"Rats are awesome," James had said the night when Peter had first managed to change into his Animagus form.
Peter had looked at him critically. He was exhausted from the whole thing. Some of the rat fur hadn't disappeared as he forced himself back into his human form and he had to shave it off his forehead. Unlike James or Sirius, transforming hadn't been easy for him and he had trouble getting accustomed to seeing the world from a rat's perspective. Everything seemed a hundred times bigger all of a sudden, magnified into a multitude of threats. And the fact that all his friends were able to transform into animals so strong and powerful made him feel more than a little jealous.
"But they're so tiny. Seriously, what harm can a rat do?"
"Bring the Black Death upon the Slytherins," Sirius said with a chuckle.
"Ha ha." Peter frowned.
James slapped his back. "Come on, being so tiny, that means they can go anywhere! If I transform, I have to stay out of the castle. Imagine, a stag roaming the corridors -" Sirius guffawed, causing James to laugh as well, "- I'd be done for. You, on the other hand -" he whistled, shaking his head, "you've won the jackpot!"
Peter shrugged. He still seemed disappointed that his Animagus form wasn't something more spectacular. "So what's the point if no one even notices me."
"Being invisible can be a good thing, Pete. They're like little ninjas."
James had been a fountain of enthusiasm that night, listing all the places Peter could go as a rat, an advantage that he or Sirius did not have. In the end, Peter's eyes had lit up and he agreed that being able to transform into a rat perhaps wasn't so bad after all.
And James had been right.
Rats. Smelly, hairy, disgusting little scavengers. Perfectly blending into the gray of the cities and the brown of the meadows and woods. Practically silent as they moved on their tiny pink hands, seamlessly fading into the shadows of houses and crops. Most people would not notice them unless they ran between their feet.
If only Sirius could turn into Padfoot without anyone noticing. He would sniff the rat out, eyes closed, without any effort. He would recognize its smell among thousands, the slightly sour stench of humanity that clang to Animagi even in their animal form.
He would grab Peter by the neck with his teeth, bite down hard, listen to the dull crack that took the rat's life.
No. Too easy. Too fast. Too merciful.
He would petrify him and put him in a box. Peter liked snakes, so Sirius would take him to the closest muggle zoo and drop him into the terrarium and watch the rat saunter around, squeaking in terror, push its little body into a corner. Sirius would watch through the viewing glass how Peter was swallowed by a snake, ideally one big enough that it didn't bother to kill him first. Being swallowed head-first would lead to crushed bones, internal injuries, asphyxiation. Terrifying last moments in a snake's gullet. Rats were survival experts, but no rat would survive this. Not even a fake one.
A heat haze shimmered on the long, straight service alley which Sirius and Nymphadora Tonks were supposed to keep under surveillance. The alley was lined with mill-workers houses. Peter's mother lived in the house opposite Sirius. They had watched it all morning and so far, all they had observed was that a window had been opened a few times. Currently, all windows were closed and thready lace curtains blocked Sirius's view. Old spider webs hung around the front door lights. The woman lived alone and withdrawn, among muggles, having no contact with any other wizards or witches. As the mother of a mass murderer, she found herself ostracized and shunned.
Sirius doubted that Peter would seek out her help. While Peter was a coward, he was not as dumb as he seemed at first glance. He knew that the Aurors were hunting him, he knew they would be swarming around his mother's house like angry hornets around their nest. Peter knew how to become invisible.
Sirius leaned back against the cool back wall lining the backyards of the houses behind him. It was hot under James's invisibility cloak although he did his best to stay in the shadow of the wall. He closed his eyes for a second, fought against the fatigue in his bones.
A whistle.
Sirius' eyes snapped open and he whipped his wand out. Then, he relaxed again. Tonks was standing on the opposite side of the street. He recognized her instantly by the golden brooch she wore on her chest - not that that was truly necessary in order to identify her. Although she had morphed into the shape of a middle-aged woman, the way she walked, stalking up and down the street, clumsily tripping over cobblestones, he would have recognized her in any form.
Sirius moved out of the shadow of the building but stayed close to the wall. He whistled back, their sign that the area was clear.
Tonks hurried over to him. Sirius pulled the invisibility cloak over his head, let it sit on his shoulders.
"I was wondering," she said, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, "do you think it's due to something personal that Moody sent us here? I mean," she motioned around, "what's the point?"
Sirius could feel a sunburn forming on the top of his scalp where his hair parted and regretted not having brought a hat. "I'm starting to wonder that too. I think he hates us."
Tonks sucked on her bottom lip, seemed to hesitate. "Can I - can I ask you something? Something personal?"
"Sure. Unless you plan to turn this into a tea party."
She grinned. "No worries. I'd be highly suspicious of anyone who drinks tea in this weather."
Sirius chuckled. There was a short silence. "All right, spill it," he said. "What do you want to know?"
The girl hesitated again. "I don't want to offend you."
Sirius rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in amusement. "I doubt you could, even if you tried. I'm no sensitive plant."
"Okay." She took a deep breath in through her teeth. "I heard you talking, you and Moody. Pettigrew, he was your friend, wasn't he?"
Her question wiped Sirius' smile away.
"Sorry," she said. "I knew I wasn't supposed to listen in..."
Sirius looked at the rooftops at the end of the alley, squinted his eyes. The sun was reflecting off a couple of shiny new tiles. They were squeezed in between old ones which were blackened with soot and grime. "No, it's - it's fine."
"I shouldn't have asked," she said quickly.
Sirius forced his smile back onto his face. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's not really a secret."
Tonks hummed. She leaned against the wall next to him, her eyes fixed on the house of Peter's mother. "It takes everything to an entirely different level though. That he was your friend."
Sirius did not respond. He knew what she was thinking - she was imagining him and James visiting Peter, laughing and romping about, filling the small house with life. And she was not wrong, they were all there, separated only by the thin veil of time, semitransparent as though they were hidden behind a plastic sheet. His heart constricted painfully in his chest at the thought of James in this house - James, entering through this door so many years ago, not knowing that it was the door of a murderer.
The second bedroom to the right, Peter's room. James and Sirius knocking against the window at night. They had flown there all the way from the Potters when Peter hadn't responded to their letters.
"You fine, Wormy?"
A bright smile on Peter's moon-shaped face. "Now that you're here."
"It will be hard for you," Tonks said, startling Sirius out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"Not to kill him."
"It won't," Sirius responded curtly.
His eyes fell to the ground. To his feet, he saw a dead earthworm, dried up in the sun. He thought of Harry's habit of picking worms up from the pavement. The boy had used to carry the squirming worm in between thumb and pointer finger until he found a patch of grass and, in the concrete desert that some parts of London were, that sometimes took a while.
Harry. Kind like Lily had been.
Sirius remembered Peter, awkwardly holding Harry, just a couple of days old. James next to him, so proud he couldn't take his eyes off of Harry for even a second.
Sirius grimaced, clenched his jaw so hard it cracked. His mouth felt so dry that his lips stuck to his teeth and he didn't know if his tongue was thirsting for water or blood.
No, it wouldn't be hard at all not to kill Peter. It would not be hard because Sirius was not even going to try.
When Sirius returned home that evening, he stayed close to the windows, peering out through the curtains, his sleep-deprived eyes scanning the street.
"What's out there?" Harry asked curiously. He was holding the invisibility cloak which Sirius had handed back to him after borrowing it for the day in his right hand.
"Nothing," Sirius said.
Harry walked up to another window to Sirius's right, opened the curtains which had been closed during the day to keep the heat out of the drawing room, and leaned outside.
"Harry, take a step back please." There was a tinge of anxiety ringing in Sirius's voice as though he expected Harry to lean out too far, lose his balance, and fall out of the window.
Harry did not react. He drummed his fingers against the window frame, disappointed that nothing unusual caught his eye.
"Harry James. Back, I say."
Harry frowned at his godfather's tone. "I'm not a dog."
"Sirius, It's fine, I warded the windows," Regulus said.
"It's not fine," Sirius responded harshly. He turned back to Harry. "You stay away from the windows, you hear me?"
Harry's fingers curled around the edge of the wooden window frame, his jaw setting stubbornly. "But why?"
"Because it's dangerous." In two large steps, Sirius was next to Harry, pulling the boy back, out of the rectangle of sunlight, and into the darkness of the room. Then he closed the window, cutting off the refreshing stream of air.
"But. Why." Harry repeated, this time through his teeth.
Sirius did not respond. He fixed Harry with a piercing look before turning to Regulus. "And keep them closed. I don't want them open."
"It's hot inside with the windows closed," Harry objected. "Do you want us to suffocate?"
"What I want," Sirius said, speaking very slowly and precisely, enunciating his words with care, "is a moment of peace. It's too bloody loud with all the traffic going on outside."
"The traffic, huh" Harry echoed. He took another step away from Sirius, who stood next to the closed window. The sound of distant traffic was something they were all used to, there was no escape from the city's white noise. It was dimmer now with the window closed but it was still there. Harry looked at Regulus. "The traffic?" he asked, a look of indignation flashing in his eyes at the passive expression on Regulus's face. "Are you two kidding me?"
Regulus's lips thinned.
"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?"
"It's just a temporary situation," Regulus said. "Right? Sirius?"
Sirius had turned around, was staring out of the window. He did not make any indication that he had heard Regulus. Sunlight reflected off his midnight black hair, giving it a blue sheen.
"Sirius?"
"Yeah," Sirius responded, forcing his gaze off the window, blinking.
"Oh sure," Harry said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "and I bet it's all linked to this 'rat problem' as well." Harry mimed air quotes with his index fingers. "Am I right?"
"Rat problem?" Regulus cast Sirius a bewildered look.
"Rats are always a problem," Sirius said tonelessly. He swallowed, his Adam's apple jerking in his throat. "Bloody pests. They can get in through the windows."
Regulus opened his mouth, closed it again. The windows were warded. No rats, magical or not, would be able to enter the house. Whether the windows were open or closed made no difference aside from the very different level of comfort an open window provided compared to a closed one.
Harry was staring at Sirius, not blinking. "I think that you're lying," he said, his voice low, his eyes hard. "I think that you're making things up just so you don't have to tell me what's really going on."
Regulus winced as he watched Sirius's lips twitch.
He quickly walked over to the child, placed a finger under his chin. "Sirius isn't lying, Harry. And I don't think it's right of you to accuse us of making things up. I think you know us better that."
Harry knitted his eyebrows. "But a rat problem, seriously? So what if they come in through the windows! I'm not afraid of rats."
"I know you're not," Regulus said, the corners of his mouth quirking up inadvertently. He glanced at Sirius. Sirius had turned back to face the window. Regulus leaned down to Harry and spoke in a low voice, "sometimes, even if we don't always understand other people's anxieties, it's still important to remember to empathetic toward them."
Harry's eyes traveled over to Sirius. The man was staring out of the window with a haunting fierceness. For a brief moment, Harry looked as though he wanted to object, tell Regulus that there was nothing to understand about Sirius' behavior.
"Even if something is hard to understand, that doesn't mean it's nonsense," Regulus went on, his voice soft. He stretched out his thumb and ran it along the side of Harry's face. "Okay?"
Harry hesitated for another moment. Finally, he bit his lip, his emerald eyes softening to a forest green as he glanced at Sirius's back once more. He nodded. "Fine."
"You're not exactly helping if you tell him to stay away from the windows," Regulus said as soon as Harry had left the drawing room to get himself a snack from the kitchen. They could hear the stairs creaking softly under the boy's bare feet as Harry descended the stairs.
"I just want to make sure Peter doesn't come in," Sirius said. He had not moved, his gaze still directed out of the window. His eyebrows were drawn together, which made his profile seem sharper.
"I know but the windows are warded. He can't come in, there's simply no way."
Sirius's gray eyes looked like he was staring at something miles away. "They also thought that he couldn't get out of Azkaban. Supposedly they also warded the cells but here we are."
Regulus carded his fingers through his hair. "Look. I thought you didn't want Harry to worry. Telling him to stay away from the windows, that's not helping."
"Well. I'll worry less."
"That's not the point."
For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Sirius turned his head, looked at Regulus. "Isn't it?" His lips quirked up as though he had made a joke. His expression sobered up a little when it did not have any effect on Regulus. "Keeping the windows shut won't kill him. He's being dramatic."
Regulus cocked his head. "You're being dramatic."
Sirius bowed slightly. "I shall take that as a compliment from someone who has mastered the art."
"It's not even funny."
"No, it's not." Sirius rolled his shoulders once before he turned back to face the window, his forehead nearly touching the windowpane.
The expression in his eyes reminded Regulus of the time shortly after Sirius had returned from Azkaban, all skin and bones, so pale that he looked nearly transparent. It had been eleven years ago when they had moved back to Grimmauld Place after Sirius had gotten guardianship over Harry with the help of Regulus. Sirius had been twenty-two then but already carried the burden of a much older man.
Regulus remembered him obsessively drawing the curtains shut and tying them several times, especially after sunset. Sometimes, Regulus had found him wandering through the house at night, terribly exhausted but not being able to find any sleep, peering through tiny gaps in the curtains, then suddenly leaping back as though he had seen a ghost staring at him from outside.
And sometimes, it was the curtains themselves triggering something within Sirius, especially if they weren't drawn shut but draped along the sides of the windows, hovering inches above the ground like silent guards, as gray as the night, coming alive in the lights of the cars passing by.
"Dementors," Sirius babbled then, hunching in a dark corner far away from the windows, shaking, Regulus helplessly kneeling next to him, "they don't care if I'm innocent, they're looking for me, they'll find me -"
Regulus had placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, felt him tremble, the stench of fear rising. Sirius's clothes, drenched in cold sweat, so big and loose those days and yet sticking onto his bony frame as though he had taken a shower fully dressed. For two nights, Regulus sat with Sirius like this, at least as long as two-year-old Harry was asleep in his crib. Sirius, albeit a free man, was captive still, a prisoner of his memories. The third time it happened, Regulus conjured up his Patronus, a spell he had learned for the sole purpose of easing the fear surging through Sirius in these moments. A Nebelung cat with a silky, blue-gray coat sprung forth from the tip of his wand. He ordered it to sit with Sirius before he got up to close the open curtains and tie them together. From then on, he cast the spell every other hour. The Patronus cat followed Sirius around the house and Sirius found comfort in its light blue glow, knowing that no Dementors could ever get close to him with his brother's Patronus by his side.
It took months until Sirius had recovered so far that he could conjure up his own Patronus. By then, however, the open wounds on his wrists and ankles, reminders of the shackles he had worn, had closed up and he found that did not need the Patronus's light anymore.
Harry noticed that the newspaper had disappeared.
"Sirius took it with him to work this morning," Regulus had said on the previous day.
But now, the spot on the dining table to Regulus's right, where usually the Daily Prophet sat, was empty again.
Usually, Sirius, who was the first to get up in the morning, read it before Regulus and Harry woke, left coffee rings on the front page, and funny sketches on the margins of the political news section. He always took the time to draw a mustache on the face of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and antennae on the head of his boss, Rufus Scrimgeour, who was the Head of the Auror Office. It always made Regulus chuckle when he discovered it, a chuckle Sirius seldom witnessed and yet seemed to relish in. In fact, when Harry had seen Fudge for the first time, he had barely recognized the man without the giant walrus mustache as he had never seen him depicted without it.
"Did Sirius take the Daily Prophet to work again?" Harry asked during breakfast.
Regulus handed him a piece of warm toast. "I guess. Perhaps he's reading it during his breaks. He doesn't have much time for breakfast right now." Harry felt Regulus' eyes lingering on him a millisecond too long. "Why do you ask?"
Harry shrugged. "It's just peculiar, that's all."
"What's peculiar?"
"Everything. How he's behaving. And all that because of rats." Harry's tone told Regulus that he did not believe for a second that Sirius was working day and night simply because they had a rat problem.
Regulus was quiet.
"I bet they have the Daily Prophet everywhere in the Ministry. He doesn't have to take ours to work, he could simply buy another one."
"Hmm. He was probably in a hurry. Why is it so important to you anyway?" Regulus asked as he used his knife to spread butter on his toast.
"It's kind of selfish, don't you think so? He doesn't even care that you read the newspaper too. And maybe I want to read the news too."
"Oh," Regulus said. It was the first time Harry had shown any interest in reading the Daily Prophet. "But, you know, the Daily Prophet isn't exactly quality journalism. I don't mind not reading it for a couple of days."
"I hate not knowing what's going on."
Regulus froze. The butter on his toast was melting. "Harry," he began, "you know that we'll tell you as soon as we can. But it's nothing -"
"Nothing I need to worry about, huh. Sure. Just a rat problem." Harry's voice was sharp.
Regulus desperately tried to change the topic for the remainder of breakfast.
Dinner. The smell of tomato and garlic filled the basement.
Sirius was late. He came through the floo, ruffled Harry's hair on the way to his seat at the head of the dining table, made it stand up even more.
Regulus did not ask him how work had been. Sirius did not tell them about his day.
"We were just discussing Harry's birthday," Regulus said, breaking the awkward silence like an egg on the edge of a frying pan.
That was an exaggeration. Harry had merely mentioned it briefly before dinner.
"Oh. What's the plan?" Sirius asked around a mouthful of spaghetti.
"I want to rearrange my room," Harry said.
Sirius chuckled softly under his breath. "No, I mean the party, the fun part. Seriously, Harry, you're turning thirteen, not thirty."
"Ron is in Egypt and Hermione in France." Harry scraped his spoon along the edge of his plate. "There's no point in having a party without them."
Sirius hummed. "I know we're cheap replacements but we'll try our best. Reg will play the role of Ron and I shall star as Hermione. He'll dye his hair red and I'll carry a few books under my arm."
Regulus snorted. "Why do I have to be the one who dyes his hair red?"
"You're the one with freckles."
"Oh, sure, that's the defining characteristic setting us apart. Well, then. And you'll pretend as though you knew how to read?"
"I'm more than ready to put in as much work as is needed to play my part well," Sirius responded, grinning. "Carrying books isn't easy either, Reggie, the girl probably has some serious muscles whereas you -"
"I thought maybe the three of us could visit Diagon Alley," Harry interrupted them. He glanced at Sirius. "You know, because we didn't get to go the other day."
"Hmm. Why don't we go to the cottage?" Sirius suggested, pretending as though he hadn't heard Harry. "There's a muggle fair in the village around this time of the year."
Harry leaned back with a huff, crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd rather stay here then."
Sirius froze. He glanced at him. "What's wrong with the fair?"
"Nothing," Harry said. "I just don't feel like it. I've seen it a thousand times already."
"You've seen it maybe twice."
"That's more than enough."
Sirius exchanged a look with Regulus. His features hardened slightly. "Fine," he shrugged and twirled his spaghetti around his fork until it fit nicely into his mouth. He chewed a couple of times, took a sip of water. "Let's stay at home then."
"Fine, let's do nothing for my birthday," Harry responded curtly.
"Harry," Regulus said, frowning and shaking his head slightly.
Harry raised his chin. "What? That's what I want to do - nothing."
Regulus sighed. He looked more than displeased with Harry, he looked disappointed and Harry knew why. Regulus had asked him to be considerate towards Sirius when he came home from work. He's barely been getting any sleep and he's been out and about since sunrise.
Harry looked at his godfather. Sirius's eyes were dark and tired and the skin of his face burnt from the sun. He looked as though he had taken a long walk through the desert and, considering the manner in which Sirius wolfed down his dinner, he behaved so as well. Harry knew he should leave him alone. He knew better than to speak up now and take advantage of Sirius's exhaustion.
"Sirius," Harry said, and his godfather's name felt like a knife between his teeth. He ignored the sharp look that Regulus gave him. He knew he had to choose his next words wisely to extract as much information as possible. "Could you leave us the newspaper tomorrow?"
Sirius looked up, clearly confused. "Huh?"
"You took it with you, didn't you? The Daily Prophet?"
"What? Why -" Sirius glanced from Harry to Regulus. He fell silent.
"Doesn't matter," Harry responded through clenched teeth. His eyes, too, shifted to Regulus, narrowed slightly.
Regulus' eyes met those of Harry. Something unspoken lay between them. They both knew what it was, although they would call it by different names. To Harry, it was like a cool breeze.
Lying.
It was something Sirius had absolutely zero tolerance for, and he had made that very clear in the past. "We're a family," he had said countless times, "and in a family, people don't lie to each other."
Harry had experienced that several times - what happened when you lied to Sirius. It wasn't comfortable.
And yet, Sirius was lying to him. Or, well, maybe not exactly lying - Harry had no proof for this. Maybe it was a rat problem after all, maybe Voldemort had unleashed an army of cursed killer rats. Whatever was behind Sirius's behavior though, it was clear that Sirius was hiding something and Regulus was helping him. And hiding things, Sirius didn't like that either, at least not when Harry did it.
Hypocritical.
Harry knew that he should let it go, wait until the Daily Prophet reappeared on its own accord, the front page detailing in bold letters how the Aurors had eliminated another threat to the Wizarding society. And after it was over, Sirius would lounge in his favorite armchair in the drawing room, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand, the golden liquid swirling around. And he would tell Harry the whole story in detail and he would make it sound like a big, fun adventure with a good ending. He made defeating the villains sound effortless.
That was another difference - Harry did not get to talk about his adventures like that. Not that he wanted to - he still shuddered at the memory of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, still saw Ginny's lifeless body in his dreams, her fiery red hair sprawled across the wet stone floor, Tom Riddle bent over her, waiting for the last bits of life to pour out of her.
Harry had no desire to tell this story as though it had been an adventure. To his classmates, maybe, but not to his friends and certainly not his guardians. He knew that it would backfire spectacularly anyway. Sirius and Regulus did not want to hear an adventure story from his lips, especially not if it involved Voldemort.
Quite generally, Harry believed that he had outgrown adventure stories. He was old enough to learn about the facts when they still mattered. And if Sirius's stories had been horror stories all along, he preferred to be prepared.
It was very early in the morning and still dark outside the windows. Harry lay in his bed and listened to the sound of Sirius getting up, taking a shower, dragging his feet downstairs. He waited until he heard the gentle rumble of the floo.
Harry pulled back his covers and rose from his bed. The house had cooled down over the night and was rather comfortable now. He was just about to open his door when he heard the door to Reg's room opening.
Harry froze, carefully listening to Reg shuffling across the corridor and down the stairs. Harry waited until Regulus had reached the second landing, then he opened his door as quietly as he could, holding his breath as the hinges creaked slightly.
Regulus did not bother to switch on the light so Harry followed his silhouette in complete darkness. As Regulus made his way downstairs, he opened the small windows at the end of the corridor on each landing. The morning air was still crisp and from the distance, there was the familiar sound of sirens going, cars honking, engines howling. The morning stars dimmed out, the gray sky lightened behind the tops of the neighboring houses and was slowly turning purple.
Harry followed Regulus to the basement, keeping his distance. The Daily Prophet was on the window ledge, untouched and still neatly rolled up. Harry lingered in the shadow of the bottom stairs, watched as Regulus picked it up, unrolled it, studied the front page with a grim expression. His eyes flashed up with a look of disgust. He then walked over to the fireplace, placed the newspaper on top of the coals, drew his wand, and lit it on fire. His body, which had been a mere silhouette in the dark room, was illuminated as he watched the newspaper burn and it seemed like he was standing up straighter now, a weight off of his shoulders.
When he turned, he spotted Harry, who sat on the bottom stair, his chin resting on his hands.
"Y-you're up early," Regulus stammered. He moved in front of the fireplace in an instinctual attempt to block Harry's sight.
"You are too," Harry said.
Regulus exhaled slowly through his teeth. "Don't sneak up on me like that, pup. You gave me a scare."
Harry was quiet.
"Do you want anything to eat? We can have an early breakfast."
"No, thanks. I think I'll go back to bed." Harry could not disguise the grim edge in his voice. It sliced through the crackling of the fire like the whistle of a sword's sharp blade.
"I could get us croissants from the muggle bakery on the corner."
A peace offering, especially considering that Regulus, too, was not supposed to leave the house.
"Can I come?" Harry asked.
Regulus' face twitched. "I… Harry, look, I …"
"I won't tell Sirius," Harry said quickly. "He'll never know."
Regulus shifted uncomfortably. He sighed. "Did… did Sirius borrow your Invisibility Cloak today?"
Harry did not ask why he needed to be under the invisibility cloak. He jumped to his feet, was upstairs in no time. He found the cloak draped over the back of the sofa in the drawing room. "It's here," he called, sprinting back downstairs. He was beaming. Going out, with Reg! This was much better than reading the newspaper and trying to filter out the truth out of a mess of sensational headlines and wild speculations.
Regulus swallowed hard, forced a small smile. "But we're not going any further. Just to the bakery. All right?"
"Sure." Harry was sure he had never been so excited about something as simple as leaving the house.
It was amazing, being outside after being cooped up inside for three full days. If he hadn't been under the cloak, Harry would have run all the way to the bakery, simply because he could. Freedom. It was as simple as breathing fresh air, being able to run and jump, and seeing something other than the same four walls. Up to this point, Harry hadn't realized how much he needed it, the feeling of a fresh breeze going through his hair.
The morning was so much more beautiful on the streets than it was through the windows, even if it was a morning in the city, smelling of exhaust fumes and brewing coffee.
Regulus was quietly walking next to him. He seemed nervous, kept his hand on Harry's shoulder so that, while he couldn't see the boy, he could at least feel him, keep him close.
They entered the bakery on the corner. It was smelling of yeasty dough baking and melted butter. Bagels were browning in a giant oven in the back of the room.
Regulus asked for two croissants.
Harry tapped on his arm. "Can I have a blueberry muffin as well?" His voice was a whisper, just loud enough so that Regulus could hear him.
Regulus smirked as his eyes traveled along the glass case filled with a sugary collection of donuts, muffins, and scones. "For breakfast?" he whispered back. "Heavens."
"No, of course not. I'll have it for lunch." Harry grinned under his cloak.
"That's so much better."
The baker was looking at Regulus, wiping his hands on his apron. "Did you want anything else, Sir?"
"Oh, yes," Regulus said. "A blueberry muffin, please. And one of these glazed donuts over there." He bit on his lip, eyes traveling across a selection of paper-wrapped muffins in a red plastic tray. He pointed at it, adding "and that. The whole tray."
They had just returned home and closed the front door behind themselves when they heard footsteps in the basement. Both of them froze. Harry had pulled his invisibility cloak off his head and was looking at Regulus, eyes wide, not knowing what to do.
"Get back under your cloak," Regulus hissed.
Harry disappeared.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs, Auror boots. A moment later, Sirius stepped into the corridor. He stared at Regulus, who stood next to the front door, holding two paper bags filled with bakery goods, like he couldn't believe his eyes.
Sirius's face darkened. "You can't be serious."
Regulus forced a grin. "No, I'm Regulus…" His voice faded away at the look that Sirius gave him. "Sorry."
Harry cringed at the look on Sirius' face. Usually, when Sirius gave Harry that look, a swat followed not much later.
"What is that?" Sirius motioned at the paper bags in Regulus' arms.
"Breakfast." Regulus placed one bag on the dresser to his left, opened the other one. "Do you want a muffin?"
The line between Sirius' eyebrows deepened. "You know, I'm doing all I can to keep you two safe. I can't do any more."
Regulus' face fell. "I know."
"I'd really appreciate it if you did your part too. Or am I asking too much?"
Regulus frowned. "Merlin, Sirius. I just went to the bakery on the corner. I wasn't gone for longer than five minutes."
"Five minutes is all it takes."
Regulus walked toward his brother. Harry followed him, keeping close. He kept his hand on Regulus' back so that the man knew that he was there.
"I'm sorry," Regulus said, "I won't do it again."
Sirius glared at him. "Where's Harry?"
"Upstairs. Sleeping." That lie went over Regulus' lips easy like water.
"I'll go check on him."
Harry's heart skipped a beat at these words.
Regulus squeezed past Sirius. "No. I'll do that. You'll be on your feet more than enough today and it's my job after all. Why don't you sit down for a minute, have a muffin." He pushed the paper bag containing the goods from the bakery into Sirius's arms. "I'll be back in a minute. You can yell at me all you want then." He approached the stairs leading to the second landing. Harry stayed close behind him.
"Oh, you'd deserve it." Sirius opened the paper bag, looked inside. His face lit up at the sight of the muffins. He closed the bag again. "Wait."
Regulus stood at the bottom of the stairs. He turned around.
"The Invisibility Cloak. I forgot it."
"I'll get it for you."
Regulus walked up the stairs in silence. He heard Sirius going down into the basement. When he reached the third landing, he opened the door to Harry's room.
"In," he whispered, holding the door open. His throat felt tight.
Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak. "He can't just use it without permission," he said when Regulus took it from Harry and tucked it under his arm.
"Well, as you're asleep, I guess we're in a dilemma here." Regulus nodded toward Harry's bed. "Get into bed."
Harry curled up on his bed, drawing his blanket up at first but then deciding that it was too hot so he rolled over in such a way that it wrapped around his torso but left his legs and arms free. "Don't let him have my blueberry muffin."
"I'll try to save it for you," Regulus responded, "but I can't make any promises." He lingered in the door for another second before closing the door behind himself and hurrying back downstairs.
Sirius didn't yell.
He didn't talk much at all, the way he looked at Regulus said enough.
"Harry is fine," Regulus said as he placed the Invisibility Cloak on the table in the basement. Dust motes floated through a patch of morning light. "He's in his bed, where he's supposed to be." Technically, that wasn't even a lie.
Sirius nodded. His mouth was so full of muffin it seemed like he had tried to eat it with a single bite. It made him look much younger than he was, almost like a child.
"Sirius," Regulus said, and Sirius looked at him, still chewing, "I'm sorry."
Sirius swallowed. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Yeah. Okay." He rested his hands on the table, folded the muffin liner in half, again and again, until it was the size of the tip of his finger. "I know that me freaking out about a quick walk to the bakery must seem over the top to you. And I know I've perhaps been going on your nerves these past days."
Regulus sighed. "No, I know how much work you -"
"Still," Sirius continued, interrupting his brother, "I expect you to be an example to Harry. If you leave the house, he'll want to leave as well. And he can't, it's a risk we can't take."
Regulus felt his insides twist. "I know. I'm sorry."
A tired smile crossed Sirius' face. He licked his fingers, still greasy from the muffin, then flicked the folded up muffin liner at Regulus. His smile widened when Regulus caught it and flicked it back.
"It'll be over soon," Sirius said. He wiped his fingers on his trousers before getting up and reaching for the Invisibility Cloak. "I'll find Peter and then we can go back to normal. Okay?"
Regulus nodded. It seemed to him as though Sirius said that more to reassure himself than to reassure Regulus.
Sirius had a talent for making problems sound simpler than they were. He waved them off with a wink. "It's not a big deal," he used to say, tears in his eyes, a beaten child, his trademark half-smile still plastered on his lips, even if he barely managed to drag himself back home after a dangerous mission with the Order during the First Wizarding War or later as an Auror. Bleeding wounds on him, burn marks, ragged gashes, he healed them lazily with a few hasty taps of Dittany Salve, did not even watch them close fully before covering them up. He didn't care about the scars. Sometimes Regulus suspected that Sirius even liked them. They set him apart from the rest, marked him a warrior. Even as a child, Sirius had been like that, a warrior child, a fighter, punching the darkness, not afraid of the monster hiding within.
And Regulus, he watched, protected as though he were behind a glass wall. Counted the scars, knowing that Sirius didn't bother to do so.
They ate breakfast on Harry's bed, the windows open, morning sunlight filtering past the white, floor-length curtains. When they had finished eating the croissants and all but one muffin, Regulus drew his wand to vanish the crumbs which had fallen onto the bedsheets.
Harry's eyebrows creased. He brushed the crumbs together. "Why don't you leave them? They smell nice and I'll have something to snack on tonight."
Regulus chuckled. He took the last muffin, blackberry, too bitter for Harry's taste. "Because you're fed so little in this house, I see."
"I could give them to Hedwig."
Regulus looked at Hedwig, who was sitting in her cage, cleaning her feathers. "Not exactly healthy food for an owl. And I'm afraid that, once she's tried muffin, she won't want to go back to owl crackers."
"Owl crackers are not that bad," Harry said but his expression suggested otherwise, his upper lip lifting slightly like a weasel's.
"Oh, really," Regulus responded, amused. "How do you know they're not bad?"
"How do you know they are?"
"All right, you got me." Regulus slid down the wooden foot end of Harry's bed, crossed his arms behind his head, his bare feet resting on Harry's pillow. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. "Harry, can we talk for a moment?"
Harry picked off the crumbs with his forefinger and licked it clean. "I don't know, can we?" The corners of his mouth quirked up.
Regulus rolled his eyes. Harry had picked that line up from Sirius. "I know you probably won't see it the way I do, but I made a mistake this morning, and for that, I wanted to apologize. I lied to Sirius earlier, pretending you were still asleep and not right next to me under the Invisibility Cloak. I lied to keep myself out of trouble - I shouldn't have taken you to the bakery. So if you feel like you want to tell this to Sirius, I won't blame you. You won't be in trouble at all, I can promise you that much. This is on me."
Harry shook his head. "I don't blame you in the least. Sirius is the one who's being unreasonable -"
"He's not, Harry."
"He is. At least you were fair this morning and didn't treat me like a five-year-old."
"When did I treat you like a five-year-old?"
"When you burned the Daily Prophet." Those words were hard, unsoftened by the treat which was supposed to be a peace offering.
Regulus lay still, stared at the ceiling which he knew so well, knew it from his very first memories on - Sirius' room, now Harry's, every crack in the wall, every spot on the tapestry etched into his mind.
Harry, too, did not speak, sat next to Regulus' feet, waiting.
"I know and I'm sorry. All I can ask for is your patience. Not with me, but Sirius deserves it. He deserves it more than you can possibly imagine."
Harry sighed. He slid down from the headboard, turned to his side. "I've been patient for three days."
"I know you have. And I know it's hard, having to stay inside. It's much harder than it sounds."
"It feels like I'm grounded even though I did nothing."
Regulus' lips curled up. He glanced down at Harry. "I can assure you that you aren't grounded. If you were, I bet I'd know about it." He reached out, tickled the sole of Harry's foot.
Harry drew his legs up. His features hardened to a scowl. "Stop it."
Regulus' smile wavered. He glanced at the blackberry muffin, next to him on the bed, half-eaten. The bitter blackberry taste still on his lips, bleeding through the muffin's buttery sweetness, he said, "we're in this together, pup. You and I. And Sirius, too."
tbc…