Chapter Text
‘Letter for you, Black.’
The prison guard did not stay a second longer upon throwing the piece of paper into the cell. Picking it up, Sirius saw the guards hadn’t even bothered with a pretence after reaping it open, though he couldn’t care less anyway. For six years — or was it seven? — only journalists wishing to land an exclusive interview had ever written to him, other than murderer-worshiping psychos. These were the people who had nothing better to do than remembering him. Although it was rare for witches and wizards to choose this kind of envelop over tubes for rolled-up parchments, easily tied to the owls.
‘To Sirius Black’ and ‘Azkaban’ was in crooked, heavy writing, as if by a child who had just learnt to use a pen. Could hardly be a journalist then, he thought, as the handwritings produced by Quick-Quotes Quills, while in various styles, were always delicate and mechanised.
Sirius still smoothed out the letter since he had nothing else to attend to.
Mr Black,
Hi, my name is Harry Potter, I’m the son of James Potter. I learnt that you know my dad, you were a friend with him. I wonder if you could tell me some things about him.
Looking forward to your reply.
Sincerely yours,
Harry Potter
Sirius went aghast. He read the entire thing all over again before picking up the envelop. Both bore the same handwriting, childish and clumsy, and there was a grammatical mistake. The letter was obviously not written with a quill and the name of a muggle post office was printed on the envelop. Even if it had been a prank, it was a meticulous one.
Nothing made sense. He heard Lily mentioning that if a muggle specified ‘Hogwarts’, the letter would be redistributed from the muggle postal service to the nearest owl post office where an owl took up the delivery. It would be quite understandable for Azkaban to have a similar system, the muggle-born criminals still needed to be in contact with their family after all when muggles couldn’t easily find an owl post office. But how could Harry have learnt about him and Azkaban if he was living with muggles? And why would Harry send a letter in muggles’ way if he had access to the wizarding world?
So it seemed a nice prank, except that the self-contradiction backfired. With a sneer, Sirius crumpled the letter and the envelope up into a ball and threw it out of the barred window.
The Dementors swept it away later that day. Still, what happened pierced into his impassive chest like a nail and could not be pulled out by even the monsters floating in black cloaks. Sirius didn’t realize right away that he was enraged for someone to use James’ son against him, an unexpected blow to his weak spot after he’d got used to be regarded as a traitor and the most vicious Death Eater.
Who would think he cared about James or Harry? Who would think a short, childish letter by a kid could have any impact on him? Was this some kind of self-righteous prologue to elicit a confession? A test for any trace of conscience in him?
In any case, Sirius decided if this someone dared to do it again, he would react more than simply throwing away the letter.
He started to doubt his own judgement, however, when the next letter did arrive.
Mr Black,
Hi, I don’t know if you got my last letter, I forgot the stamps. I took some from the drawer. My name is Harry Potter, I’m the son of James Potter. I learnt that you know my dad and you were friends, but not anymore before he died. I wonder if you could tell me some things about him.
Looking forward to your reply.
Sincerely yours,
Harry Potter
My address:
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Three small, colourful pieces of paper were attached neatly to the envelope, and it was again in the naïve writing. Indeed, the last letter didn’t have these paper squares in his recollection, and witches or wizards wouldn’t need an address to send letters.
Was it necessary to go to such lengths for a prank? What did this person want from him? A reply to brag about or to submit to the papers?
No, come to think of it — it was a question of its own who could manage to pull it off. Sirius couldn’t see any use in learning elaborate muggle knowledge just for this, to the point of knowing how to use stamps. To imitate Harry more convincingly? Then they should work out an explanation on how Harry knew about writing to Azkaban, shouldn’t they? And the same old issue, why choose the identity of a seven-year-old who had serious limitation in his expression? No one should think he cared about Harry.
Yet all this could be explained as an act put up to stir his interest. While lies were often perfectly weaved, truth tended to leave loose ends everywhere, which was why the most refined lies were the ones not impeccable but with just enough credibility. The other side was perhaps waiting for Sirius to voice his suspicion over all the holes, seeing any response by Sirius as an initial success, while lack of reaction meaning no way to break through. Regardless, it was too troublesome a trap to balance off cost and benefit, if it wasn’t some kind of a coaxing scheme to seize the immense wealth of the House of Black outside Azkaban.
Unless … Sirius pondered. Unless despite believing that Sirius betrayed James and killed a dozen people, the person did know, having seen him together with James’ family, that some things were not fake. Hence the idea to crack him with Harry, making him speak.
Following this logic, it was certainly possible that the two letters were genuinely by Harry. How difficult could it be to earn the trust of a seven-year-old boy and raise his curiosity? Though it was utterly pathetic, even a bit funny, to complicate the matter as such.
Sirius crumpled up the letter again but stuffed it into the slit along the bed frame rather than throwing it away. He would very much like to see how many times the other side would try.
Although the third time came a rumpled sheet of parchment covered in familiar writing.
Sirius Black,
I’m not sure if you received the two previous letters sent by Harry, but that child got detention from his aunt and uncle for stealing stamps and the third letter he was going to send to you was set on fire. I assume you know Petunia, Lily’s sister, she and Vernon Dursley adopted Harry though they have never liked this nephew very much. I understand their fear of wizards, but it simply crossed the line to lock a child up in a cupboard under the stairs.
When I discovered this the day before yesterday, I intervened and had a confrontation with the Dursleys. I had to temporarily take Harry away to not add fuel to the fire and only then did he tell me whom he had been writing to in the past two months. I’ve told him about some things between you and James since meeting him as a friend of his father, but didn’t expect he would attempt to contact you and get himself into such big trouble.
Now the thing is, Harry won’t go back to Privet Drive no matter what, and you know it’s impossible for me to look after a child in the long run with the mess I’m in, not to mention that problem. I have ten days to decide how to handle this, probably a week when you receive the letter, and if no reply came by then, I could do nothing but sending Harry back to those people that abuse him, fear him and ignore him. Presumably neither he nor the Dursleys would be very happy.
Remus Lupin
An empty cheque from Gringotts amazingly fell out of the envelope when Sirius shook it. It was quite unheard of for Remus to ask him for money, he wouldn’t even let him or James buy him drinks in the past. Sirius believed he would never ever have made this request if not for desperation (and desperation because of Harry).
Where were the people from the Order? Had they disbanded on the spot the moment Voldemort met his downfall, not even the slightest concern about the boy who saved the wizarding world? Sirius knew the kid wouldn’t possibly be loved as by James and Lily, but didn’t expect him to be in such a tight spot … what had Dumbledore been doing? Even with Harry’s protection in mind against the Death Eaters looming around, there must be a better way, and better candidates of foster parents than that sister of Lily who treated her like a monster.
And Lupin … he still couldn’t find a job like the old times? Had he no contact with the other members of the Order? Though come to think of it, with his tendency to overthink, it was only natural for him to not wish to connect with the others after his first friends in life fell apart in death and betrayal. He must have hated it so much to end up having to borrow money from his homicidal maniac friend in jail when he couldn’t find anyone to entrust Harry to because of that. Sirius Black, ha, Remus surely had had some great struggle with the salutation.
The content could still have been fabricated, taking advantage of his lack of means for verification … but Remus’ handwriting was authentic and that alone was enough to persuade Sirius into signing the cheque. So what if it was to test him or a scam? The possessions he had never even wanted were meaningless in Azkaban anyway. Remus had better take the money he scammed for a nice dinner and replace those worn-out old robes, and it would be even more worth for the money if it could slightly improve Harry’s quality of life. As for what Remus would think about it, he’d better not think anything for his own sake.
Sirius filled in a value of one thousand Galleons, signed in the designated area, and for safety, wrote an additional note authorizing Remus Lupin to withdraw money from the Black family’s vault, to be checked by the goblins at Gringotts.
Now the money problem was solved, he considered writing a reply but decided against it, there was nothing to say anyway. The primary concern was for Remus to get hold of the cheque before the next full moon.