Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Edited by: Himura; Bub3loka, Void Uzumaki.
Also, if you're feeling generous or want to support me or read ahead, you know where to find me.
30th of December, Monday
"Congratulations, Mr Black, you're now officially discharged."
"About damn time," Sirius grumbled as he pulled on a plain black robe. The damned thing was so bland that it would better suit Snivellus instead of a handsome dog like him. The first thing he would do was buy a nice leather jacket… and a wand. His old wand had been regrettably snapped once he was chucked in Azkaban for life. "Also, there's no need for formalities, Ted! We are family, after all."
Especially after his grandfather officially disowned him, Sirius could feel a subtle change in his magic, as if something he didn't even know existed was missing. Now, he was like Andromeda, his favourite cousin—black by blood but perhaps not by magic. Something to celebrate!
"Well, I'm at work, Sirius," Ted Tonks grumbled, smoothing over his white healer robes. "I'm supposed to be professional." Andy's husband was a tall, wiry man with a friendly face and a tired smile.
"Professional, my arse. Those sods left me with nothing to do but stare at the bloody ceiling for over a month. I would have gone mad if I couldn't write letters."
Ted snorted. "Stop whinging, Sirius. Somehow, you managed to retain your sanity fully, but the dementors had sapped your vitality and magic over the years, along with other minor ailments your stay in Azkaban caused. Nothing fatal, but if left untreated, they would add up and would have probably shortened the rest of your life by over a half, eventually causing you quite possibly to lose your mind somewhere along the way."
"Yes, yes, going to live till sixty instead of a hundred and twenty." Sirius waved his hand and twisted his torso, his spine popping just the right way. The sleep-induced healing had him asleep for twenty hours a day and very stiff. "I am very grateful to the ministry and their generosity." The words were even spoken honestly. The ten years lost in Azkaban would never return, but it gave him plenty of opportunities for introspection.
His anger had… cooled off long ago, and now Sirius was glad this whole thing was over and he was free. He could lay the blame at the feet of Pettigrew, Crouch, or even Fudge, but he didn't. Sirius had no love for any of them, but he blamed himself more than anyone else because he had been the one to be fooled and outsmarted. Worse, Sirius knew he could have done things more cautiously, better, shrewder, but he didn't because of that rush of mad rage.
And the damn treacherous rat had laid a simple trap into which he had so foolishly walked. How could he blame anyone else when he had been the one to bungle everything up?
But it wasn't all so bad. Sirius had gotten to see Snivellus and his ugly, sour mug in a cell beside him and for life to boot. Oh, the joys - the vivid memory he would forever cherish. The cherry on top was the traitorous rat getting to sleep in his old bunk.
"Anyway, Andromeda is inviting you to our home if you do not have a place to stay," Ted coughed, bringing him back to the present. "She was thrilled when the Wizengamot cleared you of all charges."
That warmed his heart. Knowing his cousin had not changed much after a decade was good. Truth be told, Sirius regretted not keeping in touch with Andy properly. Still, the war made everything much riskier, and she wisely kept a low profile to avoid unwanted attention. Ted had decided to turn to apprentice in healing because even the Death Eaters weren't foolish enough to break the taboo of targeting the healers.
At first, Sirius had been disgruntled with Andromeda and Ted's refusal to join the war, but now he felt foolish.
Almost all of his friends were dead because of the fighting. His own family had been ripped apart, with barely any survivors left, and his godson was reduced to an orphan. But the Tonkses were happy, and, most importantly, all of them were alive and well.
Still, the war had ended years ago. "Why didn't Andy visit?"
"Some unpleasant nonsense between Houses Black and Longbottom and that old bat Augusta prowling around Saint Mungo's looking for trouble. Andy might be disowned, but she didn't want to tempt anyone foolish enough to challenge her and find herself starting her own blood feud. Even the director put me in the permanent spell-damage ward to keep me away, as none could get past the Auror guard without permission."
"Ah, I see. My grandfather is being a rotten arsewipe again." Ted snorted, but Sirius was just glad he got to tell the old ornery bastard to sod off. He had no taste for the viler games his family loved to play, let alone the darker magicks. If he never got to see them again, he would be happy. "Anyway, forget about the old relics. How're Eros and Nymmie doing?"
"The boy managed to enter the Auror Academy and even caught the attention of old Mad-Eye. Only I'm too worried he takes after you."
"After me?" Sirius snorted and mockingly raised his nose with a faux Malfoy impersonation. "There's nobody else like me!"
Ted's lips twitched, but he shook his head. "Well, unlike you, my son can turn into anything he bloody wants, and he used to bring a different girl back home every damned week, making poor Andromeda want to tear her hair out. I mean, Eros is still doing it, only in his flat. It's a miracle he hasn't sired children of his own yet… I think."
Sirius couldn't help but nod thoughtfully at the grimacing healer - being a metamorph would be a mighty fine tool for picking up witches. Your natural charisma would only be amplified by becoming an Adonis in the flesh. He almost felt envious!
At least for once, Andromeda had chosen her son's name more than aptly. Alas, poor Nymphadora seemed to have drawn the short straw there.
"And how's Nymmie doing in school?"
"A Hufflepuff prefect, just like her dad!" Ted puffed out his chest proudly. "Thankfully, despite having the same talents, she doesn't take after her brother. I don't think Andromeda's heart could take it."
Sirius stretched again and made way for the door, followed by Ted. "Alright then. I suppose I'll come over. I haven't seen Andy and the sprogs in a decade. Doesn't help I have no idea what happened to my flat in Bristol."
"We'll be glad to have you for the new year," Ted nodded while leading him towards the atrium. Looking around, Sirius couldn't help but notice the white hallways were quite empty. "What do you intend to do now?"
"Buy a new wand," Sirius instantly replied. While he could still turn to Padfoot, he felt naked without a wand. "Try to visit my godson. I haven't thought much further than that."
"Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out. With the ministry and Crouch's restitution, you won't have to worry about gold for a long, long time."
Sirius had no idea how to be a godfather, but Harry was the only thing he had left. Peter was in prison, James and Lily were dead, and so were all of his other friends from school and the Order. There was Moony… but Remus had not shown his face. Surely, his friend had heard about his exoneration?
Sirius rubbed his brow. "Hey, Ted. Does the reception have a visitor registry?"
"They do."
Just as they were going down the white marble steps of the main staircase, Sirius's gaze pinned a young, lithe nurse with a dark honeyed braid. He even twisted to look behind and couldn't help but whistle as she disappeared around the corner. "Merlin, look at that arse!"
"Sirius," Ted said with a pained voice, hiding his face in his hands. "I am a married man, damn it!"
"Some looking never hurt anyone," Sirius tutted. Why did everyone have to be such prudes? Even James had grown all prim and proper after marrying Lily. "Do you know her name, perchance?"
31st of December 1991
Tuesday
To his great satisfaction, Azkaban had not made his skills grow rusty - Sirius had already bagged a date with Madelyn for the coming weekend. On the other hand, he still had to take a long list of foul-tasting potions for another bloody month. Which was fine since Ted had promised to help him brew them. Worse, Moony had not written or visited Saint Mungo's, and Sirius failed to find his friend in their old haunts.
Any owls sent to Remus returned almost immediately or didn't fly away, as if he was too far away or hiding. Sirius was sure the werewolf would be waiting for him outside Saint Mungo's, but alas.
It was as if Moony had just disappeared… or died. Even Ted and Andromeda had heard nothing of the final Marauder.
The contrast with his godson, who had written the first day after the trial, was too stark. Harry was a toddler the last time they had met, and he probably didn't even remember him well!
Still, Sirius had many other things to do, for he couldn't rely on his cousin's generosity forever. His flat in Bristol was in terrible condition, and he needed to pay off the muggle bills and fees. Using a Confundus Charm was tempting, but that would be far too complicated; too many people to charm and too many documents to forge. There was also the risk of losing access to the muggle amenities, and he had gotten fond of the muggle telly and radio. Besides, Sirius had spent the better part of his formative years fighting lunatics who abused muggles like that, and he would not fall to their level just out of convenience.
At least he had managed to get a new wand without a hitch. Olivander never disappointed, and in ten minutes, Sirius was a proud owner of a new wand - a Brazilian olive and dragon heartstring, eleven inches and rigid.
Apparating to Hogsmeade, he quickly made his way down the road to the massive Hogwarts gate. The air was filled with dancing ribbons of snow, covering the ground with an even thicker veil of white, making him shiver and button up his leather coat. The seeping cold brought unpleasant memories, and Sirius hurriedly slammed on the large iron knocker.
"Bloody Scottish Highlands," he groused, trying to keep his fingers from freezing. Hogwarts was not half as cold in his memory. He cast a warming charm upon his clothes, but the damned thing dissipated from the winter chill a few heartbeats later, much to his chagrin. Or he was just rusty. Or did he need to break in his new wand, and Remus would have been a perfect opponent for a duel…
A few minutes later, the gate creaked open slightly, revealing Hagrid's shaggy beard above. The gamekeeper looked just as Sirius remembered him - enormous and jovial.
"Ah Sirius, I'm glad ter see yeh. What brings yeh ter Hogwarts?"
He smiled fondly at Hagrid's familiar dialect. "I wish to speak to Dumbledore and meet my godson."
"Harry? Well, then, come in," Hagrid said, pushing the heavy oaken gate, ploughing the heavy snow aside and allowing Sirius to slip in. "How have yeh been?"
"Can't complain," Sirius shrugged as they walked past towards the castle's main entrance. It felt rather empty, probably because of the winter holidays. "You?"
"Same old, same old." The gamekeeper patted his crossbow, and Sirius noticed the giant bag lugged over his shoulder. "Was just 'bout ter head inter the forest ter gather some unicorn hair an' acrumantula webbing fer Petrov. Poor man seemed mighty interested in the stuff, 'tis all over the forest."
"Petrov?"
"The new caretaker after Filch died ter those trolls. Nasty business, that." Hagrid's jolly face turned sombre.
Sirius remained silent, for he had nothing good to say about the grouchy old squib. The Samhain troll attack at Hogwarts had been all the rage, and he did read with interest about the whole affair in the scarce few moments he was awake in Saint Mungo's. At least Shacklebolt was generous enough to bring him the daily prophet occasionally, even if he was unwilling to enter the room and chat while on guard duty. Who would have thought that Snivellus would go barking mad after teaching a bunch of unruly brats for a decade?
However, the number of other crimes Snape had been pardoned for at the war's end was sobering to read about. Sirius knew Severus Snape was a nasty piece of work, but it was entirely different to see it unveiled and confirmed. Worse, Dumbledore had reached out to get Snivellus a bloody pardon for it all, but Sirius got to rot in Azkaban without anyone batting a bloody eye.
He knew he had not made many friends, and his family name was a dark burden to bear, but it still rankled him.
They finally approached the entrance, and Sirius couldn't help but whistle at the enormous metal statues flanking the colossal door. "That wasn't here the last time I visited; it looks like bloody orichalcum!"
"Aye, Dumbledore got'em over a month ago from somewhere," Hagrid bobbed his head, dark eyes regaining their shine as he glanced at the enormous winged felines covered by wicked spikes and sharp scales. "They look like they would make a mighty fine pet, don't they?"
"Right," Sirius coughed as he glanced at their enormous maws filled with razor-sharp teeth that reminded him of a row of cursed daggers from his father's collection in Grimmauld Place. "Say, what happened to my bike?"
The enormously tall man rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "Ergh. Gave it ter Arthur since he was interested in muggle gadgets."
Damn, that was yet another place to visit. At least Weasley wasn't too bad, but only Merlin knew what new enchantments or additions his bike had now. At least Arthur was easy to get along with. "Fret not," he told the gamekeeper, who was still looking guilty as they approached the great staircase. "Have you seen my friend Remus Lupin lately, perchance?"
"It's been near a decade, I reckon. Dumbledore might know, though." Where in the bloody hell had Moony disappeared?
The halls of Hogwarts were just as he remembered them, if far emptier. They barely saw a handful of students on their way up the seventh floor. Sirius frowned; the school felt too empty even for a winter holiday.
On the seventh floor, they were met with Professor McGonagall, stacks of parchment floating behind her. The Scottish witch still had her usual strict face but looked far older than Sirius remembered - streaks of grey were running through her hair, and wrinkles could be seen around her eyes.
"Ah, Mr Black, I'm glad to see you in such good spirits after your unjust incarceration," the Transfiguration mistress nodded, but the edge of her lips twitched. "I hope you're not here to cause mischief again."
"Me?" Sirius recoiled in mock outrage, grasping his heart theatrically. "I would never! Also, it's Sirius for you, Minnie."
Minerva sighed, completely unimpressed at his seductive wink. "I'm old enough to be your grandmother, you incorrigible boy. At least Azkaban has not dampened your spirits."
"Yeah, well, I'm just built different," he professed honestly, only to receive a sceptical snort while Hagrid stood to the side awkwardly. Shaking her head with exasperation, the old Transfiguration mistress continued down the hallway, followed by the floating trail of papers.
A minute later, Sirius and Hagrid arrived before the gargoyle.
"Wham bars," the gamekeeper muttered, and the statue leapt aside as the wall behind it split in two, revealing the spiralling stone staircase behind. "See yeh 'round, Sirius. I got me some work ter do in the forest."
With a friendly pat on the shoulder that made Sirius's knees buckle dangerously, Hagrid headed down again with a spring in his step. With a groan, the Marauder forced his now quivering legs to move onto the moving staircase. How had Lily called this thing again? Esca-something. The damn word simply would not appear in his mind.
Sirius had just arrived before the polished oak door and was about to touch the brass griffin knocker when interrupted by a powerful "Enter."
The door swung open, revealing the familiar headmaster's office. Dumbledore was sitting in his fancy chair, toiling over stacks of parchments, but he looked far older than Sirius remembered, with his hair and beard turned completely white. Yet there was a sharp decisiveness in his movements.
"Ah, Sirius, I'm glad to see justice prevailed," the old warlock greeted him warmly, putting down his quill. "Lemon drop?"
"No thanks," Sirius declined by habit. Fawkes was on his perch to the side, looking at him curiously with smouldering black eyes.
The older man looked slightly pained by the quick rejection, yet his eyes remained hard, and the usual twinkle within was absent. "I am afraid I have to ask for your forgiveness. I could have fought to have your trial go through the Wizengamot, but I left you to Crouch's swift war tribunal and even testified about your position as the Secret Keeper. Alas, your ruse was slightly too good, and my prejudice had caught up to me in my old age, and I had thought the worst after twelve muggles were killed."
The earnest blue eyes spoke of how truly Dumbledore felt remorseful over his unjust incarceration, yet it only caused Sirius to clench his teeth in frustration. Now he could see where his unlamented family's dislike of the headmaster stemmed.
One thing was for sure; he wouldn't be joining any secret Orders or doing the old warlock any favours anymore. He should have done like Andromeda and stayed away from the whole mess, pulling James and Lily away, too.
"You were far from the only one," he sighed wearily, earning himself a sorrowful smile. Sirius tried not to hold a grudge despite his disgruntlement. Dumbledore had gathered a hefty backing and plenty of power at the war's end. Yet, the old headmaster was being bloody honest about his shortcomings. It was disarming in an odd manner that made Sirius grudgingly respect him, if in a different way.
The world wasn't fair, he knew. Still, knowing Dumbledore used his influence to get a pardon for Snivellus, of all people, it tasted sour on his tongue. Regardless, Sirius knew he ought to be respectful, especially since he had come here with a request. It was not wise to hold a grudge against a powerful warlock like Dumbledore's, at least not a visible one. He might be willing to forgive, yet he would never forget that his ten years of imprisonment could have been averted if the man sitting on his high chair had taken it upon himself to ask bloody why.
The headmaster was still a man not to be trifled with, but his foolish, blind worship was now gone. Despite his power, Dumbledore was a man like any other, and he certainly erred like one.
At least now the traitorous rat and the murderous bat were neighbours in Azkaban if nothing else.
They stared at each other for a handful of long, silent minutes. There was a heaviness to the headmaster's gaze he had not seen before, and the old man had not even attempted to read his mind once. Yet Sirius recklessly stared at the wizened old man in the eyes, daring him to do it… even as his back had gone cold with sweat. The air became so heavy that Sirius struggled to breathe; his knees shook, and his hands began to tremble, yet he maintained eye contact with the headmaster. Even the thrice-cursed dementors weren't so oppressive, and he had used their sinister aura and the endless drudgery to train and train his mind out of boredom.
Yet not once was there even the lightest brush upon his mind.
As if dispelled, the powerful presence disappeared, and Dumbledore looked like a jovial old man again as he unwrapped a lemon drop and popped it in his mouth. "So, what brings you to Hogwarts?"
"I have some queries for you, headmaster," the words rolled off his tongue in a much more subdued and bland tone than he intended, his Occlumency killing his emotions.
Dumbledore gracefully inclined his head. "By all means, ask away."
Bloody hell, talking to Dumbledore for thirty minutes had been exhausting, as if he had gone a few rounds against a dragon. The old man was far more intense than he remembered, and Sirius had walked out of the headmaster's office with his robes damp with sweat.
Still, the old warlock had been open and forthcoming, yet even he had no word from Remus. Even Fawkes couldn't flame to Moony's location, but the headmaster did promise to try and reach out to his contacts abroad to see if he could be found.
At least he got permission to meet with his godson. As he waited in an empty classroom for Professor Flitwick to fetch Harry, Sirius blanched as reality hit him like a drunken hippogriff. He had no idea how to bloody raise a kid and knew nothing about his godson besides the little tidbits from the letters exchanged. And even there, Harry had not been particularly wordy, only giving a few brief details while inquiring about Sirius' wellbeing.
The creak of the door announced Harry's entrance, and all Sirius could do was stare. His godson was a short, cautious boy; he looked much like a mini-James but lacked the glasses and possessed vivid yet haunting green eyes the same shade Lily possessed. His gaze seemed too old on him, and there was wariness to his mannerism that made Sirius ache. Was James so short as a first-year?
"Hello," the boy greeted quietly. "You're my godfather."
Sirius couldn't help but chortle at the precocious words and proudly slapped his chest. "Yep, that's me, Sirius Black! How'd you like my Christmas gift?"
"I loved it." Harry's face brightened, his guarded posture easing.
"I'm glad. I had to pull some strings to get that broom. Nimbus only agreed when they heard it would be a gift for you." Contrary to what he expected, his godson grimaced at the reminder of his celebrity status, and an uneasy silence descended upon them. "So… there's not much we could have said in our letters." Sirius rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. This would have been so much easier if his godson had been easygoing like James, but the earnest focus and lack of mischievous smile were all Lily. "Tell me about yourself, Harry."
"Well, there's not much to tell. I grew up in Surrey with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and… I like magic." It was painfully short, said with a tone that reminded Sirius of his own words when he spoke about his home. Lily's sister had never been pleasant, and probably pranking that fat muggle husband of hers wasn't the best thing Sirius had done. Or maybe he hadn't pranked him enough?
"Like magic? If half of what Flitwick told me on the way here, you're Merlin reborn," Sirius snorted, trying to lighten up the mood, but only earned himself a nonchalant shrug. Right, so humble to boot, and it wasn't just some false modesty. Lily's son, indeed.
Still, he knew he should not have expected as much after seeing Harry for the first time in ten years, but it pained him nonetheless. Patience… he would slowly earn his godson's trust.
But how?
What would Sirius have wanted back when he was eleven? It most certainly wasn't pity or uncomfortable questions.
He coughed, trying to cover the fact that he was feeling completely out of his depth. "So… do you want to come live together with me?"
"Sure," the agreement came instantly with a broad smile. That was so quick, and Harry had not even asked where he lived. Sirius skittishly ran a hand through his dark hair; why was this so bloody familiar?
But then again, he wouldn't want to live with muggles, let alone someone as unpleasant as Vernon and Petunia.
"Well then, I have a flat in Bristol," Sirius hummed. "Or we can live in some of your own houses, I suppose."
Harry blinked in confusion. "Which houses?"
"The Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow and the Potter family house in Wales where your father grew up," Sirius listed. "I think you have some properties abroad somewhere, but I never cared to ask. It's something you ought to check for yourself."
"Uh," his godson abashedly rubbed his neck and finally looked like a confused eleven-year-old boy. "How do I check?"
"Maybe… the ministry has some records or something, or it could be connected to the Floo." Sirius shrugged with uncertainty; he was never good with this bureaucracy shite. "But those can only be accessed in person. So, you have plenty of options to choose from. Don't rush to choose now; there's some time until the summer. So, how are you finding Ravenclaw? Made any friends?"
"It's great," Harry began to explain with increased enthusiasm. A few minutes later, Sirius couldn't help but smile. His godson was undoubtedly James' boy, having made plenty of friends of the gentler variety–a true ladies' man! Even Bellatrix's precious little daughter had been undoubtedly charmed by Harry, and the mad bitch would undoubtedly froth with fury if she were to find out. He even branched out and befriended twin girls from Slytherin! Ah, it brought a tear to his eye that his godson was laying the foundations to be the manliest man who would ever walk Hogwarts's hallowed halls.
With Sirius's deft guiding hand, his godson would surely become a legend of his own!
There were no worries with the teachers either; at least Harry had no complaints and was first in the year, and from what little he could gleam, Flitwick was favouring him greatly.
His godson's enthusiasm was infectious, and Sirius smiled and couldn't help but feel that everything was right in the world. Well, not everything, for Harry seemed to lack the penchant for mischief, but it mattered not in the end; he ought to be an honorary Marauder.
Well, there was no time to get his godson started like the present! "When James and I were back in school, we made a pretty helpful map with the help of another friend."
Harry innocently took out a familiar yellow piece of parchment from his pocket. "This map?"
"Oh. Where did you find it? Do you know how to use it?"
"I found it in a locked cabinet," the boy said innocently, but his lips twitched. "And I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Sirius couldn't help but guffaw - his godson was the perfect mix of James and Lily. Undoubtedly, being the teachers' favourite, nobody would suspect him of any mischief. This was bloody brilliant!
It took him a good minute to stop laughing like a loon and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Merlin, we'll make a proper Marauder of you yet."
"Is it true you lived with my grandparents?" Sirius nodded genially. "Can you tell me about them?"
"Well," the Marauder rubbed his chin. "Fleamont was the most amiable man I've ever met. Or at least until I… accidentally turned his favourite slippers into a frog that escaped…" Harry listened with rapt attention as if every word was the secret of immortality as Sirius recalled the happy memories from his childhood.
12th of January 1992
Sunday
Diana awoke to the chatter of her friends with a yawn and rubbed her eyes.
"Are we there yet?"
"In an hour," Morag muttered. "Your parents are mental, Diana." Padma, Goldstein, and Sue Li all nodded in agreement.
All Diana could do was groan. The bloody school tests and exams had been a chore, and most of her winter vacation had been spent studying. But a deal was a deal—her father had only agreed to let her attend Hogwarts if Diana kept up. Still, she had aced all her tests and wrangled herself a promise of the best broom gold could buy for the following summer.
"So, what had you lot so excited?" She groaned out, still feeling drowsy. At least she had managed to cram two days of skiing in the Swiss Alps by the end, even if the flight back to London had arrived early this morning.
"Padma's sister came with this morning's Prophet," Goldstein muttered worriedly, his usual pompousness absent. After a quarrel with Corner, the boy started hanging around in their group and joined their compartment with Sue Li.
"The Wiltshire Warlock has seven new victims as of yesterday," Padma waved a newspaper that was rolled up like a baton. "All muggle children younger than eleven. All were found in their bedrooms mutilated; none of their parents had heard a thing."
That sent shivers crawling down her spine, quickly awakening Diana. "Ugh, damn it. Why doesn't the magical police catch him?"
"Well, certainly not because of lack of trying," Morag shrugged. "Still, things have grown serious if stuff like this has made it to the first page of the Prophet."
"I wouldn't worry much. He might be a murderer, but not a strong one if he's targeting muggle children." The Indian girl took out a bag of pumpkin pastries. "Anyone wants some?"
Seeing that neither of her housemates looked too worried as the desserts went around, Diana began to calm down. Still, a niggling sense of wrongness persisted at the back of her mind, and she didn't have the heart to join them in their idle chatter. The magical world was more dangerous than she first thought.
Even now, the sickening squelch as the trolls grew limp was still fresh in her mind, even if the nightmares were gone. Diana didn't think she could ever forget that one. Still, Harry was only a first year, yet he had no fear even facing the lumbering brutes, so the path forward was clear. Becoming a powerful and feared witch became only more and more appealing.
The rest of the journey was a blur for Diana as she read through the DADA notes again, which somehow always contained nuggets of new helpful knowledge or insight she had not realised before. The same could not be said for The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. The defence textbook was outright boring and inappropriately humorous in some places, which only showed how great a teacher Quirrell was.
Before she realised it, they had finally arrived at school after a short ride on the carriages drawn by the creepy draconic horses suffering from anorexia.
Harry and Juno were there, waiting for them by the antechamber, and enthusiastic greetings were exchanged. Her friends looked far more spirited than she remembered, which was great.
Diana's enthusiasm was replaced with a frown as she walked beside Harry, and her eyes inspected the boy from head to toe. She checked his shoes, but it was the same stuff he always wore. It had been less than a month, yet her friend had grown nearly half an inch taller than her. It wasn't bloody fair; now she was the shortest one again.
Was there some secret magical dish they only served during winter vacation that increased height?!
Author's Endnote:
Starring: Sirius "I still got that rizz!" Black. Things are going well… mostly. The list of plots left for the first year grows shorter, and next up will be the time skips.
I update a chapter every two weeks(Thursday or Friday)! You can find me on my discord(dgj93pNeAD), where you can read ahead or simply come chat or ask me or others some questions.