Chapter 11: Family Tree
Hogwarts, March 13th 1996
"Get up, Potter," Snape drawls with an oily voice as I lie face down against the cold dungeon floor, panting slightly.
I scramble up, scowling at him as he has managed to send me tumbling to the ground yet again. This time I've seen a handful of memories I didn't even remember existed, mostly about Dudley and his gang bothering me.
"That last memory," Snape says suspiciously. "What was it?"
I rack my brain and try to remember the last memory he viewed through the headache that is threatening to take over. "I don't know," I say wearily as I straighten my glasses. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"
Snape arches a brow at me. "No," he says with a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "I mean the one with a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room…" he says with a pointed look.
I swallow hard. Rookwood. Snape has seen the vision I had some nights ago about Rookwood and Voldemort, and…the weapon. "It's…er…nothing," I say nonchalantly.
Snape narrows his eyes at me and I look quickly away, even though I suspect that he could successfully use Legilimency without making eye contact.
"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?" Snape asks darkly.
"It was just a dream," I mutter and fix my gaze at the parchment scrolls on Snape's desk.
"A dream?" Snape says threateningly. There's a short, uncomfortable silence before he speaks again, "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter?" he asks with a cold voice. "You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"
I give him a jerky nod. "Yes."
"Remind me why we are here, Potter," he says silkily.
"So I can learn Occlumency," I say, frowning at the floor.
"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be, I would have thought that after over two months of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?" He asks, and I send him a quick glare.
"Just that one," I say stubbornly.
Snape eyes me speculatively before he speaks. "Perhaps…perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special…important?" He asks tauntingly.
I grit my teeth together. "No, they don't," I say tightly, my hands clenched into fists.
"That is just as well, Potter," he continues menacingly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."
Rage surges inside me. "No, that's your job, isn't it?" I blurt, and instantly regret it.
The room temperature seems to drop as Snape eyes me with a chilling look. He speaks after a short silence, his voice soft even though his eyes are burning with anger, "Yes, Potter. That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again."
"One…two…three…Legilimens!" He says, and of course I haven't prepared myself for his attack.
I try to close my mind as a memory of hundred Dementors approaching me takes over my mind, their breathing rattling as they try to reach out to me. I manage to lift my wand and cast a Shield Charm, and send Snape staggering backwards. His wand soars through the air, away from us, and then the strangest of visions fill my head.
A small, dark-haired boy with a tear-stained face, hovering in the corner of a sitting room, clutching a worn plush toy. A greasy-haired teenager watching others from the shadows, trying not to be seen by anyone.
"ENOUGH!" Snape yells and sends me crashing towards the shelves behind me, causing several glass jars with miscellaneous potions ingredients shatter to the floor as I hit them.
Snape stares at me with his eyes widened in surprise, his hand shaking as he summons his wand back. He flicks it to the mess in my feet, vanishing and repairing the damage. "Well, Potter…that was certainly an improvement…" he says, slightly out of breath. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm…but there is no doubt that it was effective…" He says simply, eyeing me with a speculative look.
I don't dare to speak. I'm rather sure I've just been inside Snape's head and seen memories from his childhood.
"Let's try again, shall we?" He says darkly.
Bollocks. I'm certainly going to pay for what I did. Snape counts to three, and I try to clear my mind, even though I know there is no use. He enters my memories effortlessly, and I'm back in the Department of Mysteries, approaching the closed door I've dreamt about so many times.
But this time, the door is open. My insides jump with excitement. There's a mysterious blue light glowing inside the room.
"POTTER!" Snape yells, anger evident in his voice.
I open my eyes, not recalling how I ended up on the floor, lying on my back, panting as if I've run a marathon.
"Explain yourself!" Snape snaps, glaring at me.
He starts to rant about how I'm not even trying, how I'm not taking this seriously, how utterly lazy and ungrateful I am. I'm about to argue back, but then, a loud screaming noise reaches our ears.
"What the…?" Snape mutters, both our eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Another scream. We glance at each other silently before promptly leaving the dungeons.
As I reach the Entrance Hall, I find it packed with students who are circling Professor Trelawney and…Umbridge, who is apparently sacking Trelawney and banishing her from Hogwarts.
McGonagall steps in to help Trelawney, and eventually Dumbledore appears and informs the toad-faced woman that he has hired a new Divination teacher, and as the Headmaster, he has the authority to give Trelawney permission to continue to live at Hogwarts. Umbridge looks like she has swallowed a mouthful of bile. I can see it in her eyes; there will be retribution.
Grimmauld Place, March 15th 1996
I wake up with a cold sheen of sweat on my skin. It takes a couple of moments for me to realise that what I saw in my dream did not happen, even though it felt so real. I take a deep breath and rub my face, trying to remember the details of my dream.
My brother and I were caught by the Dark Lord. We were questioned and tortured in the customary way, but then the Dark Lord invaded my mind, and found out something. Something I'm now straining to remember. I remember screaming. I remember feeling terrified. But I can't remember why. Perhaps it was the Horcrux?
I turn to glare at my bedside table. The locket is still there, pulsing with dark magic, poisoning my sleep, making me anxious. I've recently dreamt more and more about people suffering and being tortured. My parents, my brother, myself, even Potter. It's exhausting. I'm frustrated because there's nothing to do with the locket. I can't destroy it, since it is somehow protected against Death Eaters. I wince inwardly as I remember the burnt flesh on my skin under the mark after I tried cursing the locket. And even though I'd be able to fight through the pain without passing out, I haven't got any means to destroy a Horcrux.
The only way has to be Fiendfyre, I'm quite sure of it, but I can't practice the curse without someone who can put the flames out in case I am unable to. I can't practice it without risking the cursed fire of going out of control. And I don't know anyone who could help me. I'm fucked.
I crawl out of my bed with a small groan and head to my bathroom for a long shower.
An hour later, I'm in the middle of my breakfast tea as Sirius steps into the kitchen.
"Morning," He grunts and flops onto the bench across me, snatching the coffee pot and pouring himself a large cup of coffee.
"Good morning, brother," I say casually, feeling slightly amused by his bleary and rumpled look.
Sirius arches a brow at me before he tucks into his breakfast.
I browse the last pages of today's Prophet, which is rather pointless since the paper is filled with garbage nowadays.
"You've been busy," I say and throw the paper in front of my brother.
A large part of the front page is dedicated to my brother, his appalling mugshot filling the page, a headline 'Black sighted' screaming on top of it. The story continues on the next page, with eyewitnesses' testimonies how my brother has been seen in several muggle towns in the past three months.
Sirius glances at the paper and lets out a dry laugh. "They must be getting desperate. I mean," he says and peers at the second page, "what in the name of Merlin would I be doing in Bicester?" He asks and smirks at me. "Half of these are completely fabricated," he continues with an incredulous shake of his head.
I lift my brows at him. "And the other half?"
My brother merely shrugs at me. "What of it?"
I scoff. "You are careless, did you know that?" I ask and take a sip from my tea. "And not to mention, going out would be against the Order's wishes."
Sirius rolls his eyes. "I'd go mental if I couldn't step outside every now and then. Besides, I haven't been seen anywhere near London," He says wearily, simultaneously tearing his toast into tiny pieces onto his plate.
I suppress the urge to comment on the possibility of his insanity. "Right," I say instead, feeling too tired to chastise him.
"Moony and Dora are coming later today," My brother announces after snatching another toast from the basket on the table.
I arch a brow at him. "Why?"
"Moony's birthday," Sirius continues, seeming more cheerful. "Well, it was last week, actually, but he was on a mission then."
I stare at my brother. "So…?"
Sirius smirks. "So. Blind drunk it is," He says with a wink and stands up. "Participating is mandatory," he says pointedly and leaves the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
"Ooh, can we play a drinking game?" Nymphadora asks as soon as we sit down in the library seating area. She takes two Firewhiskey shots from Sirius's outstretched hand and plops down on the couch next to Lupin, handing him the other one. "Do we have Veritaserum?" She asks with a sly grin.
Lupin shakes his head with amusement while my brother and I object hastily.
Nymphadora narrows her eyes at us, looking intrigued. She tosses down the shot and makes a face.
"Okay, old people, and…well…little cousin," She says and throws me a quick grin, "What now?"
Sirius smirks at her. "Now…nothing! We enjoy our drinks and the company. Welcome to the adulthood, Dora," he says, toasting her before taking a hefty sip. "Be sure to take some notes since Moony's not going to get any younger," He adds with a wide grin, while the three of us either roll our eyes or shake our heads in exasperation.
I throw back my whole drink and place the glass on the coffee table, coughing slightly. "Thank you for the drink. Many happy returns," I say blankly at Lupin before I make a move to stand up.
Lupin nods at me, while my brother and Nymphadora make objecting sounds.
"Where do you think you're going?" My cousin asks with a demanding voice, her pink eyebrows arched high on her forehead.
I clear my throat and smile politely at her. "I'm in a desperate need of a beauty sleep, cousin," I say snarkily, but she stops me by lifting her hand.
"Nope. If I'm required to merely sit and drink, then you, dear cousin, are too," She says with a pointed look, levitating the bottle of Firewhiskey towards her and pouring herself another drink before filling my glass again.
We stare at each other for a moment before I sigh and lean back against the armchair while Sirius and Lupin chuckle lightly.
There's a short silence during which we all merely sip our drinks.
"…So, Reggie…Have you and Vance rekindled your…friendship yet?" My brother asks with a sly look in his eyes.
I arch a brow at him and swear inwardly. I thought Emmie and I had been discreet enough for everyone else to be oblivious that we were…well, that there was something between us.
Nymphadora laughs. "A-ha! I knew I had a sneaking suspicion for a reason," she says triumphantly. "The way you two gawk at each other and trade jibes, well, it's rather obvious, actually…" She continues, looking thoughtful.
I scoff. "I'm afraid we haven't. And even if we did, you'd be the last person to know," I say to my brother with a honeyed tone, while he, Nymphadora and Lupin are all cracking up like some bloody morons. "Well, that applies to the three of you…" I add while narrowing my eyes at their sniggering.
The truth is, I have thought about it a lot lately. I've thought about her, about our short-lived liaison during our Hogwarts years. I've tried to figure out if the thought of her would rouse any feelings that have perhaps subsided. I've thought about her, because otherwise, I'd think about him.
"Oh? Well, I definitely must invite her the next time we're having a little get together," Sirius says with a sly grin, sipping his drink.
I roll my eyes at him but say nothing.
Two hours later, my brother and I are by ourselves in the library, in a middle of a deep discussion about our father and how he was in our childhood. Nymphadora and Lupin have excused themselves some time ago, and I'm assuming they're not coming back from their 'quick stop by the kitchen for a few snacks and drinks'.
"I reckon it was mostly grandfather Pollux's…subtle encouragements to embrace our blood purity," Sirius says with a mirthless laugh.
I grimace, remembering exactly what resulted from defying him. "Yeah. Well, you should've kept your mouth shut," I say bitterly, the images of the first Christmas after my brother had started Hogwarts fluttering into the forefront of my mind.
First-year-Sirius was filled with that annoying and heedless Gryffindor pride, boasting about equality and how our family was being misled. Grandfather Pollux was enraged, demanding our father to beat his own son up in front of the family, in order to purge my brother's mind.
Father was never the same after that. Yes, our parents had been strict with us – well, mostly with my brother – during our childhood. But that incident was clearly a turning point. Father became absent, began drinking and drawing away from the rest of us, preferring his own company. Mother started to listen her father more, started to lean on him. Started to embrace his views.
And yet, Sirius never changed. It was like he was asking for it. He knew what mother and grandfather, and even our father would do, how they'd react. But my brother still resisted them. Needless to say, he got beat up a lot, mentally and physically, before he eventually ran away to live with the Potters.
My brother lets out a weary sigh. "You know what they say…Parents kill more dreams than anybody," he says darkly.
I shake my head and look away from him. "Don't." I mutter. Of course, I don't blame my brother for anything. I know he was a victim of abuse. I just don't know if have it in me to go through it anymore.
From the corner of my eye, I see my brother drawing a long swig straight from the Firewhiskey bottle. I swallow hard before I clear my throat, my eyes fixed at the glowing embers of the fire. "Did you really hate me?" I ask quietly, Potter's words echoing in my head. I know Potter was most likely exaggerating, or perhaps my brother was when he had said the words to Potter. But for some reason, they have come back to haunt me.
Sirius grunts as if his thoughts are interrupted. "…Did I what?" He asks with a bewildered look.
I shrug at him. "Hate me. For not staying by your side. For siding with them. For joining him," I say and study his reaction carefully.
My brother blinks a couple of times, a deep frown taking over his features, as if he's contemplating his answer. "Yes and no," He says, licking his lips. "I didn't understand it then, but I do now. We're not the same, Reggie. But still, whatever you do, you are my brother." He says intently, his dark grey eyes brimming with emotion.
Hogwarts, March 29th 1996
A couple of weeks have passed and everything has changed. We got caught - the DA. It's over now.
Marietta Edgecombe, Cho's friend, ratted us out to Umbridge, causing Dumbledore to flee from the castle after taking the fault. Because of her, Umbridge is now the Headmaster. Because of her, the one thing that was keeping me sane in this place is gone.
Umbridge is certainly satisfied now. With Dumbledore out of her way, she can make the rules now, and there's no one stopping her anymore.
At least, her first days as a Headmaster weren't easy. Fred and George set loose a large selection of fireworks of their own design, and really created a mayhem in the school. Professors, students, and even ghosts were making Umbridge run around the castle, not even trying to help her to keep order as the fireworks were causing a big mess.
We decided to hold a party in Fred's and George's honour today, and the common room is packed. But unfortunately, I can't let myself enjoy it. As I stare at the dancing flames of fire, my mind wanders to what I witnessed only hours ago at Snape's office.
I saw my father, Sirius, Remus, Pettigrew and my mother. It was strange to see him, my dad. He looked just like me. But now it seems that our looks are the only trait we share, since we are nothing alike otherwise. What I saw at Snape's office was Snape's memory of them. Snape's memory of being bullied by my father and his friends. My father hung Snape by his ankles to show off, to…to please Sirius. I can't even believe it's true! Everything Snape has said about my father seems more or more the truth, and it's unbearable, a nagging feeling fluttering around in my head.
"Blimey, Harry! …Heard what Hermione said to Fred and George?" Ron says excitedly as he drops down on the couch next to me.
I'm startled, and blink at Ron a couple of times before I register what he's just said to me. "Huh?"
Ron smirks. "Said that they were brilliant," he says with amusement and pops a couple of Bertie Botts into his mouth.
I grin at him, remembering the rebellious look on Hermione's face when we saw Umbridge's reaction to the fireworks. "Well, they are brilliant, aren't they?" I say lightly, trying to push away the bitter thoughts still circling my mind.
Ron hums in agreement and then frowns at me. "Alright, mate?" Ron asks, eyeing me warily.
I shrug and rub the bridge of my nose under my glasses. I give him an insignificant grunt in reply.
He eyes me with a contemplative look for a bit. "Is it Cho?" He asks carefully, sipping his Butterbeer, his eyes never leaving me.
I groan inwardly. I almost forgot about Cho in the midst of other events. We had an argument about Marietta, about how she betrayed us. I think Cho and I are done – or if there ever was us, I can't say. Whatever it was between us, I know I can't be with her, it just doesn't feel right. I feel like…like we don't understand each other. I don't know if it has more to do with her still mourning Cedric, or her siding with Marietta, who sold us to Umbridge. I feel like Hermione and Ron are the only ones who understand me, and even they have troubles doing so every now and then.
"How'd you guess?" I ask and let out a long sigh.
Ron looks slightly uncomfortable. "She was, um…"
I want to roll my eyes. "Crying?" I ask tightly.
Ron nods with a grimace.
"If I'd get a sickle every time she does that…" I mutter and take the Butterbeer Ron offers me and uncork it.
Ron lets out an amused sound and we sip our drinks in silence. I look at the far corner of the common room, where Fred and George are taking orders from their housemates, enthusiastically talking about their newest product; Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs.
With a huff, Hermione sits down on the couch to my other side. "Can't believe they're taking orders from their classmates…And Fred said that they used all their fireworks for their prank the day before. How do they even have the means to produce more products?" She rambles, looking slightly annoyed and bewildered.
Of course they have the means. They have the gold I gave them at the end of last year. A bit of information, that I'm keeping to myself.
"…And I certainly hope they're not foolish enough to work under Umbridge's nose," she continues, chewing the inside of her cheek with a hint of worry in her expression.
Ron waves aside her doubts. "C'mon, Mione, you know they're smarter than that…I mean, have they ever been caught from creating or carrying banned stuff in school?" He asks easily.
I remember the sizes of their files in Filtch's office. They were enormous. Both Hermione and I give Ron an incredulous look.
Ron grimaces. "Bloody hell. Yeah. So…basically they're done for."
"Yep," I say, while Hermione nods.
Ron groans. "Mum's gonna murder me…Well, first, she's gonna murder them, but then she'll come for me for not keeping them in check," He says wearily and stands up. "I need to go and try to talk some sense in them," He mutters and heads towards his brothers, who are in the middle of discussion with a suspicious looking Neville.
There's a short silence, during which Hermione eyes me while chewing the inside of her cheek. "So, um. How are things with…Cho?" Hermione asks carefully.
I look at her and arch a brow. "I take it you know already?" I ask resignedly.
Hermione sighs and nods slowly. "Yes. I saw her at the girls' bathroom on the third floor on my way here," she says gently. "Heard her telling her friends that you two were fighting. That you…are not dating anymore?" She asks hesitantly, eyeing me curiously.
I let out a huff. "Well, that's new to me. Didn't even know we were dating. Or that we broke up, for that matter…" I say dryly. "But yeah, we had an argument. And I still can't believe how she's choosing her friend's side in this. Marietta's. I just can't..." I say with frustration.
Hermione gives me an understanding smile. "I know, Harry…" She says softly and then worries her lip before she speaks again. "So…what are you going to do about it?"
I lift my brows at her. "Um…nothing? I don't really see any point of doing anything. It didn't really go well in the first place, so why bother fixing something that will never happen?"
"Oh?" Hermione asks, looking intrigued and surprised.
I shrug. "Yeah."
Hermione stares at me with a thoughtful look.
"What?" I ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze.
She clears her throat. "Does this…um…have something to do with…someone else?" She asks quietly.
I frown at her. "What? No," I say, feeling slightly puzzled. "What do you mean?" I ask and take a sip from my Butterbeer.
Is she talking about Cedric? That Cho's still not over him? A memory flickers into the forefront of my mind. An afternoon at Grimmauld place; the stuffy smell of the drawing room, a pair of steel grey eyes with a scorching gaze. And the various feelings surging inside me…
Hermione arches a brow and looks exasperated. "Oh, you know very well whom I'm talking about," She says simply, and I feel a sharp tug of unease in my stomach.
"Bloody hell…" I mutter, and I can feel my face reddening under her knowing gaze. "You're not going to let that go, are you?" I ask quietly and look away from her, gritting my teeth with irritation.
She stays silent for a while, supposedly thinking of her next words.
"Harry…" She then says, placatingly. "I just wanted to say that you can talk to me about it. About him."
I glance around us and then look at her. "I don't really know what to say…" I say and swallow hard. What can I say? Something happened, with…with him. With Regulus. I haven't figured it out myself, and every time I try, I somehow end up pushing the thoughts back into the dark corner of my mind.
"Well…um…do you…like him?" She asks carefully.
I huff and instead of answering her, I stare at Lavender and Parvati, who are in a middle of a rather promiscuous dance routine on the makeshift dancefloor.
Hermione lets out a disapproving noise when she sees them. "Godric, they are imprudent," she says with a distasteful look, rolling her eyes at Dean and Seamus who ogle them without abashment. And as I look around, I see they're not the only ones. Ron too is eyeing the girls with an enthralled look in his eyes. As soon as Hermione sees him, she goes stiff, her knuckles whitening as she grips the edge of the sofa.
I shake my head slightly, supposedly reading the situation correctly. I know there's more to Hermione's and Ron's relationship than just friendship. But I'm not sure if the two of them know that yet.
Hermione clears her throat and tears her eyes away from the scene. "Well?" She asks and gives me a scrutinising look.
I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to think of what to say. I decide to go with the truth, since I know very well that she's the only one who could possibly solve the mystery with me. "I don't know. I think so. I mean…I haven't…I'm not…um…" I stammer. It can't be this hard to say out loud.
Hermione stares at me patiently, waiting for me to say it. I let out a long sigh and rub my neck. "I didn't know I'd be into blokes," I say, almost inaudibly, even though there's no one around us and there's music playing rather loud. I don't even know how should I feel about the thought.
Hermione nods slowly. "Because you liked Cho as well?" She asks cautiously.
I shrug. "Yeah. And I don't know if I should just forget about the whole thing…"
Hermione frowns. "Do you want to?"
"No. I've tried, though. But somehow, he keeps creeping back into my mind," I say wearily. I'm actually amazed that Snape hasn't been able to catch my thoughts and memories regarding him.
Hermione nods thoughtfully, and eyes me hesitantly. "Did something happen between you two? Did you…um…did you kiss?" She asks, whispering the latter part.
I feel my cheeks heating up. "Erm…Not exactly. I mean, if you wouldn't have come then, I think we might've…" I mutter awkwardly.
"Oh." Hermione says quietly. "Yes, well…I thought it was something like that…"
I lean forward, my elbows against my knees and rub my eyes with my palms, letting out a small groan. "I don't know what to do. What to think. It's all a bloody mess, Hermione," I say with a slightly shaky voice, and glance at her.
She brushes her hand over my shoulders, a small smile on her lips. "Well, just so you know, if you are into boys, it doesn't change anything." She says shrewdly, and then worries her lip. "But what should you do about it, I can't say. You probably can't do much, since you can't really contact him and because we're staying here for Easter to prepare for our O.W.L's. For which we will revise, by the way," she continues with a strict look.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I grunt and give her a small smirk. "I'm actually stunned that you'd let yourself have a free night from studying," I say and glance deliberately at the party around us.
Hermione shrugs. "Yes, well, I suppose Fred and George are entitled to a party after what they did," She says simply, a smile tugging her lips.
I nod in agreement. "So, no more partying?"
Hermione gives me a stern look, resembling McGonagall rather much. "No more."
Grimmauld Place, April 15th 1996
I'm in the middle of my afternoon tea and a promising text I've found from the library. It is my ancestor's journal, actually, and I have to admit that I'm rather intrigued by it. The man keeps raving about blood purity and ways to enhance it for the most of the journal, but the interesting part is about ancient rituals.
"…Sirius?"
I'm startled by the noise, and then I realise the voice is coming from the fireplace. Shit. What if someone sees me? Why the hell is the floo open? As I stare at the fireplace, Potter's head appears in the midst of flames, an anxious look in his eyes.
Has something happened? Several images from my dreams from the past couple of months pop up into the forefront of my mind.
I clear my throat. "Potter."
"Oh. I thought you were…never mind," Potter mumbles, looking slightly uncomfortable, as if not really sure what to say.
"Yes. Well. What is it?" I ask eventually, mildly annoyed by his perplexity. Didn't the Ministry hag close the floo-connections in the castle? I stare at him closely.
"Um…I just wondered — I mean, I just fancied a chat with Sirius," He stammers, not looking at me.
I arch a brow at him. "You fancied a chat?" I ask slowly, the incredulity evident in my voice. "So…you decided to floocall him, just to chat. Regardless of what nearly happened last time?" I ask blankly and give him a withering look.
Potter has the grace to look embarrassed. "Um. Could you just…get him?" He asks weakly, a desperate look in his eyes.
Clearly something is wrong. I stare at him for a small moment and then send a Patronus to my brother, ordering him to the kitchen right away.
Potter eyes my actions with a mix of interest and awe, supposedly because of the shape of my Patronus; a lion. He looks away as I lock my eyes with him.
"How are you doing?" I ask bluntly, and he shrugs. There has been some discussion in the Order meetings how the school is run, now that Dumbledore is not there anymore.
"Okay, I guess…" He mutters.
"How's Occlumency? Has Severus given you a hard time?" I ask mutedly, hoping that my old friend hasn't brought up the instances I've requested him to keep to himself.
Potter looks at me and shrugs. "It's okay. Nothing I didn't expect from him," He says grimly.
I nod slowly. "Has he said anything…about…" I say hesitantly, my voice trailing off since I can't say it out loud.
Potter quickly shakes his head. "No. Nothing. I think he hasn't seen – "
"He has, trust me," I interrupt him with a sharp voice.
Even with the flames flickering around him, I can see his face colouring. Potter's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, as if he wants to say something but he doesn't know what or how.
He sighs and rubs his neck, his gaze sweeping the floor. "Well…that's…um…" he mutters, seeming like he doesn't know how to continue.
"Unfortunate. Yes, it is." I say, trying to seem indifferent. "But he won't be a problem."
"Oh?" Potter says and looks at me with surprise.
The kitchen door opens. "Hello, brother. How nice of you to ask me to join your company," My brother drawls as he walks in, staring at me expectantly. Lupin follows him in, as usual, behaving like the other end of a magnet.
I roll my eyes at my brother and jerk my head towards the fireplace. "You have a visitor." I grunt and let out a weary sigh. "Try to be more careful this time, dear brother."
Sirius doesn't even register my last sentence, as his attention is completely focused on the fireplace and his godson. "Harry!" Sirius exclaims with a mix of joy and worry. "What is it?" He says quickly, rushing towards the fireplace and kneeling in front of it.
I take my leave, as I assume what Potter has to say is only intended for my brother and Lupin. It's not like I'm overly interested to hear what he has to say. And, well, my brother probably won't shut up about it, so I'll undoubtedly learn exactly what they have discussed.
A moment later, I lie down on my bed and stare at the canopy, a scattering of images filling my mind, every one of them about Potter.