full moon in his bones, in his achy joints and his skin that felt itchy and pained, as if he wanted to claw it off his body.
Well, in a way he did that during his worst transformations.
Dumbledore always ensured that while he was under the Order Remus could access the Wolfsbane potion, which in turn would be provided to him in large airtight vials as the potion did not travel well and could not be concocted at the headquarters, where he was currently saying. His alternative was to run free in some wood with Sirius, which he knew his old friend would be thrilled to do, but Remus knew it was too dangerous, especially after what happened in June. Also, Dumbledore would not approve of them running in the wild.
At the beginning Dumbledore had Remus stay at the headquarters seemingly to keep Sirius company, but also to keep him in check. This was for certain. Albus Dumbledore did not know what to do with Sirius, and Remus suspected that deep inside their old headmaster had given up on Sirius, since after James died, Sirius was somewhat like a stray feral dog.
Remus did not like to think this way about his friend Sirius, after so much he had gone through, after how much he had suffered. But in a way it was true. Sirius was trying to find his bearings, after all those years. Most days, he succeeded.
Speaking of the devil, Sirius sauntered into the library, his dishevelled appearance from the previous day now replaced by a more rested image. He gave Remus a slight smile.
"Moony!" Sirius greeted, plopping down next to Remus. "You look like you've been through a rough tumble with a herd of Hippogriffs."
Remus managed a tired smile. "That I have been, Padfoot. The full moon is coming up, and let me tell you, I feel like I want to tear my own skin apart. Every muscle in my body is sore as hell."
"Bloody hell, Moony. Is there anything I can do to help? You know I'd be there in a heartbeat."
Remus appreciated the genuine concern in Sirius's voice. "Thanks, Pads. being here and having a place to return to is more than enough, I know that I've overstayed my welcome."
"Rubbish!" said Sirius in an impatient voice. "Both me and Harry want you here, and if I am honest, I don't want to be like an old broody man now Harry's off to his sixth year tomorrow," Sirius huffed.
Remus chuckled.
Sirius then reached into his jacket pocket, producing two glasses and a bottle of fire whiskey. With a sly grin, he poured healthy measures into each glass, sliding one over to Remus. "Well, my friend, I may not have all the answers to your furry little problem, but I do have a remedy for a weary soul. Care for a taste of our father's old stash?"
Remus laughed, accepting the glass with gratitude. "Leave it to you to raid the family vault for some liquid comfort. Cheers, Padfoot."
They clinked glasses and took a sip, the warmth of the fire whiskey spreading through their bodies like a soothing embrace.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So, Moony, spill the beans. Who's getting under your skin? And I don't mean the moon," he said, taking a sip of the amber liquid.
Remus's brow furrowed deeper, his weariness now tinged with confusion. "What?" he asked.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know, Moony. Sometimes when we have an Order meeting I am afraid that Nymphadora will stumble upon all the hideous vases my mother has collected over the years. Because she certainly does not look where she is going when you are in the room," said Sirius.
"Here we go again," sighed Remus. "I have told you like I have told her many times, I have nothing to offer her, she is better of with some young man from the Auror office, she just doesn't know–"
"Well, she disagrees," said Sirius, taking a long sip and leaving his glass down abruptly. "She wants you, not some young bloke from the Auror office," Sirius said petulantly.
Lupin also gulped his drink, the bitterness of his words mirrored in the taste of the fire whiskey. He looked away from Sirius feeling his discomfort rise.
"Come on, Moony, don't let bitterness cloud your judgment. There's something genuine there."
Remus let out a bitter laugh. "Genuine? Do you think she wants a beaten-down werewolf with a life full of complications? She deserves better, Sirius. Someone who can give her a stable future, not a constant struggle."
"Yes, I am quite certain she does want the old ruddy werewolf," he said impatiently. "If only you could see it, you deserve to be happy too," he said, taking a sip from his drink and shrugging his shoulders.
Remus's bitterness began to wane, replaced by a mix of resignation. "I'm not capable of giving her what she needs. It would be selfish, I would just be setting her up for disappointment and heartache" he crossed his arms and winced at the sensation.
"That's not for you to decide, Moony," said Sirius in a sincere voice.
Remus was shaking his head.
Sirius's voice grew more determined. "You won't know unless you try, Remus. Don't let fear hold you back. Tonks is a strong, independent woman who knows what she wants. And if she's chosen you, then maybe she sees something in you that you don't."
"You just don't understand, Sirius. You can talk about getting on with your life after this war is over. You can envision a future with a girlfriend or a wife if you want, maybe even children. What normal wizards can have? But for someone like me, these things are out of reach," he said angrily.
Sirius thought about it for a minute. All in all, with everything that life had given him, all the pain and the injustices, Sirius was not even sure he wanted this version of a life. He never had the chance to think about it. When he was younger, despite his friend James marrying Lily right after Hogwarts, Sirius never seemed to care about settling down or having a family. He enjoyed being a carefree bachelor, living life on the edge, fighting for the Order. If it would happen, he always thought that it would be in the future, not during a war. Now of course that seemed unrealistic. And even if you did care, even if a glimpse of another life was still hidden somewhere at the corners of his tormented mind, well, Azkaban had ruined that. It took twelve years of his life. He had no regrets though. He had Harry and that was enough, he thought.
Sirius leaned back. "You think you're the only one with complications? Look at me, Remus. I've been a prisoner or wanted fugitive for most of my life, and now I am fighting a war. Even if I wanted those things you are describing, it's only fair to mention that with twelve years of Azkaban on my back, I highly doubt any logical woman would turn around and say, 'Oh, a former prisoner? Just what I've always wanted!" he said in a crazed expression and Remus was not sure if Sirius was joking or if he was sincere.
"But I would say this," Sirius added. "Despite everything, I've found happiness with Harry. Being his godfather means a lot to me. It's not just a promise to James and Lily. It–it gives me a purpose beyond my desires. Even when I am fucking up, like the other week," he said vividly despite the sadness of the subject.
Remus looked taken aback by Sirius's response, his anger dissipating. "I... I didn't realise–I apologise if I came across as dismissive."
Sirius flashed a mischievous grin, attempting to lighten the mood. "No worries, Moony," he said, finishing his drink and getting ready for another one.
"All I am saying is that you can have a life with someone I mean–like like that. If you wanted that. I am just–" Remus shook his head again and went for his glass. He averted his gaze away from Sirius.
After a moment, Sirius let out a gruff chuckle. "Well, for what it's worth, I would not say no to the prospect of having some fun," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Remus turned around confused.
Sirius lowered his voice and leaned closer to Remus. "I mean, if some pretty bird came along and found a thirty-something grizzled ex-prisoner appealing, it would be nice to, you know... to get laid before the Grim comes to collect me!"
Remus flushed embarrassed and a little astonished. Why on earth did his old friend always manage to make light of the most uncomfortable and complicated conversations?
But seeing Sirius' rugged face contort with a self-deprecating grin, amused him greatly amidst the absurdity of the situation. Remus burst into laughter, feeling less in pain for the first time all day.
Sirius quickly joined in, their hysterical laughter filling the room. For a moment, it felt as if they were back in their Hogwarts dorm, free from the weight of the world and the burdens they carried.
Remus managed to gasp out, "You... you insufferable git! Bringing up such topics at a time like this!"
"Well, what can I say? I have a knack for impeccable timing," Sirius replied, still laughing.