A Tale of Light and Darkness
July 1993
The rough North Sea wind riffled Sirius' hair. The taste of salt was on his lips, tiny droplets of seawater caught in his beard, glistened in the light of the lanterns like small pearls caught in a web of black human hair.
The night was studded with stars and as clear as the cellophane hard candy came in. Waves broke ceaselessly on the high walls of Azkaban, spewing white foam which was thrown against the stone over and over again. The prison fortress protruded from the black sea like a cursed island that was not marked on any map. From afar, one could see the Dementors floating around the prison like wafts of smoke. Their tattered gray robes cloaked their boneless ghost bodies fluttered in the wind like banners of death.
The blue lights coming from the guards' wands flashed through the barred windows as cell by cell was opened and searched from top to bottom. The prisoners stood chained to the walls, shackles rubbing against their emaciated joints. Some giggled, feasting on the panic of their tormentors. Others screamed in fear of the bright lights that streamed through their cells.
The group of Aurors, to which Sirius also belonged, swarmed out and lost themselves in the prison's dark corridors. They were accompanied only by the howls and the laughter of the inmates behind their iron prison cell doors.
Sirius shuddered as he entered the corridor he had left nearly eleven years ago. His chest contracted as he worked his way up cell by cell until he finally stopped in front of the one that used to be his own. For a brief, terrifying moment, he was no longer Auror, no longer brother and godfather, he was prisoner number ᛈᛉ390.
Every stone, every crack had been burned into his memory, the sound of the rusty iron chains, gripping his hands and feet, cold and heavy. The clammy rags that covered his skin, soaked with cold sweat; so much so that he himself had not even registered the smell anymore. Scratch marks decorated the walls over which the shadows of the Dementors glided. They were angry and hungry, the Dementors. A soul had escaped them, albeit a small, inconspicuous one, more beast than man.
Sirius clutched his wand as he took a long, heavy step through the open door and into the cell inside of which he had spent almost a year of his life. The solid sound of his Auror boots echoed from the stone walls. It was so different from the shuffling of his holey prison shoes and their wet, worn-out soles. The piercing ammonia smell of urine hit his nose as he walked up to the bug-ridden cot in the corner, using the metal tip of his boot to turn the tattered rag which had served Peter as a blanket.
The cell was empty, the mass murderer had escaped.
A terrible, seething rage rose like bile in the back of his throat. Sirius walked up to the small window that allowed a ray of moonlight to enter the cell. He clawed its bars, pressed his forehead against the iron, and gazed down at the crashing surf, a white flash of foam against the steep cliff. A gutter, as narrow as a child's hand, ran along the outside of the prison walls and led in the direction of the dock where black boats were rocking to and fro on metal-gray waves.
Sirius knew that Peter had left this place hours ago. The first boat which had set off to the coast had carried him, a small furry thing hidden in the footwell, across the water and brought him safely ashore.
And yet rats were gathered all night long, some alive, some dead, others stunned, their short legs with the small, curved claws rigidly stretched out, their black pinhead eyes wide with fear. The guards inspected their claws, then fired a reversal spell at the living animals to force the Animagus out of his animal form. The rats squeaked loudly, but not a single one turned into a human. Still, there was no pardon for the innocent rats either, not a single one was left alive.
When dawn broke out like a bleeding wound on the horizon, gulls swarmed around the prison walls, attracted by the smell of dead meat. A man-sized mountain of dead rats had grown in the inner courtyard of the prison. Later, the guards carted them in wheelbarrows to the dock where the waves lapped their bloated bodies up. For days afterward, tiny skeletons washed up on the nearby shore among dead fish and seaweed.
The smell of warm bread and fresh fried eggs wafted through the basement of Grimmauld Place 12. Hazy morning light, thick with dust motes, filtered through the only dirty window in the room.
Harry Potter rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, pushing up his glasses while descending the last steps of the stairs. It was barely nine in the morning but the summer heat, sweltering in July, had woken him up. The coolness of the basement offered him a welcome refuge.
Three place settings were already laid out on the long wooden table, all still untouched. The hardwood floor was cool under Harry's bare feet as he crossed the room and glanced into the kitchen.
Regulus stood at the stove, humming a simple melody in his soft baritone voice. He cracked an egg into the pan already sizzling on the stove with melted butter.
"Morning," Harry said, walking up to his guardian.
Regulus glanced over his shoulder, a smile forming on his face at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway, barefoot and still in his pajamas. "Morning, sleepyhead." He cracked a second egg into the pan. "How many eggs do you want?"
Harry yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "Just one."
"All right." Regulus waved his wand, levitating the whistling teakettle to pour water over the grounds in the French press. Harry watched them bubble up, black and steaming.
Regulus grabbed a spatula, flipped the eggs before adding thin slices of bacon. He used it to point at the glass carafe of fresh orange juice which stood next to the toaster. "If you want to help, you can put that on the table. I will be done here in a minute."
Harry nodded. He placed five pieces of toast into a silver-plated toast rack, then carried it to the table together with the carafe of orange juice. He poured himself a glass, took a few small sips, glancing at the Daily Prophet which lay on the table, still untouched.
"Is Sirius awake too?" he asked, raising his voice slightly.
"Haven't seen him yet," Regulus called back, "he's probably still sleeping. I didn't even hear him come home last night, it must've gotten late."
Harry nodded to himself. On the previous evening - it had been quarter past ten and Harry had been brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed - the alarm Sirius always carried with him had gone off, signaling that his presence was needed at the Auror's headquarters. Sirius had sighed before grabbing his coat and flooing away, abandoning a glass of wine and a game of chess. It was not uncommon that he was called to work when he was on night duty - as all Aurors were once in a while. After a night mission, Sirius usually slept long. Sometimes it wasn't until noon that he emerged from his room, hair wild and bags under his eyes, but his eyes always twinkling at Harry.
Harry knew that his godfather loved his job as an Auror at the Ministry. And it was certainly nice to have an Auror as a guardian. Every time he told Ron and Hermione about all the things Sirius saw on his job - and Sirius saw a lot of crazy things happening - Ron shelved his head in his hands, muttering how he wished his father's work at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry was even half as interesting. Hermione usually responded that the misuse of muggle artifacts could seriously hurt muggles and that Arthur Weasley's job was thus also very important. Despite that, Ron did not think that it compared.
Harry didn't think it was all that special. Just like it was normal for him to be raised by his godfather and his brother. Although Sirius and Regulus were not his biological parents, he had been with them for as long as he remembered so he did not feel as though it made a difference. Even the house they lived in - this old London townhouse which beheld so many secrets behind locked doors - Ron, even Hermione, thought it was fascinating. For Harry, it was the most normal thing in the world that there were rooms locked with several charms and which he was forbidden to enter under any circumstances.
And lastly, there was, of course, the scar on his forehead. Only when Harry had come to Hogwarts, he had realized that it made him different from others, that its lightning bolt shape attracted eyes like he were the main attraction in a circus. Compared to that, his home was an island of normalcy. Here, he was just Harry, not 'the boy who lived'.
Regulus came from the kitchen, placed four thin stripes of bacon as well as a thoroughly fried egg onto Harry's plate. Its cooked white was dotted with black pepper. Harry grabbed two slices of toast and made a bacon and fried egg sandwich. Regulus took a seat opposite Harry and did the same, sighing contently as he took his first bite.
Chewing on the bacon, Harry glanced at the empty chair to his left where Sirius usually sat. Regulus noticed it.
"I'd wake him but I don't know when he came home," he said. "It's not a wise idea to wake up a hibernating bear."
"But what if we try to coax him out of his den with bacon?"
Regulus chuckled. He plunged the French press and poured the steaming coffee into his mug. "Even grumpy bears can't say no to bacon. You can try in an hour if he hasn't gotten up by then."
Regulus was in the process of adding milk to his coffee when the floo roared to life, causing him to look up in surprise and spill some of the milk on the table.
Still dressed in his dark Auror's robes, Sirius stepped out of the green flames burning in the fireplace, whirling up a cloud of dust.
Both Harry and Regulus stared at him in stunned silence. "Morning," Regulus said eventually. "We thought you were still asleep… are - are you only now coming home?"
Sirius looked utterly exhausted, his face gray with fatigue. Brushing dust off his robes, he walked over to them, ruffling Harry's hair and directing a lopsided grin at Regulus before sinking into the empty chair at the head of the table. "Sorry. Did I miss my curfew?"
Harry grinned, dimples flashing in his cheeks.
Regulus accioed a mug from the kitchen, filled it with coffee, and slid it into Sirius' view.
Sirius wrapped his cold fingers around the mug, brought it up to his lips and sipped gingerly. "I can't stay long," he said. His voice was rough, like gravel. "And I have to talk to you." He glanced at their sandwiches, his stomach growling audibly. "Did you make one for me too?"
Regulus pushed his chair back. "I'll make you a special one with extra cheese."
"Reg -"
"It'll be quick."
"You're the best, little brother," Sirius called after him as Regulus walked into the kitchen.
Harry chewed on the last quarter of his sandwich, eyeing his godfather curiously.
Sirius glanced at the door leading to the kitchen, then reached across the table, took Regulus' half-filled glass of orange juice, and took a long sip.
Harry suppressed a giggle.
Sirius twinkled at him, bringing his forefinger up to his mouth.
Harry pulled up his right leg and knelt on his chair. He picked up the carafe, leaned across the table and filled Regulus's glass once more, before setting it down and licking a splash off his thumb.
"You're both so quiet," Regulus' voice echoed from the kitchen.
"Only because you're making such a ruckus," Sirius called back. It was true, Regulus was loud whenever he was in the kitchen. Even when he was merely pouring himself a cup of tap water, it always sounded like he was banging pots and pans.
Harry pulled his other leg up as well and sat cross-legged, looking his godfather over. Despite Sirius's good-natured tone, there was an impatient quality to the way his fingers tapped his mug. The man's bright gray eyes were restless, constantly scanning the room.
"Do you have to go back to work?" Harry asked.
Sirius' eyes fell back to Harry. "Unfortunately, yes."
Harry sucked on the inside of his teeth, the sweet taste of orange juice still in his mouth. "But what about Diagon Alley?"
Sirius stared at him for a second, seemingly clueless, until he remembered. "Oh."
"It's the last day Ron is here before he and his family leave for Egypt," Harry reminded his godfather, "you promised we were all going to go to Diagon Alley together."
Sirius rubbed a hand across his face. "I… look, you can talk to Reg about it later, okay?"
Harry's face fell. "So you're not going to come?"
It was always fun to go to Diagon Alley with Sirius. He wasn't like the other adults whose mood got worse and their patience thinner as they hurried from shop to shop. Nor did he disappear in obscure bookstores like Regulus did for hours. No, Sirius was always just as excited to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies as Harry and Ron were and he always bought them ice cream from Fortescue's and sweets from Sugarplum's.
"Umm… no, probably not." Sirius looked over his shoulder to the kitchen door. He tapped his foot on the hardwood floor, twisting the tarnished silver ring he wore on his thumb.
Harry frowned. "But you promised."
"I'm sorry, pup. I really am."
And Sirius did sound sorry. Maybe not sorry enough to prioritize a trip to Diagon Alley over his work, however, he sounded sorry enough that Harry could not find it in him to stay mad at Sirius for longer than two seconds. "It's okay," the boy said, eyes downcast to hide his disappointment, "going with Reg is fun too."
"It's a lot of fun going there with me," Regulus called from the kitchen. He stepped through the doorway, carrying a plate with egg-and-bacon sandwiches that were drowning in molten cheese.
Sirius watched as Regulus set the plate in front of him. His expression had tightened and he forced a smile, thanking his brother. When he began to ate, he ate as though he had not done so in days.
"So," Regulus began, tentatively, watching Sirius, his own breakfast forgotten, "if you have to leave again, does that mean that whatever happened last night is not over yet?"
Even though Regulus had chosen his words carefully, Sirius cast him a sharp glance.
Harry sighed softly to himself. He knew what that look meant: not in front of the kid.
Regulus opened one of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows in the drawing room to let in some fresh air, closing the heavy curtains in front of it to keep the sun out. He heard Sirius shut the door behind him, then speak a silencing spell and place a Muffliato charm on top of it. Although Harry knew he was supposed to respect their privacy and wasn't allowed to eavesdrop, it had happened numerous times in the past. At some point, Sirius had drawn the line and decided that he would not risk it anymore, not with a kid as curious as a cat. A silencing spell as well as a Muffliato charm, however - even for Sirius, that bordered on paranoia.
When Regulus turned around, ready to tease his brother for being so overly cautious, he noticed how pale Sirius was, how Sirius' smile had crumbled the very moment he had closed the door behind himself.
"He's escaped," Sirius choked. And suddenly, he was shaking. He walked up to the grand piano, rested his elbows on top of the lid. In the darkness of the room, he seemed to fade into the piano, his black cloak like an extension of the large black instrument. "He's escaped even though I told them that he would and they didn't take any precautions whatsoever to prevent it." Sirius lowered his head, took a deep breath, his hands clutched to fists. "We searched all night, they didn't want to believe he was gone but I tell you, he's on his way here."
Regulus stood on the other side of the grand piano, stunned. "What? Who are you talking about?"
"Peter," Sirius spat. He looked up and his eyes were wild, the light they beheld a murderous glint.
"Peter… Peter Pettigrew?"
"What other Peter do you bloody know! Of course it's Peter!" Sirius was roughly raking his hands through his hair, almost tearing at it. "Fuck, Reg, I told them to secure his cell. I told them to make it air proof!"
Regulus shook his head. He felt as though Sirius had just poured a bucket of ice water over his head. And he realized that Sirius wasn't on a break from work, he hadn't come home to drink coffee or have breakfast with them. He'd come home to check the wards on the house and to warn them. Warn him, more specifically. The playful smiles downstairs, they had all been for Harry.
"How did he escape?"
Sirius threw his hands up in the air. "Gnawed through concrete? Hungered down until he fit through the window bars? I don't know. Fact is, he's gone."
"But why now, after eleven long years?"
Sirius was pacing up and down. "I don't know, Reg. Maybe he was too scared to flee until now." He stopped, his eyes flashing as they met Regulus's. "Maybe he sensed it - that You-Know-Who is trying to rise again."
"But he failed," Regulus responded instantly. It was true that Voldemort had made attempts to come back to power, and he had tried to use Harry for this purpose at least two times. Both times, however, Harry had managed to defeat him. And both times, the boy had been incredibly lucky to come out of it alive.
"They might not know that there. The rumors of his imminent return, they travel everywhere," Sirius said, "even Azkaban. There, they'll clutch at every straw of hope they can get."
Regulus sank into the armchair next to the piano. Dust billowed up from the cushions, swirling in shafts of light which was falling through the gaps in the curtains. He sat with his head in his hands for a while. He knew Sirius was right. Although Voldemort had failed to come back, the fact that he was trying had given his followers new hope. This sense of being at a tipping point created a ripple effect that spread through the entirety of the British wizarding society. It was nearly palpable, like a dark cloud on the horizon promised rain.
"So what do we do next?"
"We?" Sirius asked, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. "I am going to find him. You and Harry, on the other hand, you don't leave the house. You have to keep him safe."
Regulus frowned at first but then nodded. "Do you think you'll find him quickly?"
"I don't know," Sirius said.
"So… am I supposed to tell Harry that the trip to Diagon Alley isn't going to happen today? What reason shall I give?"
"I don't care. Whatever you say though, don't tell him about Peter," Sirius said in a strained voice. "And don't let him leave the house. And don't you leave the house either."
"He'll find out sooner or later. Who Peter is, I mean."
"Not if we don't tell him."
Regulus shifted uncomfortably. Sirius preferred keeping Harry in the dark about things that he feared would upset the boy. The problem was that Harry was a curious child and his friends were just as curious. It had been easier to keep things from Harry before he went to Hogwarts. Now that Harry was almost thirteen and away at school for most of the year, the things he heard were beyond Sirius's and Regulus's control. Regulus had brought that up to Sirius several times in the past, suggesting that they sit down with Harry and explain to him what exactly had happened after Lily's and James's deaths. It was better he heard it from them than from other children at school. "You know my opinion on that in general."
Sirius' finely defined lips thinned to a narrow line. "Yes, and I don't want to hear it."
He regarded his reflection, which was looking at him from the polished lid of the piano, slightly clouded by a wafer-thin layer of dust. He had aged in the past two years, fine lines followed his aristocratic features, crisscrossed his forehead. They were subtle but profound changes, traces from his constant worry over Harry. A few weeks prior, he had confessed to Regulus that he longed to return to the time before Hogwarts.
Sirius sighed. He looked up, found Regulus' eyes pensively resting upon him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know you didn't."
The tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room gonged the hour.
Sirius straightened his posture. There was no time to waste. Pettigrew had to be found, and soon, before they completely lost track of him. "Please keep an eye on Harry," Sirius said. "And tell him I'm sorry."
It had been a moonless night, the night from 31 October to 1 November 1981. Moonless, bitter cold and endlessly long, that night had changed their lives forever.
Sirius had been gone for nearly an hour, checking on Lily and James after a ward set on their cottage in Godric's Hollow had alarmed him. Regulus remembered how he had rushed down the stairs at the sound of Sirius apparating onto the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place. He found him sunken to his knees on the cold ground floor, sobbing so fiercely it seemed he might cry out his innards. The front door behind him was half-open, the shadow of the night pouring in like black water filling a muddy boot print. Regulus ran toward him, a feeling of unspeakable horror spreading inside of him.
And then, before Sirius could speak a single word, there was the sound of the Aurors apparating just outside the house and the door was unhinged and slammed against the wall, cracks shooting through the front door window. A second later, everything around them exploded into an inferno of spells hitting the walls and scorching the wallpaper, shattering glass, flashes of light ripping through the darkness. Regulus hunched over and scurried for cover, his hands raised above his head.
Sirius was still on his knees, his black hair falling into his eyes, sticking to his cheeks, wet with tears. He looked up at Regulus, his face like that of a man who had seen death's ice-gray wings and was ready to be embraced by them too, to be smothered like a child by its mother.
A moment later, Sirius was struck by a spell and the Aurors stormed the house. He was dragged outside like the monster they believed him to be.
Neither Sirius nor Regulus had ever told Harry of the events that had unfolded after Voldemort killed his parents. Harry did not know of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal. He did not know of the twelve muggles he had killed. He did not know that it was Sirius who had been convicted for the crime.
No, Harry mustn't know. Sirius had decided that early, as soon as the child had first begun to ask questions about what happened to his mum and dad. There was a curious innocence behind Harry's questions that neither Regulus nor Sirius had been prepared for. They could not bring themselves to crush it with the truth.
After Sirius left, Regulus walked downstairs and to the front door. He opened it only a crack at first and peeked outside. He squinted as bright sunlight hit his face. A few children were playing hide and seek further down the street. Regulus opened the door wider, stepped outside into the sun, his wand ready in his hand.
"Salvio hexa," he muttered, lifting his hands as he began to walk in a half-circle around the front door, tapping the walls on both ends. When he was finished and walked up the front stairs, he noticed that Harry was standing in the open door, still in his pajamas.
"What spell was that?" Harry asked as Regulus walked inside, closed the front door, and locked it. If the dark, windowless corridors had one advantage, it was that they kept the heat out.
"It was a protective enchantment," Regulus said. "They wear off after some time so they have to be renewed regularly. Just like the silencing spell on Mother's portrait." He did not tell the child that, what he had actually done, was to create a secondary provisional ward that included the steps in front of their house. He did not like the idea of Peter Pettigrew standing on the other side of the street and being able to see whenever they opened the door.
Harry followed him as Regulus went down the flight of stairs into the basement. "What's happened at Sirius's work?" he asked.
"They've encountered some trouble but they're about to fix it."
"Bad trouble?"
"Nothing they can't handle." Regulus knelt in front of the fireplace, chanting under his breath as he performed a spell to test the wards on the house's floo network. It was intact. He got to his feet once more. Harry, who had sat on the floor next to him and drawn circles into the soot which stained the floorboards in front of the fireplace, got up as well. He wiped his soot-covered hands on his pajama pants, smearing black handprints the length of his thighs. Once more, he followed Regulus as the man mounted the stairs to the second floor.
Regulus stopped in front of his father's old study. It possessed a second fireplace which was still connected to the floo, however, they never used it. He placed his hand on the old, loose-fitting doorknob. The burnished brass was cool against his palm. "You're like a little duckling today, hmm? Why don't you go play for a bit?"
"What about Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, leaning against the wall opposite to Orion's study, not commenting on the fact that he was too old to go play.
Regulus sighed. "Look… Sirius and I think that it might be better if we postpone that to after Ron comes back."
The expression on Harry's face changed quickly from one of crushing disappointment to one of rising anger. "Why? Because Sirius can't come?"
"Yes and no," Regulus said. The doorknob was slowly warming up to his skin. "It's not easy to explain."
"You're not even trying!"
"I am trying. It's just not the right day for a trip to Diagon Alley."
"Oh, suddenly, it isn't," Harry snapped. "It was at breakfast though! What happened to make it the wrong day all of a sudden?"
Regulus let go of the doorknob. "I don't want to lie to you, which is why I can't give you a satisfactory answer to that. At the moment, neither Sirius nor I feel comfortable at the thought of taking you to Diagon Alley. It may not be safe."
"And why not?"
"I can't tell you at the moment. You will simply have to trust me on this."
Harry's dark eyebrows were knitted together just above the rim of his glasses. "But Ron is going."
"What Ron is or isn't doing isn't up to Sirius and I. Believe me, I wish you could go too. I don't like being the bad guy."
Harry huffed. "Then don't be."
"Imagine Sirius found us there. Especially after he specifically told us not to go. We'd both be in big trouble, especially me." Regulus made an attempt at a grin but he failed miserably.
"No we wouldn't," Harry responded, "you're my parent too so if you say I can go then it's fine."
Regulus sighed. "I told you, pup - it's not safe to leave the house right now. We can postpone it to a later date it but it's not going to happen today. I'm sorry."
Harry used his elbows to push himself away from the wall. "You're not sorry," he said, glaring at his guardian, "just because Sirius has to work and you don't want to go, my day is ruined!" He turned in a huff, stomped upstairs.
Regulus looked after him silently. When he heard the door to Harry's room being slammed shut with a resounding bang, he unlocked the door to his father's study and slipped inside.
It wasn't a room either of them walked into very often and Harry was strictly forbidden from entering it.
After Sirius had been released from Azkaban, they had been forced to move back into their parents' old house because i was the only place that had wards that were strong enough to provide enough protection for Harry.
It had been particularly hard on Sirius, having to come back here, having to live here. In the weeks after that, they had tossed nearly all of their parents' possessions out. Anything that wasn't nailed down went into the bin or this very room - among those things was their father's library, which Regulus had convinced Sirius to keep because, even though they were mostly Dark Arts books, they were very rare. Other objects linked to the Dark Arts that could not be destroyed were stored here as well to keep them out of the hands of people who would use them to harm others. Because of that, Sirius usually referred to their father's study as their toxic waste dump, and Regulus had to admit that the name was quite fitting.
It was odd, raising a child in a house that held so many bad memories for them. Slowly but surely, however, they had managed to reclaim it as theirs, throwing out what made it dark and suffocating or banishing it to their father's study. The house was only a shell, it was what they made of it. Harry's presence had helped too. To the boy, the house was the only home he remembered. He submerged it in good memories that filtered through the house like warm sunlight, filling every corner and every crack in the walls. It was the small things - the glass marbles they still found everywhere, years after Harry had stopped playing with them, or little lego pieces jammed into the cracks under the steps. Childish drawings covered the walls, tiny handprints on the windows, it didn't matter that they obstructed the view. They were powerful, these handprints and drawings, trapping the dark scenes these walls had seen like bind runes. And while Sirius still said that he hated this house and wished he could burn it to the ground, he didn't mean it anymore. He only said it when he was mad anyway. And he never said it in front of Harry.
Regulus quickly finished checking the wards on the fireplace in his father's study and locked the door behind him once more by tapping his wand on the doorknob. He stole a glance at the stairs leading up to the third landing. Knowing that Harry was likely to be sulking in his room, Regulus proceeded to reinforce the outer wards that surrounded the house like a bell jar. When lunchtime rolled around, he climbed upstairs and gently knocked at Harry's door before stepping into the room.
Harry lay sprawled across his bed. Regulus picked up a stuffed owl that lay on the floor as he made his way over to the boy. Harry barely looked at him, frowning at a troll figurine he held in his hands. Regulus placed the stuffed owl on Harry's bed next to his pillow.
"You're still mad at me, huh?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Today sucks."
"I agree," Regulus said as he took a seat next to the boy. "But we can still make it better."
"I'm hot," Harry said, "I wanna go outside." He glanced at Regulus. "It can't be that dangerous, can it?" He lowered his voice, looking very serious all of a sudden. "Or is it Voldemort?"
Regulus winced at the mention of the name. Harry had started saying it deliberately after Voldemort had tried to steal the philosopher's stone. Sirius did it too, sometimes. Regulus thought it was a foolish thing to do. "No, it's not him."
"You know that you can tell me. I won't be scared."
Regulus smiled, ruffled the boy's hair, making it stand up in spiky clumps. "I know you wouldn't be. But luckily, it's not him."
"Then what can be so bad?"
Regulus sighed. "I already told you all I can. You have to trust me when I say that it's not safe at the moment."
Harry huffed. "I'm nearly thirteen. I'm not a child anymore."
A slight smile touched Regulus' lips. "You're almost a teenager, I know."
"Exactly." Harry placed the troll figurine next to him on the bed. "You can't treat me like a child anymore."
Regulus chuckled. He imagined Sirius's face at hearing that, an expression of utter disbelief. "I can still count your age on my fingers. And two toes."
"Toes don't count."
"They don't, huh." Regulus leaned back, tickled the sole of Harry's bare foot.
Harry curled his toes in and gave a small squeal.
Regulus took Harry's ankle with his left hand, pulling the boy towards himself. "Tell me again toes don't count." He tickled the small toes.
"Stop," Harry giggled. He was trying to wriggle out of Regulus's grip.
"One," Regulus said, tapping Harry's big toe, "two," he added, tapping Harry's second toe. "Ten and two makes twelve."
"Still. I'll be thirteen in a week."
"The ripe age of thirteen, hmm. That's probably too old to hang out with me, isn't it?"
"It's fine as long as no one from school sees us." Harry grinned cheekily.
"Maybe if I grow a beard they won't recognize me." Regulus let go of Harry's ankle.
"Don't, it'll look silly." A yawn slipped out of the boy and he stretched his arms above his head. "It's sooo hot in here."
"It's cooler downstairs."
Harry rolled over onto his stomach. "Yeah… but I wish we could go to Fortescue's."
"Harry."
The boy mewled. "Just one scoop, please! We'll be back in five minutes!"
Regulus patted his hip. "You know it's not possible. Sirius said not to leave the house today."
"This isn't holidays, this is torture," Harry said with a scowl.
"Now, that's quite dramatic. If I truly wanted to torture you, I'd force you to work on your potions essay."
Harry groaned. "No, please. Anything but that!"
Regulus' eyes drifted over the Gryffindor banner next to the window. It was still a predominantly Gryffindor room. When they had moved here with Harry, Sirius had taken their parents' old bedroom so that Harry could move into his old room. They had had a small argument about that. Regulus had offered to give up his room so Sirius didn't have to move downstairs but Sirius had not wanted to hear a single word of it.
Still, it had been fun, throwing their parents' old furniture out of the windows and watching the wood splinter and crack as it crashed onto the front stairs. They painted whatever remained in red and gold. Sirius left some of his furniture to Harry, like the old wooden dresser in the corner of the room, or the thick-roped hammock, which was suspended with metal hooks on one side of the room and a creaking wooden beam on the other. Sirius had bought it on a muggle flea market in the summer before he had run away to the Potters. Regulus had curled up in it many nights after Sirius had been released from Azkaban, softly singing to the sobbing two-year-old toddler on his chest and silently swearing at the stars. Now, the hammock was swinging in the warm breeze that came from the open window and wafted through the room.
"We could make our own ice cream," Regulus suggested. "And we could set up an inflatable pool."
Harry turned to look at him, eyebrows knitted. "Where do you wanna set up a pool? You said yourself we can't go outside."
"Let's set it up inside then. In the drawing room."
The windows and the curtains in the drawing room were wide open. They had pushed the grand piano as well as the sofa up to the walls and set up a large inflatable pool in the middle of the room. At first, they tried to blow it up the muggle way but they were soon out of breath. Finally, Regulus used a quick spell to do it and it popped up like popcorn, bouncing up slightly as it puffed out to its full size. Regulus pointed his wand at the pool and used an Aguamenti spell to add water to it. Harry was shifting from one foot to the other in excitement, having changed into his blue swimming trunks already.
"Ready?" Harry asked when Regulus pocketed his wand, dipping his right hand into the water to check its temperature. It was just right.
"Ready," Regulus said, a smile playing around his lips.
Harry didn't hesitate. He jumped into the pool, bouncing off the sidewalls, splattering water on the floor.
Regulus crouched down, leaned his elbows on the sidewalls. "Is it good?" he asked.
Harry smacked water at his guardian.
"Oh, I see," Regulus said, chuckling as he wiped his hand across his wet face. His t-shirt was soaked with water and stuck to his chest. He got to his feet, produced his wand, and transformed his clothes into swimming trunks. "Challenge accepted."
The hours passed quickly and the golden rectangles of light falling in through the windows grew longer and longer. Regulus and Harry went in and out of the pool as they pleased, leaving behind wet footprints on the hardwood floor. Every other hour, Regulus added a bucket of cold water to keep the water temperature nice and cool. They ate ice pops that Regulus made from the remaining orange juice.
It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening and the sunlight was falling in at a deep angle, reflecting off the water. The sound of the floo in the basement roused Regulus, who had been dozing on the sofa, a book placed flat on his chest, from his sleep. He sat up when he heard the sound of Sirius's heavy boots on the stairs.
Harry heard it as well. The boy was in the pool again, wet hair sticking to his face. Tinted goggles dangled from his arm. He had created an underwater world, plucking bright Croton leaves and spiky Dracaena leaves from the house plants that sat on the windowsills. He weighed them down with colored stones and decorated the pool's floor with glass marbles. They sparkled in the sunlight and cast glimmering reflections on the pool's sidewalls.
"Psst," Harry called in a loud whisper, "Reg - let's startle him!"
Judging from how heavy Sirius's steps sounded, Regulus didn't think that that was a good idea. "Harry -"
The door to the drawing room opened and Harry took a deep breath before diving into the water close to the pool's walls where he hoped that Sirius wouldn't see him unless he stood right next to the pool.
Sirius looked around the rearranged room, his eyes coming to rest on the pool. He seemed stunned for a second, too surprised to speak.
Regulus placed his book on the coffee table. He scratched the back of his neck which was still wet. "Yeah, umm… see, we…"
"No, it's fine," Sirius said. He looked incredibly tired, which wasn't surprising since he hadn't slept for at least thirty-four hours.
Scanning the room for Harry, Sirius walked up to the pool, tapping the sidewall behind which he saw the contours of his godson hiding under the water. "Hey, pup -"
Harry jumped up, splashing water at Sirius. "Boo!"
Sirius blinked as water got into his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking down at himself. "Was that really necessary?" He waved his wand over his clothes and a warm breeze dried them quickly. "Get out of the water, please. I have to have a talk with Regulus in private."
Harry frowned. He glanced at Regulus, who gave him a sympathetic smile but also lifted his shoulders slightly as though he were saying I told you so.
"Spoilsport."
"Excuse me?" Sirius' voice dropped slightly.
Harry crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, glaring at his godfather.
Sirius accioed a towel, wrapped it around the child. "Step out, please."
"It's not like we only have this room," Harry muttered as he climbed out of the pool, a puddle of water forming under his feet. "There are many rooms you could go to."
Sirius crooked an eyebrow at him. "Show me your hands."
Harry glanced at his hands, frowned, then curled them into fists. "Why?"
"Because I have a feeling that you've been in the water for long enough. Show me your hands, I don't want to say it again."
Harry reluctantly opened his hands and held them out. The skin on his fingers had shriveled up like an old prune.
"Go get dressed," Sirius said. He had made his point already.
Harry grumbled to himself as he picked up his glasses and dried them on the towel before putting them on.
Sirius cast him a stern look. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Harry muttered. He crossed the short distance to the door and closed the door behind himself, maybe a little bit too firmly.
"If he keeps this up he can find himself a corner until Kreacher has finished making dinner," Sirius said crossly. His eyes were still fixed on the door through which Harry had disappeared a few seconds earlier.
Regulus' shoulders slumped slightly. He did not even have to ask whether the Aurors had found Pettigrew, it was obvious that they hadn't. It would have been the very first thing coming out of Sirius' mouth if they had caught him.
"He's just upset because he doesn't know what's going on."
"It's none of his business."
"It is his business," Regulus objected, "he's the one who isn't allowed to leave the house after all."
Sirius ignored his brother's comment. He walked over to one of the window, glanced outside, stroking his beard. "You warded the windows?" he asked.
"And the fireplaces. And the front door," Regulus said. "Of course I did. The other wards are intact as well but I reinforced them just to make sure they're working. We're perfectly safe here."
"Good." Sirius shrugged his coat off and carried it under his arm. He had been sweating and there were dark sweat stains under the arms of his navy blue shirt.
"Any news? Regarding… you know… Peter?" Regulus asked tentatively.
Sirius sighed deeply. He carded his fingers through his greasy, uncombed hair. He had not showered in two days. "He was spotted in a muggle village not far from the coast. Several people noticed him, actually, possibly because he transformed right in front of their eyes. They all had to be obliviated."
Regulus felt his throat tighten. "Did he hurt anyone?"
"No," Sirius said curtly. "He went through some rubbish bins, made a bit of a mess. He hasn't been seen since and it's unlikely that he stayed in that village for very long."
"And now? Do you know where he is now?" As soon as Regulus uttered that question, he realized how stupid it was. If Sirius knew where Peter was, he wouldn't be home.
Sirius's fingers brushed the windowsill. It was dusty and littered with dead flies. There had been a time about five or six years ago when Harry had taken it upon himself to bury all dead flies in the flowerpots. "Shacklebolt and Williamson went into the sewers and killed a few dozen rats but…" Sirius shrugged, shaking his head. "The good news is that Azkaban, too, is pretty much free of rats now. At least for a while."
The door opened a hand's breadth and Harry's face appeared. "Can I get my goggles?"
Sirius whirled around. His jaw set when his eyes found Harry. "Did or did I not tell you that this was a private conversation?"
"Yeah but… I forgot my goggles."
Sirius walked up to the boy, held the edge of the door frame as he bent down sightly, fixing Harry with a stern look. "I will say this one last time, Harry: when Regulus and I talk in private, you will respect that. Unless, of course, you wish to find yourself in the corner with a smarting backside. Am I making myself clear?"
Harry winced, his ears turning red. He was far too old to be threatened like that. "Yes," he muttered.
Sirius opened the door wider, motioned for Harry to step in. "Then go, get what you need."
Harry did not look at Sirius as he squeezed past him, careful not to get too close to him. His goggles lay on the floor in a sunny spot next to the inflatable pool. He picked them up, rubbing his thumb across the lenses to wipe off water spots.
Sirius cleared his throat, jerking his head toward the door.
Harry gave him a dirty look as he walked back. "Thanks for ruining everything," he said in a low voice.
Sirius' lips tightened and he took a deep breath in through his nose. He closed the door behind the boy and cast a silencing spell.
"Anyway," he said, his voice strained, "the Ministry is on red alert and they're about to release the information to the public. The Minister is holding a press conference right now. They're even considering involving the muggle police. Which is absolute nonsense, if you ask me."
"But isn't it helpful to have more eyes and ears? If a muggle spots Peter, he or she can tell their police and -"
"And they'll do what, try to arrest him?" Sirius gave a bitter laugh. "Point their little guns at him?"
Regulus was silent. Sirius had a point, Peter was dangerous in ways that muggle police officers could not even imagine.
"It'll be in the prophet tomorrow, then," Regulus said.
"Yeah." Sirius turned, looked at his brother. "Harry mustn't know. We'll keep this from him as long as possible."
"Sirius…"
"Can't he have a break, just for a bit? He just got out of the chamber of secrets, barely surviving it. I don't want him to go through all this again."
"I know. Neither do I."
They were both silent for a moment. The sound of the traffic, which came in through the open windows, seemed to increase.
Sirius glanced at the inflatable pool, regarded the underwater world Harry had created. A sad smile tugged at his lips before it faded and he clenched his jaw as if he could bite through the sadness he felt. "Harry, he's just a child. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve any of this. I don't want him to live in fear of the man who's responsible for James' and Lily's death."
Regulus nodded. "I'm just afraid it will be worse if he finds out from someone else."
"He won't. Not if I catch that rat in time." He gave Regulus a hard look.
Regulus raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "Hey, I'm not going to tell him. But we have to tell him something at least."
Sirius eyed him skeptically, eyebrows raised.
Regulus sighed. Arguing with Sirius when he was anxious did not usually result in anything. "Maybe if you talk to him too, he'll understand better."
"I shouldn't have to do that. You talked to him, that should suffice. Your word counts as much as mine."
Although Sirius said that, they both knew it was not completely true. Even though Regulus was an adult and had been for years - he was thirty years old after all - Sirius still believed he held the authority in their family and that he was to have the last word in any decision they made concerning Harry. It was perhaps because Sirius had never fully returned to being Regulus' brother after he had become his guardian after their parents' deaths. Not that he ever had been just a brother. He had always been the oldest, the one who took care of things, the one calling the shots. He had always been more like a parent than a brother to Regulus. Sometimes Regulus could still see a glimpse of that in Sirius, fleeting and semi-corporeal like the reflection of light in the misty air of a waterfall formed a rainbow.
"That's not what I meant," Regulus said. "I just want you to explain things to him as far as you can. No more."
Sirius sighed, ran a hand over his face, wiping away small droplets of sweat that had formed on his forehead since he was still standing in full sunlight next to the window.
"Not right away, of course," Regulus said from his spot on the sofa, "you're tired and exhausted. You should get some sleep."
As much as Sirius tried it, he could find no sleep. Instead he found himself staring at the car lights which were flashing through the gap in the curtains, listening to the sound of the traffic, quieter at night but never ceasing. He got up once to check the front door, just to make sure that the wards were indeed working just like Regulus had said. Sometime around one a.m, he woke by the sound of metal chains. He reached for his wand, listened keenly in the darkness. After a few seconds, he realized that the sound had been carried over from his dreams.
His sheets were drenched in sweat and he pulled his t-shirt over his head on the way to the shower, grimaced as he felt it sticking to his back. He dropped it on the floor, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists, the scars still there, hidden under coarse arm hair, traces of shackles cutting into flesh.
After a quick shower, which was cold and refreshing, he was wide awake. "Four hours of sleep must be enough," he muttered to himself. For a brief moment, he considered flooing to the Aurors headquarters and going back to work. He dismissed the thought quickly. Moody had sent him home and told him not to return before the next morning. Only after arguing with the man for a while and after Moody threatened to remove him from the case if he did not "march his arse home and get some sleep", Sirius had finally obeyed. At first, he had been angry with the older man but now he had to admit that Moody had a point - Sirius had to be wide awake and fully alert if he wanted to catch Peter.
His stomach growled and he went into the kitchen in the basement to find something to eat. Kreacher woke on his cot and glowered at him in the dim light of the naked light bulb swinging overhead. Sirius ignored the elf as he scraped what was left of the spaghetti they had had for dinner into a bowl. He dragged himself upstairs once more, eating on the way. He paused when he heard a door opening on the third landing right above him. This was followed by a brief moment of silence and then by the sound of padded footsteps on the stairs, expertly avoiding the creaking stairs. Shortly after, the small shape of his twelve-year-old godson materialized from the darkness.
"Harry. What are you doing up?"
Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs, goggled at him. "What are you doing up?"
A small smile tugged on the corners of Sirius's lips. "I asked first, pup."
"Can't sleep," Harry mumbled. He shifted from one foot to the other, rubbed his eyes using his knuckles.
"Me neither."
For a moment, they stood like this, looking at each other, unsure. Dinner had been a silent affair, Sirius having been too tired to talk and Harry having been a little sulky still. And Sirius had gone to bed right after.
"I had a bad dream," Harry said quietly.
Sirius had to remind himself to keep chewing his food and not to choke on it. "What was it about?"
Harry sat on the lowest step, resting his chin on his hands. "Nothing much, just... the basilisk," he said. "It's fine."
Sirius swallowed hard. He walked over to the child, sat down next to him, the wooden step creaking under his weight. He motioned at the bowl in his hands, "do you want a bite?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Thanks."
"How about an ice pop? Reg told me he made some today."
Harry thought about that for a second, then nodded.
Sirius drew his wand, accioed an ice pop from downstairs, and handed it to Harry. The boy ate it silently. Melted orange juice dripped over his hand and he licked his fingers before rubbing his hands on his pajama pants.
Sirius quickly ate the last spoonful of his spaghetti, then placed the bowl on the ground. Whenever Harry had had a nightmare in the years before Hogwarts, Sirius had always told him that it was just a dream. You're safe here. He used to check for monsters under the bed and in the cupboard and behind the curtains. He had allowed the child to sleep in his bed if that didn't help. After all that Harry had been through, that seemed a little ridiculous now.
"Do you want me to sit with you until you fall asleep?"
Harry shook his head once more. He pulled the pop stick apart, examining the tiny splinters. "It's gonna come back anyway. The basilisk. Sometimes I think I can still hear it."
"Maybe not if I leave my patronus with you?"
Harry hesitated. "Maybe," he whispered after a brief moment of silence.
"You know you can always wake me up too. Or call for me and Reg. Just yell my name and I'll come flying up the stairs. Literally. I'll jump on my broom and be there in a jiff."
Harry glanced at him, his eyes traveling over the V-line of sunburn around Sirius's neck. "You'll be grumpy though without sleep."
Sirius chuckled. "I won't be grumpy, pup."
"You didn't have any sleep last night." There was a hint of accusation in Harry's voice.
Sirius hummed. Suddenly he felt bad for having been so short with Harry. "I'm sorry I grouched at you earlier."
Harry edged closer to him. "You were very grouchy," he agreed.
Sirius placed an arm around the child's narrow shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry. Reg is right, I was tired and overworked. And I'm sorry for ruining your day. I know you were looking forward to that trip to Diagon Alley."
Harry chewed on his bottom lip. "It's fine," he said after a bit, "Reg promised that we'll go on another day. And again when Ron is back." He glanced up at Sirius, curiosity sparkling in his emerald eyes. "What happened today that made it so dangerous to go out?"
Sirius stiffened. His lips felt dry all of a sudden and he wet them with the tip of his tongue. "We… um… we've had some trouble with… a rat problem."
Harry knitted his eyebrows. "A rat problem?"
Sirius winced slightly at his godson's disbelieving tone. "It's very complicated, pup. And I can't tell you more than that because it's confidential information." That was a little bit of a fib - it had been confidential until the Minister had shared it with the press a few hours ago.
"I won't tell anyone," Harry responded quickly.
Sirius had to smile a bit at that, despite everything. "I know you wouldn't. But I still can't tell you. You know that, don't you?"
Harry harrumphed. He did know. While Sirius was happy to share funny anecdotes about his work, this was the answer he gave whenever something serious had happened. "But you told Reg. If it's so super confidential then why did you tell him?"
"Because Reg is an adult."
Harry did not like this answer, Sirius could tell by the way he leaned away from him ever-so-slightly.
"Come, let's get you upstairs and back to bed," Sirius said. He did not feel like discussing this topic any further. He had given Harry an explanation, maybe not the best explanation there was, but nevertheless one that he expected the child to accept.
He accompanied Harry to his room, pulled back the blanket, and waited for Harry to place his glasses on the nightstand and crawl into bed.
"Patronus?" Sirius asked.
Harry turned to his side, drew his legs up, curling into a fetal position. "Yes, please."
Sirius produced his wand. He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration. "Expecto Patronum."
A bright light began to glow from the end of his wand and a few seconds later, a dazzling bright silver dog broke free from it. It took a few leaps across the room, then went up to Sirius and Harry, tail wagging. Sirius nodded toward the foot of the bed where its light would not be too bright to disturb Harry's sleep but bright enough for the boy to sense its presence. The dog-shaped patronus obeyed instantly, curling up in the spot it was directed to and resting its head on its paws.
Harry was asleep within minutes.
Sirius sat with his child for a while, watched his chest rise and fall in the comforting glow of his patronus. He had no desire to go back to sleep himself and there was something incredibly reassuring about Harry's presence. Listening to the boy's deep, even breathing was an escape from a past drawing him in like quicksand.
All too soon, the morning came, rising with the sounds of birds that entered through the open windows and raised goosebumps on Sirius' exposed arms.
He did not wait for either Regulus or Harry to wake before using the fireplace in the basement to floo to the Aurors' headquarters. The bitter taste of the black coffee he'd had for breakfast was lingering in the back of his throat. He had a rat to find, a traitor to kill.
tbc…
A/N: Here it is, the sequel of A Tale of Two Brothers. In case you have not read that story yet, you can go and do so if you want to understand the characters better, but it's not absolutely necessary as there's a fifteen-year time jump. A big thank you to everyone who was so kind as to send me asks about the characters on tumblr. It really helped me develop the idea for this sequel. So please consider it dedicated to you :)
[There will also be an extension that mainly deals with James and Reg. So there will be some more backstory to this, I promise, it's just not written yet]