“What were you thinking?!” Sirius could hear the question echoing in his mind. He could imagine the exact way the words would pierce his eardrums as they emanated from Mrs. Weasley’s shrieking voice, but that was the least of his concerns. He was going to be in for a lot worse than yelling if the Order found out what he was up to today. He wouldn’t be gone long. He just needed to check on Harry, and he’d be back at Grimmauld Place before anyone knew he was ever gone.
The tone of Harry’s letters had been all off lately. On a good day, his notes were somber, which at least meant he was being honest. Most days, they were vague and apathetic. Everything was “fine.” Classes were fine. Ron and Hermione were fine. Even quidditch was fine. If Harry was describing quidditch as just fine , he was either severely depressed or he was hiding something.
It was easy to find a time when no one was around to slip out of the house. Most of the Order was away. Once the kids left for school, Molly and Arthur returned to spending most of their time at the Burrow. As long an Snivellus didn’t drop by (which he’d done a few times as though expecting to find Sirius up to something that could get him in trouble with Dumbledore), everything would be fine. So far, the best Snivellus had found was a drunk Sirius doing some spontaneous demolition of the master bedroom.
It’s my own damn house, Sirius thought. I’ll get as drunk as I like and tear down as many walls as I see fit.
Snivellus was a little snitch and told Dumbledore anyway. He didn’t say anything, but he gave Sirius one of his signature “I’m disappointed in you” looks, which might have hurt his feelings if he was still fifteen like Snivellus seemed to think they were. Sirius should write a book—Severus Snape: A Case Study in Arrested Development. He certainly had the time, but unlike Snape, Sirius didn’t spend his every waking moment foaming at the mouth over old schoolboy feuds. He had Harry to worry about.
Still, leaving Grimmauld Place wouldn’t earn him any points with the Order, so Sirius took some precautions before sneaking out of the house. First, he’d ordered Kreacher to keep his secret. If anyone inquired about Sirius’s whereabouts, Kreacher was to tell them that Sirius had a lot to drink and was sleeping it off. If anyone (Snivellus) had the gall to go up to his room to check, they would find a big black dog that Sirius had transfigured from an old blanket snoring on the bed. It wasn’t a perfect match for Padfoot, but no one except Moony knew his dog form well enough to spot the difference.
The wisest way to travel would be as Padfoot, but Sirius hadn’t left the house as a man in so long. He thought it was time to try out a disguise. He hadn’t been on the muggle news in over a year, and he looked significantly different already than his Azkaban mugshot. Not only was he cleaner, but his hair was longer, no longer the solid black it had once been. Flecks of silver intertwined with the black strands. The scraggly beard he’d had back then was filled out now that he was eating proper meals everyday, and his clothes were no longer tattered rags. He was barely recognizable as the murderous maniac from the muggle telly. Still, he decided it made sense to disguise himself a little, just in case. He found some muggle clothes in the back of his closet, too small but magic could fix that in a snap. Sirius landed on jeans, a Bee Gees t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Luckily, it was a sunny day, so he popped some sunglasses over his eyes and obscured his hair with a black cap. Some cuff gloves covered the tattoos on his hands, and Sirius was out the door.
He really intended to head straight to Scotland, but as soon as Sirius stepped outside, it was like London welcomed him. Though it was by no means a warm day, people were outside enjoying the sunshine. Birds chirped in the sky. A cheery old man sold hot chocolate from a stand near the edge of the park. Sirius bought one and sipped it as he strolled down the street. He’d forgotten how nice it was to just be a person in the world. Not a fugitive on the run. Not a black sheep. Not a failure of a godfather. Just himself in the sun with the whipping wind burning his face while the hot chocolate thawed his bones.
It wouldn’t hurt to get some sustenance for the road, Sirius thought.
He stopped in a cafe on the opposite side of the park. A pretty lady with red hair and a yappy Pomeranian sat at the table next to him and pretended not to check him out when he turned to do the same to her. With her curly red hair styled in an up-do and a scarf around her head billowing in the wind, she looked like Lucille Ball. Maybe she was. Sirius felt like he was in a dream. Maybe he’d wake up in his bed at Grimmauld Place any moment now.
But life moves fast and so do dreams. Real or not, Sirius was going to enjoy this as much as he could while he had the chance. After a hefty croissant and a couple of mimosas, Sirius journeyed to his next destination—the local library.
The building was teeming with life and Sirius drank it up. Teenagers roughhousing on the steps outside. Children playing with blocks in the youth room. Old women perusing the romance section with a casual air that would never betray the scandalous literature they held in their hands. A young librarian helped a man do something on a computer, Sirius wasn’t sure he’d even know how to turn one on. When she returned to the desk, she gave him a big smile and asked if he needed any help. He returned the smile and saw her melt internally. You still got it Black. Unfortunately, his heart was already taken, and he was eager to get back to it.
“Yes, I’m looking for a map of the area. One of Edinburgh too if you have it.”
“We have several. Anything specific you’re looking for?” She replied eagerly. Her big green eyes were almost as striking as Harry’s.
“I just need to find my way around, and I’d like to know about any sights, tourists attractions, etc.”
She nodded, serious as a blood hound on the trail of a jackrabbit, and led him through the stacks to find an atlas that held everything he’d asked for and more. He filled out the little card she gave him with a fake name and thanked her for her help.
“Anytime, Mr. Potter,” she replied happily as he left.
He was halfway to the place he’d picked out to apparate from when he passed another park. A park full of ducks. Sirius couldn’t resist. His favorite thing to do as Padfoot was chase ducks. They were so funny and their little legs flailed in the most hilarious way and their irritated quacks sounded like the call of the wild to a dog. Sirius sat his atlas down behind a tree and once he was sure no one was looking, he turned. Then, he took off. The wind whipped through his fur as he charged, the angry quacks egging him on as the family of ducks scrambled to get out of his reach. He had no intention of catching them. He wouldn’t even know what to do if he caught one. Eating wildlife was a survival strategy, not something he’d do for fun. But circling the park until all the ducks were back in the water and laughing at him as he barked from the edge of the shore was a pleasure no one could take away from him.
Once he was human again, Sirius found an isolated spot and apparated to Edinburgh. He’d been to the city before. To no one’s surprise, he’d snuck out before. And though Hogwarts grounds had a lot to offer a young teenager, there was something about a city. A city with life. A city with history. A city with attractive men and women looking for a fun night. He’d had his fair share of visits to Edinburgh, but he’d never rented a car there before. He stumbled around for a while looking for the place he’d highlighted in the atlas. It was a smaller dealership, but it specialized in novelty cars. A Camry wasn’t going to cut it for his one day of freedom. He walked out with the keys to a little red sports car. The engine purred when he cranked it up, and Sirius was sure no one had ever had a better day than he was having.
He’d sent a note to Harry that morning, asking him to go up to the caves where they’d met the year before. Sirius was worried Harry would refuse to go. He was anxious about Sirius getting caught, but just as Sirius drove out of the city, hair flying in the wind as he let the top down, he caught sight of a little white owl in the sky. The note she delivered from Harry had only three words.
On my way.
Sirius pumped his fist and revved the engine. He couldn’t wait to see his godson again.
A small service road ran behind the mountains which housed the caves where Sirius had spent most of Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts. Luckily, they were just outside the radius where one could safely apparate without setting off the wards around the school.
Harry jumped slightly when Sirius appeared behind him.
“Sirius!” Harry exclaimed and threw himself into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Sirius explained.
He tightened his hold on Harry and in a second they were back where Sirius had parked the Ferrari.
“What is this?” Harry exclaimed.
“A car,” Sirius responded.
“I know it’s a car, but do you even know how to drive?”
Sirius held his heart dramatically as though mortally wounded by the question.
“Alright, alright,” Harry continued. “Stupid question. I can’t just leave. I have classes.”
“Says who?”
“Well… McGonagall, among others…”
“Minnie won’t kill you for missing one class.”
“No, but she’ll probably expect an explanation.”
“You’ll say you were sick. I’ll hex you when we get back if you like. Make it look legitimate.”
“Get back from where?”
“Come with me and you’ll see,” Sirius replied as he opened the passenger side door and gestured for Harry to get in.
Harry looked like he might turn around and march right back to the castle. He hesitated for so long, Sirius thought the boy might turn him in to Dumbledore himself, but after a long moment, Harry sighed and slowly lowered himself into the passenger seat.
___________________________________________________________________________________
“Harry!” He could hear Hermione scolding him already. “How could you skip class to meet up with Sirius? Especially in public! He could’ve been seen. He could’ve been caught. You ought to have reported him to McGonagall straight away!”
And, of course, Hermione would be right. She was always right. Harry knew it. He just couldn’t bring himself to care. He hadn’t really felt like he cared about anything in months. His mood fluctuated from enraged at nothing in particular to depressed to the degree that he fantasized about drowning himself in the lake. Apathetic days were his good days, so when Sirius apparated them to the Ferrari, giving him one of those signature Sirius Black smiles, Harry could not find it in himself to protest. Sirius was like a glass of wine on an empty stomach. He went straight to Harry’s head. For the first time in weeks, he felt a genuine smile grace his lips as he sat back in the passenger’s seat, and Sirius revved the engine. It didn’t really matter after all. Wherever they were going, Harry would be with Sirius, and that’s all that mattered.
The car raced down the unpaved road. With the top down, the wind blew Harry’s hair in every direction. It was definitely the fastest car he’d ever been in, and he wondered if it could beat the Firebolt in a race. While he was pondering this, Sirius reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. His hands were warm and strong like they could hold Harry in place even if the whole world turned upside down all of a sudden.
“Alright, Pup?” Sirius asked.
Harry nodded and replied quietly, “Better than I’ve ever been right now,” but he wasn’t sure if Sirius could hear him over the roar of the wind in their ears.
Their first stop (of many Sirius promised) was an art gallery. Harry was surprised by this. He expected Sirius to bring him to a pub or maybe the beach. When he asked Sirius about this choice, his godfather replied, “Harry, we live in one of the oldest and most influential kingdoms in all the world. It’s full of history. Of art. Of culture. And you never get to take advantage of it. You never see it. Hogwarts is not the end all be all of our world. Plus, you’re clearly trapped in your head lately. It wouldn’t hurt you to spend an hour or two looking into the minds of other people, if for no other reason than to see that you’re far from the most disturbed individual on this Earth.”
Harry thought this explanation was bullshit, but he didn’t say so as he followed Sirius inside. The first few paintings they saw were boring, portraits of women in ugly dresses and weird hats. The next room was mostly landscapes which were more to Harry’s taste. As they walked through to the next room, a group of school kids a couple years younger than Harry followed a woman who was clearly their teacher into an auditorium off the side of the gallery. Sirius grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him until they caught up with the class. In the auditorium, an archivist was giving a lecture on the representations of witches in European art.
“Much of the villainization of women came in the forms of claims of witchcraft. Those that didn’t fit in the beauty standards of the time were depicted as hideous crones. Those that did were branded as evil seductresses…”
Harry had to force himself no to laugh at this part. None of the witches he knew fit the bill of either stereotype, though he had to admit Umbridge wasn’t far from crone territory. He certainly wouldn’t call any witches he knew seductresses. Ginny had tried, but she was still a little girl in Harry’s eyes. Fleur looked the part, but she hardly behaved like one, even if most of the boys at Hogwarts wished she would. Harry never really cared either way, and as far as he knew she was now in a happy and stable relationship with Ron’s brother, Bill. What must that be like? Harry wondered. Happiness and stability were concepts more foreign to him than the French language or Russian cuisine. When he pictured his future (which was difficult as it required him to ignore the glaring likelihood of an imminent untimely death), the only people he saw there were Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, and he was sure that eventually Ron would pull his head out of the sand and ask Hermione out. Then, it would be just him and Sirius. He looked over at Sirius who was now laughing jovially at a joke the archivist made about Merlin.
After the talk was over, they returned to the gallery where Harry stopped dead in his tracks in front of a painting. “The Death of Eurydice” the plaque read, “on loan from the National Gallery, London.” Harry was transfixed by it. He was transfixed by the billowing storm clouds whose color was so lifelike, he thought perhaps he felt a drop of rain on his face. He was transfixed by the tall bushes standing higher than the heads of all the people. His mind flashed to the Third Task. The labyrinth. Cedric. He was transfixed by Eurydice and the veiled creature that reached out of the bushes to pull her into the Underworld. And Harry felt it. He felt this painting in his bones. He felt the arms of the veiled creature separating him from his friends, from his family, from Ron and Hermione and Sirius. And just as the waves of the Eurydice’s despair subsided and his own began to take his place, Sirius’s hand landed on Harry’s shoulder with it’s anchor-like grip.
“Best not to stare into the darkness for too long,” he said. “If you stay there too long, you’ll forget how to find your way out.”
Harry nodded and let Sirius lead him into the next section of the gallery. Their next stop was an upscale restaurant for lunch. It was by far the nicest place Harry had ever eaten. Apparently, Sirius told the waiter it was Harry’s birthday, so he was serenaded by the wait staff and given a free slice of cheesecake. Sirius barked with laughter at Harry’s embarrassment over the ordeal.
“It’s not my birthday,” Harry protested once the staff were all gone.
“What are they gonna arrest us over a complimentary piece of cheesecake?” Sirius countered. “If we played by the rules, you’d be in History of Magic right now.”
Harry sighed and ate his cheesecake.
Back on the streets of Edinburgh, Harry followed Sirius as he led them around to all the sights. They gawked at St. Gile’s Cathedral like the tourists they were. They nodded thoughtfully as they toured Gladstone’s Land, and they refrained from making any jokes at the expense of the American tourist who very excitedly reported to them how he’d seen the Loch Ness Monster just that morning. Loch Ness was in the North, far from Edinburgh. He most likely went to Loch Leven or Loch Ore, but they didn’t correct him.
Next, they stopped in a pub, which Sirius was thrilled to find offered karaoke. He performed a ridiculous rendition of “Twist and Shout” followed by “Imagine” which he dedicated to Harry.
It was the best day in all Harry’s memory, so it was difficult not to be disappointed when they got in the car to drive back to school. Harry’s head hung as Sirius parked the car in the same place where he’d picked Harry up that morning.
“What’s the matter, Pup? Didn’t you have a good day?” Sirius asked.
“I had a great day. I don’t want it to end is the problem.”
Sirius rested his arm across the top of Harry’s shoulders, and Harry leaned in as the warmth of Sirius’s body spread through him. He smelled like coffee and broomsticks and something else Harry couldn’t quite identify. Harry wondered if he could inhale so deeply that he’d get high off it and have an excuse to stay with Sirius a little longer.
“Can I tell you something?” Sirius asked.
Harry nodded.
Sirius continued, “I had a great day too, and I don’t want to go home either. The thought of going back to that house makes me want to drown myself in the lake. But remember what I told you about the darkness? You can’t focus on it for too long, so I think about something else—”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“What do you think about to distract yourself from the darkness?” Harry clarified.
Sirius smirked as though the answer was obvious, “I think about you, Harry. I think about you all the time. I came here today because I knew you were not well, and I need you to be well. You are everything to me, and I will come back as often as it takes to keep the darkness at bay.”
Harry perked up at this last sentence.
“We can do this again?”
Sirius nodded, “Only we’ll have to some up with a better excuse for you being gone or Minnie will be putting a Padfoot-hide rug down in her office.”
Harry laughed and threw his arms around Sirius, taking in all his scent and his warmth while he still could.
___________________________________________________________________________________
As a rule, Minerva never played favorites with her students. Really, she didn’t. Yes, she gifted Potter the Nimbus 2000 during his first year, but that wasn’t just for Potter. It was for the whole Gryffindor team and to wipe the smug “you’ll never beat us” look off Professor Snape’s face. Did she refrain from taking points from Potter or assigning him detention as needed (and it was needed far too often)? No. Did she sign his Hogsmeade permission form in his third year when his sad orphan eyes that looked just like his mother’s pleaded with her to for once let him be like all the other kids? No. Minerva did not play favorites. But, she had to admit if anyone had ever gotten her close to breaking this rule, it was Sirius Black.
He was just so damn likable. He was the first Black in many generations to not be in Slytherin, which was enough in itself to warm her heart to him, but then, he had to go and be gifted at transfiguration too. No, Black wasn’t just gifted at transfiguration. He was the best thing a student can be. He was interested. He was enthusiastic. He was engaged. He asked the right questions, and then, he asked the right follow-ups. He stayed after class to ask about his technique, and once he mastered what she showed him, he made it his own.
Of course, she’d had her suspicions about him being an animagus (and boy did her inner teacher preen with pride when she learned how young he’d accomplished it). It wasn’t hard to put together his black dog-star name with the big black stray that began appearing when he was a student. More than once the stray had thrown itself between her and another dog or fought off one of the feisty feline pets that pestered her as she paced the grounds. Then, the dog disappeared, coincidentally around the same time Sirius finished school. Minerva nearly forgot the whole thing. Nearly.
She couldn’t put into words the relief she felt when Albus revealed Sirius’s innocence to her. Her instincts hadn’t failed her after all. Sirius Black was not just likable. Sirius Black was good.
Getting to know him as an adult hardened by years in Azkaban and life as a fugitive provided insightful contrast to another of her former students, Severus Snape. Their ongoing quidditch feud aside, Minerva struggled in her professional relationship to Snape. Not only did he lack the passion for teaching that fueled herself and her other colleagues, but he refused to engage with the plethora of pedagogical training resources she’d sent his way over the years. He also actively favored his own house and students. He gleefully dolled out punishments to Gryffindors over asinine infractions he’d easily ignore if a Slytherin did them. But what really raised her hackles was his history as a death eater. So many of their students were children of the very people Snape and the other death eaters killed and tortured for fun. She’d never forget the tears the streamed down Lily Potter’s face when she told her about Snape calling her a mudblood. And now, he had the nerve to bully Potter even worse than the other Gryffindors.
Of course, she trusted Albus with her life, but for years, she’d wondered what on Earth Professor Snape must have said or done to convince the Headmaster of his loyalty. She’d long given up trying to get the information out of either of them, but the return of the Order and Sirius Black brought the question back to the front of her mind. Sirius who’d been punished so severely for doing nothing burned in her mind every time she looked at Snape, who’d never been punished for his very real crimes against muggles. No matter what Albus said, she knew Snape wouldn’t have been allowed in You-Know-Who’s inner circle without proving himself. She knew he’d done it. But Albus demanded the Order trust him. Minerva was caught in the middle. Merlin, she wished karma was a little more expeditious about evening things out.
Some days, karma needs a little help from a cat.
She saw Professor Snape not so subtly sneaking out of the castle after his afternoon class. There was no question where he was going. To spy on Sirius Black...again. She knew he’d be going to do so as soon as she noticed Potter’s absence from lunch. She’d heard from Professor Sprout that he’d missed class that morning, as she was sure Snape heard as well since he was standing no more than two meters away at the time.
“Poor dear sent a note. Apparently, he’s feeling under the weather.”
Snape was a fiend for catching a student breaking the rules (as long as they weren’t in his own house). He’d probably checked the Hospital Wing and Gryffindor Tower within the hour. If Potter wasn’t there, which Minerva suspected he wasn’t, Snape would be looking for answers, and she knew just where he’d go.
Fortunately, due to his short leash with the Headmaster, Professor Snape did not have a floo connection direct to his office, requiring him to either borrow Albus’s or her own or leave the castle grounds when he wanted to travel elsewhere. This meant that even though he’d left ten minutes ago, she still had plenty of time to get to Grimmauld Place first.
She floo’d over and immediately transfigured into her animagus form. It was so much easier to find people as a cat. She could hear movement two floors up in the house, and she could smell a person’s presence in a room. There were no sounds when she arrived, but that didn’t mean much. Sirius could be sitting still. The lingering aroma of him filled the kitchen. Coffee. Broomstick polish. Spiced rum. She followed the smell around, still hearing no sounds to indicate his location. Finally, she went to his room and found an impostor on the bed.
It was an excellent imitation, she had to admit. It would probably fool most humans, but she could tell immediately when she smelled it that the dog on the bed was a fake.
A glance at the clock told her it was an hour until dinner. She’d need to get back, and hopefully, Potter would be there too. She heard the front door open and close, and she prayed that it would be Sirius climbing up the stairs when she looked.
She snuck back into the hall and stuck her tiny cat head through the railing to look down. Snape was snooping around as she just had. Although, he looked much less cute doing it. She heard him stomping around the kitchen. She looked around for anything to hold him off from coming upstairs and spotted an open can of paint stripper on the stairs. The ungodly fumes burned her sensitive nostrils, but she had no time to dwell on that or the decision she was about to make. Cat brains just don’t work that way.
She silently skittered down the stairs to the can and waited. Finally, she saw Snape coming, and she did what any good cat when do upon seeing an open container sitting treacherously close to a ledge. She pushed it off.
Luckily, cats cannot laugh, so she didn’t have to restrain herself as the screams echoed from below her. She watched Snape run back to the kitchen, cursing as he turned on the water to flush the paint stripper out of his eyes. He would be fine. His magic would heal it soon enough.
Just then, the front door opened and closed again, and Sirius Black began to walk up the stairs. He looked curiously in the direction of the ruckus in the kitchen but continued his ascent. He stopped suddenly as he spotted her on the stairs.
“Minnie, good to see you as always,” he said with a big smile.
She flicked her tail disapprovingly.
“Right. I’ll just be going to my room then,” he said.
He disappeared upstairs, and Minerva ran back to the entryway. Snape was making his way back now, his eyes beet red from the caustic paint stripper. She made sure to hide behind the umbrella stand as he passed. He began his ascent of the stairs, only for Sirius to appear at the top in a robe and slippers.
“What’s all the commotion down here?” Sirius asked in a passable attempt at a sleepy voice.
Snape looked like he might fall down the stairs.
“You...you can’t be here!” He exclaimed.
“Of course, I can. It’s my house. What are you doing here? There’s no Order meeting tonight.”
“You snuck out! With Potter! I know you did Black, and I’ll prove it!”
“Snuck out? All the way to Scotland?” Sirius asked seemingly incredulous. “Impossible. You do know I am a fugitive.”
“I saw-”
“Are you feeling alright? You look like you’ve been crying for the last year.”
The two men continued to argue. Minerva transfigured back to her human form, slamming the door behind her to announce her ‘entrance.’ They both turned to look at her.
“Oh, Professor Snape, how good of you to come inform Mr. Black of Potter’s state,” she said.
Snaped gaped at her in confusion.
Minerva continued, “I’m sure Professor Snape has already told you, but Potter is feeling a bit ill today. Just a cold I think, but you know, with his luck, could be pneumonia any day now. I just wanted to stop by and make sure that you knew seeing as you are his guardian.”
Sirius nodded, “Thank you, Minnie. Thank you both.”
He looked at Snape, “Really, for a cold, a letter would have been sufficient.”
Professor Snape sneered at him, but he did not say anything else as he made his way back down the stairs.
As he passed, Minerva couldn’t help herself, and she asked, “Professor, what on Earth happened to your eyes?”
Snape leaned into her and said, “I don’t know, but I know that dog is somehow responsible.”
Minerva whispered back, “I think in the future, Professor Snape, it would serve us all better if both your accusations and your pedagogy were based in evidence.”
Professors Snape hummed and walked back out the front door without another word.
She looked back to Sirius who was still standing on the stairs in his robe.
“Mr. Black,” she began, ready to scold him until those big silvery blue eyes met hers and that signature charming smile spread across Sirius’s face.
“Yes, Minnie?”
“That was a very convincing dog. I’m sure no human would have been able to spot the difference.”
Sirius nodded, “Let me guess. The smell was off?”
Minerva nodded.
“And tell me, Professor, how could I improve that for next time?”
“Next time?”
“Well, we all need a mental health day once in a while.”
Minerva nodded, “Well, yes. We do...I must get back to the castle for dinner, but if you don’t have any other plans for the evening, I can come back for tea. I can show you how to make a transfigured animal even a bloodhound can’t sniff out.”
If possible, Sirius’s smiled widened.
“You know, you were always my favorite professor, Minnie.”
Minvera nodded as she turned to leave, “Yes, Mr. Black. I know.”