Saturday, 5th August

The next day, Harry stood outside the small café, his trunk beside him and Hedwig's empty cage balanced carefully on top - the owl herself had gone off hunting for the day but hopefully still capable of finding him later tonight.

He felt a strange combination of excitement and anxiety prickling at his skin. A steady stream of witches and wizards passed by without so much as a second glance, unaware of the Boy Who Lived having returned to their world once more. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot, and, after giving a surreptitious glance around, cast a wandless Tempus. The café's door was still locked, but he was right on time, so just where on earth-

As if hearing his thoughts, there came the sound of a now-familiar bell behind him and he turned to find a very out-of-breath Sirius standing there in mismatched clothes, holding open the door.

"Hey pup" he said, panting, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, "Sorry we're late - I never realised just how many jackets I own before this morning".

How many what?

"And I told you" came Remus's voice from further inside, "That there was no bloody need to pack everything! You're moving three miles up the road, Pads, not to the bloody Arctic!"

"But what if I really really really need to wear a specific leather jacket and I can't find it?" the man whined, even as he stepped back to let Harry in, "Then what would I do?"

"You would Floo to your own bloody house and find it there! Three minutes, Sirius! That's all it would take!"

"Uh… What are you two talking about?"

Inside, Remus looked just as harried as his partner, although he, at least, was wearing his t-shirt the right side out.

"Good morning, Harry" he greeted, smiling warmly at him before giving Sirius a rather pointed look, "We're talking about this absolute disaster of a man deciding that he needs every single thing he owns within tangible reach! Look at your godson - one trunk! That's it! That's all he's bringing! And that's all you needed to pack too!"

Harry decided not to tell him that the reason he only had one trunk was because all of his belongings fitted into it - and most of those belongings were books.

"What are you packing for?" he asked instead, following them past the counter and into the kitchen. It was just as small and old-fashioned as the front of the café, but it smelled like chocolate and vanilla and cinnamon.

"Grimmauld Place, of course!" Sirius exclaimed, "You didn't think we were just going to leave you there to fend for yourself, did you? It's a bloody awful house - you'd go mad living there alone, so Moony and I are going to move in with you until Albus comes to his senses and realises that our Soho townhouse is just as good a place for you".

Harry blinked, suddenly caught off guard by Sirius's casual remark, feeling a strange warmth settle over him, something unfamiliar but… good. They were moving in with him. Not just dropping him off at Grimmauld Place like he'd expected, but actually moving in to stay with him.

His throat tightened, and an unexpected lump formed there. For so long, he'd had to fend for himself, feeling like he was an outsider just waiting for the next place to be dumped. But now… Sirius and Remus didn't hesitate, didn't act like it was an inconvenience or something they had to do out of obligation - They wanted to be there with him.

"You're- You're both moving into Grimmauld? For real?"

Sirius grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Of course we are, pup! It'll give us a chance to spend time together and let us get to know you and all that rot - and it'll allow me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't turn into a brooding teenager like I did".

He winked at him, his smile turning mischievous, and in front of them, Remus sighed.

"And yet given the tantrum you threw when I suggested choosing just one leather jacket to pack, I wonder who the true teenager really is".

"Blasphemy!" he exclaimed, "Blasphemy and lies! Pup, don't listen to a single word he says; he is a terrible influence on you!"

"Oh yeah? And which of the two of us has a criminal record?"

"Uh, excuse you! I was found innocent!"

"For that crime you were. What about the time you dragged us all to a muggle nightclub, got absolutely wasted, and started-"

"La la la! I can't hear you!" Sirius interrupted loudly, "Now stop being a bad influence and tell poor innocent Harry here how Floo powder works".

Remus rolled his eyes at his partner, but both of them were still grinning so Harry guessed that this was just the type of couple they were.

"I take it you've never travelled by the Floo Network before?"

"Nope" he replied, "But I've read about it. Elbows in, eyes closed, and mouth shut, right?"

Remus smiled. "Right. You just take a handful of Floo powder, throw it into the fire, and then say the name of your destination clearly. I'll go first to show you, alright?"

Harry nodded and watched in interest as the man took a large pinch of glittering powder out of a jar on the mantelpiece, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose, and with a whoosh and "Grimmauld Place!" Remus was gone.

"Alright, your turn, pup" Sirius said, holding out the jar to him, "Remember; stay calm and don't fidget. It's not the smoothest form of transport, but it's over quick enough".

Harry nodded and, grabbing a handful of fine powder, did exactly as Remus had done only seconds before.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast - the roaring in his ears was deafening - something hard knocked his elbow and he belatedly remembered to tuck it in tightly, still spinning and spinning - now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face - squinting, he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond - he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then-

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and heard his trunk and owl cage land next to him with a clatter.

"Oh dear".

Blinking soot from his eyes, he glanced up only to find Albus Dumbledore sitting at a long wooden table in front of him, with Remus standing at an old-fashioned cooker behind him.

"I take it you're not a fan of Floo travel then?"

Harry carefully took stock of all of his aches and bruises before slowly, painfully, getting back to his feet.

"You could say that sir, yeah".

There was another whoosh of flames behind him, and Harry only barely leapt out of the way in time for Sirius to arrive in the room after him - landing as gracefully as ever and staying firmly on his feet, the bastard.

"Well, you made it in one piece at least" he said, glancing him up and down, "The first Floo trip's always the hardest".

"I certainly hope so" he replied, hauling his trunk over to the table and collapsing in a chair next to it, "So this is Grimmauld Place…"

It was a dusty, gloomy, ancient building. The kitchen, which he presumed was what this room was supposed to be, was dark and dismal, its only light source being the fireplace and a handful of candles on the long table. There were windows; tiny ones up high near the ceiling which made Harry think they were underground, but they were so mouldy and grimey that hardly any daylight came through them at all.

"A lovely house, isn't it?" Sirius said, snarkily, "Truly one of a kind".

"It sure is something" he agreed, looking around at the filthy countertops and rusty iron pots hanging from the ceiling, "You grew up here?"

"Unfortunately". He scowled and then rather dramatically threw himself down in the chair next to him. "Until I got enough sense to leave the place, anyway".

Before Harry could ask any follow-up questions, Remus joined them at the table carrying a tray of tea. He was quickly starting to realise that there wasn't a single occasion imaginable where the man would not offer a cup of tea.

"Here we are then" he said brightly, evidently trying to counteract his partner's darker mood, "Now so, you should probably know, pup, that the kitchen fireplace is the only one connected to the Floo Network so anyone that visits will be arriving through here".

"Not that there should be any visitors without warning first" Sirius added, "The Order tends to schedule its meetings a few days in advance so we'll be given some level of notice anyway".

Harry nodded, slowly. "And the Order is…?"

"The Order of the Phoenix is a… secret society, as such" Dumbledore explained, "I founded it during the 1970s when Lord Voldemort set his sights on Britain. During the last war, we fought against him and his Death Eaters, helping the Ministry to stay in control".

The Ministry being in control was causing more than a few problems in Harry's opinion, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

"The organisation disbanded, of course, after Voldemort's downfall" the Headmaster continued, with a nod in his direction, "But after a few… incidents these past few years and with the sudden appearance of Lord Thomas Slytherin, I felt it appropriate to reconvene the Order once more".

"And you want to… what? Knock Slytherin down a few pegs?" he asked, "Kick him out of Wizengamot? Get his title revoked?"

"His joining of Wizengamot was a necessary requirement after he claimed the Lincoln dukedom, my boy, but it is by no means his main goal. I believe that he's merely trying to distract us by joining the political sphere, as it were, biding his time until his forces have regathered and he can ambush us once more".

Harry frowned. That… definitely sounded like something a Gryffindor would do, but not a Slytherin - and not something that the Slytherin would do either.

"What makes you so sure?"

"That he's regathering his forces?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "Well, at the risk of sounding like a vague old man, let me simply say that we have someone on the inside".

Next to him, Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes, and Remus shot him a dirty look which was… interesting, to say the least. Clearly, whoever their spy was, he wasn't his godfather's biggest fan - despite the fact that this person was potentially risking their life to keep him and everyone else safe.

"How about we save the Order stuff for the next meeting, alright?" Sirius said, "Remus and I still have to grab a few boxes back at our place and you still have to pick a room, pup".

"Perhaps, find a room would be a more accurate term" Dumbledore replied, "Grimmauld Place is heavily charmed against outside attacks, but I'm afraid that still leaves room for internal… disturbances".

"Some of the bedrooms are cursed" Remus summarised, catching Harry's confused frown, "And some of the not-cursed bedrooms have cursed things in them, and some of the other not-cursed bedrooms with no cursed things in them have delightful creatures such as boggarts living in their wardrobes".

"So it's not a case of you choosing a room that you like, it's more a case of choosing a room that won't kill you" Sirius finished, before flashing him a grin, "Welcome to the wizarding world, pup!"

"Perhaps, if agreeable to you, my boy, I could help you search for one of the safer bedrooms?" Dumbledore suggested, "That way Sirius and Remus can retrieve the last of their belongings and you won't be tackling any Dark creatures alone".

Harry's gaze automatically flickered to Remus after that last comment, but the man didn't seem upset or annoyed or even any more tense than before. Did he not consider himself to be Dark? Had Dumbledore forgotten that he was a werewolf all of a sudden? Or, and this was far more likely, was Remus simply used to the old man saying things like that? Used to everyone saying things like that?

He shouldn't have to be.

Harry felt himself bristle on Remus's behalf.

And besides - why did Dumbledore want to help him find a room anyway? Did he think he was utterly incapable of protecting himself? Sure, he didn't know that Harry was capable of wandless magic - and nor was he going to tell him, not yet - but still! Or did he just want to get him alone for a few minutes? Or have an excuse to see what was in his trunk?

He was leaning towards the former explanation, but he still wasn't willing to take that chance.

"Thank you for your kind offer, Headmaster, but there's no need. I'm sure you have quite the busy schedule, and I'd hate to disrupt that" Harry replied with a picture-perfect smile, before turning to Sirius before the old man could reply, "Does your family have any house-elves left?"

His expression immediately soured.

"One" he bit out, "Kreacher!"

There was a loud pop and then the first house-elf that Harry had ever seen outside of a textbook appeared next to them. It was wearing a filthy rag tied around its waist, and its large, batlike ears were droopy and sad. Suspicious pale eyes narrowed at the sight in front of it, before it turned its large head towards Sirius.

"What does the nasty Master want now?"

He felt his eyebrows raise at the blatant disrespect the elf was showing his lord.

"Kreacher, this my godson. You will listen to him and you will obey him, in the same way that you obey me, only better. Understood?"

The elf turned his mournful gaze to Harry for the first time and then seemed to do a double-take. He took one step forward, then another, and tilted his head to the side, staring up at him. Harry felt strangely like he was being tested, and he found himself straightening up against his will.

"Hello Kreacher" he greeted evenly, "My name is Harry Potter".

"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? That's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Kreacher wonders how he did it…"

"Don't we all?" Sirius muttered, but they both ignored him.

"It's an honour to meet the head elf of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" Harry continued politely, "My great-grandaunt was Dorea Black, and I share a common ancestor with your mistress, Lady Black, as well, through her grandfather".

"... The boy is perhaps a Black by blood, and the boy shows my Mistress proper respect. Kreacher thinks the young Master is pure-blood by his actions, yes, if not by his name. The young Master acts as a young lord should, not like that nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart-"

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher!" Sirius snapped, "She kept herself alive out of pure spite!"

The elf half-bowed but it was clearly out of duty rather than respect.

"Whatever Master says… Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was… but the young Master, oh my Mistress would like him, yes, the young Master's magic is strong, far stronger and Dark-"

"Kreacher" Harry quickly interrupted, because he sure as hell hadn't come this far only for the crazy elf to give the game away now, "I have a job for you if you'd like".

This time, he bowed to him, and Harry knew that he wasn't the only one who noticed how genuine it now was.

"Yes, young Master, Kreacher would like. Kreacher would like to serve a Master who does not bring shame to his family and-"

"I'll be staying here for a while, if that's alright with you" he cut him off again before yet another tirade began, "I have my trunk here next to me but I'm not sure which room is… suitable for me to stay in while I-"

"Oh, the young Master need not worry" he interrupted, "Kreacher knows exactly which room to place the young Master's belongings in".

And with another bow and a pop, both he and the trunk were gone.

Like that wasn't ominous as fuck.

There was a beat of silence before Sirius made a grand sweeping sarcastic gesture.

"Well, that was Kreacher".

"Charming fellow".

"Just wait until you meet Snape".

"Sirius!" Remus immediately scolded, but he ignored him.

"Snape?" Harry tilted his head to the side in confusion, the name only somewhat familiar to him. "Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood" Dumbledore corrected before his godfather could reply. The Headmaster himself had a curious yet somewhat wary expression on his face. "His mother was a witch".

"Ah". That explained the muggle surname then. "And her name was-?"

"... Prince". He was definitely looking at him in a peculiar way now. "Eileen Prince. For any more information about her, however, I'm afraid you'll have to ask Severus himself - although, fair warning my boy, he may be loath to answer".

Prince. Prince. Prince. Harry racked his brain trying to make a connection but came up empty-handed aside from one very distant ping of something to do with potions and-

Hang on.

Severus Snape? The youngest Potions Master in Europe? The only witch or wizard known to have successfully improved the Wolfsbane potion? The only person in all of Great Britain even capable of brewing an acceptable Draught of Living Death? One of only four Inner Circle members to have escaped-

"Wait". He frowned. "That Severus Snape? He's a member of the Order?! What happened to being Voldemort's left-hand man?!"

There was a beat of silence, and then another, and then another, before Sirius suddenly held up his hand.

"Okay. So. Two questions" he started, "One, why the hell do you know that? And two, how the hell do you know that?"

Fuck. This was one of those "secrets" that Rowle had told him about, wasn't it? Something which he only ever told him about because, as far as he knew, Harry had absolutely no way of contacting the wizarding world? Something which Harry himself was certainly definitely positively without a doubt not meant to know?

"Uh… I… read… it?" he replied haltingly, "In a… book?"

"Oh really?" Sirius clearly did not believe one word he said. "And what book would that be, huh?"

"I can't remember. I've, uh… I've read a lot of books, you know".

"He doesn't" Remus said dryly, "Myself, on the other hand… Pup, there is not a single book on this planet that mentions Severus by name. If there was, and certain people read it, then he would very likely no longer be with us".

"More's the pity".

The werewolf elbowed his partner in the ribs, hard, and Harry couldn't help but smirk at his godfather's outrageous, betrayed look. If they knew that Snape used to be Voldemort's left-hand man though, and they still let him join the Order, then that meant that Severus Snape was likely Dumbledore's spy. Harry did not envy him for it.

"Well?" Remus asked, turning back to him, "Where did you hear about Severus and You-Know-Who?"

They weren't going to let this go, were they?

"I… I, uh… I guess I just… must have heard it, then" he finished lamely, "From- From someone on the street or- or in Gringotts or someplace".

Neither of the three men looked like they fully believed him, but neither did they have any evidence proving otherwise.

"In fact, I probably heard it down Knockturn" he continued, "There are all sorts of… less scrupulous characters down that particular alleyway".

The distraction worked.

"Yeah, actually, there are" Sirius agreed, straightening up, "So just why on earth were you down there?"

"I was staying at the White Wyvern" he replied, latching onto the topic change, "I needed somewhere cheap with people who wouldn't ask questions so I started renting a room there after I first came to Diagon Alley".

"Well why didn't you come to us first?" he demanded, "We would've given you a room immediately! And free of charge, too!"

"Because I didn't even know who you were, Sirius! I had no idea that I had a godfather; much less that Remus even existed! And besides, I also didn't know that you thought I was dead at the time, so even if I was aware that I had godparents, why would I have gone to you when I thought that you didn't even care enough to try and find me?"

"Of course, I care about you! Of course, I tried to find you! Merlin, pup, I would've cut off my right arm to bring you back!"

"And I know that now, Sirius, but at the time I didn't" Harry finished, "But none of that matters anymore, alright? I'm here now, and I'm here to stay".

His godfather's eyes were suspiciously damp.

"Damn right you are" he mumbled, reaching across to haul him into an awkward one-armed sideways hug, "I'll put a bloody tracking charm on you if I have to, pup, you are not allowed to disappear again, you hear me? Never!"

"Never" he agreed, breathing in the warm soft scent of freshly washed laundry - which, actually, reminded him… "Your t-shirts on inside out, by the way".

"It is? Damn. Moony, why didn't you tell me?" he whined, pulling back and looking down at the seams of his shirt that were clearly visible, "I have an image to maintain!"

"Because someone decided he had to pack his entire wardrobe five minutes before we left!" Remus shot back, "A wardrobe that we still have to collect by the way!"

"Oh. Right. Yeah". Sirius abruptly turned back to Harry. "Will you be alright here for a while? It shouldn't take any longer than five or ten minutes, but if you don't want to be left alone then-"

"No, no, it's fine" he quickly said, "Honestly. I need to find out where Kreacher put my trunk anyway".

"And you're sure you want to do that by yourself? If not then one of us can stay or Albus could help you out-"

"It's fine, Sirius" he said firmly because being left alone with the Headmaster, even if only for a few minutes was the last thing he wanted right now, "If I need any help then I'll just ask Kreacher - he seems to like me after all".

"Yeah". His godfather made a face. "That's what worries me".

Ten minutes later, after they'd finished their tea and Dumbledore left muttering something about arranging an Order meeting soon, Sirius and Remus went to collect the last of their bags and Harry went to find his belongings.

Grimmauld Place felt more like a tomb than a home, with its suffocating darkness and layers of dust, a relic of a past that held no warmth or fond memories. He found himself wondering what secrets the Black ancestral home held, and curiosity tugged at him to explore.

Leaving the kitchen, he wandered through the narrow corridors, his footsteps echoing on the creaky wooden floorboards. The air was heavy with the smell of decay, mingled with the faint scent of something metallic - maybe from the old tarnished decorations that adorned the walls, or else maybe from a secret hidden torture dungeon. Knowing the Blacks, it honestly could be either.

As he rounded the corner of the hall, Harry's gaze was drawn to a set of heavy moth-eaten curtains halfway down the corridor. They were tightly drawn, almost as though they were meant to hide something shameful. His brow furrowed in curiosity. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, reached out, and yanked the curtains open.

The screeching began almost instantly.

For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured - then he realised it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life.

"-filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my father-"

She didn't half have a pair of lungs on her. Harry wondered who she was and then, spying a worn golden plaque underneath the portrait, he bent down to read it.

The Most Noble Walburga Black, the Duchess of London (1925–1985)

This was- This was Sirius's mother.

"-disgusting mudblood desecrating my sacred halls! No better than that blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh-"

Oh, she was definitely like the Dursleys.

"Shut up!" Harry finally snapped, cutting through her tirade about his godfather's many faults, "Do you even hear yourself?! You are everything that is wrong with the wizarding world! You are the by-product of dirt and vileness! Do you genuinely believe that your so-called pure blood makes you any better than anyone else?!"

Walburga's eyes widened at his audacity, and she spluttered in fury.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you filthy mudblood! I am a Black! A proud lineage that stretches back for centuries! One of the Dark Lord's most trusted allies! You- You are nothing! Scum of the earth! Weak! Impure! Not fit to-"

"Well, this scum of the earth killed your precious Dark Lord!" Harry interrupted, his green eyes blazing, "So who really has the most powerful blood now? Your noble house fell apart long before your son was even born because of people like you! People who think that cruelty and hatred make you strong! It was my mudblood mother who outsmarted the monster that you worshipped! And yet you claim to be stronger? Better? You are nothing more than an ancient relic only fit for reminding our world what not to believe in!"

Her shrieks grew louder, her voice warping with uncontainable rage - but Harry was done. With a sharp tug, he yanked the curtains shut again, muffling the sound of her furious screeches.

He stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy, staring at the closed curtains. The house felt quieter now, like it was holding its breath. He shook his head in disbelief. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had almost died out with her?! Sirius might not have wanted the title or the dukedom that came with it, but he sure as hell was still a better choice for it than she was.

Continuing down the hall, Harry grimaced at the sight of a severed, hollowed troll's leg by the door that was currently holding a large umbrella. As he started up the dark staircase, he passed a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed him that they belonged to house-elves - all of them with the same rather snout-like nose. Were these- Were these Kreacher's relatives?! His family? His parents, even?!

"What sort of fucked up Addams family bullshit have I gotten myself into?" he murmured, stepping onto the first landing, which was just as gloomy and cobwebby as the rest of the house, with the wallpaper peeling off and the carpet worn thin. If he listened very carefully he could've sworn he heard a mournful moaning.

He decided to start at the top of the house and work his way down.

The fourth floor, he found, only had two bedrooms, both of which clearly hadn't been used in decades - although Harry was amused to see that while one room was very respectable with Slytherin green furnishings and the Black family crest above the bed, the other, clearly having once belonged to Sirius, was full of garish Gryffindor colours and muggle posters.

The third floor had three bedrooms, two much smaller than the third which also had a walk-in wardrobe and ensuite - the master bedroom, then. He also spied his trunk next to the dresser and the fact that Kreacher had decided to give him the biggest bedroom in the house was… interesting.

The next floor down also had two smaller bedrooms, along with a shared bathroom. There was a fourth door which, presumably, led to the room that seemed to take up over half of the entire second level. Harry walked over to it frowning curiously, before smiling when he caught sight of the door knob which was shaped exactly like a serpent's head - typical Slytherins.

Reaching out, he had just wrapped his hand around it when-

He froze.

A split second later he had spun around, arms raised, bracing himself for the attack of whatever the hell had just sprinted up the stairs and oh Merlin they had warned him not to explore alone, they had told him that there were dangerous creatures lurking about, and he had already upset three floor's worth and now here he was about to get mauled to death by a-

Grim.

"Everte Statum!"

An orange light burst forth from his hand, shooting across the room to hit the large black beast in the chest, sending it flying down the hall where it hit the opposite wall with a crack, before sliding to the floor with a pained whimper.

"Harry!"

His head jerked back to the stairs where a very flustered Remus was taking the steps two at a time and-

"No! Wait! Stay there! It's-"

"Sirius!" he burst out, "It's just Sirius!"

"It's- It's- It's what?!"

"The grim! It's Sirius!" Remus explained, panting, before giving the black mutt a dirty look, "And it is also an absolute idiot!"

The beast whined and lowered its head.

"I told you to wait, Padfoot! You can't just spring a grim on someone and not expect them to react poorly! Why didn't you just wait?!"

It whined again, looking up at them both with puppy-dog eyes, large and mournful and-

Grey.

Eyes that were grey, not yellow; not gleaming but striking, grey eyes that were identical to those of-

Harry blinked and then blinked again.

"Oh" he realised, the man's strange nickname finally clicking into place, "You're… You're an animagus?"

The grim let out a happy bark as its tail started wagging, a rhythmic thud thud thud against the wooden floor. A split second later, the creature had transformed back into his godfather, with just as dark hair and just as grey eyes, but now with a rather painful-looking bruise on one cheek.

"Sorry" Harry belatedly said, "I didn't mean to, uh…"

"Blast me halfway across the room without a wand?" Sirius, surprisingly, looked more delighted than angry. "Don't be, pup. That was some seriously impressive magic!"

Remus turned back to him, curious. "What spell did you use?"

"Everte Statum" he replied, and the man's eyes widened in shock. "But that's a fifth-year spell! And you successfully cast it wandlessly?"

Harry gave a somewhat uncomfortable shrug. "I'm, uh… I'm pretty good at Defence Against the Dark Arts".

As well as the Dark Arts themselves, he silently added.

"I'll say!" Sirius was positively beaming by now. "You should have seen his reaction time, Moony - it was flawless! There's an Auror in the making if I've ever seen one! Although I could have done without the practical demonstration…"

He prodded at the bruise on his cheek and winced, but Remus simply rolled his eyes at him.

"You could do with a lot worse, is what you could do with! What on earth did you expect to happen, charging at him like that?"

"I don't know!" he protested, "I thought I'd get petted at the very least!"

Harry snorted before he could stop himself and then flushed under the men's sudden scrutiny.

"Oh, right, sorry, no, I, uh… I don't really… like dogs that much" he explained haltingly, "I had more than a few bad experiences with one as a kid, so… you know... Not a fan".

Sirius looked absolutely devastated, somehow succeeding at having mournful puppy-dog eyes even in his human form - although, if they shared some traits, then that did explain how the man had such a great sense of hearing.

"You don't like dogs?"

He looked as though someone had kicked his.

"Not… really" he replied awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, "But, I mean, hey! You're- You're not technically a dog; you're a grim, so… so that's different, you know? I've never been bitten by a grim before so I'm sure that I could… uh… get used to one".

Sirius immediately brightened even as Remus shook his head at them both in exasperation and started to go back downstairs.

"Excellent! Because getting petted is the best! I cannot possibly recommend it enough, pup!"

And- huh. Was that where the man's nickname for him came from? The godson of two canine creatures…

"I'll keep that in mind" he replied wryly, following him, "Did you manage to get all your stuff?"

"Yeah, I'll levitate it upstairs later. Did you manage to find your stuff?"

"Kreacher put my trunk in what I think is the master bedroom" Harry said, frowning, "So, should I move it or-?"

"Not unless you want to" Sirius replied easily, as they started down the second flight of stairs, "Moony and I are gonna take my old bedroom. I'd rather cut my own head off than put it on the same bed that my mother slept in… Oh, and, uh, speaking of-"

"We've met" he said dryly as his godfather pointed at the portrait of Walburga over the bannister, still safely silenced behind the large curtains.

He grimaced. "Sorry about that; I should've warned you before I left. The Order has been trying to remove it for weeks without success. The bloody old hag probably put a Permanent Sticking charm on it".

Harry hummed, pausing at the foot of the stairs and staring at the closed curtains thoughtfully. "You definitely want it taken down then?"

"Are you kidding me? I want to burn this entire bloody building to the ground, pup - but I'd happily settle for burning that painting".

Well then.

Harry wasn't that great at expressing gratitude or thanks - wasn't that great with many emotions, really - but magic? Magic, he could do.

Briefly closing his eyes he concentrated on that warm ball of light buried deep in his chest, raising it to the surface, feeling the power thrum beneath his skin, waiting to be released. He could feel his magic responding, pooling inside him, around him, through him like molten lava until his very core seemed to hum with energy.

He wasn't exactly sure how much he could control it, but Harry had never been one to back down from a challenge.

He took a step forward, and then, without warning, tripped over thin air, his arms flailing out in a clumsy pantomime and with a deliberate flick of his wrist, all of that pent-up magic, all of his burning fury at what Walburga had said about Sirius, all of his fear and anxiety and frustration for what the future held for him surged out of his hands like a tidal wave.

The blinding light burst against the curtains in an explosion of white-hot flames that echoed throughout the hall. The portrait itself gave an almighty crack, followed by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Walburga's furious screech pierced the air for only a split second, cut short as the entire painting ripped clean off the wall, landing face-down with a loud crash on the thread-bare floor.

Harry and Sirius both stared at it.

"Whoops".

For a moment, Sirius stood frozen, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the now-empty space on the wall. The curtains had been blown off their hooks, fluttering pathetically to the floor, and the plaque under the portrait had cracked in two. There was no more screeching, no more insults echoing through the house. Only the blissful silence of victory.

He blinked, his shock slowly but surely giving way to pure and utter delight.

"You... You…" he stammered, then threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter, loud and genuine, "You absolute legend!"

Harry couldn't help but grin as his godfather rushed forward, surveying the damage with something like awe. He crouched down next to the fallen portrait, cautiously lifting one corner to peek underneath. Walburga's furious face was still visible, but she was in such shock that her voice - blessedly - remained completely mute.

"She's quiet!" Sirius exclaimed, still laughing, "Merlin, she's actually quiet! I've never seen anything like that in my entire fucking life!"

Remus, who had clearly heard the commotion and came running up from the kitchen, skidded to a halt when he saw the wreckage. He looked between them and the broken portrait, eyebrows raised.

"What on earth happened here?!"

Sirius, unable to contain his glee, pointed at his godson. "He happened!"

Harry shrugged modestly, though his grin betrayed him. "I, uh… I tripped".

"You… tripped?"

"Yep. Tripped. Fell. Cast something. Accidental magic; you know how it is".

Remus's eyes narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Accidental magic, huh? Like yesterday, at the café? Aren't you a bit old for that?"

"Apparently not" he replied, looking entirely innocent, "I hope I didn't cause too much damage".

Sirius clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, still laughing. "Well, remind me to stay out of your way the next time you 'trip'. That was brilliant, pup! I've been wanting to get rid of that hag for months! Merlin, we should've just let you have a go at the whole house from the start - the place would've been cleaned out in a day!"

"I don't think there'd be much of Grimmauld Place left by the end of summer if I did that, Sirius".

His godfather simply grinned, pulling him in even closer. "Here's the thing, pup - that's the point!"

Harry had to laugh at the man's antics, something warm and sure and safe bubbling up in his chest. To think that even one month ago he had been confined in a muggle secure centre for criminal boys, alone and abandoned, trying desperately to find a way he could survive in the wizarding world. And now-

Now he had the start of… something. Something good. Something worth staying for. Something worth fighting for.

So Godric help anyone who dared try and take it away from him.