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Plumes of white smoke filled the air, sailing the sky in a lazy journey with no destination in sight. It was Saturday morning and the Hogwarts Express was trudging along on old tracks, crossing the English countryside all the way from Scotland towards London.
The day was bright and sunny, a rarity in December, and the only clouds to be seen were those the engine spat on the voyage home. The sight of it made one Harry Potter smile without quite knowing why. In truth, these past few months he'd felt better than ever.
"Hey Harry, want anything from the trolley?"
Blinking, Harry turned away from the window to look at Ron, sitting next to him. The trolley lady was at the door of their compartment and when their gazes met, she offered him a kind smile. Opposite from them, Neville had dozed off and hadn’t woken up when the trolley lady showed up. Next to him, Luna was using his prone body as support while she read the latest edition of the Quibbler.
"I have some treacle tarts from the buffet car, dear," the lady told him before addressing Ron and Luna. "Would you like anything too, dears?"
“No, thank you! Sweets from Honeydukes are one of the main ways for the Aurors to advance the Rotfang Conspiracy. I'd rather not get gum disease,” Luna replied. Her delivery was so matter-of-factly that the trolley lady simply blinked once, unsure of what to say, before turning to Ron.
The redhead flushed, embarrassed all of a sudden. "Huh… no, that's fine. I'm good, thanks."
Despite his friends’ rejection, Harry felt touched by the woman's thoughtfulness, so he mirrored her smile. "Thank you, I'll take two treacle tarts then. Oh, and I'll take a couple of Cauldron Cakes too, please!"
The trolley lady passed the sweets to them, but when Harry gave her several sickles as payment, she quickly returned all of them. "The desserts are on the house, Harry dear. I'm very happy for you," she simply told him with another smile before moving on.
Surprised, Harry didn’t even think of protesting until she was already several compartments away. "Huh. So that happened," he said out loud, sitting down again.
Ron just shrugged. “Are you really surprised? People read the news, mate. And the trial was all broadcasted on the wireless, too. I don’t see why it’s a surprise."
"Sod off, it just caught me off guard!" Harry told him with a laugh, tossing him the cakes. "These are yours, by the way. Enjoy."
"Really? Hum, I mean, thanks, I'll pay you back when I can," Ron said, mumbling the last part. Aware of Ron's hang-ups with money, Harry didn't make a big deal out of it and just nodded genialy.
"Of course." He had enough money that a couple of Sickles would never push him down into poverty, but he wisely said nothing out of consideration for Ron's feelings.
Besides, he'd just wanted to do something nice. He really didn't care about the money.
"Still though, I'm really happy it happened, mate. You deserved a lucky break after last year. We all did, I reckon."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry agreed, unable to stop himself from smiling. It was stupid, but he just couldn't seem to stop himself from doing that lately.
"Speaking of which, how are your arms doing, Ronald?" Luna asked, peering at him over the rim of her newspaper with those wide, silvery eyes of her. Harry glanced at his friend, interested in the answer himself.
Ron lifted his arms, waving them about a bit. Though his clothes covered them, Harry knew the scars underneath still bothered Ron from time to time. “Honestly, they’re doing much better these days. Almost forget I ever got ‘em sometimes, you know? It’s fine, really.”
As if to prove his point, he reached out to grab one of the Cauldron Cakes and bit a chunk off it, noisily chewing on it.
“If you say so…” Harry allowed. He rather doubted the scars would ever leave Ron, but he’d probably need to learn to live with them and to be honest, one could easily tell apart Ron’s moods by his eating habits. As far as things went, he was speaking the truth at that moment. A sudden thought struck Harry, putting a stop to his previous musings. “Hey, shouldn’t you be patrolling the train with Hermione?”
“What? No, it’s…” Ron’s jaw fell, his eyes growing hazy for a moment as he tried to remember whether Harry was pulling his leg or not, but they soon grew wide as saucers as a look of horror dawned on him. “Oh, shite.” He jumped from his seat like a spring had been loosed underneath him and he rushed to the door, but not before stuffing the remainder of the cake he was eating into his mouth. “Ffye, ggus, gee uu ‘aeer!” he exclaimed through a full mouth before he disappeared.
As his rushed steps faded away, Luna couldn't help but comment on it. "I wonder if the Wrackspurts buzzing around Ronald will ever leave him be."
"Can't you tell? I thought you had those glasses of yours to see them," Harry commented, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, of course! I still have them, they're just in my trunk. They're a limited run, you see - don't want to wear them out too fast."
Harry laughed. That was quintessential Luna. Once, he might have found such belief about -most likely imaginary- fantastical creatures weird and bizarre, but he'd learned that there was little normal about Luna Lovegood.
And more importantly, he’d also learned that was perfectly fine. Luna saw the world in a way few could or even dared to. Perhaps she might come across as odd to nearly everyone, but in the things that mattered most, Harry knew who he’d rather stand by his side.
His laughter woke Neville, who startled slightly. "W-what's happening?" he asked, yawning as he sat up.
Harry was content to sit back and listen half-heartedly to Luna as she recounted what happened since Neville dazed off. Harry looked through the window towards the plains and hamlets they passed, each rushing before his eyes like little dots blending into one singular painting of chaotic composition.
The smile on his face just wouldn't leave and he very much doubted anything could ruin the happiness and elation he felt today, because this year someone was waiting for him at the station and they did so gladly.
The train let out a shrill whistle, announcing its arrival to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters right on schedule. The group, now joined by Hermione and Ginny, could already hear the hubbub from parents and other family members filling the station, mixing with the students’ own inside the Express. As the students began to disembark, the noise outside increased, becoming a cacophony of shouts, laughter and animated conversation when families reunited.
Harry and his friends wasted no time in getting their things and leaving as well. Despite the cheerful mood buzzing in the station, Harry didn’t miss how the happy reunions between family members were underpinned by the palpable sense of anxious tension that hung in the air. Tense smiles here, troubled frowns there, hushed conversations between parents over there…
He knew the reason, of course; after a long year of hiding its collective head in the sand and smearing his and Dumbledore’s names, the Ministry had finally been forced to admit that Voldemort was alive and back to terrorize the country. Quite a lot of people who’d been all too happy to pretend everything was fine had just had the rug pulled from their feet and quite vehemently at that. The threat he posed was now more real than ever and yet, for today, Voldemort’s looming shadow couldn’t quite reach him, large as it was.
Harry scanned the area, on the lookout for a particular person he couldn’t wait to see. All around him, parents greeted their children warmly, sparing no amount of hugs and smiles for each other. A few paces away from them, Harry saw Ernie Macmillan greeting his parents, shaking hands with his father; further away, he could spot Lavender sweeping a boy into a big hug, most likely her younger brother.
He’d seen moments like these every year since he’d started Hogwarts. He’d never gone home for the winter holidays, mainly because the less he saw the Dursleys, the better, but it was also to keep himself from seeing these interactions more times than was strictly necessary. It had always been a reminder of everything he’d lost before he even knew it. Although filled with people, the station would always be empty for him, unlike for most others.
But this year was different. This time, the sight of such affection and happy reunions between families didn’t leave him aching for something he’d never had.
“Happy Holidays, Harry! Hope you have a great Christmas!” someone said, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He turned, focusing on the girl that called out to him as she neared the group with her family. He recognized her: Lisa Turpin, a pretty, tall blonde from Ravenclaw who had joined the DA last year with a handful of other Ravenclaws. She was one of the few who actually managed a corporeal Patronus before Umbridge forced her way into the Room of Requirement.
“Same to you, Lisa!” he said, earning himself a dazzling smile before she walked away, her parents shooting him curious looks.
Thinking nothing of it, he went back to looking for Sirius until Ron gave him a friendly jab moments later. “She fancies you, mate, you know that right? Heard it from Lav and she's never wrong 'bout these things,” he said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Shaking her head, Hermione rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
“She does? I never even noticed,” Harry questioned with genuine surprise, missing the brief grimace of displeasure that flickered across Ginny’s face.
“Not surprising, snogging Cho kept you pretty busy last year,” Hermione teased in a rare moment of levity. Harry winced even as the others laughed. Much as he wanted, he couldn’t deny that.
Thankfully, he was spared from talking further about the topic when the crowd milling about moved, revealing Sirius behind them.
Harry’s godfather, it seemed, reveled in flaunting the rebellious streak Harry had come to associate with him. Instead of wizarding clothes, he wore faded pants and a dark leather jacket; his still-present gaunt appearance and shaggy locks of dark hair, coupled with such attire, gave him the appearance of a rocker from a muggle band. In a sea of cloaks and plain muggle clothing, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Harry felt surprised at the fact he hadn’t spotted him before.
Even so, there was a certain sense of Sirius being the eye of the proverbial storm: Harry could see many of the adults in the station giving Sirius barely concealed glances, ranging from nervous to befuddled. They mostly avoided him and that attitude wasn’t exclusive to wizards only - several of the muggle parents looked torn between outrage and wariness due to his presence.
Sirius himself didn’t seem to care one bit about the effects of his presence. He was talking to a pale beautiful woman, who wore a stylish crimson cloak with purple bands and a feathered fascinator. She appeared to be at ease talking to Sirius and like him, unconcerned by the stares and frowns people were throwing at them.
In fact, it was the woman herself who spotted Harry first and she must’ve said something to him, because he quickly turned around to locate him. Turning towards the woman again, Harry was treated to the sight of Sirius kissing her hand before he excused himself.
He began walking towards Harry with powerful strides and the teenager tried to play it cool, but he gave up on that foolhardy notion in no time at all; he knew there was no hiding the huge grin on his face, which mirrored Sirius' own.
The moment they were close, Sirius swept him in the tightest hug he could ever remember receiving. He felt only love and affection pouring from Sirius and Harry basked in those particular emotions, which wrapped around him like a new but well-fitting cloak.
“Harry! It’s so good to be able to see you in public, lad! Finally, huh? No more caves or joyless mansions for me, it seems,” he joked. Though Harry couldn’t see it, the roguish grin that lit up Sirius’ features shaved years off his weathered face.
“Looks like it,” Harry agreed with a nod, unable to say anything else. His own smile widened further, if that was even possible at all. He’d been waiting - no, hoping - for a moment like this forever. It felt like the fanciful birthday wish he sometimes made for his parents to show up and take him away from the Dursleys had finally been granted to him. It had taken longer than expected, but it had actually happened.
He wouldn’t need to see the Dursleys ever again. It wasn’t just that, though; he had family now; someone that actually cared. An actual godfather, waiting for him to take Harry home.
Harry could feel his eyes mist and grow wet and he had the fleeting thought to be grateful for his eyes being hidden by the hug, because he was sure everyone would’ve seen him close to tears when the realization sunk in. As it was, he just blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears before they broke the hug.
“It’s good to see you all, kids. Everything good at Hogwarts, I hope?” he asked the group, acting as if he were just a regular parent checking on his kid’s friends, and not the recently exonerated runaway he was.
They all replied positively, although Ron didn’t waste the chance to throw Harry under the bus. “Harry just got done flirting with a Ravenclaw girl, you know."
"Is that so?" he replied with keen interest. "Now that's what I like to hear! Harry, you cad, I knew you had it in you! Your father would be proud," he joked, wiping a fake tear from his eyes. "I recommend the fourth floor's broom closets, the ones by the balcony. The best by far."
"This prat’s lying, don't listen to him! Besides, you're one to talk, Sirius - I saw you sweet talking that woman!" Harry fired back, noticing the frowns on Hermione and Ginny's faces.
The man snorted, looking unperturbed by the accusation. "You mean Matilda? I've got a reputation to keep, so you didn't hear this from me, but while I wouldn't mind trying my luck with la Gran Contessa, she's a wee bit outside my reach," he said.
"Why? She looked interested enough and she was ho- beautiful," Ron said, quick to correct his own gaff.
"She's older than the founders of the House of Black, Ronald. I'm an adventurous bloke, but the age gap is a tad too big, I think," Sirius replied, giving the kids an amused look as Hermione glared at an oblivious redhead.
Ron's eyes bugged out. “Wait, you mean…”
“That she’s a vampire? Yeah. Should be reaching the thousand years in a couple, if I’m not mistaken. Honestly, wouldn't be surprised if she's the oldest still kickin' around.”
Sirius delivered that little tidbit of information so matter-of-factly it sounded like something that wasn’t utterly baffling, but it still shocked the group. Curious despite himself, Harry looked towards where the woman had been. She was still there, watching them with interest. When their eyes met, she simply winked at him and walked away. Her bearing was regal and proud. Everything about her screamed posh upper society, but unlike the Malfoys or other Purebloods he'd seen, there was little pomposity to her. It just seemed to come naturally to the woman.
Then again, a thousand years was probably enough time to get such an attitude down to a T. It was shocking to him that the woman -Matilda, as Sirius had called her- had lived that long, he’d never thought vampires could live that long. It was such a long stretch of time he had trouble even wrapping his mind around the number.
Regardless, the mysterious vampire was soon pushed out of his mind as his friends exchanged a few words with Sirius before their parents started appearing. One by one, Ron, Hermione and the others said their goodbyes with promises to keep in touch during the holidays and meet up for Christmas Eve until only Sirius and Harry remained. Other families had also been leaving the station at a steady pace and now only a third of the people were still milling about.
“Well lad, how ‘bout we leave? Time to see where we’ll be staying for Christmas.”
“We’re not staying at Grimmauld?”
“Pfft, that depressive stinkhole? No, no way! I’m sure mother dearest wouldn’t miss a chance to curse me out if she could -and you too, mind!- but I thought it’d be nice if we stayed somewhere else. Just you and me and no portraits of screaming banshees or hateful House-Elves, eh?”
Harry laughed despite himself. “Alright!”
Sirius led Harry to a part of the station he’d never seen before, a small hallway with cubicles. As he explained to the teen, the Ministry often set up designated portkey locations for families that were quite far away from London and Charing Cross.
“Not everyone has family in London with a fireplace and Floo connection, after all. And see, if you have enough money, you can request one of these portkeys to be switched around, as it were,” he explained, looking as if he was having a big great laugh at the expense of someone else. “I get a kick out of spending the Black money in ways my mother would absolutely loathe. She was always a money pincher.”
Harry had little to say to that. It was a sad thing to end up having such contempt for your own mother, but he’d experienced first-hand Walburga Black’s unpleasantness and he couldn’t quite disagree with Sirius’ attitude.
The portkey turned out to be a small cat figurine, coated with a tacky golden layer of paint and bobbing up and down its left arm. Harry had seen them before; a muggle toy, though the actual name escaped him at that moment.
“Right, we’ve got about… three minutes before the Portkey activates,” Sirius said, checking his pocket watch, but he still didn’t miss the grimace that crossed Harry’s face. “Not a fan of Portkeys, I take.”
“Not really. It feels like being stuck in a tornado that pulls you in seven different directions. Can we not use our brooms?”
“Wait ‘till you get Apparition down, lad. It’s just much the same, but worse!” Sirius told him, barking a laugh when Harry shot him a sour look. “But really, it’s not so bad once you get used to it. For portkeys, the trick is to just let go. Sounds silly, I know, but it’s true - fighting the current only makes it worse. Trust me, try it now, you’ll see,” he insisted upon seeing Harry’s dubious look.
Although skeptical, Harry still followed his advice when the tell-tale tug at his navel appeared. The world spun around them until it was a blur of splashed colors and buzzing sounds. A huge gaping maw stretched below them and the roaring of noiseless gales buffeted his ears.
Harry felt the instinctive need to hold on, to anchor himself down to weather the forces pulling him apart, but he trusted Sirius instead and slackened his body. The current lessened instantly, becoming a steady draught that carried him aloft before it brought them down gently. Harry touched down on the floor upright, a very different outcome to the Portkey ride he took to get to the Quidditch World Cup final.
They'd landed at the summit of a large hill, verdant and caressed by firm winds. Next to him, a few cairns rose from the ground; their weathered and lonely appearance attested to their age.
Looking around them, Harry realized they were on one hill out of many. Even larger mountains dotted the horizon, rising up to the sky like silent watchers. Below them, a verdant expanse stretched as far as the eye could see over hill and dale.
Here and there, he could spot hamlets and towns, tiny from the distance, but the most important landmarks he could see were the lakes. There were plenty of them, big and small, and they all but dominated the view around them.
"So, where are we?"
"This is Catstye Cam, the closest mountain to Ullswater. That's where we're staying, by the way."
"I wouldn't call this a mountain, exactly…" Harry began, but Sirius just waved it off.
"You get my point, kid. Anyway, the drop off point was here, since muggles rarely come here - most go to Helvellyn, next to us. But take a look around! Don't you think this place looks amazing?"
Harry nodded. "It does look nice." There was a certain rustic beauty to the area, opposite to the urban sprawl the Dursleys favored. Just for that alone, Harry already liked it a bit. "Where's Ullswater exactly, anyway?"
"We're still in Britain if that's what you're afraid of. We’re above Manchester and Leeds," Sirius assured before he laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, welcome to Lakeland! Home to lakes, quaint little towns, lakes, nice hamlets, lakes, plenty of mountains and even more lakes! If the name didn’t clue you in already, you'll soon enough be sick of lakes to last a lifetime. No giant squids in these, though."
The name wasn't familiar to Harry, but that didn’t surprise him. The Dursleys made sure to never bring him anywhere that wasn't strictly necessary.
Sirius continued talking while Harry inspected the valley below with curious eyes. "Lakeland is big and well, you see, the Black family thought it a good idea to have properties all over Britain. I've got a house here, near Ullswater. Uncle Alphard left it for me in his will along with a nice bit of gold - my mother didn't like that one bit. We'll stay there for the summer."
"Sounds good!" He honestly didn't have a lot of expectations: so long as he stayed with Sirius, he'd be okay with most places.
"So… ready to see your new home, lad?"
Home.
The thought of spending the entire summer with Sirius, his godfather and the closest link he'd ever get to his own parents, left Harry giddy with anticipation. Grinning widely, he nodded and Sirius gripped his shoulder firmly.
"Alright then, hold onto me - we'll Apparate there. I already keyed you into the wards." Aware of the dangers of splinching, Harry tightly gripped Sirius' own arm, getting ready for the jump. "On three. Three…"
Sirius twisted on the spot, and the world spun around with him as its axis, becoming a whirlwind of World and Human stitched together. Harry's yelp got swallowed into the ether and he felt as if he was being squeezed through a particularly narrow tube.
The sensation only lasted for a single second before they appeared somewhere else with a crack. Harry dropped to his knees, groaning and only vaguely aware of Sirius' rumbling chuckle.
"Sirius, you arse!"
"Gotta be quick on draw, Prongs Jr. You're not the son and godson of two Marauders for nothing, kid."
Any other time, Harry would have complained further, but the sparkle in Sirius' eyes was impossible to hide. It just dawned on Harry that perhaps he'd been focusing a bit too much on what Sirius' trial meant for him and not for Sirius himself. The man had been imprisoned illegally for more than a decade and then he'd been on the run for three years before he got an actual trial. He was just making the most of it now that he was free.
Harry inspected every inch of his body, patting it down to make sure nothing had been left behind. Luckily, it seemed he had all his bits with him.
"Watch it, old man, you'll regret this," Harry promised, only half-joking. This demanded retribution; besides, how hard could it be to get back at him, really?
'Note to self, get some ideas from the twins later.'
Rising from the ground, Harry inspected the area around him. They stood in the middle of a landscaped courtyard, with homely benches surrounded by strong oaks and aspen trees. An ornate fountain, made from sturdy clear stone, was built on the opposite side, close to a gazebo.
In the middle, a cobblestone trail led directly to the house, a small but fancy-looking building, two stories tall.
"Harry, welcome to Grinnden. A bastardization of Green Den," Sirius explained to a bemused Harry. "Uncle Alphard was one of the few people in my family that could be called kind, but he wasn't known for his originality or inventiveness when it came to names, I’m afraid."
"Doesn't matter to me. This is… more than I…" He couldn't finish the thought, as he feared choking up.
Hearing Harry's voice crack slightly, Sirius squeezed his shoulder affectionately. He said nothing because nothing needed to be said. He understood it, in a way few could. When Sirius spoke again moments later, he did so with a gentleness that was quite rare in him. "Come on Harry, let's go inside. I'll show you around, alright?"
Grinnden was spacious and it gave Harry the impression of being somewhat bigger from the inside. Given his experience with the Weasley’s tent-home in the Quidditch World Cup, he suspected something like that was going on in here, but on a much subtler and minor scale. The window curtains were pulled back and plenty of light gave the entire building an open and welcoming feel, very much unlike the oppressive mood that clung to the walls and halls of Grimmauld Place.
The furniture, made from dark wood and marble, was of good quality and craftsmanship and the decorations that livened up the rooms were tasteful with a penchant for an artsy flair. Nothing was ostentatious or tacky, exactly the kind of old money wealth the Dursleys tried so hard -and failed miserably- to emulate.
Sirius gave him a tour around the house, showing him the various areas inside and leaving the bedrooms for last. Harry’s new bedroom was bare, devoid of all but the basic necessities and furniture, but it was still magnitudes larger that the tiny room that had served as Dudley’s discarded toys storeroom before it was repurposed into ‘that boy’s room.’
“Sorry about the room being so empty. I didn’t have much time to do more, with the trial and all… but I thought it’d give you more freedom to add to it as you wanted,” Sirius told him. There was an obvious note of encouragement in his voice.
Harry nodded, grateful for the thoughtful detail. “Thanks, Sirius. It’s more than enough, really.” And he meant that. He’d never had such a big room before, and the bed was clearly of high quality. The bed looked soft and fluffy and he couldn’t wait to try it out already.
“Just so you know, my bedroom is the one next to yours, on the left. Oh and before I forget, let me introduce you to someone else. Sibsy!” Sirius called out, which was answered by a popping sound, heralding the arrival of a House-Elf.
Sibsy turned out to be the daughter of Alphard Black’s personal House-Elf. Born into servitude to the House of Black, she was young, but dutiful and quiet. Used to House-Elves being generally rambunctious and downright zany at times, Harry didn’t quite know what to make of Sibsy; given that she kept herself out of sight more often than not, however, her presence was eventually pushed to the back of Harry’s mind.
At least she was no Kreacher.
Once they were done, Sirius led Harry to the entrance courtyard. “Listen, there’s still a bit of time before dinner and Sibsy has things well in hand. What do you say we take our brooms and explore the area for a bit?"
Harry gave his godfather a dubious look. "There are muggle people living here though, right? They could spot us."
"Where's your sense of adventure, kid?" Sirius bemoaned, but to his credit, he switched tactics in short order. "Don't worry, we'll fly high and avoid any of the towns. Come on, it’ll be fun! Besides, how many times did you get to use your Firebolt after getting it back from that hateful bint? Not many, I’d wager!"
That was true, Harry couldn’t deny his point. He hadn’t bothered to go back to the Quidditch team when sixth year rolled in, declining the Captain badge owled to him. Thankfully, Katie had understood his reasons when questioned.
Seeing Voldemort and his Death Eaters infiltrate the Ministry with only a couple of school children to oppose them before the Order arrived had been a harsh wake-up call for Harry. He knew they’d face off again sooner or later and he had to be ready for it; being Quidditch Captain was a commitment that would take too much time away from more important things.
Like making sure he could stay alive against Voldemort, maybe even live beyond him. When compared to that, playing Quidditch and worrying about Slytherin winning the cup didn't feel all that important anymore.
In the end, the need to take out his Firebolt for a quick ride was just too enticing to pass up, despite his slight misgivings. “Well, alright. But if we're spotted, I'll say it was your fault! One disciplinary hearing was enough, thanks.”
“Too bad, kid - twelve years in Azkaban win against one measly hearing. Anyway, no need to worry there, you’re going to love this!” Sirius began, giving him an excited grin. “I got you a special dispensation from the Trace for the holidays. So, you’ll be able to use magic whenever you want. Am I or am I not the best godfather of the year?”
“Are you serious?! Wait, no, forget I said that, don’t say-” Seeing the gleam in Sirius’ eyes, Harry quickly tried to backpedal, but it was no use.
“Harry… I’m always Sirius,” the man replied with an innocent smile that couldn’t be any more fake if he tried. Harry groaned, palming his face as Sirius burst out laughing. “I know it’s dumb, but I love doing it.”
“That was bad and you should feel ashamed. It was bad the first time you did it.”
Sirius pouted, which looked entirely out of place on a man his age. “Oh, rain on my parade, will you? Fine, fine - summon our brooms, young man. Get some use outta that wand of yours already. Mine is a Firebolt, too. Perks of having loads of dirty Pureblood money.”
Shaking his head, Harry pulled his holly wand from his pocket. “Still, I can't believe it. How did you pull it off? I thought the Trace was permanent until seventeen."
"The Trace is still on, it’s as simple as ignoring the magic readings in this area. Anyway, getting it was actually quite easy, believe me - all thanks to our friend, former Minister for Magic Fudge. He was very eager to fast track a pardon, hoping I'd support him publicly to keep his position. The Trace dispensation was one of my demands. He’s trying everything he can to hold onto his power even as it slips through his fingers and it’s just sad to see, honestly. I loved seeing Ameila put him in his place.”
‘He got what he deserved,’ Harry agreed. After all Fudge had done, Harry wasn’t feeling very particularly charitable towards the man.
“Accio Firebolts !” he then shouted, flicking his wand.
Five seconds later, a loud crash broke the calm as a blur broke through one of the windows on the upper floor. At the same, the front door nearly blew off its hinges when a second fast-moving blur forced it open to reach them.
Sirius deadpanned at the gently floating brooms in front of them before sighing. “Sibsy, don’t fix that! My godson will do it later!” he called out to the house and then he turned towards a sheepish Harry. “You’re fixing that.”
“Right, sure. Hum… sorry about that,” he said, but Sirius just chuckled. He didn’t seem too mad, all things considered.
“Ah, it’s fine. What’s some broken glass and a busted door when you’ve got magic? Just be more careful next time, kid,” he told his godson, ruffling his hair, before mounting his broom and looking at Harry. "Well, what are you gawking at? Let’s go! Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” he challenged, shooting into the air like a rocket.
"Oh, you're on!"
High in the sky, Grinnden soon became a formless blob down below. Sirius raced Harry around, egging him on to a game of broom tag in the air. They weaved and spun around each other, both skilled enough to avoid the other in many close calls. Harry's natural skills as a flier eventually won out however, and Sirius soon gave up.
"Alright, alright, I give! I clearly can't win against you,” he said, slowing his Firebolt in the air.
"Probably your old age catching up to you,” Harry teased, getting a good-natured huff from Sirius.
“I’ll have you know I’m still in the prime of my life, brat! I just need to get used to being free again and getting my beauty sleep without the Dementors leeching off all the happy thoughts every night.”
Sirius’ words turned Harry pensive, thinking of the hell he must’ve had to endure in Azkaban. After getting uncomfortably familiar with how Dementors thrived off positive emotions in third year, the notion of surviving thirteen years in that hellhole disturbed him. He couldn’t understand how Sirius even managed to hold onto his sanity… for the most part.
“I followed the trial, you know,” Harry suddenly told him.
The man said nothing, watching him with keen eyes. He looked much better than in third year, but there was still a hint of that gauntness to his features, a haunting in his eyes that hinted at the deep scars Azkaban had left in him.
Those were not simple wounds a healer could conjure away with a single flick of their wand. That lingering gauntness, the quiet hurt… those would take much longer to disappear.
“It was one of the biggest pieces of news during the summer. You know, aside from Voldemort being back. Lavender -a classmate of mine- set up the wireless and we followed it every day.”
“Every day?”
“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. He was peering down at the world below them, hailed by lazy clouds that looked akin to cotton candy. Up here in the sky, all the problems in his life seemed distant, like they’d lost much of their urgency. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let me be present in the trial, which I get, but if I couldn’t be there, you bet I’d be following it day by day. When Madam Bones declared you innocent of all charges, I felt…well, I was very happy,” he said, finishing awkwardly.
He didn't look at Sirius. Whether it was from guilt for not being there in person or just a case of awkwardness, Harry couldn't say.
He wanted Sirius to know he was really glad he’d won the trial. Knowing he was a free man was everything Harry had wanted since learning he was innocent and it made the fanciful dreams he’d had of leaving the Dursleys all the more real. It gave him hope for an actual life with someone that loved him.
He just wished he could say all that without feeling so self-conscious and embarrassed about it, though.
“Harry, look at me.” When Harry did so, Sirius gave him a soft smile. It wasn’t one of his usual charming smiles, or one full of mischief as he prepared a prank. This smile only held affection, directed solely at him. “I’m a free man now and nothing - not even that tosser Voldemort - is going to keep me from giving you a home, kid. You’ve got friends with you, the entire Order will help… you’re not alone. Whatever comes, I’ll be with you every step of the way and we’ll kick that soulless, snake-faced bastard’s arse. I promise.”
A broad smile slowly grew on Harry’s face. He knew all of that, of course, it’s just… it felt good to hear it said out loud.
“But more importantly, we're here to have a good time! We'll train, sure, but we’ll play tourist and visit all the little towns around Ullswater, too. I think there are a couple who still preserve their medieval roots… And all the waterfalls and hike trails, of course - there are a few of those that are quite good! We can invite your friends for Christmas Eve too - if you want of course. Maybe a couple of folks from the Order too, hm… "
Sirius' voice faded from Harry's awareness even if he kept talking. He'd gotten swept up in the rush of contentment as the reality sunk in. This was really happening, Sirius was free and he wanted Harry to live with him, to give him a true home.
Home.
He’d never get tired of that word, now that its meaning was attached to Sirius and everything that entailed. Even the threat Voldemort posed seemed inconsequential in that very moment. There would be time to worry about the future, to make plans and train. At that moment, Harry just wanted to enjoy being with Sirius.
He gripped the Firebolt’s shaft. “Hey, last one to get home is a flobberworm!” he yelled as he rushed away at breakneck speed, cutting a startled Sirius off and leaving him behind.
“Why, you brat!"
Picking up the distinct sound of a Firebolt shooting off through the air in hot pursuit, Harry grinned from ear to ear as he soared through the sky.
He was home.