Even Stranger Magic

It seemed like a good idea at the time, the right thing to do. It started with a comment Chrissy made at cheer practice, something about going to see her grandmother's grave after practice.

"It's been five years tomorrow," Chrissy said. "I just want to put flowers on her grave."

Sirianna had her own plans with Sirius after practice, just dinner together, and she brought up her idea rather tentatively to him.

"Hey, Sirius?" Sirianna cleared her throat and reminded herself that it wasn't a crime, she wasn't asking for anything bad. And Sirius was nice - well, he wasn't necessarily ‘nice', a rather bland way to describe the man, but he was friendly and he was her family and Sirius moved his entire life to Indiana just to be there with Sirianna and Harry. Sirius knew Sirianna's parents and he already meant the world to Sirianna - she was named after him. They were family.

"Yeah?" Sirius certainly didn't look annoyed in the slightest. He looked rather silly actually, with a bit of mustard on his cheek. Sirius was silly, generally, he made Sirianna laugh a lot… she had a feeling that he wouldn't find her question funny at all though.

"I wanted… I wanted to know if - if it would be possible to maybe put flowers on my parents grave?" Sirianna asked slowly, wincing when her question made Sirius freeze in place. Sirianna didn't want to hurt him, but she had no one else to ask. Sirianna didn't even know where her parents were buried at, nothing.

It would be nice, to see the evidence that she and Harry hadn't always been orphans, that at one point they were children who were loved so much that their parents died for them. If nothing else, it would show Sirianna where their bodies were resting - a question she had for some time.

"I…" Sirius shook his head, maybe trying to shake away the shadows that appeared in his eyes. That happened sometimes, Sirius's eyes would become stormy and distant, not unlike Harry whose eyes went cloudy and faraway. Sirius and Harry were very alike in those moments, it made Sirianna's heart ache for them both.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," Sirius said, uncharacteristically quiet. He glanced around the restaurant they were in, a quiet pub they found on a prior ‘Siri and Siri Day'. Sirius's arm twitched as his side and Sirianna thought he must have cast a spell when he looked back at her.

"Siri…" Sirius wiped a hand down his face and he aged right before her. "It's not just James and Lily's graves that are buried in Godric's Hollow," he started. "It's - you and Harry have a grave as well."

Sirianna's initial complaint caught in her throat and she stared at Sirius in sudden disbelief.

A grave? For her and Harry?

"We - we aren't dead," Sirianna said, her voice shaking as she pointed out the obvious. It was silly, to feel coldness filling up her body, chasing away the warmth of the pub until she felt frozen. Sirianna knew she wasn't dead, she knew Harry wasn't dead. Harry was fine, she was alive. Why would they have a grave?

"I know." Sirius reached across the table and placed his hand on Sirianna's. He softened, lowered his voice as if Sirianna were an animal about to be spooked away. "They presumed you were dead, because of the Dursley's house," he told her. "It was only ash, Siri. There were no other survivors and - and when you two didn't turn up… the community wanted to honor you."

Sirianna looked away from Sirius's pitying eyes to his hand on top of hers. She couldn't feel it, not through the frozen ice that pulsed in her veins and made it difficult to breathe. Most of that Sirianna knew, Theo had told her and Ron confirmed it when Sirianna saw him. The Dursleys were gone, all of Sirianna and Harry’s belongings were gone, but they never mentioned that the wizarding world had buried them.

They had graves - Sirianna and Harry. Like their parents, like everyone else who was dead.

"But we weren't dead," Sirianna repeated. She sounded small, scared, and she wasn't. Sirianna rolled her shoulders, squared them, straightened her back so she could look Sirius in the eyes. It seemed important that he knew that, that they weren't dead.

"We aren't dead," she said firmly.

"And the second that you're ready for the world to know, I'll destroy the headstones myself," Sirius swore - Sirianna believed him, she believed that he would.

If she was ready for other people to know… people who would want to hear what happened, who would want to ask questions, who might try and make them return to a place where Sirianna wasn't eager to see again…

"I'm not ready for that," she admitted - she knew Harry certainly wasn't and it would be Harry - 07 - who would go along with whatever Sirianna decided and who would suffer the most for it. Harry hated being a celebrity at eleven, it made him anxious and miserable, it certainly wouldn't help him any to return yet.

One day, they would. It didn't need to be that day.

"But… but I do want to see our parents graves," Sirianna said. She knew that too, she knew she needed to see them, needed to see where they rested. "Sirius, please?" she asked him, looking past the panic and hurt in his eyes to the concern and love just below them. "Will you take me?"

Sirius agreed and - and maybe it had been a mistake.

Sirianna let Sirius guide her through the cemetery by her hand after he apparated them to Godric's Hollow. Sirius seemed too overcome with worry to say much, his eyes only continued to flick over Sirianna's face every step, searching for the bravado Sirianna tried to pull up.

It was chilly in the cemetery, gloomy in the dusk. Sirianna looked at every grave they passed, searching for her own name amongst the stone memorials. Would it be a dark stone with white letters like the one for Mildred the Magnificent? Would Harry's tombstone have an image carved on it, similar to the etched symbol on Ignotus Peverell's tombstone?

Sirianna's skin had goosebumps covering her entirely when Sirius slowed and she sensed that they were getting near.

"Up ahead," Sirius murmured softly. He raised his free hand to gesture vaguely and Sirianna stopped him.

"I… can you wait here?" she asked. She couldn't explain it, there weren't words, but it felt like something she needed to do alone. If Harry wasn't there with her - Sirianna would never take her brother to see his grave - then Sirianna wanted to greet her parents by herself.

Sirius nodded after only a brief hesitation. He pulled Sirianna to him and hugged her for a moment, adding warmth to Sirianna's body and chasing some of the chill away.

"I'm right here," he said, only pulling away when they were both ready. Sirianna turned her head and saw three tombs in a row, one large one with two smaller ones beside it. She took a deep breath to settle herself and began walking toward them.

The steps were hard, heavy. It was like the ground under her tried to stop her, to warn her of what she was going to see. Sirianna soldiered on and kept her eyes focused on the largest of the three stones, the gleaming white stone for her parents.

It was wrong that Harry wasn't there beside her. It made Sirianna feel his absence like half of her own body was missing - but it was the sharp blow of seeing the names on the stone that reminded her it was best Harry wasn't there.

James Potter Lily Potter
The Last Enemy to be Destroyed is Death

The dates of their birth were listed with a dash between them, a dash as brief as their lives, before their date of death. Sirianna only knew of that night in flashes - flashes that the monsters from the Upside Down brought her, mixing her mother's screams with bursts of green light. It was pain beyond that memory to touch the stone and know it was as cold and unforgiving as death itself.

Sirianna sank to her knees in front of her parents tombstone and wished for more. More time with them, more memories, more knowledge of who they were. Sirius described her father as an optimistic man, caring and generous and kind. He described her mother as fierce in her convictions, protective over her loved ones, brilliant and loving.

It would have been wonderful to be raised by people who were described so beautifully. It would have been better if Sirianna could have gotten to know their flaws, to know that they were real and not only sainted martyrs.

"I miss you," Sirianna whispered through the tears that trickled down her cheeks. She traced the carvings, the letters of her father's name and then her mother's. Only then, only when she thought that the hurt of what could never be had filled her did she turn her attention to the two smaller tombstones.

Then the hurt of what could never be collided with the pain of what could have happened and Sirianna's chest cracked down the center.

It was sick, a sick and twisted reflection gleaming back at her:

Sirianna Lily Potter
July 30th 1968 - July 8th 1980

Beneath her name and birthday - the day that was often forgotten, often mixed in with Harry's birthday on the 31st - beneath the date that she was taken on, there was a brief passage:

In the quiet, I find peace, though I am far from where I belong.

Sirianna murmured the words with her numb lips, whispering it to the wind…

She had never had peace, not when they created the tombstone. She had been far from where she belonged, but not so far that she couldn't have been saved…

It was worse when she looked at Harry's tombstone on the end of the line of Potters, two dead and two very much alive. Sirianna thought she would have been prepared, she thought that knowing Harry was alive would keep her from having the air knocked from her body. She could feel him, warm and alive when she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the part of her chest where Harry was always present.

Sirianna collapsed forward and her fingers dug in the earth, dug as if she could reach her brother from where he was buried. Harry had smiled at her that morning, asked her if she had a sweater in case she was cold. Sirianna could picture him when she closed her eyes, she could feel him before the pain began ripping her apart.

It didn't matter, it didn't matter because the world buried her brother and he had died, he died and he died and he died, and Sirianna was gasping, struggling for air, when hands clamped down on her shoulders.

"Please," she tried to say. It was Sirius, she could see him through the blurred tears when she lifted her head. There was a searing heat ripping across her chest and she couldn't get the words out - couldn't explain exactly what she needed.

She didn't have to, he must have known. Somehow, he must have known that Sirianna had to see the graves, had to see them alone, and then she needed her brother.

The second that Sirianna appeared on her own front porch she pulled away from her godfather and pushed inside the house, prepared to scream for Harry.

"Siri!" Harry ran to her before she could make a sound and he collided into her, she grabbed onto him, and Sirianna sobbed on his shoulder while she cradled the back of his neck, felt for the proof of his beating heart as she had done so many times before.

It was there, it was there and Harry was there and he was alive and nobody buried him. That didn't immediately ease Sirianna's pain; her memories of Harry looking lifeless, injured, tortured, the epitaph that would haunt her:

The memories are yours to keep, for this is my time to sleep.

Sirianna could never live with only memories of Harry, of her brother and her best friend. But she almost had, so many times. Harry could describe death like an old friend he greeted time and time again when they had been prisoners of the White Coats.

They made their deaths sound peaceful, beautiful in a haunting way. It wasn't though, it wouldn't have been. Harry would have been gone if he hadn't had the strange protection from his scar, Harry would have been dead, as permanently erased from the world as the parents who created him.

Sirianna had lived almost her entire life without her parents, she couldn't even breathe at the idea of living without Harry. Her own grave didn't hurt her as badly as Harry's had. Sirianna wasn't even able to let go of Harry as he stumbled and tried to move her further in the house so he could push her to the sofa. Sirianna pulled him with her and ended up her her face buried in his chest and his hand rubbing her back while she cried over an experience that wasn't true, that she couldn't ever tell him about.

If Sirianna couldn't handle the shock of it, she wouldn't make Harry experience it firsthand.

"You're okay," Harry murmured, rubbing large circles on Sirianna's back while she recalled every time she thought that her view of Harry walking down the corridor would be the last time… they would show up and take Harry, march him away, and Sirianna would feel her heart racing too quickly as she tried to memorize his voice when he passed her.

Harry was always so small in those memories, so thin and pale. His body seemed too breakable, too fragile, but it was his eyes that terrified Sirianna - the distance in them, the lifelessness.

"I love you," Sirianna reminded her brother in a desperate croak. She knew Harry heard her, even with her face shoved against him, trying to memorize the beating of his heart. "Don't ever leave me."

If Harry was confused, he didn't sound it. He only hugged her to him just as she needed and agreed.

"Never ever," he said solemnly.

"Never ever," she agreed.

It had been late when Sirianna returned home and she had no complaints at all when Harry fetched their blankets and they jostled each other on the sofa until they could both sleep there comfortably. Sirianna knew that Harry was self-conscious when they shared a bed (or sofa) because ‘they were too old' but Sirianna didn't feel sixteen, she felt six and scared and she wanted her bubby close by.

Hopper was the one who woke them up the next morning. He tried to be quiet when he moved through the house, but the smell of coffee pulled Sirianna awake. The first thing she did was check on Harry, watching him long enough to be sure that he was still breathing, his heart was still beating.

The second thing she did was walk rather like a zombie - a comparison her mind jumped away from even as she made it - to the kitchen for her own cup of coffee. Harry didn't like coffee, he didn't like any drinks that he couldn't see through, but Sirianna liked it. She liked it better when —

Oh.

There was a cup already on the counter, the red one that Sirianna liked the best. The coffee in the cup wasn't entirely dark, it was lightened to a caramel color, the color her coffee turned when she added the milk and sugar to it. Sirianna was oddly touched by that when she picked the mug up and sipped it, deciding to find Hopper and thank him.

The front door was cracked and Sirianna checked on Harry one more time when she passed back through the living room. She hadn't noticed it before her coffee, but El must have moved out to sleep in the living room with them at some point because she was sprawled across the recliner, snoring audibly.

Sirianna grinned and carefully pulled the blanket that had slipped off her up to cover her body and then she tucked her hair, finally long thanks to a potion from Theo, behind her ear before continuing on to find Hopper. It wasn't surprising to find him outside, sitting on the bench of the porch having a cigarette and avoiding the rain that fell heavily.

What stopped Sirianna for a moment was the soft song that Hopped sang while he smoked and looked out across the lawn—

"Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo… here comes the sun and I say it's alright…"

Sirianna tried to lurk silently, to watch Hopper in his quiet moment, but she must have breathed too loudly because he abruptly quit singing and cleared his throat.

"Mornin," he said gruffly without looking at her.

"Morning," Sirianna said. She didn't comment on his song, he didn't mention her eavesdropping. Sirianna walked over slowly and sat on the bench beside him so they could both drink their coffee. She meant to thank him for making hers, for making it just right, but he distracted her.

"I talked to Black last night," Hopper said evenly, hiding the dislike Sirianna suspected he felt for Sirius. Sirianna looked down at her drink and should have known that returning home in hysterics hadn't exactly gone unnoticed.

"Ah."

"I - uh… I was worried about you," Hopper said. Sirianna sipped her coffee to keep from having to reply to that and even if he seemed uncomfortable and wouldn't look at her, Hopper pushed on.

"There's a reason that people don't attend their own funerals," he said. "And I can't fucking imagine what it was like for you to see Harry's grave."

Sirianna shook her head, she didn't want to talk about it or think about it or ever imagine it again. "Pain," quietly slipped out of her mouth though, a one word summary of what Hopper couldn't imagine.

"Yeah." Hopper put his empty mug on the floor by their feet, replaced it with a cigarette. The pack was laid on his knee and if Sirianna waited until he went to light his cigarette…

She snatched a cigarette for herself and the muttered curse Hopper let out made her grin victoriously.

"You're too fucking young to smoke," he complained, withholding his lighter from her.

"There's no long-term effects for me," she said, bragging some. She didn't know that, but Theo told her that witches and wizards didn't catch cancer like muggles did if they smoked. Theo smoked, Sirius smoked, Sirianna did on occasion.

Most occasions.

"Is that right?" Hopper still held the lighter out of her reach while his own lit cigarette dangled from his mouth. "Black tell you that? Because he also took you to see your own damned grave."

"Nope." Sirianna lunged for the lighter and they had a brief arm wrestling moment while he seemed to only half-heartedly be keeping it from her - but Hopper's half-effort was still quite a bit. Sirianna struggled and ultimately grabbed it, swearing to buy her own the instant she could.

"Theo told me," Sirianna told Hopper smugly after her cigarette was lit as well. She settled back in the seat beside him and some of the weight on her chest - the weight of a marble tombstone with Sirianna Potter - Harry Potter - carved on it - began to lighten.

"Oh, well, if a sixteen year old told you then by all means." Hopper waved his hands rather ridiculously to go along with his sarcastic tone and Sirianna laughed a little bit.

It was peaceful outside with just the two of them adding their smoke to the rainfall. Sirianna didn't spent a lot of time with Hopper, but she appreciated that the silence between them wasn't comfortable, it was patient.

Hopper seemed like he was waiting for her to talk and when she was ready, Sirianna did…

"I wanted to see where our parents were buried," she started off. "I didn't expect that Sirius was going to tell me that Harry and I had graves as well…"

Hopper didn't interrupt her, he didn't ask any questions. He only sat beside her and listened while Sirianna recounted the horrible event and mentioned her new feeling of guilt for not thinking to take flowers to her parents. When Sirianna sniffled or broke off mid-sentence, struggling to properly explain what it was like to imagine Harry actually being buried beneath the ground, Hopper carefully put an arm around her shoulders.

It helped, somehow. It helped to have someone there to listen, someone who couldn't be truly hurt as Harry would and who didn't ask a million questions like El. Sirianna could have told Billy, but she was glad that she told Hopper.

Even if Hopper refused to give her another cigarette until she ‘wrote an essay proving she couldn't get sick from the chemicals'. That would be the easiest essay Sirianna ever wrote - she would simply ask Harry to do it.