House Calls

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HPHPHP

Sirius Black was waiting for her. Normally the patient went to see the healer. This time, the healer was called in to see her patient. Healer Swann looked like your ordinary middle-aged witch.

"Healer Tonks thought we should talk. I've sworn a vow for you. I know who you are and that you walked out of the forest and into Andy's backyard. Maybe we could talk about what happened to you."

They shook hands and then took chairs in Ted Tonk's office.

"It's still hard for me to talk. I remember telling jokes and listening to stories. That seems a world away," Sirius said.

Healer Andorra Swann watched him. Lord Sirius Orion Black was dressed in a well-fitted casual shirt and slacks. He wore shoes and sox. He seemed relaxed. While not ready to be a model on Savile Row, he was a far cry from the desperately ill patients she saw who could barely keep their robes on. He gave her a passing glance but did not watch her.

"Healer Tonks says you're getting better. Looking at people and speaking are some of the problems you face today. What happened before that?"

"How far back would you like me to go?" he asked.

"As far back as you need. Tell me what's most important," she said.

"Most important." He repeated. He discarded the flippant answers that came flooding into his mind. There was a lot to throw away.

"They threw me away and put me in Azkaban. Couch and Dumbledore did that.

"My parents threw me away. My mother Crucioed me because I wouldn't support Voldemort and his friends. Voldemort murdered my brother even though Regulus became a Death Eater for them.

"The Potters took me in, Fleamont and Euphe. They adopted me, and Dragon Pox killed them. Then Voldemort murdered James and Lilly.. everyone I ever loved. James and Lilly Potter were two of my best friends."

Sirius thought of Azkaban and shifted topics without explanation. "They gave us one bowl of water in the morning and a bowl of food at night. I had to turn into a dog to survive. They threw me away and I had to become an animal so I didn't die the way they wanted me to. I wanted to die, but.. there might be a young boy who needs my help growing up."

Mind Healer Swann shifted in her seat. She heard how his thoughts skipped between events that were years apart if not decades apart. These were the thoughts that Lord Sirius Black carried with him every moment.

She was an experienced clinician, but she was not a machine or a ghost. It was impossible to hear someone's story and not be touched.

"Someone put you in Azkaban and you survived. You're alive and there are people who care about you now.

"Sirius, I worked with a witch who was sentenced to muggle prison. When she came out, she lived in what the muggles call a halfway house. It took you decades of practice to become an adult wizard, and then you were denied that exercise for a decade. You are out of practice at taking care of yourself. It doesn't come back overnight or with the wave of a wand. There is a lot to remember, a lot of habits to relearn.

"Now, tell me what you've been learning," she asked.

"I'm learning how to talk again. I held a wand this week. I can't officially have my own wand yet, but Andromeda has me doing magic exercises using a training wand. My fingers are remembering how to button my shirt and buckle the belt on my pants. I'm learning to walk again. My feet are getting used to shoes and sox. My feet are swelling because I'm standing up and walking more than I used to.

"All that sounds challenging," she said.

"Ted has me practicing with a quill and a pen. I lost my writing calluses, so my fingers hurt. I didn't know that writing took so many muscles. But so does using a knife and a fork. It was kind of a shock to hold a knife again."

"Why is that?" Healer Swann asked. She had her suspicions, but since Lord Black brought it up…

"Because a knife is a weapon," he said.

"Yes. But that's all it is. You said it was shocking."

"I.. I don't understand the question," he said.

She looked at his face. He was confused rather than evading the question.

"There are knives in the kitchen. The reason you didn't attack me wasn't because you couldn't get a knife. I could give you a knife or a wand. I could give you a sword or a staff and you wouldn't attack me because of something you already have."

He was silent as he thought. The Healer was a small woman. He outweighed her and he was growing stronger every day, both physically and magically.

She let him think on his own for a moment before she guided him along. "What would you do if someone came through the door and attacked me?" she asked.

"I'd stop them," he said. It wasn't a boast. He had done it before when he was an Auror.

"They took away your control, but now you have it back. Your thinking is getting better every day. Your body is regaining its strength and stamina. Your magic is coming back. All of those will keep growing, and you already have the self-control to protect other people who have not threatened you."

Sirius rolled his neck and stretched. "It feels like my mind is tired. I have so many choices, from what to wear, to what to eat and drink, and what to say. It's as if the part of my brain that makes choices is as weak as my muscles and my magic."

"You're sore from all the healing you're doing. Please consider this. Elite athletes and magicians learn to be proud of being tired. It means they put in the work to grow stronger. I understand that you can't be seen in public yet, but that means you have time to exercise everything else.

"Where do you go when you get tired or afraid?" she asked.

Sirius frowned. "I was living in Scotland as a Wolfhound. The Ministry can't find me that way."

Now it was the Healer's turn to look confused. "I'm not sure what you've said. Is Scotland the refuge, or is the Wolfhound?"

"Yeah."

She waited. Her experience said that the longer the patient waited, the more significant the issue was for them.

"The Wolfhound is where I hide," he said.

Now she started to dig. "And what is the Wolfhound hiding from?"

He was searching for answers too. The words weren't precisely correct, but he knew the words he could find were pointing in the right direction. "The hound hides from danger. From hunger. From people," he said.

"From the people who threw you away?" she asked.

"From them."

"And what does the Wolfhound think about people?" she asked.

"Ah, he is friendly enough, I guess." Sirius made the hound play nice with Harry and Hermione. Dudley Dursley deserved a nip or two.

She spoke up. "I'd guess the Wolfhound has a rather limited social schedule. No appointments. No obligations. No due dates for projects," she said.

Sirius smiled before he answered. "His appointment calendar is a bit out of date. He has stopped answering the floo." It was Lord Black who answered. The Received Pronunciation accent was clear.

"You said the Wolfhound hid from hunger. It doesn't look like you need to lose weight. I'm confused," Healer Swann said.

"I couldn't catch food when we were living wild. He could. He fed us."

"But how about now? Do you feed yourself, or does someone else do that for you?"

Sirus rolled his outstretched hands from side to side. "It's a mix right now. I'm on an eating schedule. I help prepare the food. Sometimes the food is just for me. Sometimes I cook for the Tonks."

Food was still a big part of their social routine and his physical routine. The Tonks had gone so far as to make jokes about it. When Sirius cooked, Ted said it was unusual to have patients deliver food instead of paying their Healer bills. When Sirius cleaned up after a meal, Andy said that Ted had gone too far and hired a butler with a Lordship title.

"Why are you on an eating schedule?" she asked.

"So that don't binge and get sick, but that I also eat enough. I'm eating more every day as I get stronger."

"I see. Are you a good cook?"

"I can be. But it's hard.

Both of them leaned slightly closer across the table.

"Because.. Because I stand there and feed myself.. and when I'm doing that I feel all the things they took from me." Lord Black was breathing faster as he spoke. "They made me eat on their schedule, what they wanted, when they wanted, how much they wanted. I couldn't even clean myself. I had to lick myself clean in a stinking stone cell. They had me eating out of their hands."

"They took away all your choices," she said.

She knew it wasn't entirely true. She knew that some people killed themselves in prison so they could make one final choice of their own. Though true, it was not Lord Black's present concern.

Sirus answered. "I didn't belong there, but everyone thinks I did."

"Certainly, some of us thought that. I thought that. No offense intended, Lord Black, but I remember reading the news and hearing the wireless. I thought you were a murderer."

"I'm not. You know it now," he said. The statement didn't make him happy.

"Yes, I know it, but you have to tell them. Are you ready to do that? Can you show them that they're wrong?" she asked.

"What? You want a full-page advertisement in "The Prophet"?" He snorted.

"Oh, I was thinking about something much larger than that.

"Learn to speak again and tell them. Learn to live again and show them. You could fill the sea with Blacks. You can have a hundred years of daily examples and a legacy that goes on for generations. That will show them in ways they and their children's children can't ignore." She had chosen her words carefully. It was a life's mission that he couldn't ignore and a journey large enough to heal him.

Being in a room with a stranger was difficult for him. Talking was still slightly painful. "No, not yet," he said.

"Not today or tomorrow. But not so far away as you think," she said.

"I see that you're frustrated with your ability to speak. I'd like you to listen to the Wizarding Wireless for 15 minutes in the morning. I want you to pay attention to what they say as if you had to explain what you heard. Then, I want you to listen to music for another 15 minutes. I'm thinking of songs with words, though an occasional instrumental piece is fine too. Then I want you to read for about 20 minutes. You can do more, but I want you to work like that for 45 minutes in the morning and then do it again in the evening before bed. I think you'll find your words coming back faster if you do those exercises."

Sirius was doubtful. "That feels like something an elementary school student would do." He'd learned to read when he was four years old. Later, he learned to read a bit of music at Hogwarts.

"Yes, it could be a student's homework. It could be someone learning a new language, or in your case, relearning it.

"I want to go back to your eating schedule. There is some beautiful poetry at work there. I usually don't share something like this with my patients, but someone in the Ministry of Magic wanted to force you to your knees. They wanted to make you live on four paws. Now, here you are defying them as you stand up and feed yourself. I'm not telling you to eat standing up. I was trying to be a bit more figurative."

Sirius smiled. "I see it," he said. He really did. He was relearning to stand up for himself.

"Lord Black, does the Wolfhound see it? You had a job before Azkaban. You were going to assume a seat in the Wizengamot. Does the Wolfhound feel an intense pride at living an enormous life?"

Sirius was thinking. The hound was a friend to Remus. The hound became a game for schoolboys. The hound was a clown and jester for three friends, a strange go-between for a stag, a wolf, and a rat. For all the things the hound could do, he was not concerned with tomorrow and the day after.

"That isn't how the hound thinks," Sirius said.

"The hound may be a refuge from all you feel, but the hound is not your friend. A friend shares your largest dreams," she said.

Lord Black was quiet. They said their goodbyes, and then he went back to his chair. The hound had saved his life. Making choices was hard, but having choices was far better than not having them.

Sirius tilted his head. The healer had asked him a simple question about the hound. Suddenly he didn't know who he wanted to be.

HPHPHP

Author's Notes- Feedback is appreciated. Feedback is essential if you want more stories like this. What did you think of Mind Healer Swann and her questions? What do you think of Sirius? How big and bold should he become?