A/N: It's been 84 years, dear readers. Enjoy.
Sirius was awake, again. It must have been the sixth time he had woken up this night. He lay motionless on his back, a metal bedspring poking his left shoulder. Even though he had his eyes closed, the shadowy outlines of his room were engraved in his retina. He opened his eyes, closed them again. It barely made any difference.
Rain kept pitter-pattering against the window. The sweltering August heat had been sucked up by the clouds that had settled over London on the very first day of September.
A draft of cold air entered through the curtains. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius watched this carefully, holding his breath. He shivered. The windows were old and badly insulated. It was probably just that.
The ticking clock on his nightstand revealed that it was just past 1:30 AM. Sirius blew out his cheeks and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He had an early shift, and his alarm was set for 5 AM, but despite that, he couldn't possibly get up before 3 AM. Sirius knew that, even if he couldn't get any sleep - and he barely slept more than two or three hours a night - his body needed rest. Rest taken in a dark, quiet room.
Yet his thoughts were still in a complete turmoil.
After he and Regulus had returned from Hogwarts, Sirius had headed straight to the Ministry. He clenched his fists in anger at the memory of how they had sneered at him there. The way Scrimgeour had raised his upper lip at him as though Sirius was a fool and his fear utterly ridiculous. As if he were telling him of monsters in the closet.
"Dementors don't need supervision. They have clear orders to follow." Scrimgeour swatted away another flying note that desperately tried to get his attention.
Sirius had scoffed at the man's patronizing tone. He hadn't expected anything else from the Head of the Auror Department. After all, Scrimgeour had been the one who had authorized the use of Dementors at Hogwarts.
"The attack on the train, that was an order as well, is this what you're saying?"
At that, Sirius felt Moody's hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off.
Scrimgeour's bushy eyebrows rose over his yellowish eyes. He placed his slender hands on top of his desk, the nail of his index finger, filed into a sharp point, tapping its lacquered tabletop. "I shall hereby remind you of your place, Auror Black. These decisions neither fall within your area of jurisdiction nor within your area of competence."
In hindsight, Sirius was grateful that Moody had had the presence of mind to pull him out of Scrimgeour's office in time before Sirius gave the man a taste of his area of competence. Which would then probably have cost him his job.
Now, however, lying in his bed at night, Sirius was haunted by all sorts of images in his head and they would. Not. Leave. Him. Alone.
His mind instinctively drifted to the firewhiskey bottle that he kept within reach under the bed. There, it was out of sight, and Regulus or Harry wouldn't notice it. Not that they entered Sirius' room often anyway, but Sirius preferred it out of sight. Sirius turned over, reached down, found the cold bottle neck. He sat up on his elbow to take a swig, and another. The burning taste of firewhiskey down his throat had become soothing. He turned back onto his back with a deep groan. If he could only use this time for work, that would make things easier.
Thoughts of the rat came to his mind. The unspeakable. An instant knot formed in Sirius' stomach. Sirius rubbed a hand over his forehead. Don't go there.
But his thoughts were racing now, even though he was still trying to push them down. He had to find this tiny needle in this enormous haystack. Don't go there either.
He had to keep Harry safe. This rat, this Judas, he didn't deserve life. If anything, he deserved worse than death. Azkaban. Sirius shuddered. He reached down once more, took another swig of firewhiskey. Certainly don't go THERE.
He sank back down, now exhausted.
"Soon, James," he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom. It was a promise he had spoken many nights before. The concept of 'soon' expanded into weeks, viscous, stretching like glue into months, turning the promise into a mantra.
As the minutes passed, his thoughts became louder and louder. More firewhiskey burned his throat. Finally, Sirius reached below his pillow, his fingers closing around his wand.
When he transformed into Padfoot, his senses expanded and his thoughts became less abstract. He breathed out in relief. Perhaps he would be granted a handful of minutes of light slumber. His dog senses would alert him if any evil found its way into the house or his dreams.
In the following days, Sirius' sleep deprivation worsened gradually. He began to take double shifts during the day up to the point that Moody started checking on him and sent him home if he found Sirius still on duty after twelve or fourteen hours.
"For fuck's sake, Sirius," Moody said then, shaking his head. He had stopped saying any more.
At least at home there was Reg. Else, there would have been no reason for him to return there and not to a bar. Sirius noticed, however, that his state of congested anxiety had a negative effect on his attractiveness. Especially with women. He could no longer take for granted that a flirt over a drink ended in a warm bed and a warm body.
At home, Reg had ordered a package of antique books and was so busy cataloging them that he only joined Sirius in the drawing room to say goodnight.
"Hey," Regulus said, his head sticking into the room. "I'm sorry it got late. See you tomorrow?"
Sirius had been completely zoned out on the sofa, his hand glued to the back of his neck, rubbing and massaging a tight knot of pain. He glanced up after a couple of seconds' delay. "Is it this late already?" He was so tired that the concept of time had been reduced to its most abstract form. If his body would only break down and let him sleep, it would be mercy.
Regulus stepped into the room, fastening his navy-blue dressing gown. The dust from the books had left finger trails all over its sides where Regulus had wiped his hands. He looked Sirius up and down. He knew of his brother's insomnia, but to Sirius it seemed like he sometimes forgot that it wasn't something that, after getting better once, never got bad again. "Are you getting any sleep at all?"
Sirius released a hoarse chuckle. "Sleep, what's that?"
Regulus contemplated Sirius quietly for a moment, then said, "You know you only have to ask if you need some of my herbs. Sharing is caring."
Sirius shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll pass." While they had a relaxing effect on Regulus, Sirius had only joined his brother's alternative therapy once, hoping for an easy time, and had found himself crippled with paranoia.
"Can I support you in any way?" Regulus studied him, his forehead creasing just barely.
Sirius shook his head once more. He grimaced at shots of pain from his tense muscles, his hand wandering back up to his neck. There was nothing Reg could do for him, not really. "You know, I was thinking … maybe I could use Dumbledore's pensieve."
"To store nightmares?"
Sirius' throat closed up. He swallowed before he could speak. "Thoughts. Memories. Flashbacks. Like a whole web, a swirl of images. They've become so loud over the last weeks that I can barely take it at night." Or throughout the day.
Regulus sat down in the armchair opposite Sirius. "A swirl of images, that seems pretty abstract if you can't pin them down individually."
Sirius nodded. "I know. That's the problem because it's not just this one thing; it's a myriad of things."
"Can you try letting them go? Like we practiced, remember?"
Regulus had Sirius join him in some mental exercises, but that was over a decade ago. Sirius mostly remembered breathing exercises and how they sometimes made him feel lighter, more grounded, but other times he felt like he was making a fool of himself.
"I haven't tried yet," Sirius confessed.
"Then why don't you? You might be surprised how much of a difference this can make for anyone, really."
Something in Sirius resisted this idea. He didn't know why, couldn't explain why, but he didn't think some little exercises would help him. He was going to be done with this whole issue soon, once he had caught Peter. He didn't have time for exercises. He also didn't have the patience only to be disappointed if they didn't work. "Well, I was thinking about the pensieve."
"And how much of it would you let go?"
Sirius wished he could let go of all of it, all at once. Pour himself into the damned thing until nothing was left. "I don't know. It's wishful thinking anyway. I need to remember in order to know where to look for him." He needed access to his memories in order to catch Peter. They needed to be sharp, instantly available, not stored far away in a pensieve. And Peter was everywhere, a parasite in the background for most of his life. Azkaban was there, its scars still covered his body. He couldn't pull this thorn out. It had to hurt enough for him to make out its shape so he could look for its root. He mustn't lose focus. He buried his face in his hands. "It's killing me though, Reg. It's killing me to remember."
A hand on Sirius' left shoulder, gently squeezing. Regulus was silent, leaning over like this. His hand remained on Sirius' shoulder, steady, until Sirius finally looked up at him. Deep gray eyes met his. Regulus raised his other hand to Sirius' right shoulder too, saying, "The first thing you need to remember is that I'm here too. I am remembering along with you. You're not alone."
The weight of Regulus' hands on his shoulders, comforting like they held him in place.
"Now, I want you to listen and not interrupt me." Regulus' fingers curled into Sirius' shoulders as he took a deep breath. "You're going too far down this rabbit hole. Yes, we want Peter to be caught, and yes, we want that to happen as soon as possible. But he's just one of many of the Dark Lord's followers who are still hiding."
"He's not just any -"
Regulus cut him off instantly. "I said don't interrupt me. He is just one more shithead who's pissing all over himself at the mere thought of the Aurors dragging his arse back to Azkaban. He's no more dangerous than the other Death Eaters now that we know about his true colors. The reason the Minister is pushing so hard for Peter to get caught is because an escape from Azkaban is a stain on his public image, not because Peter is oh so special. Furthermore," Regulus said sternly, his eyes fixing Sirius', "this idea that he may be trying to get to Harry is only speculation. We have to stick to what we know and we don't actually know what he's plotting or if he's plotting anything at all."
Regulus shifted his hands from Sirius' shoulders to the sides of his face. "That does not mean your fears are unfounded, but they're not all there is. They're only a possibility. Don't let this thing get larger than it is because, as it is right now, this is killing you. You said it yourself."
Sirius was too stunned to speak.
Regulus bit his lip; he wanted to say something else but didn't seem to know how. "Just please take those words to heart."
It took Sirius a long time before he finally nodded, acknowledging Regulus's words. Although they came from kindness, as they stood spoken into the room between them, he didn't have a response. What if Reg was right? So what if he was? After some time, Sirius shifted back on the sofa, stared at the ceiling for a while, and then closed his eyes. Not that it mattered.
Regulus ascended the stairs to his bedroom quietly. At his window, Hedwig greeted him in joyful anticipation of a treat in exchange for the letter she had brought him. Regulus patted her head and offered her her reward. She gobbled it up greedily while he gently untied the letter from her leg. He settled on his bed and read Harry's letter, a cup of freshly made herbal tea next to him. He had to smile at the boy's excitement at his return to school. Regulus remembered very well that special feeling, the beginning of each school year, shiny new textbooks and virgin notebooks, like the coming months were a freshly unwrapped gift. Furthermore, according to Harry, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team looked especially promising this year. Wood said Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now, but there wasn't a cup last year even though we would've deserved it too, Harry wrote.
Regulus' mood changed when Harry began detailing his Defense lessons with Remus Lupin. The new professor, according to Harry, was entirely different from the other good-for-nothing professors he'd had to endure over the last two years. Granted, Quirrel and Lockhart's performances were hard to surpass. But Harry described it as though Remus's teaching was a revelation. Regulus skimmed over the next few paragraphs praising the lessons with Remus and then the letter ended abruptly with a hastily scribbled "have to go now, love you, and Siri!" Harry.
Regulus exhaled slowly and placed the letter on his nightstand. Then he lifted his teacup and took a sip. Leaning back against his bed's headboard, he closed his eyes and focused on clearing his thoughts as he felt his magical core soften and relax under the influence of the herbal mixture. Yet he found it harder than usual to completely empty his mind. Again and again, snippets of his talk with Sirius flashed up in front of his mind's eye. Sirius' complete lack of self-preservation was starting to seriously worry him. Somehow, though, Sirius had always been this way, even as a young child - Regulus remembered that clearly about his brother. Sirius' world was higher in contrasts, and Sirius was like that too. He had also never truly learned how to regulate his emotions. While he encouraged it in others, Sirius had never known how to take a step back and take care of himself. It had taken Regulus many years to understand why, but he had come to the conclusion that Sirius had never learned to put himself first, and it was perhaps too late for him to learn it now.
His contrasts maximized, Sirius found security in extremes; the uncertainty that came with shades of gray scared him to death. How he struggled to listen to his body when its needs were opposing those of his will. And Sirius' will, like an iron spear, unforgiving. Regulus felt a pang of sadness at the thought that it all had, in part, been a sacrifice Sirius had made for Regulus' sake.
On a lower level, a door opened and closed. Apparently, Sirius had given up on his earlier resolve to try and get some rest. His steps sounded heavy on the stairwell. Something about this made Regulus listen up, since neither bare nor slippered feet made such a sound: Sirius was wearing his Auror boots.
Regulus pushed himself up, hurried out of his bedroom as fast as he could in his state—he felt a bit dizzy, getting up so quickly—and leaned over the railing to look down the middle where he could see all the way down to the bottom landing.
"Sirius?" he called.
The footsteps stopped. "Go back to bed. I'll be back soon." Sirius' voice sounded rough around the edges, like he'd had some whiskey.
Regulus' fingers tightened around the railing. Anger bubbled up in his stomach. Sirius was not even trying to take care of himself. And the man never listened either. "Where are you going?"
"Hogsmeade," Sirius called up. Regulus saw him now, how Sirius stepped up near the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him, already in full Auror attire, with the ready glow of the fireplace behind him.
Regulus clenched his teeth. That was it; his equilibrium was ruined for the night. "Is there an emergency?" he asked sharply.
Sirius lowered his head. "I need to check on something."
"Like you did the previous nights?" Regulus responded angrily. "And when are you going to rest? What about our talk earlier?"
Sirius huffed. "Go to bed, Reg." Without so much as another glance, Sirius turned on his heel and headed towards the fireplace. A moment later, green light filled the basement as Sirius stepped into the fireplace and named "Hog's Head". The roar of the Floo took him away.
"You idiot!" Regulus called after him, well knowing that Sirius had left and couldn't hear him any longer. He pushed away from the railing, his emotions boiling inside him. He walked back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
It was much later at night when Regulus, still lying awake, heard the floo again, a gentler rumble now. At once he rose to his feet and left his room. He met Sirius on the stairs, halfway down to the basement. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he positioned himself in the middle of the stairs, glowering down at his brother who stopped about three stairs below him.
"Explain yourself."
Sirius ran a hand over his face. "Reg, please."
"No. You were not on duty, not after a full day's shift. Now you tell me what you were doing at Hogsmeade."
Sirius looked up at him, his eyes tired. "I mapped the Dementors' paths."
"I can't believe you. I literally have no words."
"None needed."
Regulus exhaled slowly. "Are the Dementors… on the school grounds?"
Sirius shook his head. "No, I didn't see them crossing the wards. That doesn't mean they won't do so at times, however. And at Hogsmeade they come dangerously close."
A knot formed in Regulus' stomach. Again, he thought of the students on their trip to Hogsmeade. Children, walking through the forest without a worry on their minds. Their first excursion was not long from now. Regulus thanked the stars that, as a punishment for Harry's lie a couple days ago, he had made the fortunate choice to forbid the boy from partaking in the very first trip to Hogsmeade. Even though, at the time, he had had no clue of how drastically the situation would change. But this had bought him time to figure something out.
He looked Sirius over. "You smell of cigarettes," Regulus noted pointedly. And then, another smell beneath it, wet, dirty fur. "And of dog."
"Yeah, well." Sirius shrugged. He really did not care.
"If Mr. Potter were still alive…"
Sirius' eyes flashed dangerously. "Enough," he said firmly. It seemed he had obliged so far but he was done answering any further questions. He pushed past Regulus, eliciting an outraged "HEY!" from his brother.
Regulus wanted to go after him, give him a piece of his mind, but he heard Kreacher now, getting up in the kitchen, muttering to himself below his breath. They must have disturbed the elf in his sleep. So Regulus refrained from going after Sirius. He remained where he was for a couple of moments until he heard Sirius' bedroom door close. Then he also made his way back upstairs.
Regulus lay awake for a long time that night, almost until sunrise. The effects of the herbal tea did nothing to calm his racing thoughts. He thought of Sirius; that swirl of images he wanted to rid himself of. Everything, Regulus thought, is still imprinted with what it once was.
How he wished he could ground Sirius to stay in the house, how he wanted to take his brother by the shoulders and give him a good, hard shake. But Sirius only ever listened if he wanted to. And especially when it came to a frightened Sirius, Regulus knew that fear was the only thing that would make Sirius take orders.
It was the next evening and Harry curled deeper into the nook window in his dorm, the back of his hand touching the cold windowpane as he held up the two-way mirror. "It really was not so bad," he said like, for the tenth time this day.
Regulus frowned at him through the mirror. "An animal the size of a hippogriff isn't something to take lightly. If they're not properly trained -"
"He is properly trained! It was Malfoy's fault! He taunted Buckbeak, he brought it upon himself!"
"And why am I only hearing about this now?"
Harry chewed on his lower lip. The incident had occurred during Hagrid's first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, which had been nearly a week ago.
"Harry," Regulus said sternly, "I am waiting for an answer."
It was only the second day at school, and you and Siri had already gotten so worked up over the Dementor from the previous day.
"And?"
Harry grimaced. "I didn't want you to worry. It was really nothing; Malfoy makes it sound like -"
Regulus interrupted him sharply. "I don't want your excuses, Harry. You know you should've told us immediately after this happened. Yet, in none of your letters, any of this was mentioned!"
Harry shrugged. "I just forgot."
"Don't play me for a fool. There is no way you forgot." The man's words were brutal, each hitting their target right in the middle.
Harry bit his lip and once again said nothing. Rain was pelting against the windowpane next to him, and he wished the sound of it would have drowned out his lie. He desperately wanted to end this call with Regulus.
"I am terribly disappointed in you. We've already talked about lying. We've already talked about hiding things."
Regulus' words sounded like all of this was a much bigger deal than Harry had ever anticipated. If he had known that Regulus was going to react like this, Harry would have told him already about Buckbeak and Malfoy because it really wasn't worth getting in trouble over. Or, even worse, lose Regulus' trust over. "I'm sorry." Harry whispered.
The man was giving him a hard stare through the mirror. "Did anything else occur this first week that you're back?"
Harry shook his head quickly. "No, nothing. Everything's normal."
"Even with the Dementors around?"
Harry looked at out of the window. In the dark rainclouds, the Dementors were nearly invisible. "They don't come close." On a day as today, one would not have noticed them if you didn't they were there.
"And I'm supposed to believe that. Why?"
Harry lowered his head. A stab of pain pinched his heart at the distrust in Regulus' voice. He wished he could take it all back, make his guardian trust him again. "Because it's the truth."
Regulus' eyebrows shot up. "How am I supposed to know that? Because most recently, not all you tell me is always the truth."
Harry swallowed hard. "I really am sorry. I didn't think that the incident with Buckbeak was such a big deal… I was never, not at any moment, in any danger, really! Please don't be mad, Reggie." He hated it when Regulus was mad at him. Or Sirius. But Sirius's grudges never lasted long. Regulus's, on the other hand, were absolutely terrible.
The hard lines around Regulus' mouth softened somewhat at the sound of his nickname, spoken so pleadingly. "Listen, Harry -" then he paused, craned his head and seemed to listen for footsteps on the stairs.
"Is Sirius home?" Harry asked quietly.
"I think he just finished his shift for the day." Regulus sucked on his bottom lip, distracted now. "Do you want to say hi?"
Harry hesitated. "Are you going to tell him?"
"Later tonight, yes. But not now."
That was a relief, although only a temporary one. Still, Harry wanted to see Sirius too, just maybe not recount the same events to him that had just now gotten him a hefty lecture from Regulus. "Okay, then I want to say hi."
Regulus found Sirius in the basement. The man had just gotten back from work and had kicked off his boots near the fireplace. His leather coat hung on a nearby chair to dry, its surface glistening as it was dripping wet with rain. Sirius' face lit up at the sight of Harry in the two-way mirror. "Harry! What a nice surprise!" He smiled, the leftovers from dinner which he had helped himself temporarily forgotten. "How are you doing?"
Harry smiled back. "I'm doing great," he said. "But I miss you two." It was almost like he missed home more at the beginning of the term, despite his excitement at being back at Hogwarts. And especially talking to them now, he felt an ache that pulled his heart away from Hogwarts and back home.
"Oh pup. I miss you too." Sirius received the mirror from Regulus and for a moment, he seemed to be content simply looking at Harry.
Then, they began to talk - about the new classes, about Harry being a third year now. Harry glossed over his first lesson with Hagrid and was glad when Regulus excused himself to get a cup of tea. When Regulus returned, Harry was in the process of recounting his first Divination lesson with Professor Trelawney.
"She was a couple years older than me and James," Sirius remembered at the mention of the professor. "Bridget was her name. Or was it?"
"Sybil," Regulus corrected him.
"Sounds similar enough," Sirius said, grinning.
"Do you believe she's actually a seer?" Harry asked timidly.
Sirius thought about this for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. He opened his mouth but Regulus interrupted him before he could say a word. "Don't ridicule her, Siri," he said sternly. He placed a second cup of steaming hot tea in front of Sirius before he slid into the seat next to his brother.
"I didn't say a word. But Reg, she reads the future from tea leaves and -"
"She saw the Grim in mine," Harry said. He looked around quickly to make sure he was still alone in the dorm room. The topic had upset many of his classmates and it still made Harry uncomfortable to think about their whispering and their concerned glances in his direction.
At the sight of his parents' surprised faces, Harry felt it necessary to elaborate: "You know… the Grim, a black dog, the omen of death."
Sirius seemed stunned for a moment. "Yeah, we know what -" He stopped speaking abruptly, snorted, then covered his mouth with his hands, like the laughter sitting in his throat was water that he wished to swallow rather than to spit out. Now, it appeared that he was nearly choking on it. "The Grim," he croaked, his muffled voice cracking. His eyes met those of Regulus. "The Grim!"
Harry was utterly confused when Sirius erupted into a barking fit of laughter, nearly toppling of his chair. Tears of laughter were streaming down the man's cheeks.
Regulus placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder, gave him a squeeze. "That's enough now, come on. It's not that funny."
"Why, it must've been the most ridiculous -"
Regulus gave his brother a pointed look.
"Come on, Reggie, let me have a little laugh."
Harry couldn't help but smile too. Whatever the reason of it, Sirius' laugh was like a warm rumbling blanket. He had not seen him laugh like this in quite a while. It felt luxurious.
Regulus took the mirror from Sirius. "Ignore that, please, Harry." He shook his head as to himself. "It's not a joke I'd expect you to understand. I am glad you told me - us - about this." He gave Harry a slight nod, his eyes never once leaving Harry's, fixing them like he was pinning him down. Harry knew instantly that Regulus was hinting at their earlier conversation and he was glad that he had brought up the topic. He didn't want Regulus to think that he was hiding anything else.
Finally, Regulus' mouth relaxed into a reassuring smile. "Anyway, I hope Professor Trelawney didn't frighten you too much when she saw the Grim in your tea cup."
"Not me, but the others were a bit shaken," Harry said softly. "Though Hermione thinks it's nonsense too."
"She's a smart girl, that Hermione," Regulus said. "Because, as you might be able to tell from Sirius' reaction here, we don't think you'll have to worry about the Grim. All right?"
Harry smiled and nodded. "I know that, of course." He still felt a tad bit relieved at Regulus' reassurance.
In the meantime, Sirius had managed to get his laughter somewhat under control and was merely lightly chuckling to himself now. "I still can't believe you selected Divination," he said, shaking his head. "Any other elective subject is more useful than that. You were warned by me, by Reg -"
"Not me, as far as I remember," Regulus interjected. "Some of it can be useful."
"Which part?"
Regulus shrugged. "I don't know but I do believe in fate and that there are signs that point us towards it. Mrs. Potter, as you may remember, believed so too."
Sirius' grin faded slightly. His voice was much softer when he spoke again: "Such signs wouldn't show up in tea cups, though. If they exist."
"Probably not, no," Regulus said.
There was a pensive silence between them, like they shared a memory Harry himself was too young to remember. Or maybe it had occurred even before his birth. That other family Harry had never gotten to know, but he'd heard stories of their home at Harry's grandparents. He pictured it as a place full of sunlight, hanging plants and a hammock chair, biscuits and hot chocolate.
At this moment, Crookshanks jumped up behind Harry and rubbed himself against Harry's elbow.
"And who's that behind you?" Sirius asked curiously, having spotted the cat.
"That's Crookshanks. He's Hermione's, she got him only recently before the term started. He's half-Kneazle."
Regulus leaned closer to the mirror, raising his brows. "They're supposed to be very smart."
"And excellent hunters," Sirius added. He attempted to gain the cat's attention first by greeting it with pspsps, then by calling him by his name.
Crookshanks looked at him rather indifferently.
"It's cause you don't have any treats." Harry grinned, running his fingers through Crookshanks' bushy fur as the cat moved away from the mirror and sat on Harry's lap with an expectant, almost demanding look in his eyes. "He can probably smell the owl crackers I've got in my pockets but they're for Hedwig."
"I bet he does," Sirius laughed. "Such a smart kitty." Then, a thought seemed to cloud his thoughts for a moment before his face brightened up once more. "This is great news, actually! I'm glad you have a cat in your dorm. If Peter so much as thinks of -"
Regulus interrupted his brother by jabbing an elbow into his side. "Sirius! Let's not talk of this now!"
"But it's true," Sirius defended himself. "There are no better rat hunters than cats."
Harry straightened his back, raised his chin. He was amazed how openly Sirius suddenly talked of Pettigrew, even calling him Peter in front of Harry.
"He's killed a mouse already," Harry said, eager to contribute to the discussion. It hadn't been a pretty scene according to Hermione - there had been blood on the floor and a half-beheaded mouse. The other girls in Hermione's dorm had been shrieking and hadn't dared to set a foot on the floor; one of them had even started crying and run to Professor McGonagall. Ron had found the news hilarious and joked that perhaps McGonagall and Crookshanks had teamed up and slaughtered the mouse together. Then it had dawned on him that Crookshanks could also become dangerous for Scabbers. Indeed, Crookshanks was in the boy's dormitory almost as frequently as he was with Hermione.
Sirius smiled contently. "Would you like to have a cat too, Harry? If you do, that's completely fine. Considering the circumstances, I think it would actually be a brilliant idea!"
Harry almost couldn't believe his ears. A cat? Coming from Sirius, who, in the past, had always strongly opposed the idea of cats in the house, almost like their presence would be a threat in some way, like the house was his territory, not the cat's, this offer was really something.
A couple years ago, Harry must've been seven or eight years old, he had learned that his parents had owned a cat when he had been a baby. He had asked Sirius about it - what was its name? Was it a boy or a girl? Where is it now, what happened to it? - but Sirius had only stared at him, frozen like the answer to those questions touched upon an unspeakable horror. Regulus had jumped in and explained that the cat had been a stray and Lily and James had adopted it from a shelter. He told Harry that the cat had probably run away and found a new home after the death of Harry's parents. Harry had found that thought deeply upsetting and he grieved for the cat which had, just like him, lost its entire family that fateful night. But why didn't you and Siri take it? His cat, almost like a sibling. Regulus' face had turned gray and he apologized and said that he hadn't found it anywhere and that it was probably happy somewhere else but Harry had been inconsolable. Sirius had never allowed him to get another cat, however, regardless of how many tears Harry shed over it.
Despite Sirius' surprising offer, which would have elated 8-year-old Harry, Harry hesitated now. He wasn't eight anymore and he had gotten over his grief for his cat. "I don't want to give up Hedwig," he said. They were only allowed one pet at a time at Hogwarts and the thought of having to part with Hedwig, even if she were to live with Sirius and Regulus at Grimmauld Place, made his throat close up. "She's the best pet I could ask for."
"Why don't you give it some thought, hmm?"
"Why don't you get one yourself if you're so fond of cats all of a sudden," Regulus interjected provocatively.
Sirius glanced at him. "I bet you would like that."
Regulus shrugged. "You would be correct, actually, I would. So why don't we get one for our house?"
Hesitation crossed Sirius' features. He tugged at the collar of his wool jumper. "I think a cat would be much happier at a castle than here in the city. I'm not at all for keeping cats locked up inside but it's not like we would have any choice here."
Regulus pursed his lips but dropped the topic otherwise. Sirius, too, let it go after that.
"How about Quidditch, Harry?" Sirius asked. "You wrote that Wood has high hopes for this year's team."
"He does," Harry said. "And so far practice has gone really well."
Sirius leaned forward, his face much closer to the mirror now. Something in his expression shifted and his facial muscles tensed. "You're not flying too close to the wards, are you?"
Harry shook his head.
"Cause if the snitch goes beyond, it's no big deal. Just wait until it comes back. It's not worth getting hurt over."
"I'm not going to get hurt," Harry said with more of an edge in his voice than intended. He was, however, getting sick of them worrying over every little thing. Sirius was announcing danger like an endtime prophet who saw a sign of the apocalypse in spilled milk.
"I'm just saying it as a reminder because, when you're up there with the snitch, it's more than easy to forget about everything else. Especially the wards."
It was all about the wards with Sirius, again. Harry wished he didn't have to hear another word about the wards. He wished he could roll his eyes but Sirius would see it and then he'd go on and on about the wards' importance and bla, bla, best stay inside. So he kept it together.
"I know," Harry responded instead. "I'm gonna be extra careful."
"Thank you, pup." A warm, genuine smile parted Sirius' lips.
Later, when Harry had said good night to his guardians and the mirror turned black, he sat for another while in the seat next to the window, petting Crookshanks who had stretched himself out at Harry's feet, a single claw lazily hooked into Harry's wool sock. The cat's ears were perked up and he was watching Scabbers' cage, yet the rat was nowhere to be seen. Since Crookshanks' arrival, Ron complained that Scabbers was hiding most of the time. Another time, he had even tried to escape thanks to an open gate latch, after which Ron had put a lock on it. The old Scabbers had never done such a thing. He had also been far more entertaining, said Ron, and known more tricks. Harry wondered if the new Scabbers was missing the corn fields around the Burrow which had been his home until recently. It was, after all, only a regular rat Ron had picked up and perhaps the castle was a little too overwhelming. So Harry got up and hung one of his t-shirts over the side of Scabbers' cage so that it blocked Crookshanks' view of it.
"Perhaps this will give you a bit of peace and privacy, little one."
Sirius didn't seem to mind the hippogriff incident all too much, much to Regulus' surprise.
"I've already heard about it in the Ministry," Sirius said in response. "It made the round days ago. Lucius Malfoy blew this whole thing up impossibly, for days, like he was campaigning for something. I for one believe it serves Draco right. He has to learn that there are consequences for his actions and it's Lucius' fault for not teaching his son better."
"He's only a child and he got injured!"
Sirius shrugged. He dipped a piece of old, crusty bread into his tomato soup and ate it once it had softened and soaked up the soup's red color. "He was warned and he didn't listen."
"So you're not worried? Or upset that Harry didn't tell us about it?"
"Worried, no," Sirius said. "Though I'm glad Harry told you about it in the end. I only wish he'd done so earlier, I could've refuted some of Lucius' claims before the rumors got so widespread. They really made the poor beast into a villain, Hagrid too. But what's done is done and it doesn't concern me, really."
"Harry rode that same hippogriff!"
Sirius' blank look of indifference suggested that he did not understand what Regulus wanted from him at all. "And he didn't cross the wards - or did he?"
Regulus threw his hands in the air. "You always with these wards! No, he did not, at least not as far as I know!"
"Then it sounds like he had a great time. It's not every day you get to ride on a hippogriff. I, for once, have never had the pleasure."
Regulus released his breath slowly. He began to wonder if, maybe, he had overreacted somewhat when he had accused Harry of hiding the incident from them. Perhaps Harry had, similarly to Sirius, really seen it in a completely different light. And while Regulus was not as relaxed as the two of them about the whole event, his heart felt lighter as he allowed himself to let go of some of the distrust and disappointment he had felt earlier. Maybe the boy had not actively tried to hide this from him. After all, he had told Regulus about it on his own accord, despite the week's delay.
"Siri," Regulus said, when another thing came to his mind, "you've been in the Forbidden Forest a lot recently, haven't you? As Padfoot?"
Sirius turned his focus back onto his soup but his profile hardened somewhat. "It's possible," he muttered.
"And the Dementors don't notice Animagi? That's how Peter escaped."
Sirius ate another spoonful, and another. Some tomato soup lingered in the corners of his mouth, colored them red. He finally responded with a simple, monosyllabic "yes." It was obvious he did not like to talk about this topic now.
"And today you mentioned cats. That gave me an idea." In fact, Regulus had had this idea even before that but it had been vague, not entirely fleshed out. Now, he felt like he could perhaps sell it to Sirius by making it sound like it was coming from him, place it strategically like a cuckoo egg into a bird's nest. He took a deep breath. "You know that my Patronus takes the shape of a cat. And you know what they say about Patroni and Animagi forms being congruent."
Sirius looked puzzled. "Congruent?"
"That they're the same."
"Oh." Sirius took quite some time to process that, like he could not immediately make out what Regulus was so timidly suggesting. Regulus wondered if Sirius was perhaps too tired and he should leave it at that and resume the conversation in the morning. Then, Sirius' eyes sharpened and he set his spoon down. When he spoke, his voice was deep, and deadly serious. "What are you saying to me here?"
"If I were to be able to transform into a cat, it would be of much more use than forcing the boy the let go of his owl just to get a cat. And how do we know that it's gonna be a hunter and not just a glutton?"
Sirius stared at him. "I still don't understand."
"If I were an Animagus."
"But you're not."
Regulus rolled his eyes. "I would, of course, become one. But in about a month's time, the transformation process would be completed and it would -"
Sirius pushed his chair back abruptly and rose to his feet. "No. Absolutely not."
Regulus leaned back in his chair, looked up at his brother who was now towering over him. He completed his sentence, saying, "it would really give us a big advantage. You would not have to watch the Forbidden Forest all on your own. And as a cat, I would be able to enter the castle without anyone batting an eye."
"You must have lost your mind." The man shook his head. A strand of hair which had not yet dried stuck to the side of his face.
Regulus frowned. "I have not. I am merely suggesting an idea and I believe it's a very useful one."
Sirius' face looked like a thunderstorm, his gray eyes piercing blades. "You realize that my business is law enforcement, do you? And here you are, suggesting a crime to me?"
"Technically it's an offense."
"It is a crime for which people have been sentenced to time in Azkaban," Sirius growled, "and I don't want to hear another word about it if you know what's good for you."
Regulus was utterly dumbfounded at his brother's hypocrisy. He had expected resistance but not at this level. "You are yourself an unregistered Animagus! And you're using that to your advantage all the time! James was an Animagus too, and you two were -"
"I'm not discussing this; you're completely out of your mind. No. This is absolutely out of the question."
Regulus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Is it because you don't want me to join you in the action or since when are you so worried about being a poster citizen? Upholding the law, defending the rights of the Ministry to regulate and control every little thing?"
Sirius refused to respond. Instead, he picked up his bowl of soup, then reached for his spoon, his movements so controlled they appeared almost robotic. His fingers clenched around the cutlery as though it anchored him in a safer state. "I'll finish this upstairs."
Regulus knew that he had to be careful now, and exceptionally so. Of course one could buy the ingredients for the Animagus potion nearly anywhere - none of them were particularly occult and after a quick look in his potion cabinet he realized that he already possessed most of them. However, if there were ever to be any suspicions or worse accusations raised against him, he would prefer it if nobody had seen or heard of him buying a mandrake, for instance. So he avoided Diagon Alley and headed straight to the place where he knew nobody would ask any questions.
Knockturn Alley was particularly quiet this morning and a thick fog had settled between the houses. Regulus passed through the alley quickly without meeting a single person. Still, he had pulled his hood low over his head to cover his face.
His early arrival must have come as a surprise to the pharmacist of Mulpepper's Apothecary, who sleepwalked from shelf to shelf to collect the list of random items Regulus named. Regulus took care only to ask for this and that, a routine stock-up of his potion cabinet. He studied the dusty shelves like he was simply looking around for inspiration, with nothing particular in mind.
"One more thing," Regulus said, pocketing the other ingredients, "you wouldn't by any chance have fresh mandrake leaves?" His words were casual, like this was an afterthought that had just now come to him.
The man nevertheless raised an eyebrow. "I don't usually sell them fresh, but I do keep a couple of mandrakes upstairs. For the right price, I may be able to spare one of them."
"I don't need a plant, just a single leaf. The Apothecary in Diagon Alley only sells dried ones." While Regulus would not mind a mandrake as decoration for his office - he quite liked the way they looked on bookshelves and mandrakes didn't need much light so they would be a perfect fit for the the dark office - the sudden presence of such a plant posed the risk that Sirius would notice it.
"Cutting only a single leaf will damage the plant and make it unsellable," the man objected.
Regulus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was not in the mood to bargain with the pharmacist. "I'm willing to pay for the damage."
The man shrugged then. "As you wish." Money was the answer to all questions in Knockturn Alley. The pharmacist walked into the back of the store and pulled himself up the crooked stairs to the second landing, using the railing like a rope.
Regulus tapped his shoe against the counter as he listened to the man rummaging around upstairs. Not much later the stairs creaked again and the man reappeared, setting a Mediterranean mandrake on the messy counter. The plant was still young but from the bell-shaped purple flower blossoming from the middle of its leaves, Regulus could tell that it had reached maturity.
The pharmacist selected one of the large dark green leaves and Regulus nodded his approval. The tip of the pharmacist's wand widened and bent into the shape of a curved pruning knife. The man then expertly separated the leaf from the plant, causing the Mandrake to merely shudder slightly, and handed it to Regulus.
When Regulus left the apothecary a few minutes later, he turned and stood on the threshold, facing the dark oakwood door which had just closed behind him. He then carefully folded the mandrake leaf in the middle twice and then put it in his mouth. It was still quite large and he wondered whether he should chew it into a pulp but then he decided to leave it alone for now. He would have to keep it in his mouth for a month and that was a long time, he did not want to damage it so early in the process. With his tongue, he tucked it into the back of his left cheek, then swiftly turned once more and headed back in the direction of Diagon Alley.
Tbc…