Sirius tapped his fingers on the table. His lips were a thin white line. "Shit," he muttered.

"I promised it." Regulus kept his voice low. Harry was supposed to be asleep in his bedroom, but the cottage was small, the walls were thin, and Harry's sleep not always what it seemed like. "A promise is a promise. We mustn't end these holidays like this, by breaking our promise."

Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest, frowning. "Did I promise it though? I don't think I did. I might have said maybe we'll go to Diagon Alley but I don't think I would've made a promise like that."

Regulus harrumphed. "Oh, so now it's my fault because I can remember the promises I made while you can't."

Sirius uncrossed his arms, rested his elbows on the table. "I'm pretty sure I didn't promise a thing!" He pushed his chair back slightly, reached for a beer bottle from the beer crate under the table. He bit on the lid, cracking open the top.

Regulus briefly contemplated asking Harry for his memory of Sirius making that promise and displaying it in a Pensieve. But he knew that, even then, Sirius might try and make a case for ambiguous semantics. "Regardless, you were aware that I had promised Harry a visit to Diagon Alley after the Weasleys' return. I promised it to make up for the time when you didn't allow him to go."

Sirius's fingers clenched around his beer bottle.

"Is that correct?"

"It is," Sirius responded, annoyed now. He leaned back, looked out of the open kitchen window. A light breeze came up from the lake and through the window. The night sky was clear, the stars bright. The days were getting shorter again, the nights colder.

Regulus nudged Sirius's elbow. "Don't worry so much. We'll be there after all, and nothing bad can happen as long as we keep him within our sight."

Sirius jutted out his chin. "But there's still a risk." He raised his hand, silencing Regulus who wanted to object. "There is, don't deny it." His fingers drummed against the beer bottle's neck. He hummed under his breath as he contemplated the issue. "Maybe, instead of breaking your promise, we can offer him something else instead. How about we allow him to visit the Weasleys for a couple of days? Molly has invited him in her last letter."

Regulus sighed. Especially at the end of the holidays, he sometimes felt like the days were passing too quickly. But it was a fair deal, Harry would be delighted to spend a few days at the Burrow. Even though Regulus would miss him. "It's a fair deal."

Sirius nodded. "Don't you think I want him to be unhappy, Reg. I really don't."

"I know you don't."

"I will compromise if I can. But it's also my job to say no when it's necessary. This is simply how it needs to be."

Regulus knew that Sirius was talking about last night, when Sirius had refused to compromise on allowing Harry to join his classmates on the trips to Hogsmeade. "You have to be careful," he said, "if you say no too much, he will stop asking altogether."

"Even if he stopped asking me, he would still ask you."

"Don't be so sure of that."

The corners of Sirius' mouth curled upwards. "I would hardly close an eye at night if I weren't."

Sirius sipped on his beer, then, suddenly, craned his head back, eyes narrowing as they scanned the dark corridor.

Regulus strained his ears. He heard nothing, but Sirius's senses were much more sensitive than his own due to his being an Animagus.

"Harry," Sirius said calmly. "Come here."

Now Regulus too heard the sound of soft footsteps.

"I just wanted a glass of water," Harry said when he stepped out of the darkness of the corridor, at the end of which his bedroom was located. He lingered in the door for a moment, awkwardly scratching at his arm.

There was a long moment of silence. Sirius turned around, rested his arms on the back of his chair. "A glass of water, huh?"

Regulus rose from his chair, walked over to the sink. He opened one of the cabinets and reached for a cup, then turned the faucet on. "How about some ice cubes, Harry?" He did not wait for a response before he added two ice cubes.

Harry walked up next to him. "Thanks."

Regulus handed him the cup of water, then gently ruffled his hair. "Did you have trouble sleeping?"

Harry cast a cautious peek at Sirius before responding to Regulus' question. "No, I was just thirsty." He took a small sip of water.

Sirius's chair creaked slightly as the man sat up a little straighter. "Funny. You don't look thirsty at all."

Regulus frowned at Sirius. "What is he supposed to do, dry up like a raisin in the sun for you to believe it?"

Sirius had to smile at this, a softness entering his eyes, and Regulus realized how much he must have sounded like Mrs. Potter. You remind me of her sometimes, Sirius had said in the past, isn't that strange? And it was, considering that Regulus had only known the Potters for a few short years. But if there were people who rubbed off more quickly than others, the Potters had definitely been among them.

"I don't think so, no. That's not necessary." Sirius had relaxed visibly. He waved Harry over to himself, and Harry obeyed without a moment's hesitation now that Sirius seemed to have decided not to investigate him on why he had been waiting in the corridor rather than announcing his presence. "We were talking, Reg and I. The Weasleys will be back soon and you could go and spend a couple of days at the Burrow before Hogwarts. If you like."

"We thought of it as an alternative to Diagon Alley," Regulus added, not liking that Sirius made it sound like this was a treat and not a trade. In return, his comment earned him a displeased look from Sirius. "As Peter Pettigrew is not yet caught, we think it might be more fun for you to spend some time at the Burrow rather than having us hover over you for a whole day."

Harry placed his cup on the table next to Sirius' beer as he settled onto the chair next to his godfather, tucking his legs underneath himself. He was quiet. Too quiet.

"See, Reg is right," Sirius said, "it would be no fun hanging out with Ron at Diagon Alley if Reg and I were constantly watching you. We wouldn't stay long anyway."

"I don't need you to hold my hand."

Sirius' response came quick, like he had been waiting for it: "It's not up to discussion."

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, quietly staring at Sirius's beer. His eyebrows were twitching slightly.

"Is this a compromise, Harry?" Sirius leaned on his elbows, cocking his head to catch the boy's eyes.

Harry pushed his glasses up slightly. "Is this because of Peter Pettigrew or because I went into the Chamber of Secrets last year?"

Sirius's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What?"

"You said you're not mad at me but you are."

Regulus sat down on the third chair opposite to Sirius. "No, Harry. This isn't what this is about. We're not mad."

Harry did not look at him.

"I promise," Sirius said.

Harry ignored that. "But the Weasleys are going to Diagon Alley too. And I have to buy the stuff on my supply list. And my books."

"We'll send Kreacher."

Silence again. Regulus heaved a sigh, causing both Harry and Sirius to look at him.

"So do we have a deal?"

Harry frowned at Sirius. "Do I even have a choice?"

"You do," Regulus said, but Sirius immediately followed up on that, saying "the choice between a fun day at the Burrow and a disappointing trip to Diagon Alley. Try to be sensible, Harry."

"Fine, I'll pick the Burrow." Harry sounded annoyed. He set his feet on the floor. "I'll go to bed."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, gave a single nod.

Harry got up and left the kitchen without speaking another word, abandoning his cup of water. It was still full, slender ice cubes floating on top.

Regulus waited until he heard the door to Harry's bedroom close. Then, he decided to speak. "Now that went well."

Sirius shrugged. "Why, he picked the better option. I'm not asking him to be happy about it now but he'll quickly forget about Diagon Alley as soon as he's at the Burrow."

"I don't want him to leave for Hogwarts with a grudge because he didn't get to go to Diagon Alley."

"He'll get over it." Sirius took another sip from his beer, eyeing the cup of water Harry had left behind.

"I still have to go to Diagon Alley, though."

"But Kreacher -"

"No. Some of the things I need, Kreacher won't be able to get them."

"I'll go," Sirius said quickly. "You can make a list of all the things you and Harry -"

"No." Regulus was not going to stay holed up in Grimmauld Place after Harry was gone. Even if Sirius would prefer it. It was essential to draw firm boundaries with Sirius, to make it clear that he wasn't going to be treated like Harry.

Sirius's lips tightened. "All right, then we'll go together."

Regulus did not have the energy to argue with him. "Fine." A growing feeling of frustration had suddenly filled his lungs, and he thought that it was safer not to say too much more. He took Harry's cup, rose to his feet. "I'll bring him this."

When he opened the door to Harry's bedroom, he found the boy curled up under his blankets, snuffling to himself. Harry quickly wiped a hand over his eyes.

Regulus did not switch the light on as he crossed the room, sat on the edge of his bed, and placed the cup of water on the bedside table next to Harry's glasses. "It's okay to be upset," he said.

"I think he's still mad," Harry whispered. "He must be. Why else would he be like that?"

"Because of what happened last year, in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry winced, nodded.

"He's not mad at you, Harry. I swear he's not."

Harry shook his head, his green eyes suddenly blazing in the darkness of the room. "He didn't even give me a choice. He was going to ruin our trip to Diagon Alley if I hadn't given in. It wasn't fair."

"Don't you want to go to the Burrow?"

"Yes, I do! But still it's not fair that I'm not allowed to go to Diagon Alley too! Sirius only pretended I had a choice but I really didn't." Harry's voice rose as he said that and Regulus cast an anxious look at the door, which was standing open. He drew his wand and waved it, causing it to shut close.

"It was the option we both preferred, but it's not true that you didn't have a choice at all."

Harry huffed softly.

"Listen, Harry, I know Sirius can be stubborn. At the same time, he just let it slide that you were eavesdropping on our conversation. Don't you think that you fooled either of us."

Harry drew his blanket up slightly. "I wasn't eavesdropping."

"Uh-huh. You were so thirsty you lingered in the corridor for a minute and then didn't even drink more than a small sip." Regulus gestured at the cup of water on Harry's bedside table. They could hear the soft crackling sound of the ice cubes melting.

Harry dropped his gaze.

"Sirius isn't an idiot, you know. But he's not mad at you. He's not looking for a reason to punish you."

After a short moment of hesitation, Harry finally nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "Sorry."

"It's not me who you ought to apologize to."

Harry whined softly. "Do I have to?"

Regulus stood up, looked at the child, curled up under his covers. "He's always apologizing to you after treating you unfairly, isn't he?"

Harry sighed. He pushed his covers back, then reached for his glasses, put them on. "Okay. I'll say sorry."

Sirius hadn't expected Harry to return to the kitchen, and he certainly hadn't expected the quick hug and the mumbled apology either. When the boy wanted to pull away again, Sirius tightened his arms around him, keeping him close for another moment. "Love you, pup. To the moon and back."

"Love you too," Harry said softly.

Sirius rested his chin on Harry's head and looked over to Regulus, who was standing leaning against the door frame, a self-pleased half-smile playing across his lips. "Family hug time," Sirius said, extending his left arm, chuckling when Regulus' cool facade wavered slightly. "Come on, Reggie, don't let me down. I'll chase you if I have to."

Regulus rolled his eyes, then shuffled over to them with a long-suffering sigh. Sirius wrapped a brawny arm around his neck, drawing him into a big, manly hug. Harry, now sandwiched in between them, muttered to himself about how he was suffocating, but he made no attempt to pull away and instead turned his head and rested the side of his face against Sirius' chest.

Ron looked around to make sure that no one was overhearing their conversation. He seemed nervous as he rubbed his neck where a nasty sunburn - a souvenir from Egypt - caused his skin to peel off in scales. "I have a problem."

Harry rested his chin on the heel of his hand. He had noticed that something was off as soon as he had arrived at the Burrow. Ron had been quiet and yet fidgeted around, impatient, like he couldn't wait until they were alone. "Okay. Shoot."

Ron opened his door a crack and peered out. They could hear Fred and George laughing somewhere in the house, and Ginny was in her room on the first floor but they could hear her voice even up in the fifth floor. She was singing along to a Weird Sisters song that was playing on the radio. "Can you dance like a hippogriff? Ma ma ma, ma ma ma, ma ma ma…"

Ron closed the door again. With a deep sigh, he reached behind his bed, opened his backpack and lifted out one of his maroon Weasley jumpers. It was folded up several times and Ron unfolded it carefully as though something as fragile as glass was wrapped up inside of it.

Rather than glass, it was Scabbers, Ron's pet rat. The animal looked stiff, like a stuffed toy. Its black pinhead eyes had glazed over.

Only now, Harry realized that it was strangely quiet in Ron's room. Usually, Scabbers would be scampering around, gnawing and chattering, but from his cage came only a deadly silence.

"Look," Ron said, and now his bottom lip was trembling slightly as he took the dead animal in. "Poor little guy. I found him like this earlier this morning."

Harry bit his lip. "Aw shit. I'm sorry, Ron." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, not knowing what to say. He knew that it did not really matter anyway.

"Yeah," Ron said, still staring at the rat. "He was a good one, this one. Even though he wasn't anything special but he was… you know. Kind of like a friend." He blushed, snuffled, and then leaned down to wipe his nose on the back of his hand.

A friend. Now that was something, considering that, when Scabbers had still been alive, Ron had frequently complained about how boring and useless his pet was. On several occasions, he had tried to trade the rat in with Ginny as well as Fred and George but none of them had seemed particularly interested in taking over the responsibility of looking after the elderly rat. Harry decided that now was not the moment to mention that.

"Mom thinks he's ancient," Ron muttered in a low voice. "At least a decade, and rats live two, three years if they're lucky. Percy had him before me for several years. Although Fred claims that he's seen Perce dig a little hole in the backyard shortly a year or two after he got him and soon after, Scabbers was browner and hungrier than ever before. And Fred has also replaced him at least once himself, or not exactly replaced but he and George lost him in the woods when they tried to…" Ron rolled his eyes, "I guess they wanted to catch an Occamy or whatever. Not that it worked, but Scabbers was gone. Fred found a new rat behind the house. They claimed that Scabbers must have run all the way back home." Ron's eyebrows quirked up. "I'm not saying he was dumb for a rat but he wasn't that smart."

Harry chuckled. "No, smart definitely wouldn't be the first word to come to my mind if I were asked to describe him. Remember when Neville had placed those tooth-friendly sweets his grandmother had sent him next to Scabber's cage and he tried to get them but got stuck in between the bars?"

Ron laughed, then wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Yeah. That was hilarious."

"And in the end, he didn't even like them." In fact, after they had placed the sweets in Scabbers' food bowl, Scabbers had dug them under the litter in his pee corner.

"Right he was, the little guy. Those sweets were terrible." Ron snuffled. He reached out, gently patted Scabbers' gray fur.

He winced when someone knocked at the door. Ron quickly reached up and held the doorknob tightly. "GO AWAY," he yelled.

"RON, HARRY," Ginny's voice. She was yelling too, but her voice softened slightly when he yelled Harry's name. "Mum says dinner is ready in five!"

"FINE," Ron yelled back. "Now LEAVE!"

They heard Ginny taking a small step back. She hesitated for a brief moment, then her footsteps moved on in the direction of the twins' room. "FRED, GEORGE!"

Ron leaned against the door, sighing deeply. "You have to help me, Harry. Mum's going to kill me if she learns that Scabbers is dead. We're not safe here, she could enter this room at any moment. ANY moment! Ginny, she'll tell on us too if she sees that he's gone!"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. Think about last year. She's not a telltale."

Ron muttered something unintelligible to himself.

"Maybe you can simply tell Mrs. Weasley that you found Scabbers like this. It's not your fault that he died."

"No, she's gonna say that I didn't take good care of him." Tears welled up in Ron's eyes once more. "And maybe I didn't. Maybe I shouldn't have let him have so many chocolate chips after all."

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. Chocolate chips were by far not the worst things Ron had let Scabbers have over the last two years at Hogwarts.

"Maybe I can make him come back alive. Maybe Hermione knows a spell or a potion. Snape said something about that in our first lesson, remember?"

Harry frowned. "No. Of course not." Since when did Ron pay attention to Snape's classes?

"He said he can put a stopper in death."

"That's Dark Magic, messing with dead things." Harry shuddered. Sirius had told him stories about undead creatures created by Dark Wizards. "Snape saying that only proves how much he is into the Dark Arts."

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Yeah… perhaps it's not such a good idea then."

"Perhaps we can replace him. Like Fred and Percy did."

"Yeah," Ron said. He looked more hopeful now. The thought had surely crossed his mind, but apparently, he had needed Harry to say it. "But I need your help. Rats are fast, they're hard to catch. And we have to find one that looks as old as Scabbers, not young like the ones behind the house. Otherwise, Mum will know. She's checking up on him regularly now that he's a curiosity. She's even talked about writing the Daily Prophet and asking them to publish an article about him if he makes to to fifteen."

"That's three more years. We can find a slow one that makes it three more years," Harry reassured his friend.

"ROOOOON! HARRY!" Ginny yelled again, this time from downstairs. "DINNER!"

Ron and Harry were sitting on a large hay bale behind the Burrow. It was already dark and the gas lantern cast slim shadows in the tall grass which was growing along the house wall.

"How are there no rats around now that I need one," Ron growled. "I'm tired of this."

Harry was tired as well. They had spent the whole day trying to catch a rat. They had smeared peanut on the trap they had set up at the foot of the hay bale and had stamped out several little paths in the grass and lined the way to the trap with chocolate chips. Then, they had climbed onto the hay bale, hoping that the rats would not spot them there. But despite all their efforts, it seemed like all rats had disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed suddenly, looking like a terrifying thought had just crossed his mind, "remember that the Ministry did this giant hunt on rats some weeks ago? They really cleaned them out of Diagon Alley. Maybe they killed them all." Ron paled. "Maybe they even went extinct!"

"I doubt that," Harry said. "I think they've all moved to Knockturn Alley."

Ron nodded quickly, looking relieved. "Following the call of the rat king, Malfoy."

Harry laughed. He crossed his legs, the straw tickling his bare feet. The night was warm and crickets were chirping in the cornfield nearby. "Maybe we're too close to the house. There must be some in the cornfield," Harry suggested.

Ron sighed. "I don't know. It's dark and I'm tired." He stretched his arms, yawned. "Maybe we could ask Hagrid for help. He could send us a rat."

"He'll send us something else if we're unlucky," Harry responded. "There must be a rat somewhere in the cornfields. Or the woods. We could set up a trap, leave it over the night, and check up on it early in the morning."

They slowly crept through the cornfield, cautiously, like two foxes on a hunt. Despite this, the stalks rustled as they brushed their shoulders and shins. The dry husks crackled and crunched, flattened stalks rotating beneath their feat. "Shhh," Harry caught himself whispering over and over, as though to smooth over the waves of sound that their bodies made while moving through the sheer endless sea of corn. And it gave him the impression like they were blending in with the wind as it brushed through the cornfield.

They walked until the lights coming from the Burrow had disappeared like the shore behind the horizon, and then they walked on some more. There were only the stars above them. Harry recognized several constellations. He knew the night sky well, and sometimes he, Regulus and Sirius lay in the meadow near the cottage in silence, counting the Perseids as they splashed down from the top of the sky. The stars can guide you when there's only darkness around. That was something Regulus never got tired of saying.

Harry abandoned his skyward gaze and stopped walking. He looked around. There was something behind them, like the sound of footsteps. "Ron, wait."

Ron, who was walking a couple of steps in front of him, paused and turned. He held up his lantern, stared into the darkness from out his circle of dim illumination.

Now, the sounds from behind Harry had stopped as well and he felt silly, saying, "I thought I heard something behind me."

Ron frowned. In the flickering light of the lantern, his freckled forehead was cut by deep furrows. "Something or someone?"

Harry was quiet. He brushed past Ron, who jerked his lantern above his head but it was pointless, the lantern's light was too weak. "Can we hurry please? I don't want to spend the night here."

"Yeah, sure." Ron crouched down, set the lantern on the uneven ground and began to set up the live trap, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "There are scarecrows here; they move through the cornfields to scare away birds and whatnot. It's likely that that's what you heard."

Harry stared down the corn row. The corn was tall, several feet taller than Harry. His heart began to beat fast and he squinting his eyes in an attempt to see something in the darkness. The lantern's weak light formed deceptive shadows and the wind that brushed through the cornfield made them come alive. Under no circumstances did Harry want to see or hear anything that Ron didn't hear, no way. He had had enough of that during his last year at Hogwarts. And still… raised by the echo of the footsteps he thought he'd heard, there was this feeling he couldn't get rid of, the feeling that someone was watching them.

Ron had almost finished setting up the trap when Harry decided to step through the corn row to their left side. He did so carefully, trying his very best to remain quiet, to make no more sound than a mouse scampering from hole to hole. A shiver ran down his spine when he heard it again, the sound of empty husks crackling and crunching under the feet of a human being. Harry's fingers closed around his wand. "Lumos," he whispered.

"Bloody hell, Harry! We're outside the wards!" Ron hissed from behind the corn. The flickering light of Ron's lantern was filtering through the corn and illuminated the earthy ground to Harry's feet.

Harry, however, stood frozen, wand raised, blue light streaming down the corn row. A rush of fear went through him, hard and fast like an electric shock.

There was a shadow not far down the corn row, a human silhouette, not very tall, slowly coming closer, its movements oddly jerky, animal-like. It stopped abruptly near the edge of the light coming from Harry's wand. Would the scarecrows which Ron had talked about stop at the sight of a person, would they hide, fear the light of Harry's wand?

"Ron," Harry croaked. His voice got caught in his throat. "Ron!"

Ron stepped through the corn stalks as well. Harry did not turn around to look at him, he kept his eyes on the shadow down the row, afraid to lose it should he look away for only a millisecond.

"Run," Harry breathed.

Run.

It had been Ginny.

"I'm sorry I went after you," she blubbered. She wiped at her eyes, using her pajama sleeve. Her slippers were dirty from the cornfield and her knees too, she must have fallen while running. "I saw you leaving from my bedroom window and I… I had to follow you."

"You didn't have to do shit," Ron spat. They were out of breath, all of them, and Ron bent over and rested his hands on his knees, taking a few deep breaths.

Ginny turned scarlet when she looked at Harry. Tears glistened under her lashes. "I'm sorry. I really am. But I thought - I thought -" she did not say any more, her shoulders slumping.

Ron straightened up and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Because of you, we might all end up in trouble. And you ruined our project! And I left my lantern! And now it's all lost!"

Harry swallowed. He still felt his heart beating in his throat and he understood why Ron was mad, it was easy to lash out at Ginny now that they were safe. They had been running like the devil. Several times, they had changed direction, gotten lost, found their way back again, stumbling across corncobs, tripping over bent cornstalks. They had no clue how long it had taken them to find the Burrow again, but it felt like it had been hours.

"I can go back and get it for you," Ginny offered in a small voice.

"No way," Ron said harshly. He turned, tensely stared into the cornfield which spread out behind the Burrow. Harry knew what his friend was thinking - there was no way Ron was going to let Ginny go back in there. "I'll get it all tomorrow. If I can find it," he added, remembering that, only a minute ago, he had claimed that it was all lost.

Perhaps Ron simply did not want to go looking for her in case Ginny got lost. Finding a rat might after all be easier than finding Ginny in a cornfield at night. Or perhaps it was the ghost of the last year at Hogwarts that was still haunting Ron.

But there was also another thought that made Harry never want to enter that cornfield again; it made his hair to stand on end: the shadow of their pursuer, something about it did not match with Ginny's, even if she claimed that she too had followed them.

After they had sneaked back inside the house, it took Harry hours to get warm. He was huddling under his covers while Ron was snoring in his bed.

Morning came too soon. Harry tried to ignore the sunbeams, which were playing across his face, as long as possible, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed but the roof window situated directly above him made it impossible to turn away from the light.

Then he heard voices from downstairs. Loud voices, someone was arguing. And one of the voices sounded dangerously familiar.

He sat up, a knowing knot forming in his stomach while he listened to the muffled voices. "Ron," he whispered. Then, he remembered that, actually, there was no need to whisper. "Ron! Wake up."

Ron groaned, not opening his eyes as he turned around, drew his blanket up so that it covered his ears. "Just five more minutes…"

Harry put on his glasses and rose to his feet. He walked over to the door, opened it as quietly as he could, and peered downstairs through the open stairwell. Fred and George, whose room was located on the second floor, were hiding behind the banister, still in their pajamas, their expressions deadly serious as they listened to what was going on downstairs. George noticed Harry first, and waved him over. Harry tiptoed downstairs until he had reached the twins.

"Where's Ron?" Fred asked.

"Still in bed," Harry whispered back.

"It's not looking bright for you two." George tried to look sympathetic but he wasn't overly convincing. "From the sound of it -" he licked his finger and held it up as though he wanted to determine the direction of the wind, then nodded grimly, "there's a storm coming up. I'd say it's time you pack your stuff."

From downstairs, Molly Weasley's voice rose in volume. "I'm not surprised," she exclaimed sharply, "It's important for children to have firm structures. I'm not blaming Harry, that poor boy. This is simply what being allowed to stay up as long as they please leads to in children - sleeping during the day, roaming around the house at night…"

Sirius was pacing up and down, Harry could tell by the unmistakable sound of his heavy Auror boots. "They were outside the house. Your house."

Harry winced. It wasn't like he hadn't recognized his godfather's voice, but he had been hoping against hope that, perhaps, Sirius had not come because of him, or at least hadn't come alone. "Is Reg here too?"

George shrugged. "No clue."

"Oops. I think I heard your name again," interjected Fred.

Harry sank down next to them, his fingers closing around the banister poles. He peered downstairs, listening closely.

Sirius was still talking. He sounded angry. Really angry. "… well then explain, if you're so perfect, how is it possible that Harry was outside the house? In the middle of the night?"

"Bingo. There it was again," Fred said. "Harry, your name count is at four now, Ron is at one, but Ronald is up at six."

"Shuddup," Ron said from behind them. He came shuffling down the stairs, his ginger hair standing up in all directions, pillow lines all over his face. "What's going on?"

"We have a problem, Ron," Harry whispered. "They know."

Ron paled. "For real?"

"Yeah. What are we going to say?"

Ron glimpsed at Fred and George, then looked back to Harry. "Not the truth."

Harry rolled his eyes. Sirius would kill him if he knew that Harry had been out hunting for rats. "Yeah no shit."

"We'll say…" Ron nervously rubbed his hands on his pajama top. It was slightly too large, having belonged to Percy once, and Scabbers had chewed several holes into it.

"I'M NOT PAYING ENOUGH ATTENTION TO HIM?!" Sirius's voice sounded from downstairs, deep with a guttural edge to it. "I want him to tell me that!"

"Let's ask him then," Mrs. Weasley responded sharply. "HARRY! RONALD!"

Harry flinched. "Fuck," he whispered.

"Ronald, that's you, Ickle Ronniekins," George nudged his youngest brother with his elbow. He turned to Harry, tipped an invisible hat. "Farewell, Harry Potter. It was nice knowing you."

Harry and Ron slowly walked downstairs and every step felt like they were descending into hell.

They slowed down before entering the kitchen. They both had to fight the urge to run back upstairs and lock the door to Ron's bedroom. They could survive on Scabbers' crackers for at least three days and drink water from the rain gutter that ran past Ron's window.

Sirius appeared in the doorway. "Harry," he said, his voice constrained but his eyes drilling into his godson's. He stepped aside, making space for the boys to enter the room.

Mrs. Weasley was standing next to him, a head shorter than Sirius but just as threatening, perhaps even more so. Her face was flushed with fury and the golden morning sunlight which streamed through the open kitchen windows made her pinned-up hair look like red flames. Ron recoiled as though he were facing his executioner.

Sirius reached into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew a letter which bore the Ministry's seal, already broken. It was deadly silent in the kitchen when Sirius unfolded the letter. "Read," he said sternly, holding it out to Harry.

Harry took it, cleared his throat. His voice felt thin when he began to read: "Forwarded to Mr. Sirius Black, 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Dear Mr. Potter, We have received intelligence that you performed a Wand-Lighting Charm at …" Harry swallowed hard, peeked up at Sirius, silently beseeching him not to force him to read any more of that out loud.

"Go on," Sirius growled.

"At thirteen minutes past one this night in a cornfield located nearby the Weasley residence. You shall hereby receive a reminder that underage wizards and witches are prohibited from performing magic outside of Hogwarts, with the exception of the circumstances listed in Clause 7 Paragraph…"

"Thank you," Sirius interrupted him. "What a nice surprise to wake up to," Sirius said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry hung his head.

"Is it true what this letter says, Harry?"

Harry nodded. There was no point in lying about it, no story he could make up on the spot would be able to explain this.

Sirius took a deep breath. "All right." He marched over to the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder. "Come here please."

Harry could tell by how strained and low Sirius's voice was that his godfather tried hard to keep his calm. And the please, it was like the ticking of a time bomb.

"I'll get my stuff," Harry said, backing away.

"No, I'll get it for you." Sirius jerked his head towards the Weasley's fireplace.

Harry looked down at himself. He was still in his pajamas and not even wearing socks. "But… like this?"

"Yes," Sirius said through clenched teeth. "Now move. And straight up to your room as soon as you're home."

Harry was spat out of the fireplace in the basement of Grimmauld Place, a cloud of ash whirling up in the dark room.

Regulus sat at the far end of the table, a steaming cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Next to him, there was a staple of unopened letters, a half-eaten sandwich and a cup of cold coffee where Sirius usually sat.

Harry stood frozen for a moment before he walked up to Regulus, leaving small sooty footprints on the wooden floor. They barely showed on the aged wood, already darkened by time.

"It's unfair," he said, feeling his bottom lip tremble. "I didn't mean to get into trouble."

Regulus leaned back in his chair. Compared with Sirius, he always stayed calm, but Harry could tell that he, too, was displeased. "Do you ever mean to?"

"This time it's really unfair though. It wasn't my idea to go to the Burrow. I wanted to go to Diagon Alley," Harry whined.

"Going to the Burrow isn't why you ended up in trouble, or is it?"

Harry lowered his eyes. "I'm allowed to do nothing at all. Nothing. Not even breathe or do anything."

Regulus had to chuckle at that, his stern facade crumbling. "Sorry," he said, covering his mouth with his hand.

Behind them, the fireplace roared, and Sirius stepped out. He spotted Harry and Regulus immediately.

"Was I unclear about where I expected you to go?" His voice was hard. He set down Harry's backpack, waved his wand, causing it to fly up the stairs. "I asked one simple thing of you, Harry." He turned to Regulus, who quickly tried to hide his amused expression but failed miserably. He looked from Harry to Regulus and back. "Oh, I see. We're having a good time. Sorry to interrupt."

"No it was just - Harry was being a bit dramatic."

Sirius stared at his brother, incredulous. "Dramatic? I'll show you two dramatic but I doubt it'll be entertaining. Now, take your butt upstairs, Harry."

"I was only saying that it's unfair," Harry objected. He pushed out his chest, raised his chin. If there was a time to argue his case, it was now, with Reg still present. If he were to go up to his room, it would be like admitting defeat and Sirius would make up his mind. "I'm only in trouble because I'm not allowed to to anything!"

"You're in trouble because you disobeyed me. I told you to mind the Weasleys and not step outside the wards."

Harry huffed. "There's nothing out there. I'm not scared of boars and deer. Or mice."

"Whether it scares you is beside point. It scares me."

"So what! It wasn't even my idea. None of this was my idea, not even going to the Burrow was! All I wanted was to spend a day at Diagon Alley!"

"Considering how you behaved at the Burrow, I'm nearly certain that, if we had went to Diagon Alley, by the end of the day, you'd take a trip over my knee as well - simply because you refuse to do as you're told, even if the rules are as clear and simple as stay within the wards!" Sirius had raised his voice while speaking and was yelling these last words, spittle flying from the depth of his black-and-gray beard. "And don't tell me that I'm being a rule stickler. I don't care that you used magic but what I care about is my thirteen-year-old godson strolling through a cornfield in the middle of the night doing Merlin knows what when there's a murderer on the run!"

Harry clenched his teeth. "I've followed your rules all holidays even though they're completely stupid and made-up. But you don't see that. And then I do one thing that you don't like and it immediately means nothing that I was good for weeks. Just like it means nothing to you that my holidays are wasted and I didn't get to do anything at all!"

Sirius leaned down to the teenager. The vein on his forehead was a twitching lump. "I'm not listening to this. You go upstairs now, or I'll deal with you right here, right now."

"No you're not, Sirius. That's not how we do things in this house," Regulus said. He had risen to his feet.

"This house has seen far worse things," Sirius responded darkly.

Regulus squared his shoulders. "This family, then. Even if you might not like what Harry has to say, he's got a right to say it as long as it's done respectfully." Regulus gave Harry a stern look. "And then you can send him upstairs and you and I will discuss appropriate consequences. This is how we've always done it and it's how we'll do it today as well."

Sirius grunted as he lowered himself into a chair. "Fine. You heard Regulus, Harry. This is your chance to explain yourself. Sit."

"It wasn't my idea," Harry muttered.

"So you've said. Now, I want a detailed account of what happened last night and I don't want to have to worm it out of you."

Harry couldn't look at Sirius. There was no way he could confess what Ron and he had really been up to. Ron and Harry had both agreed on that, even if they hadn't had time to come up with a cover story. "Me and Ron, we thought the wards extended further into the cornfield. We didn't mean to cross them. And I know it was wrong to go outside but the Burrow's wards reach far and we just…" he had to think of something, quickly. Something not as bad but bad enough to be credible. "We went outside and into the cornfield because we wanted to practice some spells. Just defense and stuff. Like Lockhart's dueling club but just with really simple jinxes. I didn't think you'd mind…" His voice faded away.

"And that was Ron's idea," Regulus asked, "or yours?"

Harry shrugged, hugging himself around the middle. It was cold in the basement and Harry shivered, lifted his bare feet off the ground. Now he felt bad for blaming Ron even though he would not be in trouble at all if it were not for Ron trying to cover up Scabbers' death. "Both, I guess."

He felt terrible all of a sudden. More terrible than he had felt in a long time. Sirius hated lies, and Harry knew how hurt he would be if he ever found out. But it was too late to take it back. He and Ron would be in the worst possible trouble if he took it back now; he would have to tell on Ron too and he couldn't do that. So he told himself that his lie wasn't hurting anyone, that it was only protecting them. Even Sirius, it was protecting him from having to worry about Harry. He told himself this over and over as he stared at the old, much-used wooden table, his eyes following the dark grooves up to the woodworm holes that looked like star constellations.

"Is that all, Harry?" Sirius asked, stirring Harry from his thoughts. He sounded very quiet now, almost pensive. There was no more anger in his voice, only lucid, gaunt-faced disappointment.

"Yes," Harry said. He suddenly did not feel rebellious at all, now that Sirius did not seem angry anymore. "'M sorry," he whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table as he pushed himself back. "I believe you. Although I can't even express how disappointed I am. I asked one thing of you, Harry. One single, simple thing: stay within the wards."

Harry kept his head lowered, sitting as still as possible. He felt Regulus's eyes on him, studying him from the side. Regulus could read him like nobody else.

"All right," Regulus said softly. "I think it would be best if you went upstairs for a bit."

"I'll be up right away," Sirius added. Regulus looked at his brother but decided not to speak until Harry had left the room.

Sirius covered his face in his hands. "Don't you say that we ought to ground him. Don't you say that now, Reg."

"It doesn't make all that much sense considering that he's not allowed to leave the house anyway and he's only got one more day until he returns to Hogwarts."

Sirius peered at Regulus through his fingers. "Am I sensing some underlying criticism here? It's not like he's not allowed to do anything at all."

Regulus' eyebrows quirked up. "Oh, really? I didn't know. I think you should inform him of that. You can't blame him for thinking that he's grounded when, technically, he is."

Sirius shook his head, giving Regulus a look as though this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "That boy is just as much grounded as someone who's come down with Dragon Flu must stay in bed, no matter how much they complain about it. As soon as the situation allows it, he'll be allowed to go out again. It's not my decision."

"Now, don't downplay your role in all of this."

"Whatever. I'm not in the mood to read between the lines here, Reg. Say what you want to say or leave it be but don't… don't talk in riddles."

"Riddles? I'm not talking in riddles!"

"Well, that's what it sounds like to me. My role, what's that supposed to mean?" He held up both hands. "Actually, I don't care. If you're insinuating that it's all my fault, say so, but don't -"

"Siri. Would you take a deep breath and calm down?"

Sirius took a deep breath. He dropped his hands.

"Good." Regulus cast him a slight smile. "Because you're working yourself up over nothing. I'm not saying it's all your fault. I'm just trying to help you see Harry's point of view."

"I do see his point of view. He's upset that he doesn't have the same liberties that a normal child has, but he's not normal. I can't change that, as much as I wish I could. Merlin, Reggie, I'd do anything if it meant that he didn't have this giant target on his back. But there's nothing I can do, nothing." Sirius sounded bitter, saying this. "The only thing I - and you - can do is protect him. And we have to stop pretending that this isn't how things are."

The smile on Regulus' lips faded. He folded his hands on top of the table. There was some truth in Sirius's words, even if it was painful to acknowledge that. "I just don't think that being hard on him now that he already feels like he's being treated too harshly is going to improve things."

"I don't want to be hard on him, Reg. Do you think I want to spank him? I don't. I hate doing that, you know it. But he's asking for it. He's been asking for it for a while now." Sirius's voice gained a rough edge as though he were talking to Harry and not to Regulus. "And I mean it when I say it's important to be safe and to stay within the wards. He'll learn that shortly."

Regulus sighed. It was true, he knew that Sirius hated punishing Harry. But he was inflexible in this regard, did not make the least attempt to change his methods, and this was something that Regulus did not completely comprehend. He reminded him of a much younger Sirius then, an anxious teenager being confronted with the impossible task of being a parent to his little brother. Fear made Sirius hard, hard against himself but also hard against the ones he loved. Regulus had experienced that first-hand as a teenager under Sirius's care; and even when they had been children, living at Grimmauld Place with their parents, Sirius had had a hardness about himself that did not befit his age. Regulus assumed that Sirius must have developed it so early that it was nearly inseparable from him.

In situations like this, when that hardness flashed up in Sirius's eyes, he reminded Regulus of something he had seen when he had taken Harry to the Natural History Museum for his eighth birthday. It had been a preserved turtle skeleton, and Regulus had looked at it for a long time, studied how the turtle's spine and ribs fused into a bony carapace, which was inseparable from the rest of the turtle's skeleton. He could not imagine how it must feel to experience the world like this.

"Reg?" Sirius's voice. "Are you listening?"

Regulus looked up. He had gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Am I correct?"

"I can see where you're coming from," Regulus said slowly. "And perhaps you have a point. Perhaps he's been pushing you and will learn from it." He held Sirius's eyes. "But if you're wrong, being too hard on him now might be a mistake that could backfire terribly."

Sirius held his gaze. "I won't be too hard on him. Just enough to keep him safe."

Harry had curled up under his covers, but he pushed them down to his hips and quickly sat up when Sirius entered his bedroom. Apparently, he had come up with something else to say for himself, because he spoke before Sirius had even closed the door behind himself. "If it weren't for this Peter Pettigrew breaking out of Azkaban, I wouldn't be in trouble."

"Oh." Sirius raised his eyebrows. He had not yet made two steps into the room. "How so?"

"Because you're not upset I did magic, right?"

"Well, I'm not happy about it."

"But you won't punish me for it."

"No," Sirius said after thinking about it for a bit. He sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "A simple Lumos is not getting you in trouble with me. But it's gotten you a warning letter from the Ministry, and I'm not pleased about that."

"But see," Harry said, looking hopeful suddenly, sitting up a little straighter and holding his palms out in an explanatory gesture, "I didn't mean to leave the wards, it was an accident. And we went back instantly as soon as we noticed it. So you can't be mad at me for that, accidents happen."

Sirius frowned. "It's not an accident if I specifically told you to stay within the wards. You ignored that when you went out there. Not to mention that you went out there in the middle of the night."

"I didn't ignore it, I didn't realize I was outside the wards," Harry defended himself. "You can't punish me for that!"

"Oh, you bet I can. You weren't supposed to be out there in the first place, you know that. It was against Molly's and Arthur's rules, it was against my rules. You deliberately ignored my warnings. Anything could've happened to you out there. You could have died."

"Died," Harry echoed, and his tone revealed how ridiculous that thought was. "In the cornfield next to the Burrow. That's likely. Again it's only because Peter Pettigrew is still on the run that you think he's waiting around every corner but he's not! Maybe he doesn't even want to kill me and all this fuss is for nothing -"

Sirius cut him off. "Enough of this. Don't try to distract from what you did. This isn't about Peter, this is about you." He took off the rings he wore on his right hand, slid them into the pocket of his waistcoat where he still kept the letter from the Ministry. Then he squared his legs and patted his knees. "Come here. The sooner we take care of this, the sooner it'll be over."

Harry did not move an inch into Sirius's direction. "But I'm thirteen," he responded. His voice was dangerously close to a whine.

Sirius blinked slowly. "Your point being?"

"I'm too old."

Sirius bit back a smile at that. "I can assure you that you're not. Both me and your dad got spanked even when we were much older than thirteen. Reg too. Now, get over here." He patted his knees once more.

The mention of James had an effect on Harry. "How old?" he asked, but he slowly began to move over.

"Until we stopped acting like children," Sirius simply said. He gently removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the bed next to where he had put his rings. Then he took Harry by his arm and guided him to his right side before he tipped him over his knee.

He began to bring his hand down on the pajama-covered bottom over his lap, keeping an even rhythm while wrapping his left arm around his godson's waist. He was quiet, not feeling like lecturing the child any more than absolutely necessary. There was not much left to say, and if there was, Reg would make sure everything that needed to be said was said. Most of what Sirius was going to say now was only meant to enforce a point he had made earlier.

"Ow," Harry exclaimed after a minute, softly at first but then his ows became louder and he began to wriggle and squirm around.

"I know," Sirius said as he kept swatting the clenched behind, knowing that, even though he wasn't putting much force behind his swats, Harry's backside had to be stinging by now, "I know it hurts. But you know what also hurts? That you disobeyed me and put yourself in danger. The thought of losing you because you disregarded my warnings. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because I wasn't clear enough on how important it is that you mind me." Sirius punctuated this with a swat that was a little harder than the previous ones.

Harry gave a tearful whine, curling his toes in. The soles of his feet were still dirty from the fireplace.

"Tell me, Harry: Are you going to cross the wards again without permission?"

"No," Harry responded not a second later, tears were rising in his voice. "I swear, never!" He was kicking his feet and Sirius decided to throw his right leg across Harry's.

"I'll take you by your word." Sirius kept bringing his hand down, fast now; the quick succession in which he delivered the swats and the fact that he focused on Harry's sit spots made up for his not putting much force behind them. He felt as the first sobs forced their way out of Harry. This was when he stopped. Hard enough but not too hard. It had been a comparatively mild spanking, even Reg would have to admit that, considering how dangerous Harry's actions had been. "But Harry," Sirius said, resting his hand on the boy's warm behind for another moment, not yet releasing him, "you don't want to find out what happens if you break it. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes."

Sirius patted the small of Harry's back once before he let him up. Unlike when he had been younger, Harry did not immediately curl up on Sirius's lap. Instead, the boy brought his left arm up and roughly wiped his face on his pajama sleeve. It nearly seemed like he was embarrassed of the tears glistening on his flushed cheeks, his running nose, his shaking legs. Like Sirius cared about any of that.

Sirius reached out and drew him close, wrapped his arms around the boy's middle and hugged him tightly. He expected Harry to lower himself onto his left thigh and curl up against him, but found that the boy did not make the least attempt to do so. Instead, Harry stood up as straight as he possibly could, considering how shaky his legs were. His arms were loose around Sirius's shoulders, his embrace hesitant. It felt to Sirius like Harry was steadying himself against him rather than hugging him back.

Sirius did not comment on this. Instead, he rose to his feet as well and pulled Harry into a tight bear hug, nearly lifting him off his feet. "Love you," he whispered, lowering his head and burying his face Harry's hair. The boy still smelled of hay and soot. He gave him a gentle squeeze when he felt Harry's breath hitching in his chest again. "It's all right, little one. You're forgiven."

Now, Harry's arms did tighten around Sirius.

"I know it's not all easy," Sirius continued when Harry did not speak, "and I know you've made a lot of sacrifices over the holidays. I know you were bored and frustrated with me, probably more often than you let me know. And I understand that. But it's still important to stay safe."

He felt Harry nod against his chest. "Okay."

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll get through this, Harry. I promise it won't last forever."

When Sirius came down and joined Regulus in the drawing room, he did not speak much. "Don't look so worried," he said eventually when he noticed Regulus's questioning look. "He's fine."

"Hmm. Are you fine?"

"The finest," Sirius gave him a grin that was so weak that it didn't reach his eyes. Then he looked away. He flopped onto the couch, stared at the ceiling.

"I don't understand why you do it when it's clearly upsetting to you."

"Because it's necessary, that's why."

"It's not necessary when there are other methods that work too."

Sirius shrugged. "This one works perfectly fine for me and Harry."

Regulus was quiet for a while before he said, "it didn't work for me."

Sirius glanced at him before he turned away.

They had talked about this before, had several heated arguments about it. Especially during the first years that Harry had lived with them. They had both said many harsh things that they regretted now, but their positions had not changed.

Regulus studied his brother. Sirius was facing the windows, his forearms pressed up against his chest. He had not yet put his rings on again and was looking at his hands, fingers open, but when the sun came out and a ray of light played across his palms, he closed his fingers. His forehead was lined and his gray eyes dimmed. "Reg," he said, "can you check on him? Just to make sure…"

"Sure."

"Thank you."

Harry was not in his room. Instead, Regulus found him in the bathroom. He heard the water running and the door was ajar. He still knocked. "Harry?" he opened the door a cautious slit and peered at the teenager.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He had rolled up the legs of his pajama pants and was scrubbing his feet with a wooden skin brush.

Regulus stepped into the room. "Perhaps you should take a shower instead," he said.

Harry looked at him, his lips thinning slightly.

"Or not," Regulus said. He walked over to the child, sat down next to him. "I just wanted to see if you're okay."

Harry looked away. His eyes were still slightly reddened. "I'm okay."

As with Sirius, Regulus had an inkling that Harry wasn't as okay as he pretended to be. However, Harry wouldn't be sitting on the edge of the bathtub as comfortably as he did if at least this part of him were not well again. And that was a relief.

"Reg… how old was my dad when he was last… you know." Harry sighed when Regulus raised an eyebrow, making it clear that he did not know what Harry meant. "Sirius said that he was older than me when his dad punished him for the last time."

"Oh. Seventeen, maybe eighteen, but that was… I think that was only because your grandfather got very upset with him; he wouldn't have done so normally." Regulus decided not to go into too much detail because he did not want to admit that he had been the one to get James in trouble in the first place. "Why are you asking?"

Harry blushed. "Just… I dunno. I just think that that's too old." He peeped at Regulus. "But Sirius doesn't seem to think so."

Regulus hummed. He could now picture the kind of conversation that had taken place earlier between Harry and Sirius.

Then, something else sprang to Regulus's mind. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, wondering if there was even a point in bringing the topic up again, but eventually decided to speak up. "So… who won the duel?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"The duel," Regulus said, watching Harry very closely now.

Harry stared at him for another moment, utterly confused, until the penny dropped. And the way it dropped, it dropped like it triggered a landmine. "Ohhhh. I thought you were talking about…" Harry looked away. "Nevermind. Umm, Ron won."

Regulus' eyebrows quirked up. "He did?"

"Yeah."

Regulus could hardly believe that. "Which spell did he use?"

"The… the leg-locker curse." Harry was keeping his eyes lowered. He raised his hand to his face, rubbed his still-flushed cheeks.

Regulus crossed his arms in front of his chest. A terrible realization dawned on him: Harry was hiding something from him. A feeling of betrayal cut through him like a blade, especially so because he was not usually at the receiving end of it.

"Really," Regulus responded slowly.

"Yeah. He's got a new wand and… it's a good wand."

"I see," Regulus said. "I see."

tbc…