London was as beautiful as ever; lively, streets busy with the clamour of people and cars, buses, and the occasional delivery truck rushing up and down the streets.
Where it once may have overwhelmed him, walking the streets of London in, now, was one of the best things he had ever felt.
Every so often, catching his reflexion in the glass of parked cars or shop windows, he startled and paused. The rounded, fuller face and the shorter, strawberry blonde hair and the lack of scars over his body was still unnerving. Because it's unnatural, his thoughts reminded him. The thought made him shiver a little, and he let out a heavy sigh. Over his shoulder hanged a somewhat tattered messenger bag he had dug out of a dumpster; far from neat or pretty, it worked well enough. Concealed in the pocket of his jeans was the stolen wand, and, more often than not, he kept one hand in his pocket to ensure he didn't lose it. To make sure it was real. And no one can know my name is really Sirius. For now…I'm Aidan Lloyd. His reflexion catching him off guard again, he tried not to dwell on it. Focus on where he was walking. Focus on the act of walking. The sun still out and the leaves lightly falling, he paused at the same crosswalk he had been snatched away from before he could be hit by a moving vehicle. The car was not there. She was not there. The same relief he had felt when he had realised she had not recognised him came back when the light changed and the crosswalk became passable. When he reached the other side, he looked up at the signs around him. Listened to the chattering of the people walking by him.
A young woman ran past him, red hair flying out behind her and, for a few seconds, he could have sworn she was Lily.
She glanced back with an apologetic look, realising she had brushed up against him and, by her thick glasses and dark grey eyes, it was clear she was not.
She disappeared down the way and, tiredly shaking himself out, he began walking again. The sounds of the city the same as they had been around him, he focused on them as best he could to push the thought out of his mind. When his thoughts began to wander again, he, for a few minutes, felt something in him shift and, his heart beating faster, he forced himself to stop when he realised he had started running. When he caught his breath, unsure of how fast or how far he had run, he realised he was standing only a few streets down from a church of which's spires and bell tower peaked out through the rest of the city. His stomach sinking, something in him whispered it would be best to go, that, somehow, he would find reprieve in it. The fear of being anywhere too long returning to him, however, he began walking the other way, towards where, he was struggling to recall, he was sure a green if not a park was. Somewhere he could still see people, still, even tangentially, imagine what it would be like to step into the lives they lived but where he could also be at enough of a distance to not be too close to anyone for too long.
When he reached it, unsure of how long it took him or how many people he passed, he felt a little lighter. He unzipped his bag when he began to slow his pace, and took out the still wrapped, shoplifted sandwich from within it. Easier to shoplift when you have a wand and can confound the clerks. He smiled a little to himself before taking a few bites, the feel and taste of fresh food instead of the barely edible slop of Azkaban unwavering wonderful. Even, he realised, the stale, flaking croissant he had gotten the same day he had been able to regain his humanity had felt to be the best thing he had ever eaten. Just about anything would be after twelve years in the most inhospitable prison in the world. Continuing to eat his sandwich as he walked, he eventually stopped and sat down on an empty bench, taking in the people and animals that passed him by; one was a teenage girl listening to something through headphones wired to a device he suddenly placed. Walkman. It was a Walkman. He laughed a little to himself at the realisation; he had passed a few being sold in a store selling music tapes and CDs that had gotten him to stop and stare. Others passed him by; couples walking together, friends laughing and sometimes chasing after each other, and people leisurely walking their dogs.
Leaning back against the bench, he closed his eyes for a moment as he finished his sandwich. He opened his eyes suddenly, however, upon hearing barking growing closer to him and, then, something jumping up on him.
"Alfred, don't bother people!" A woman scolded, running over to put the leash in her hands back on her dog. "I'm so sorry," She said, turning to Sirius. "He's usually perfectly fine without his leash. I didn't mean for him to bother you."
"Not a problem," Sirius replied, laughing when the dog stared up at him with wide eyes as the woman reattached his leash. "He seems perfectly friendly."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Are you from the States?"
Sirius paused, a few seconds passing in silence before he realised how he had spoken. That accent. That voice. Yours but not yours, his mind taunted. With a tired sigh, he nodded, hesitating at the feeling of his falsely thick, short, strawberry blonde hair through his fingers.
"Came here a few weeks ago," He said, the lie coming easier than he had expected. "Had to visit my sister. She moved here back in '84."
The woman chuckled. "Whereabouts in the States are you from?"
"Oh, uh, I'm from New York," He said, getting out the first place that came to mind.
"Well, it's always lovely to see a friendly face," She said with a smile, pulling her dog back from him a little. "As I said, I'm sorry he jumped on you. He's a bit energetic, but a sweet boy nonetheless."
"Seems it," Sirius said, waiting a few seconds before leaning forward to pet the dog who happily barked in reply. "I like dogs. Especially the friendly ones."
"Most do," The woman replied, joining him in petting the dog. "I apologise for being a little chatty. I try not to accost strangers with conversation, but, sometimes, I simply can't help it."
"It's fine," He said. "I don't mind."
"Wonderful!" She said with a bright smile. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what do you think of the state of affairs across the pond? I know it's been around twenty years, but that President you lot had in the '70s…Nixon, wasn't it? I remember that was quite a spectacle. My husband – bless him – gets work in the States every now and again, and his coworkers were saying just a few weeks ago that they think you get the worse version of our politicians. Is that right?"
"It is," Sirius agreed, albeit uncertain of the answer and its veracity.
"Fascinating!" The woman began laughing again when her dog tried to drag her away. "I'm afraid Alfred would like to finish our walk," She said as she stood up. "See you around."
"Of course."
She turned her back, still holding the leash tightly in her hands. Her dog happily moved in front of her, briefly circling her until she gave him a little more affection.
And, then, as soon as she came, she was gone.
And, then, he was numb.
The first thing Lily Potter found when she stepped through the door into her South London rowhouse was that she had forgotten to run her laundry; the basket was still full and waiting to be loaded at the foot of the stairs. The second was the time, spelled out in bright, analogue numbers on the clock on her microwave.
21:33.
Somewhat defeated for the day and somewhat frustrated by it, she dropped her workbag and purse just past the front door, not bothering even to take her wand out of her purse, closing and locking it with the key. Slipping out of her loafers, she hesitated for a few seconds when her bare feet touched the cold floor, but, finally, unzipped her purse and took out her wand; too tired to do it by hand and unsure if she would remember to do so come the morning, she stepped over towards her laundry and, with a few quick spells, got it running. She took a moment to glance around the first floor to ensure things had been as she had left them sixteen hours earlier. When she was satisfied and sure they were, she summoned her purse and workbag to her, letting them fall onto the kitchen table before setting her wand down there as well. Her hands a little shaky from exhaustion, she unzipped her workbag and carefully began to pull out the majority of its contents. She moved her purse onto one of the empty chairs at the kitchen table and began to lay out the contents of her workbag one by one.
"She told you to raise the matter with me?"
"Technically, Amelia, she doesn't even work here."
"But what made you," The head of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement had said, turning to eye her closely. "Think I would be of a different opinion on the matter than her? She and I have the same job, just about. The only tangible difference is that she holds the position in the States and works there about half of the time, whereas I, of course, hold it here."
"I'm raising the matter with you, Amelia, because, while you're strict and by the books, you're also willing to make concessions when it's reasonable and fair to do so," Lily had replied. "And because I cannot do this legitimately or legally without your permission."
"Permission to reopen an investigation that was closed a decade ago? One that went as smoothly as it could have, given the circumstances?"
"There's still a question of motive. Why would he have killed so many innocent people just to get to the singular person in the crowd that was guilty?"
"You're too kind about these things, Lily. That said," Amelia had sighed, muttering something to herself under her breath in her native Russian. "If you can provide me with enough information to indicate a thorough re-examination would be worthwhile, I'll fully consider it with a select few towards the top of the Department, barring yourself, of course."
Her thoughts meandering still, Lily began to push her fingers through her hair, sweeping her now almost entirely emptied workbag down onto the same empty chair her purse was on. Trying not to let her eyes grow too heavy or tired, she shifted her gaze and mind, best as she could, to, first, the dates on the documents laid out before her. The earliest – Tuesday, November the 3rd, 1981 – was hard enough to look at for its headline alone in both the muggle papers and the Daily Prophet. Thirteen killed in gas line explosion in London graced the front pages of most of the muggle papers, with photographs of varying quality static on them. Subject apprehended after yesterday's attack is believed to have carried it out in order to kill the man responsible for the murder of James Potter and the attempted murder of his son, Harry. It was seeing the photograph of Sirius laughing as he was arrested still moving on the cover of the Prophet that made her begin to feel ill; the beginnings of a headache gnawing at her skull, she retreated briefly to take a dose of ibuprofen before returning to the table. Unsure of how much she wanted to reread, she reached for her notepad, flicking through until she reached those she had taken thus far on the matter.
The case file at the Ministry is extensive; getting access to copies of it from Amelia should help contextualise things.
The muggle police report on the matter was filed the same day it happened but altered to ensure the impossibility of a breach of the International Statute Of Secrecy. Likely as a result and/or related, bylines and smaller stories about Sirius have come up in the muggle news as he 'disappeared' when the Ministry took him into custody.
Until he escaped from Azkaban, the narrative for the muggles was that he had 'disappeared and escaped' to Malta; in light of his real escape, it is being reported that he recently reappeared in a mad return to the UK.
That dull, grey Tuesday when Harry and I had to step into this awful, new normal came after the worst Sunday morning of our lives, damn November the 1st, 1981.
James was killed the night before on Hallow's Eve; how quickly did word travel for Sirius to know he was gone and understand that meant Peter had betrayed us?
Unease and anxiety blooming throughout her body, Lily pushed her notes aside with the oldest newspapers, beginning to scourge through the reports from the trial, the accounts from muggle eyewitnesses and wizard eyewitnesses alike, the accounts from those who arrested him and what they understood his reaction to be. Those published after the trial, the ones that came about every so often to grab the attention of whomever it was seeking out a close look into the mind of someone they viewed as a monster. But he can't be, can he? Unsure of whether or not she wanted to be told right or wrong, she tried to ignore the thought soon after it made itself known. A few seconds passed in silence; the sudden sound of her large, cellular telephone ringing in her purse shouting out. She pushed her wand a little to the side before pulling out her phone with both hands; one quickly reached to pull up the antennae whilst the other moved towards her ear and answered the call. Static crackled briefly but, upon hearing the tired sigh of one of her best friends, Lily slowly sat down, waiting for her to speak.
"Are you alright, Molly?" She eventually pressed. "I know you rarely use your telephone."
"Arthur figured most of it out, and we were able to get it working again and properly installed nearly for free," Her friend said, laughing a little at the thought. "Are you doing alright, Lily? With everyone at the Ministry working long hours, I'd be shocked if it didn't take a toll on you."
"Admittedly, it has."
"Do you need to talk about it?"
"I'm not sure I can," Lily sighed. "I'm sorry, Molly, but this is one I have, for the time being, keep to myself."
"Of course," Her friend kindly replied. "Take all of the time you need. Would it help…" She trailed off briefly in thought. "Would it help to discuss something far less serious? Without the twins around to get any ill thought out ideas, I should think we're able to speak freely on the subject."
Lily laughed. "Alright, but I'd like to hear one from you as well."
"Naturally."
Lily started laughing again, momentarily struggling to catch her breath.
"Until I began studying at Hogwarts," She began when she regained her composure. "I had previously only attended Catholic school with Tunie. Looking back, I think we were a charity case; they saw two intelligent young girls from a family too poor to pay for a railcard let alone a tuition. But I suppose that's not quite relevant."
"What is, then?"
"When I was around nine and had already, like Tunie who's a few years older than me, gotten my first communion and confession, I had, somehow, gotten it in my head that 'thou shalt not commit adultery,' meant I – a child – had best not think like an adult," Lily smiled to herself when Molly began to laugh a bit herself. "As you can imagine, that led to me making some…rather embarrassing miscommunications. Using that incorrect definition, I confessed to it more times than I can remember. In hindsight, it's almost cute."
"Reminds me of how easily we can get stuck saying the wrong thing. It's rather ghastly to think about."
"It can be," Lilly agreed.
Silence began to wrap around them again.
"I have to go ensure things are alright in the garden," Molly finally said. "But please feel free to call me again tomorrow, and I'll tell you mine then. I always appreciate having someone to talk to, even for a little while."
"I will," Lily promised. "Best of luck with the garden."
Another small laugh. Crackling static. Silence.
How did we get all of this wrong? And how can we fix it if we've put a completely innocent man behind bars? Why is it all so damn blurry?
A quieter thought passed her by; worried she was going to fall asleep at the kitchen table, swept up her wand and began up the stairs to sleep. By the time she set her wand down on her bed side table, she was very nearly asleep already.
It was almost too much, and also not enough. As she drifted away, one more thought came to taunt her.
Even if you're right, things could easily remain the same…because sometimes things are what they are, even if it's only because they are easier left that way instead of right.
"Seeing Malfoy get scratched by that hippogriff is still the highlight of my life so far," Ron remarked when he, Harry, Hermione, and Eddie sat down in the library. "Though seeing the look on Eddie's face earlier that day after I told him I thought Harry might work for the Ministry because I thought I saw a bowler hat in Harry's tea leaves was a close second."
Eddie kicked him under the table. "You take every opportunity to take jabs at me because of my parents and their quirks, don't you?"
"Only sometimes," Ron said with a laugh. "It's not hard, mate."
"In fairness," Hermione said, looking briefly to Eddie as she opened a couple of her books. "You take jabs at his parents too every so often. I think it's an even trade."
"Is it?" Harry teased, lightly elbowing her. "Maybe you should keep a running tally."
Hermione smirked. "Maybe I should. It could be –"
"What are you kids up to?"
"Having fun without us?"
Hermione turned around, startled, before scowling when she saw the two boys who had spoken sauntering over to them, one of them pulling a chair over to the table next to her and the other walking around behind his youngest brother to twit him behind the head. Harry and Eddie started laughing when Ron turned to smack his brother, who just barely slid out of the way and grabbed his wrist before he could do it. Snatching his wrist out of his brother's with a scowl, Ron did not relent when his brother sat down next to him and dropped his own bag down on the table. He rolled his eyes when Ron pushed the bag onto the floor next to him. Looking across the table at his twin sat now beside Hermione, he mimed pulling something out of his bag, and, with a flourish, he did so. He slapped it down on the table in between the now six of them, and smirked when he had the full attention of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Eddie.
"We've got something for you guys," Fred said, winking at George across the table. "Before you ask, it is absolutely something you'll get a lot of use out of."
"It also," George added, snapping his fingers in front of Eddie's face. "Is something your parents would strongly disapprove of."
"And," Fred said. "You can think of it as our present to four of you for surviving to your third year. You see, we have this thing, and it's gold."
"Not literally, of course," George said, snickering. "We'd be keeping it for ourselves in that case."
"But don't worry," Fred said, pushing the paper forward a little more. "We believe it's time to pass it on to the four of you."
Hermione frowned, looking between them in disapproval.
"We came here to study together, you know."
Fred waved her off. "This won't take very long."
"No, it won't," George agreed. "Ready, Fred?"
He nodded, tapping his wand against the paper. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The parchment came to life, and Fred slowly unfolded and pulled it all the way up to show a fully and moving map of the Castle. He shared a smirk with his twin when the Harry, Ron, Eddie, and Hermione leaned forward a little to take a better look at the map.
"Thought you lot would appreciate it," Fred said with his self satisfied smirk not dissipating. "And George and I have got it committed to memory. We've been sitting pretty with it for a long while now, but it's time we pass it on to you."
Hermione glanced between them and the map. "Where did you get your hands on it? Or do we not want to know?"
"You might not, but I sure do," Ron said, raising an eyebrow when he took a closer look at it. "Blimey, what's Snape doing in the dungeons? I thought he didn't have any classes right now."
"Pretty sure he feels it's his natural habitat," Eddie said, trying to mimic his mother's soft, American Southern accent. "Maybe he's waiting 'til nightfall to go hunting down by the crick."
Fred teasingly smacked him upside the head. "Even if you could get it quite right, that accent really doesn't suit you, mate."
"As for where we got it," George said, leaning back and stretching out his arms. "We nicked it from Filch in his office during our first year. We'd gotten into trouble – as we do – and he was telling us off, dragged us to his office, and all the way grumbled about how Dumbledore banned the torture of students as punishment in the '40s. Think he wasn't being serious about teachers having once been able to torture students, but he seemed to wish it were true. 'Course, we were innocent little kids back then."
"More innocent than we are now, at any rate," Fred amended when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Eddie looked up at them in clear suspicion. "It's been our best tool of the trade ever since, and helped us to learn every trick we know ever since."
Hermione's gaze narrowed further. "That's not a good thing. You two are notorious troublemakers."
"I disagree!" Eddie said, looking over the map in awe. "This is brilliant!"
"Completely!" Ron agreed, though he turned to glare at his brothers. "I'm a bit offended you didn't share this with me sooner! I'm your brother!"
Fred shrugged. "You have to earn these things."
"And the four of you have finally earnt it," George added, winking at Hermione. "Sorry, but you're a part of this whether you like it or not."
"What do you think?" Fred said, reaching over to elbow Harry. "Thought you'd be more excited by this."
"It's neat, but I…" He sighed, looking closely at the map, something in him feeling sure he had seen it before. "Surprised you'd give something like this to us," He finally said as quickly as he could.
"And how do we blank it?" Ron pressed.
"That's a good question," Eddie said, turning to Harry. "You hold onto it. I don't think Ron or I want to have that responsibility, and Hermione," He added a bit teasingly. "Might hand it over to McGonagall."
Hermione scowled. "You really think I'd do that to you?"
"Probably not," He admitted.
"As for how you blank it," George said. "You just tap it and say 'mischief managed!' and it'll blank."
Fred nodded and tapped the parchment. "Mischief managed!"
In a matter of seconds, it blanked and neatly folded itself and, though he briefly hesitated, Harry took the map from the table and slipped it into his pocket.
"Do you know who made it?"
"Well, don't know the real names of who made it – wasn't us, we swear – but we owe them," Fred said with a laugh. "Have seen their pennames so many times that it's committed to memory, though, and we owe them our lives!"
"We do!" George said, briefly clasping his hands together as though he were praying. "So much of our work has been facilitated by 'Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs!'"
Harry stiffened, suddenly grabbing his bag, and stood up.
"You alright?" Eddie said.
"Just realised I forgot to send something to my mum," He said, shaking his head. "I'll be back a little later. You know how she is."
Hermione began to say something but went silent when he started out of the library.
"Sounds like he's describing your mum," Ron said, glancing at Eddie. "Not his."
"Lily has every reason to want to keep a closer eye on him, what with what's happened with…" Eddie sighed. "If he isn't upset by things as much as she is, I'd be even more worried about him."
"Well, if he's not back within an hour, I'm going to find him," Hermione said, relieved when Ron and Eddie both nodded. "At least we're in agreement."
"But on a lighter note," Fred said, standing up with a dramatic bow. "What we gave you is gold!"
"No kidding," Ron said, giving them another half hearted scowl. "I think we know what we'll be doing after our first trip to Hogsmeade in a few weeks."
"Happy to be of service," George replied.
"Anything to pass the torch of trouble onto the best troublemakers in training we know," Fred said with a grin. "Do us proud."