Sunny Suzuki and the Stupid Traitorous Rat

Research was bringing more questions than answering them, in Hermione’s astute opinion. 

She sat alone in the library, books spread open across a red-wooden desk that stood beside one of the towering windows. The golden glow of the sunrise spilled inside and casted soft shadows around her piles of books and particles of dust, allowing her to savor the ease with which she could read without additional candle light. It was a seat that'd be typically taken since it was sought after like gold, an unsurprising fact as it allowed for the most wonderful view of the Lake and the surrounding mountain range. But since most students had already left for Hogsmeade this morning, she had it all for herself. 

Harry and Ron had gone to Professor McGonagall, to try and convince her to sign Harry’s Hogsmeade Permission Form at the last minute since his muggle relatives didn’t do it for him. It was something they wanted to do for a while now, but the aforementioned research got in the way of finding the right time. That decision was one she still vehemently disagreed with. It was simply so foolish to put Harry in danger like that, Sirius Black was out to kill him and he could be anywhere! Harry should stay in Hogwarts, where Dumbledore was, where it was safe. 

But the boys wanted to at least try and ask, and she knew they wouldn’t listen to her anyway. Ron was still mad at her thanks to Crookshanks’ behavior towards Scabbers, which was absolutely ridiculous. He acted as if all cats didn’t run after rats naturally, and her poor kitty got the brunt of being called so many horrid names from him. Pure rubbish in his brain, honestly! No wonder he got a Dreadful in his Charms essay last week.

…numerous eye-witness accounts from Historical texts have shown us time and time again that the ‘triggers’ of a magical outburst can be just about anything, as Obscurials are intertwined with their host’s emotional state in manners that we haven’t…

Ron was, unsurprisingly, entirely wrong about what an Obscurial was. 

They didn’t ‘feed’ on magic for a start, they were made by magic. By suppressed magic to be more specific, from young wizards and witches who pushed down their powers or deeply despised their nature for one reason or another, an occasion that was more common during the Witch Trials all those years ago when the wizarding world was actively persecuted by muggles. 

It was a terrible subject and a struggle to read anything about it without feeling ill, but the thing that kept her going was the simple fact that it did not make any sense. 

Not the nature of the Obscurial mind, that made perfect sense by itself– but Harry’s description of the ‘Tangible Shadow’ he was trying to find more about. The closest thing appearance-wise was an Obscurial indeed, Ron was admittedly right about that (ugh), but their behavior was too different to match that hypothesis. 

Obscurials weren’t ‘protective’ of their host, they didn’t ‘constrain’ any magic at all. They were destructive to the point that they lacked self preservation, as many times their very much non-contained explosions of magic were what caused the host’s death. 

But Harry was stubborn about what he saw, and that was all Hermione had to work with. 

And it was driving her ever so slightly mad. 

She’d begged Harry more than once to just go up to Suzuki and ask him about the stupid thing. According to Harry they were even friends now– something she slightly doubted considering how upset Harry once was, but she’d already given Suzuki the benefit of the doubt before Harry forgave him for whatever he did– and all in all he simply had no excuse to not ask for further information. 

Yes, he didn’t want to bother the Ravenclaw, that made sense, she understood that, but that was the only thing she understood from this entire situation, and that was just terrible!

If only she could ask someone else who saw it too, but it’s not like she could go to Malfoy or some–

…wait. 

A lightbulb flickered on in her head. 

Malfoy wasn’t the person who knew what the Tangible Shadow looked like. He simply went to fact-check with an actual source before he pulled that dreadful prank. Whoever she needed to talk to, it was the same person Malfoy spoke with. 

Now, who would he have used to fact-check? Hm. 

If she were Malfoy, and she wanted to know more information about something like this…

The answer was clear. 

Goldstein. 

Yes. It could only be him. He was like Blaise in the sense that he always knew a little bit too much about everyone, except Blaise kept all information close to his chest and used it as leverage (sigh, Slytherins) while Goldstein felt the need to share everything with everyone for one reason or another.

In fact she was fairly sure he was the one who spread the story of the boggart in the first place. 

Surely he wouldn’t be against her asking a few questions?

Hermione shot up from her seat, shoving all her books into her bag. 

Alright. She had to speak with Goldstein. He was likely in Hogsmeade now with all the other third year Ravenclaws, so the sooner she left with Ron the better, be it with or without Harry (though she’d make sure to buy as much candy as possible for him during the trip, poor thing).

And if that attempt failed…

She racked her brain, trying to think. Another lightbulb flared.

Professor Lupin. 

If there was anyone who would know, it’d be him. 

Plan made, she rushed out the library in a steady speed walk. If Professor McGonagall refused to permit Harry’s trip, which she highly suspected would be the case, she could ask Harry to talk with Lupin for her. He liked the professor anyway, and the two seemed relatively close as far as student-teacher relationships could go. 

Yes. 

Yes, this would work well. 

—

31 October 1993

Remus stared at the date, the glowing yellow sigils that floated serenely in the air. 

He’d been staring at it for the past few hours now, recalling the spell over and over again whenever it faded. Not without pause of course, he still moved during this time– rummaging around his room, remaking his bed and cleaning his drawers with automated ease, clearing his office of papers, dusting the shelves, watering the plants. 

But every few minutes, between every task, he’d glance at the numbers and the letters, and the pit in his chest grew a little heavier. 

It was nighttime and he was currently in his office. Every single newly added candle was lit with a low flame. The fireplace was burning and washing the walls and floors in flickering red and orange. Every light-related enchantment he’d casted around his wards and the ceiling were functioning and bright. If one were to look to his window at the tower from outside, it could be easily mistaken for a lighthouse. 

Yet still, the darkness from outside seeped through the glass, rumbling into his sanctuary like a brume. It was a curse that rendered every food into tasteless dirt and every tea into bland water, and Remus knew that no Warming Charm in the world would shelter him from the cold that sank into his bones. 

31 October 1993

Twelve years since Voldemort’s downfall. Since the wizarding world’s victory. It was strange to think about it that way, very strange. The last thing he associated the date with was a victory. 

He was thirty three now. Merlin, when did he get so old? Time flew by so fast. Thirty three years old. He’d become thirty four next March. And the year after, he’d become thirty five. And the year after that, thirty six.

And Lily would remain twenty one. James would remain twenty one. Peter would remain twenty two. 

And Sirius…

The date faded. 

Remus recalled it wordlessly with a flick of his wand, and turned around to continue cleaning the window. The glass was thick and foggy, as aged as the rest of the castle, and no matter how hard he pressed his damp cloth against the dreary thing it would not be cleaned. That was fine. He had already graded every quiz and reread every essay. An impossible task was exactly what he needed right now. It gave him something else to do.

The twelfth year anniversary. That’s what the candles were for. 

Twelve years since the worst day of his life. 

A Saturday, thankfully enough, so Remus wouldn’t have to deal with Sunny’s additional lectures or anything like that. Naturally he grew fond of the boy after so many weeks (enough to drop the formalities during private lessons, even) but he was not in the right state to teach. It felt wrong to feel grateful for anything on this damned day, but he was. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to keep his composure. 

Remus’ fingers ached. The muscles in his arms pulsed. He was getting tired. He stopped the circular scrubbing motion and stared at his reflection on the glass. One second stretched into two grew into three then meshed into four and five and endless minutes could’ve passed as he simply stood there and did nothing but breathe. Another reminder his friends would never breathe again. Sirius made sure of that. 

His eyes unfocused from his image and the glass turned translucent instead of reflective, forcing him to stare out into the night sky. 

It was a beautiful night, despite it all. Peter would’ve appreciated the view. He always did adore astronomy. 

No clouds, twinkling stars, and…

And the moon. 

That damned moon. 

It was almost full by now, but the darkness was infectious, swallowing its light and making the wretched thing look dim against the too-black sky. It looked down at him, mocking, gloating with its refusal of giving him the one thing it was good for: light. 

A crack splintered across the glass and Remus blinked, his own surprised expression looking back at him in three separate parts.

Ah. He must’ve been pressing too hard. 

“Reparo,” he mumbled, and the cracks melted back together perfectly. 

Remus dropped the cloth on the sill and took a step back. 

The moon beamed. 

He promptly shut the curtains with too much force, spinning around as he ran fingers through his hair. The touch was soothing and he revelled in it, sighing out his mouth as he made his way to his desk. 

He needed something to do. Anything. Anything at all. He needed some tea. His seventh cup of the day, but that didn’t matter– 

–he blinked and he was by the window again, curtains open wide, white-hot steaming cup in hand. 

…bloody hell, he did it again?

He checked the time. 19:03. It was 18:21 earlier. Half an hour? That was longer than usual. A part of him wanted to tell Dumbledore, but he’s drained enough kindness from the man as it was with his monthly ‘accommodations’. If accommodations and bribery were one and the same, in any case. Why he agreed to the job offer was still a mystery to him. He knew he was dangerous. He knew he was a monster.

Sunny’s shaky breathing wide eyes terrified tremors and what did you do what did you do what did–

Regardless, Lapse episodes like these weren't worth the effort, not on days like today, not when he expected them so. 

The date faded again. He returned it with a quietly mumbled spell, lest he forget what today was. 

As if he’d ever forget. 

Remus looked out at nothing in particular, not bothering to shut the curtains again in case he were to open them later, feeling the weight and focused pressure of the thin porcelain (never silver) handle between his fingers. 

The longer one held something the more their hands began to hurt, no matter how small the object. 

He wondered how long he had stood there for. Not long enough for it to hurt. Not long enough. 

31 October 1993

He would never understand why he was the one left behind. 

There was a sudden ding from his wards before the KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK from the door. 

Remus held back a sigh but allowed his stomach to sink, closing his eyes. At first he would’ve assumed it was Sunny with another one of his advanced Charms questions that he’s been springing up lately, but the knocking pattern said otherwise.  

A third year Gryffindor student, the protective wards added into his mind. 

Damn it. 

Why today, of all days?

“One moment, I’ll allow you inside,” called Remus even though the last thing he wanted was a conversation. He gulped down his tasteless lukewarm tea and closed the curtains, allowing the date to finally fade as he set the cup down by his desk and fixed his robes. 

He stalked across his office, inhaled sharply through his nose, and plastered on a smile as he opened the door with a small twist. 

“Yes, how may I–” He stuttered off, heart clenching. “Ah. Harry?” 

The boy looked up at him, those bright green eyes (Lily’s eyes) gleaming through the black head of curls (James’ hair), and Harry smiled. It took every bit of strength he had left in him for Remus to smile back in a convincing manner. 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm, good evening sir. May I come in?” 

“Yes,” said Remus immediately, taking a step back and trying not to let his mind spiral. “Yes of course, Harry! May I offer you some hot tea?”

“Oh, erm, sure, thanks.” 

“Any preference?”

“None sir.” 

Remus nodded and closed the door once Harry entered, and he tried to keep his brisk walk to his desk as slow and controlled as possible. Don’t look desperate to escape, never look desperate to escape, he reminded himself as he grabbed the already-filled pot, paying special attention to keep the tremor out of his hands as he poured Harry a cup. Not that Harry could see his hands while he had his back turned to him. Not that he would allow Harry to see the expression that was threatening to crumble his face. 

…Harry. 

Harry was here. 

And Remus was a bloody fool. 

Of course Harry would be here. Today was the day his parents died, why on earth would he want to go to Hogsmeade with the other third year children? And to think, his solitary misery in this room, all cooped up with self-pity completely unaware while the boy was suffering, while Lily and James’ son was suffering and he just…

Sunny lying in the infirmary, dozens and dozens of spells circling his body in rings of blue and green, Madam Pomfrey’s expression fixed with grim determination.

“He will be fine,” she said for the third time, and Remus clung to those words like a lifeline. “But this is much worse than I thought it was. His magic was nearly shattering, Professor! Now I’ve heard and seen plenty of drained children after bouts of accidental spells, but nothing quite like this! He drained himself as if he was fighting for his life. By some miracle he didn’t rip himself apart with all the exhaustion.”

Rip himself apart. Remus thought of the Shrieking shack, and shoved the memories of Moony down before they dared to resurface. 

“But…” he’d begun, hating how thin his voice sounded because he was a full grown adult and he should’ve been better than this. “But he will be alright, yes?”

She looked back at him. Paused. Her eyes softened. Softened with that same kind and understanding gaze she gave him when he was twelve years old and whimpering at that same bed that Sunny laid, treating bleeding scars that his ‘Furry Little Problem’ carved into his skin month after month with caring words and hundreds of healing ointments. 

“Don’t give me that look, Remus,” she said gently, dropping the formalities because this was not a Professor she was trying to comfort any longer, but a friend. “It’s not your fault. And yes, he will be completely fine in only a few hours. All he needs is rest. His miracle saved him greatly indeed.”

Not your fault. 

He turned and looked at Sunny, whose eyes were closed and skin paler than he’s ever seen. The boggart resurfaced in his mind, the boggart he made the boy face in public surrounded by a class filled with cruel and naive children. 

Not your fault, she said.  

He could only hope she wasn’t lying about Sunny’s recovery too. 

…Remus mumbled a vanishing spell under his breath when the teacup overflowed, and prayed that Harry didn’t see. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t told Dumbledore yet about the ‘three dimensionalized symbol’ that the boggart had turned into even after it caused so much pain for the poor boy. He truly didn’t know. It felt like a secret, for a reason he couldn’t quite pin down. But this secret was costing young Sunny a lot of things. Too many. Yet he remained silent. 

He held back a sigh once again, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly out his nose. 

Why couldn’t he help a single child?

Before his standing turned suspicious, he spun around with a bright grin. Hoped it looked convincing. To his relief, Harry was gazing at the gigantic globe that sat in the middle of the room, eyes wide with wonder as he ran his fingers across the countries of South Asia. 

“Here you are,” said Remus pleasantly as he strode over to him, and Harry perked, taking the offered cup with a grateful smile. He clapped his hands now that they were free, desperate to keep them busy lest they begin ripping the strands of his hair out. “Now, how may I help you?”

“Oh, well–”

At the corner of the room, a closed chest rattled and Harry jolted, snapping to look over at it with wide eyes. Remus held back a grimace and disguised his growing discomfort with a laugh.

“Ah, don’t worry about that dear Harry, it’s merely the boggart. I shall relocate it as soon as I am able.” 

“The boggart’s in there?” asked Harry, raising an eyebrow. “As in, the same one you used in class?”

“Indeed, the very same! But not to worry, the chest is very securely locked. It won’t escape unless I want it to. Now, you were saying?” 

“Ah, right.” The boy took a sip of the tea, made a face as if it tasted horrid, and then brought the cup down from his lips, clearing his throat. “Well, erm, it was actually about the boggart I came here for.”

Harry looked up at him then, and that shifty gaze, the way his lips thinned, the clink clink clink of short nails tapping against porcelain… ah. He was nervous. Why was he nervous? Was Remus intimidating? That was the last thing he wanted to be. Sunny already didn’t trust him to tell him about the boggart before, please let Harry not come bearing even worse admissions–

“Why didn’t you let me face it?” he sputtered out, cheeks fading into a faintly darker colour as he looked down at the ground. 

Remus’ mind rammed to a halt. “What, sorry?” he said apologetically with a small smile, leaning down a bit and craning his ear.

Harry swallowed, his resolution made and voice steadier. 

“The boggart. The, uh, the dementor. Why didn’t… did you think I couldn’t face it? Because of what happened on the train? Is that why you stepped in earlier? I could have, you know, I’ve faced plenty of terrifying things before and–” 

“Oh.” Remus blinked again and then laughed because that assumption was so bizarre and today was just– just– just so– “Why Harry, no no no, you’ve got the wrong idea! I do apologize for making you feel that way, but me stepping in to stop your boggart had nothing to do with my beliefs over your skills. Which are quite positive, I’ll be glad to let you know.”

The child’s expression immediately cleared into relief, and the sight of that tentative smile was both a joy and another source of regret. “Really?”

Remus nodded. “Really. I believed that if the boggart were to look into your mind it would turn into Lord Voldemort, and well, I can’t expose that to my students. It had nothing to do with you, I assure you.”

Only traumatizing symbols that trigger horrible panic attacks are allowed in Professor Lupin’s class, evidently. He shoved the bitter thought aside. 

Harry grinned, and the weight inside his chest felt a little lighter. “Well, that’s good to know. Thanks.” 

“Is that all?” asked Remus with a tilt of his head.

“A bit. Though there’s… there’s one more thing, actually.”

There was a pause.

It lasted a lot longer than Remus expected it to. 

He looked down at Harry, trying not to overthink how the boy looked nervous again, and waited in silence while keeping his smile. If there was one thing Sunny taught him, it was patience. Silence never needed to be broken so quickly, and time allowed for one’s thoughts to bloom into stronger ideas. 

“What was Sunny’s boggart?”

Remus startled, genuinely taken aback at both the usage of the first name (the two were friends now?) and the question itself.

“I– I’m sorry?”

“The, erm, the black thing. You saw it the first time it happened, right? What was it? I saw it when Malfoy pulled that awful prank on him,” Harry practically spat out the name, glaring profusely at the air. 

In that second, that one heartbeat length of a moment, Remus saw James’ glare when he talked about Severus, his childish hatred, that boiling rivalry, and he could hear Peter’s deep sigh and Sirius’ booming laugh as he replied with a sarcastic comment and a flashing smirk and swung an arm around his best friend and his brother and his family and why would he ever hurt them why would he ever hurt themwhy would he ever hurt them why would he–

31 October 1993

He didn’t need the spell now, not with the worst reminder he could’ve gotten standing right before him with those too-familiar eyes and too-familiar snark.

His heart ached. 

He kept his smile. 

“Well, I’m not sure, Harry. I never asked Sunny about it. Perhaps you could ask him instead? I’m sure he could provide better answers than I ever could.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a contemplative look on his face. “I don’t want to upset him.”

“Hm. Understandable. But I am afraid I can’t say what the boggart was. It’s not a creature we shall ever go over in class, to say the very least.” 

“So it is a creature?”

“I don’t know.” Remus frowned a bit then, a pit in his stomach growing as worry nagged in his head. “Is… is everything alright with Sunny? Did something happen?” 

Harry, for some reason, immediately sighed in exasperation. 

“Why does everyone just assume that? I don’t hate him or anything!” …What? “It’s just, it’s just so bloody weird and– never mind. Never mind. Thanks, that was all, really. Thank you. Yeah. And thanks for the coffee too and all. Though I reckon you let it run cold a bit.”

The coffee?

Remus glanced down at the half-empty cup he’d handed Harry. 

It was coffee. He served lukewarm, perhaps even cold, unsugared black coffee.

Goddamn Halloween. God damn Halloween. 

“I do apologize for that,” he blurted out even though Harry thanked him for it, because he was a child without impulse control and Dumbledore should have never allowed him near Hogwarts again. “Your mother used to hate it too.”

The only time she had ever dared to consume more than a cup was after the boy in front of him was born. 

He still remembered those early months after Harry’s birth, Lily’s dishevelled red hair as chaotic as the fire they resembled, deep purple bags sinking deep beneath her eyes as she cradled her baby close to her chest with one hand and held a half-filled mug with the other. 

She was still wearing the same attire from yesterday, he couldn’t help but notice. A white shirt whose collar had been stretched by the small hands of little Prongs, loosening it and allowing it to slip off one of her shoulders depending on how she stood. There were stains there. Coffee stains. 

Hah, the one and only Lily Tea-Until-The-Death-of-Time Evans (erm, Potter actually, his mind corrected. Still bloody insane that James actually managed to marry her after all, Merlin’s beard) was actually drinking coffee now, was she? Why, things must be worse than he thought!

Remus bit back an amused smile. He really ought to visit them more often. At this rate, parenthood was going to kill them before Voldermort even got the chance. A small shiver went up his spine at that last bit, and he perished the thought. Nothing would happen, Dumbledore would make sure of it. 

“Oh, would you please hold him, Remus? Would you? Please? Just for an hour? James has already passed out and I’m afraid my bones with turn to rubbish if I stand here rocking him for a second longer–”

“Haha, of course, of course, hand him over. Go sleep, Lily.”

She handed him to him with a watery smile and left for her quarters. Remus held Harry as if he were made of glass, and couldn’t help his grin even as the little baby began to cry immediately. Remus didn’t mind. Harry always cried whenever it wasn’t Lily or James holding him. Only person he didn’t cry with was Peter, who knew how to be quiet and gentle in ways Sirius and Remus didn’t quite grasp just yet.

Such a small creature. Tiny and light and unbearably precious. 

“Shhh, hello little Prongs, it’s okay… don’t you worry about a thing, uncle Moony will take care of you–”

“You knew my parents?” 

Remus blinked, and suddenly the eyes of that baby now stared at him from the face of a boy. 

Harry’s voice had hitched when he asked the question, the surprise in his tone so strong it made the words almost sound like a gasp. The boy was frozen stiff for a moment before he leaned forward, visibly shocked.

It took a second for the question to register. 

Knew his parents?

Remus chuckled deeply, chuckled because he didn't dare do anything else, and he grinned down at an astounded Harry with glittering eyes, not daring to blink either in case his blurring vision turned suspiciously clearer. 

“Yes, I did. We were good friends during school. You have your mothers eyes, you know?”

“I get that a lot.” Of course he did. “And my father’s… everything else.”

“Not quite everything else. His smirk, maybe, but your normal smile is all her.”

All kindness and optimism and innocence. 

Remus stared down at a now-grinning Harry, and tried not to think about how he was looking at a stranger. Once upon a time, little Prongs would’ve called him family. Now all Remus could do was offer cold coffee and fragmented memories to a student. 

“Can…”

Another pause. 

“C-can you tell me more about them?” Harry asked, excitement growing and so heartbreakingly fragile. 

Those few words, a gut punch that drew in a shuddering breath through the nose as his heart cracked. 

Oh Harry. Oh, Harry. 

Remus opened his mouth, struggling to keep himself from collapsing, the words at the tip of his tongue.

Yes, of course, any time, always, please–

The door opened and Sunny barged inside. 

“Professor Lupin I think I figured out that last trick with the Accio Charm and–” began Sunny, but he stumbled to a stop, staring at the scene. “…oh. U-uhm, hi, you two…” he whispered, cheeks going red and voice quieting and weakening in a way Remus was proud to say was becoming less familiar. “...didn’t… realize you guys were… uhm… here…”

“Oh hey Sunny,” said Harry after a startled beat, and he offered a wave as well as a smile. “Did you want something?”

“What are you doing here?” Sunny asked instead of answering, raising an eyebrow at Harry. 

The question’s tone was ruder than Sunny intended, but Remus was already used to the lack of control the boy had over his voice. He wasn’t so sure about Harry though, so he held back a wince and spared a glance at the Gryffindor. To his relief, Harry didn’t look upset at all, grin continuing to grow wide. 

“Asking a few questions about boggarts, is all! And I wanted to ask if Professor Lupin knew how to combat dementors, like the spell he did back in the train earlier in the year and… and, erm, except you weren’t there. Uhm. I’ll explain later?” 

Harry forgot to ask him that last part, but Remus wouldn’t comment.

Sunny’s expression emptied out in what he guessed was surprise. 

“You’re– you’re talking about the dementors– the patronus– now?” 

Of course the Ravenclaw knew about Patronuses. Clever young boy. 

“Uh… yeah?” said Harry tentatively, shrugging. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by a ‘patronus’, but–”

“It’s Halloween,” said Sunny, as if he just remembered something important. His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, that’s why. It’s Halloween.”

Before anyone could ask, Sunny suddenly straightened up and spun around, bolting out of the room. 

“I have to go I forgot something bye–”

Remus watched him go, too tired with everything else to care about whatever nonsense that conversation just was. Sunny always had a thought process behind his words, he reminded himself, even though (more than) half of his behavior was very, very strange. 

Harry slowly pointed at the left-open door, side-eyeing Remus in question. “...d’you know what that was about?”

“Haven’t a clue,” answered Remus honestly. He looked back at Harry and offered a smile. “Now, you said you wanted to know more about your parents?” 

That genuinely joyful grin that grew on Harry’s face was all the answer he needed. 

…that was, of course, until Snape walked a few seconds later to give him his Wolfsbane potion in disguise as ‘tea’, a reminder that he had yet to take his dose for tonight. The full moon was only a few days away, and he needed to take his medication daily until then for the transformation to be under control. 

He had to dismiss Harry– who bless his heart, had ‘warned’ him about Snape’s love for the dark arts and his potential inclination towards poisoning Remus with the same subtlety as a trampling elephant– early after that, with a promise to discuss everything (including the Patronus) in further detail some other day. The potion’s hormonal side effects were as horrid as the taste and he didn’t want to put the poor boy through his worsening mood.

And just when the day was starting to look up. 

Merlin, how he hated Halloween. 

—

Last time Sunny ran this fast he literally blew up a store. 

His legs and lungs and arms and every fucking cell in his body was dying, burning alive, and oxygen was a concept that he no longer had the luxury to understand. Every step he slammed onto the ground ran up his aching skeleton to pound into his head. The corridors and windows and flickering torches flew past him in a blur, and the world had been rendered to nothing but flurry strokes of color. 

He ran past two ghosts by now who had screamed and flown out of the way when Sunny made no effort to go around them. He slammed against three walls and two paintings who cursed his entire family lineage with very old timey speech. He was fairly sure he even ran past Snape or some other edgy Batman teacher along the way without even caring to say hi. 

He looked insane and panicked and desperate and he needed to get to Sirius first. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

How could he almost forget something like this?

Sirius was literally his favorite character– person– whatever– in the entire book series! 

What the fuck brain?! 

The exact hour that Sirius tried to break into the Gryffindor common room wasn’t something he remembered, if it was ever specified to begin with, but he was vaguely sure his attempt was discovered right after the Halloween Feast. The kids would go back to their Commons after it was over to find the Fat Lady’s portrait ripped to shreds. Panic would ensue throughout the whole castle and everyone would have to sleep in the Great Hall for like one or two nights or something while they searched everything and everyone. 

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall right now, the festivities and food were being swallowed by the children with black holes for stomachs. 

It was still dinner, but it would end soon.

And this meant that either he was early or he was too damn late. That was while still assuming everything would go according to plot. Sunny didn’t know. But he reworked his four goals these last few days, reconsidering everything he knew about the third book now that everything and everyone was so fucking real and all that, and after getting two weeks worth of good enough sleep (his ‘magical work out’ theory had worked, more or less) he fell into a new conclusion. 

He didn’t want anyone to suffer needlessly if he could do something to save them. He wasn't going to protect just Harry, or stop just Pettigrew. He refused to play god and pick and choose who 'deserved' his help, because lord knew he was the last person who should get to make that choice. 

Bottom line: Sirius didn’t have to suffer needlessly if he could help. But Sunny couldn’t help him if he didn’t know him- or rather, if Sirius didn’t know him.

All of this brought him to the here and now. Running up the tower of Shifty Stupid Staircases and tripping over every other step. 

Goddamnit, why couldn’t the Gryffindors go sleep in the dungeons instead?! 

Sunny wanted to scream a little. 

Eventually– and he wasn’t religious anymore, but he still sent a thank you to whatever all-powerful entity allowed him to not perish by a heart attack– he finally managed to get to the Gryffindor entrance. He was panting and sweating, dizzy with every emotion but relief, actually falling to his knees as he hyperventilated right then and there while leaning against the wall. 

Fuck, he really, really, really needed to get in better shape.

Whatever. Sunny took a minute to catch his breath, or two or three minutes, and with trembling, aching, screaming and agonized muscles, he pushed himself up to his feet.

His gaze darted all over the place. Nobody was there. Not a single soul. All around he could see more staircases shifting in the near distance, and as far as he could tell every floor’s entrances or the other smaller ‘balconies’ were empty. He turned to the portrait, and almost cried at seeing how smooth and unharmed the canvas was. 

Fat Lady looked down at him with a confused expression, holding her empty glass of wine in that fancy way snob people did, looking as regal as always with that greek-looking fine silk dress that fell luxuriously around her curves in folded waves. Did she change her outfit? He swore he remembered her wearing a more pink poofy ballroom gown or something the other day. Could portraits change outfits? Was he crazy?

“Just what on earth do you think you're doing young man?! Never run up the stairs like that, you could fall!”

Hah. Funny. 

Sunny completely ignored her and straightened out his robes, clearing his throat and casually making his way to the other side of the painting’s balcony. Nothing to see here folks, he was acting totally normal. He walked straight to the nearest connecting staircase and followed it down to some random floor he’d have to get unlost from later. Just do everything with confidence and nobody questions you, as Kel once said when he was eleven years old and trying to comfort an anxious Sunny who couldn’t find it in himself to speak up properly for a school presentation. 

Hopefully the trick applied to everything else in life too. 

The corridor he walked down to was dark, the windows darker thanks to the night outside, and there were fewer lit torches running across the walls compared to the other hallways. Maybe this was a less inhabited floor, he didn’t know, but either way it meant dimmer lighting and less headaches. 

He leaned a hand against the walls for support as he walked forward, the cold touch of large raspy stone bricks a grounding sensation, and allowed himself to be grateful for the lack of paintings. Now that he stopped running, the heat that bubbled up from extersion had faded away, and the autumn chill that lingered within the ancient castle made him shiver into his terribly sticky robes. Sunny sighed, and swiped some lingering cold sweat from his forehead. Damn. He was so, so tired.

Okay. Alright. He needed to think. 

Sirius wasn’t by the portrait yet, so where the hell would he be right now? Did he even come to get Peter this time around? Or did Sunny do something that fucked over the plot real bad and now it was finally catching up to him?

He was actually considering walking back to the portrait and waiting for the damn guy the whole night–

Only to look up from the ground and meet eyes with a black dog staring from across the corridor, frozen in place. 

Sunny froze in place himself. 

Stared. 

The dog stared back. 

Oh shit. 

It was massive. Like, actually massive, easily mistaken for a wild wolf or something like that. There were more muddy leaves than fur visible, but even then he could see the black hairs that spread across the dog’s body, more wavy and curly than most wolves. Sunny wondered if the fur matched human Sirius’ hair. 

The staircase he came from earlier had already detached itself and moved away. They were both pretty much stranded. Hogwarts did that sometimes, leaving certain floors without any connecting stairs for a minute or two. To mess with the kids probably, he long suspected that the castle was sentient in a way. No other explanation as to why the staircases never moved when he was the one walking across them, not once in two whole months, while they still shifted and turned for other kids seconds after he stepped off. As if the stairs knew that his distress would be too great to be ‘amusing’. 

In any case, if Sirius wanted to get to the Fat Lady now, he’d have to wait for the stairs to return. 

Sirius did not look like someone who was considering waiting. He looked two seconds away from jumping out the goddamn window, actually.  

Okay.

Uh. 

Shit. 

He did not plan this far. 

The fuck did he do now?! 

Sunny extended his hands out, the same way he would if he was trying to calm down a feral wild animal. Which in many ways, he was. His heartbeat picked up, beating a little faster.

He cleared his throat, twice, and crouched down, trying to keep his voice steady.

“H-hey! Hey, hey, hey there, hi puppy, hi. You’re okay… I’m Sunny. Sunny Suzuki. I-I'm a friend…!” He almost said I’m Harry’s friend to get some brownie points, but that wouldn’t make things any better since Sirius didn’t know he knew he was Sirius and so he didn’t have any reason to mention Harry yet and– oh this was a mess. 

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, calm down. It was easier to get his voice to work as long as he convinced himself enough that this was just a dog he was talking to. He never had trouble speaking with Hector, and he tried to think of that, of little goofy Hector who loved balls and his little toys and very soft belly scratches. He stopped thinking of Sirius behind those pearly black eyes as much as he could. 

The dog lowered as well, but its ears were flat against its furry head and oh great it was baring its teeth now. Lovely. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Sunny was beginning to panic a little. Sirius just stared at him all the while, probably stuck between the urge to run away and sticking around as a ‘dog’ to get to the Gryffindor dorms later. 

This was a terrible idea.

“Heeyy, pspspspsps, come hereee, puppy, puppy, puppy…” Sunny said with the same voice he used with Mewo, and never did he feel more stupid. This was not a cat. Hell, this wasn’t even a dog. Kill him now. Please. “Shhh, shh, it’s okay, yeah– do you want any food? Bread or meat or something? You look really thin.”

And he really did, Sunny didn’t even have to lie or anything. This dog was pure unbrushed fur and bones. 

Speaking of which, it stopped trying to show off its very sharp teeth as much which was a plus, perking slightly. Food was a good topic then. Maybe this didn’t go to shit yet. 

“Okay. U-uh okay. Okay! Here, lemme grab you something,” said Sunny, one (slightly trembling) hand still outstretched as the other went to grab his wand from his bag. 

As soon as the beige stick came into view the dog growled as if he was taking out a goddamn bomb. 

Sunny’s voice cracked a little with the new shot of anxiety.

“No, no, no! It’s okay! We’re all good! Imma just use this to, uhm, to summon you food, okay? Nothing more, you’re a good doggo, good pup… calm down… please…” 

He shushed him the best he could with his free hand, and then watched the dog carefully for a moment. Sirius didn’t budge a muscle, glaring at him with this unwavering intensity that made a shiver run up his spine. But by some miracle, it looked like Sirius was thinking about this. An odd thing to say since he was trying to read a dog’s expression, but judging by pure vibes and a touch of wishful thinking, Sunny would wager a guess that the other really was considering his words. 

A beat passed.

Then, to his immense surprise, it stepped closer. Stepped closer to him instead of past him, even as one of the staircases had now lodged itself back to their balcony. Its tail and ears were still low, but it looked way less hostile than before. A mild shocker in his opinion– was Sirius really that desperate to just trust the word of some kid he never saw before in his life instead of making a run for it? 

Well, it’s not like he could turn back into a human and try to say the password to the Fat Lady now, with Sunny breathing down his neck. And with his dog-self discovered by a student, he couldn’t do much at all without taking the risk of his animagus shtick being found out. Sunny could almost see it from where he stood, the other falling into the same realization as him that, if Sirius did something now and it went wrong, and Sunny mentioned seeing a strange black dog entering the castle, his entire cover could be blown since Professor Lupin knew about his animal form. 

Frankly, he had no idea how the hell Sirius’ plan worked in canon. The books explained he went in using his dog form and was super sneaky, sure, but like seriously, how did nobody notice anything until the guy turned back into a human? Whatever. 

Yet another step closer, and then a growl. Lower this time, but quieter. 

A reminder.

A request? 

Sunny swallowed.

Food. Right. That’s what this was about. Sirius’ plan was fucked, but he could still get something out of this, and it was food. Luckily for him, Sunny’s plan was getting less and less fucked by the second, and giving food was exactly the next step he wanted to take anyway. 

“U-uh, okay, uhm. Here.” 

He waved his wand and thought of the humongous pile of chicken wings he remembered from the Feast. 

“Accio!”

A beat. 

Nothing happened. 

The dog stared at him. It blinked. Sunny flushed. Long distance summoning was still more or less tricky, even if he knew where the object was. But he did do it before, multiple times in fact– it was what he wanted to talk to Lupin about in the first place– so this shit was just embarrassing.

“H-hold on, I can do it. Give me a second.” 

There was that weird noise dogs made when they coughed, like if a sneeze or a laugh had a baby with the concept of choking, and Sirius sat down with his front legs straightened and posture as perfect as a perfectly trained police pup. His ears perked up as his tail curled wagged behind him, hitting the ground in a steady rhythm (did Sirius notice that he was doing that?). 

No pressure, I guess, grumbled Sunny internally to himself.  

“Accio,” he tried again, waving his wand and trying to think of the chicken, the shape, the color– 

But it was hard to focus when Sirius fucking Black was staring into his soul, sitting only a few feet away, thin and malnourished and there and real real real and the only reason he wasn’t losing his mind or fangirling on the spot was because a week ago he flew on a magic fucking broom with Harry fucking Potter. 

What. Was. His. Life.

–the chicken’s image faded away from his mind before he had the chance to properly grasp it. 

Nothing happened. 

That same dog-cough sound came out again, but quieter. 

Sunny’s cheeks began to burn red at the concept that Sirius was fucking laughing at him.

“H-hey, look, you– you’re distracting me! Stop looking at me!”

The dog just stared and tilted its head in mock innocence, perfectly amused, head leaning forward ever so slightly, spine arching. As if he was trying to sneakily make the staring worse. 

Sunny deadpanned. 

“Oh, fuck off.”

He did not mean to let that slip, but he was too exasperated to care and his brain was too broken right now to do anything about it (It was Sirius. Fucking. Black. RIGHT THERE!) . Surprisingly though, Sirius did stand up after another too-amused huff, turning around and slumping back into a ‘down’ position, resting his snout on his legs as he waited facing away. 

Considering he knew the person in there was a human and could understand every word he was saying, Sunny wasn’t sure if Sirius sucked really, really hard at acting like a normal dog, or if he just perfected that ‘give me food’ puppy aura with natural talent and rendered every possible mistake meaningless. 

But either way, turning around worked. Not being stared at made things ten times easier. 

Sunny relaxed despite himself, and he let out a sigh. 

He waved his wand, brought back the image of food to his mind–

“Accio.” 

Finally, finally, there was that familiar trickling sound as a roasted chicken wing materialized above his free palm in the same spot every summoned object should appear, just how he’s been training this ‘variation’ of the spell to work. It landed softly and Sunny curled his fingers around it, warm pride blooming in his chest. 

Fuck yeah, magic rocked!

He smiled a little and turned to Sirius, about to tell him he could turn back around. He didn’t need to, however, since the dog was already standing again and lowering his head in that submissive way dogs did, eyes trained on the chicken. Sunny sat down, crossing his legs. He tossed the chicken to the ground a few feet away. Sirius didn’t waste a damn second and pounced on the thing faster than he could blink and Sunny yelped in surprise. That didn’t bother the dog who ate the whole thing in a single big bite. 

Jesus, this dude was hungry as fuck.  

How long did he go without proper meals?

Sirius chewed for a few seconds and swallowed, and a big floppy tongue licked his snout and teeth to clean everything up. Some things were just stuff all dogs did then, animagus or not. 

He turned back to Sunny. 

The fucker proceeded to sit back down, tilting his head and wagging his tail harder. Thud thud thud it went against the floor, and yeah, Sirius definitely knew he was doing that. 

He stared. Whined. 

Damn. Puppy. Dog. Eyes. 

This was blatant manipulation but Sunny didn’t give a shit, snorting quietly in amusement because he knew that, if he were to ever meet human Sirius, he could lord this over him for sure. Or maybe Sirius would lord it over Sunny? It was an awkward situation all around, could go both ways. Maybe they’d just agree to never speak of this again. 

Hopefully it’d be the last option, since this wasn’t the last time Sunny was planning on giving away food.

Nobody had to suffer needlessly if he could help. 

Sunny produced another chicken, with more ease this time since most of the previous pressure was lifted, and down Sirius went lopping the whole thing up. The dog took a step closer, before sitting down and tilting his head again. Sunny smiled a little despite himself, and repeated the process. Then repeated it another time. And another. And another. 

By the time the two minute mark hit, Sirius was only a foot away, going nom nom nom on the last piece of chicken Sunny managed to grab. ‘Last’ because, no matter how hard he envisioned it or how much he focused on the memory, he didn’t seem to be able to grasp any other food. 

He knew what this meant. 

Dinner had ended. There was no food to grab anymore.

Sirius sat once he finished, tilting his head again. But Sunny shook his own head, putting away his wand. There was a whine, that super sad dog whine that just made you die on the inside a little, and he groaned. 

“Oh, don’t be like that– dinner is over! We need to get you outta here, unfortunately I don’t think wild wolves or whatever are allowed inside the school, and people could see us any second now.” 

That was the wrong thing to say.

Sirius jumped to his feet as if the floor was on fire. Sunny didn’t even have the time to make a surprised noise before he heard that signature sound of dog nails scraping across the floor as Sirius began sprinting down the corridor. 

It was official. Sirius sucked at acting like a normal dog. 

Sunny sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled to his feet, stumbling forward a bit as he patted down his clothes. 

“W-wait!” 

For a beat, he thought his plan went down the gutter. 

But then, the dog stopped. 

It actually paused in its tracks, glancing back at Sunny with its ears perked. Sirius’ entire stance was coiled up and ready to spring back into a run, and he knew he had to make whatever he said next count. 

“The Forest– by the uh, by the edges of the grounds and stuff– you… y-you wild dogs like it there, right?” 

He didn’t know if Sirius was buying into his shit, Sunny knew he was acting weird as hell for a kid who just met a random wolf-dog in his school, but he did not care right now.

“Well, u-uhm, I… look, I– I always wanted a dog,” he blurted out, because yeah, this was a thing he was doing now. “And. Uhm. I know Hogwarts won’t– won’t allow big pets like that or anything, but you’re really smart! And like, super trained? For a wild pup? I don’t know, you’re weird, but I like you, it seems like you’re actually listening to me and– and– uh. Look. Look! Meet me by the Forest, by the, uh, by the Lake, in that spot with the really big boulder stone and whatever. The biggest one. You know what I’m talking about, very hard to miss. Probably. I don’t know, you’re weird, you seem to be able to understand human language and– whatever! I’ll bring food! And– and toys, if I can buy some someday! Blankets! And all that doggy stuff! And it’ll be great, and– and… uhm… yeah. Just. Just show up again, okay? I promise I’ll bring you food.” 

The dog stared. 

Sunny really just wanted to kill himself. 

His voice weakened, but Sirius was listening now, really listening, and Sunny didn’t have to try too hard to allow his whisper to carry across the dark, empty corridor. 

“Tomorrow morning. Before everyone else wakes up, so nobody finds out. I don’t… I don’t want anyone knowing I’m doing this. It’s embarrassing, since I have cat. And. Uhm. Stuff. Anyway, I’ll bring food from the kitchens, alright? I promise. Just please show up.”

It was now or never. Either there’d be an agreement and his plan would work, or Sirius would vanish off to go do whatever the fuck he would do now that Sunny threw his entire plan out the window. 

Sirius didn’t move for a long, long time. 

Then, with a motion that was too direct to belong to any normal dog, Sirius gave a clear nod. 

He turned and left after that, black fur melting with the long shadows cast by the dim moonlight outside.

Sirius was gone. 

Sunny didn’t do so much as twitch in that corridor for a solid five long minutes, staring straight ahead as his body and mind caught up with everything. 

He just ran across the school, his pulsing muscles were happy to remind him. 

He just adopted Sirius Black, his screaming brain was spiraling to process. 

Chatter began to bounce across the halls as children headed back to their Commons after dinner. Only then did Sunny move, sluggishly forcing his body to walk back to his dorms, ignoring the ache and the way his thoughts were getting foggier and slower every second.

After a day like today, the only comfort was that he knew he’d sleep like the dead. 

—

Inside the Headmaster’s office were letters, ones written in dark blue ink and embellished alphabet that spread across the pages like art. They were stacked by a windowsill, gathering dust beneath the moon’s streaming radiance. Each had been opened and read at least once before being folded back and set aside to be burned at a later date.

Albus, 

Something happened yesterday. Apparently, E and L are sick. I’ve sent Archie to take care of supplying them with their bought goods.
D is also annoyed with me because she believes I’ve increased my prices. I haven’t. I’ll increase her dose the next time, as she is slipping again and the current medication is clearly not enough. 

How have you fared in your search for a new Professor? 

No sign of Black. 

- A.P.C.

…

Albus, 

If I told E and L that you of all people sent them best wishes, I believe they’d set themselves on fire.

Yes, Archie is fine. Apparently he stole my part of our profits because of his daughter. She is still ill. I redacted his pay for the week but did not punish him further. I am upset because all he had to do was ask.

Everything else is fine. 

How is Severus? Your last letter worries me. Is he truly that upset?

No sign of Black. 

- A.P.C. 

…

Albus,

Could you stop being so poetic with every response? I’ve asked you this before, please do listen. I don’t appreciate wasting my time reading a passage from who may as well be bloody Shakespeare when I could be tending to the shop. And no, before you say it, that was not meant as a compliment.

In any case, she appreciated your gift. It was a kind thing to do. Thank you. 

Nothing to report. I believe Margot may have more information regarding your questions, she lives closer to that area. Or perhaps Julius, though I haven’t heard any news from him in a while. Someone ought to go check if he’s alright, he may have been caught. 

Everything is fine on my end. No sign of Black.

- A.P.C.

…

Albus, 

Today something happened. 

I fired Archie, for each one of his protection spells failed last night. Every single one. It was the final straw.

A child broke in, a young boy from the States. Can you imagine that? A child breaking in? Not to mention he said that the door was wide open, and while there was no dishonesty in his words I struggle to believe Archie would’ve failed to that capacity. Either way it was a good riddance, but I still worry for his daughter. I’ve paid enough when he left that he needn’t worry about food for a little while yet, but perhaps I should’ve given more. At least until he finds employment again. Though perhaps there is no reason for concern, his skillset is one that is quite sought out.

In any case, the boy is a fatherless Squib. He cannot be older than thirteen years old. 

I’ve hired him. 

Don’t give me that sigh, I can hear it from where I still write these words. He had nowhere else to go. If you’re allowed to take in strays with your own staff, so can I. And yes, don’t believe I’ve forgotten the reason Severus was upset earlier. Truly, Albus? Remus Lupin? I understand hiring someone from your “little club” after that last fiasco, but did it have to be him of all people? His kind is a danger to every student and you bloody well know it. I wouldn’t have minded teaching for a year if you’re that desperate, all you needed to do was ask. I hope you know what you’re doing. 

Nothing else to report. No sign of Black. 

- A.P.C.

…

No he’s not my bloody ward are you insane?

E and L are fine. I haven’t checked in with Archie. 

Nothing to report. No sign of Black. 

…

Albus, 

The boy said he did magic. He didn’t explain why, or how, but he was distressed when he told me. There is no way this is possible, yet something about the way he spoke rattled me. He hasn’t been the same since. I can’t help but worry.

Nothing to report. No sign of Black. 

- A.P.C.

…

Get this through your thick skull, he is not my ward.

No sign of Black. 

…

Albus,

I would have appreciated it if you had held back your amusement in your last letter. And speaking of letters, yes, Sunny did receive one today. How did you know? Never mind, don’t answer that last part, I can think of plenty of answers by myself. Truth be told I don’t quite know how to feel. This is very different from last time. I suppose I should feel relief, all things considered.

But moving on to more pressing matters, I thought I’d asked you to not register him as under my care? Did you truly need to do that? Now the Ministry Fund is no longer an option, and money is tight as it is. 

No sign of Black, but I’ve heard some rumors swimming about of other things that may be of interest to you. Call me through the floo this evening before dinner, this is not something I should write on paper. 

- A.P.C.

…

Albus,

Stop. Don’t speak of things you do not understand. My words weren't an invitation. You know that. 

In any case, I should apologize. I did not realize the registration itself was outside your authority. But is there still a chance you can ask Hogwarts to rethink her decision? Thank you. 

Nothing to report.

Take care of the boy, let me know if something happens. 

- A.P.C. 

…

Albus, 

H died. ‘Freak incident’. Z and L are heartbroken, but E has continued to do business with me as usual. I suspect a murder. Not sure why, merely a feeling. I believe this has to do with what we spoke of earlier. I will investigate and report further. 

No sign of Black. 

I was pleased to find that Sunny was sorted into Ravenclaw through a letter the boy sent me. I knew it would be so, but it is nonetheless satisfying to have my suspicions be correct. 

How is he? 

- A.P.C.

…

Albus, 

What do you mean?

No sign of Black.

- A.P.C.

…

Albus,

I see. That is most unfortunate for young Malfoy, his father knows I don’t take kindly to offenses like these. I shall speak with Lucius about appropriate disciplinary actions, I doubt he’s aware that his son is targeting Sunny while he’s under my contract. How is Severus, by the way? He hasn’t responded to my letters. Did he manage to produce the Wolfsbane potion? If he did, give him my sincere congratulations, it is not an easy brew at all. 

No sign of Black.

- A.P.C.

…

Albus, 

I apologize for the late response, I’ve been busy. Business is fine, and I have a handful of new clients that are becoming more steady. Two especially, I will call them ‘V’ and ‘T’. Both are young. I have made no progress regarding H’s murder. Margot has agreed to help me in that regard, so feel free to ask her any questions as well. 

I’ve hired someone new to help with brewing. Her name is Rena. Intelligent, but stunted. She reminds me of Severus. 

Nothing else to report. No sign of Black. 

How is Sunny? I haven’t heard from him for some time now. I admit I am worried.

- A.P.C.

…

He what.

Explain. 

…

I don’t give a damn about your thoughts you godforsaken old daft croak. 

He’s hardly old enough to cause that much damage, and if it truly is as bad as you say then it shouldn’t be nearly as “controlled” as your friend claims the wreckage was. Something else must have happened and it happened right under your bloody nose. Sunny suffered the brunt of it and I am astounded you have the audacity to think otherwise. Go to the damned Forest and check for yourself to see what truly happened instead of trusting the word of that half-bred oaf with rocks for brains, or I’m flying my way there myself. Don’t write to me until you have more information.

You already know there is not a damn hint of Black here. Hasn’t been for over a decade and his escape changed nothing.  Now, let me make one thing abundantly clear, in case your genius mind hasn’t understood yet: 

If anything happens to the boy, and I mean anything Albus, it is on your head.

- A.P.C.