Sirius/Hermione
Sirius looked over at his brother, a mad glint in his eyes as he threw down his cards,
“Full House Regi. Looks like I win again,” he howled in joy, reaching out to claim the small pile of sickles that rested in the center of the tale.
“Well of course you did. Bit hard to lose to a dead man now isn’t it,” Regulus huffed, fixing Sirius with vacant, sunken eyes
“What are you on about? Stop pretending like you’re dead when I’m kicking your butt,” Sirius pressed on, collecting the cards and shuffling them up, “Come on, let’s play again, I’m sure you’ll win one round,”
Sirius looked up from his shuffling to where Regi was or rather was supposed to be. Instead, all that was there was an empty chair,
“Will play when you get back Regi…. I promise,” Sirius tossed the cards to the ground before yelling in anguish, upturning the small table and sending the broken bits of bones he believed to be sickles scattering to the ground.
“I promise I’ll let you win if you come back,” he muttered darkly, looking down at the overturned mess he left from his rage.
The entire room held marks of his anger, large holes from blasting spells littering almost every wall within the room. Even the floor wasn’t spared from his wrath, as large scorch marks marred the once beautiful wooden floors. Some were fresh, others were from a time that Sirius could barely recall. Then again, there was very little that Sirius could properly recall. For him, in the depths of his fractured mind, his life seemingly started on that ratty cot in the depths of Azkaban.
Those were the memories that were the strongest. The ones that were constantly on the surface of his mind, prickling at his thoughts. He spent days on end, wallowing in disgust and self-pity as the Dementors fed off of his misery and self-hate. Had he not realized that staying as a dog could shield him from the Dementors and their feedings, he would have succumbed to them well before he ever had a chance to escape and prove his innocence. Even then, it did little to salvage his mind.
He had started seeing his brother when he first escaped from Azkaban when he returned to living in Grimmauld Place. It started as just a faint glimpse out the corner of his eye. A fading image that may or may not have been Regi. Then, one night, as he sat in the kitchen nursing a bottle of Ogdens, Sirius saw him. Still fresh-faced. Still young. The face of his brother untouched by Dark Magic or the allure of the Dark Lord. So close that Sirius could see the faint freckles that dotted his brothers face.
From that moment forward, Regi was always nearby, at least within the walls of Grimmauld. It was as if they had merely pressed pause on where they had left off, Sirius talking non-stop about any and everything, losing himself more and more to a figment of his imagination. Perhaps there was a rational part of his brain that knew his brother wasn’t there, that he was still dead. Whenever they part came up Sirius found the image of his brother decaying. Dying right before his eyes. Withering into nothing, leaving Sirius alone with the far too loud thoughts in his mind.
He eventually stopped listening to that side of his mind entirely.
Things mellowed out once he got Harry back in his life. Knowing that there was another James in the world he could have alongside him helped ease off the worst of his thoughts, the ones that seeing Regulus couldn’t touch. The ones that kept him up at night. The dead face of Lily. James, rising from the grave to admonish him for not saving them. Lupin, cursing him for trusting Peter. Sending letters to Harry, or even thinking about him helped to stave off those thoughts. Now that they were living together, Sirius hadn’t thought about the demons of his past much.
Sirius stood there, eyeing the broken bones and thrown cards for a moment, his mind drifting without his consent. He had no idea how long he stood there, staring into space, but the spell was broken when he felt the wards of Grimmuald Place surge in response to something going on downstairs. Sirius had a good idea just what it was, and sighed to himself.
“James, you have got to stop experimenting with all this wild magic. It’s not good for you,” Sirius spoke to no one, before taking his leave of the attic to head downstairs.
Sirius arrived on the floor where Harry was staying and knocked on the door. He could hear, thanks to the wards, through the silencing charm that Harry had erected as the boy scrambled about cursing to himself. There was no telling just what he was doing for sure, but the boy was just like his father, so chances were it was probably something fun and mischievous. They were still two weeks away from the trial so it was bound for the boy to be restless.
Sirius was served a pile of disappointment when the door was opened and Harry stood there, wand tucked behind his ear, fingers stained with ink, and several books cracked open with notes in his Godson's all too familiar handwriting.
“Sorry Siri. This is the first time I’ve been able to really practice magic outside of Hogwarts and I’ve been wanting to try my hand at a few animating spells. Think I may have accidentally given a teapot life,”
The sound of tinkling china caught Sirius’ keen ears as he spied said teapot walking around the room rather clumsily.
“That was my mum's favorite kettle. Used to go on and on how it made the best kind of tea because it was made from stolen dragons’ teeth,”
Harry visibly balked at Sirius’s words, making the man give out a bark of a laugh before slapping Harry on the shoulder
“No need to worry pup, I’m sure whatever prank you were planning with it will be just fine. Though maybe start with something a bit smaller,”
“Oh, this wasn’t for a prank,” Harry looked mildly incensed, something Sirius picked up on and tried to ignore, “I was trying to see if I could use an animation spell in conjunction with rune magic to program magical objects to move on their own. Did you know runes are just like Muggle computer code in a way? It’s just magical information that’s coded in such a way that-,”
“Prongslet, you have got to let this Muggle thing go. It’s just so unbecoming,” Sirius did his best to keep his annoyance tampered down as he spoke with his Godson,
“I know but Siri you don’t understand how big of a breakthrough this could be. If you could code with magic, I may be able to bridge the gap between-,”
“That’s enough,” Sirius growled, his mood shifting on a dime as he stormed past Harry and into his room, “Harry you have got to stop acting like this. This isn’t you. This isn’t James. You are a powerful wizard who should be proud of his heritage, not hiding behind Muggle trappings. I know I wasn’t around to raise you correctly but I am here now. You can let it go,”
For Sirius, the face on Harry was unreadable. It switched rapidly from a wrinkled frown to a tight smile. Eventually, when his Godson sighed and gave in, Sirius breathed his relief.
“So…is this a bad time to ask more about your friend Tony you mentioned,” his Godson looked up hopefully, fixing him with a look that made Sirius’s heartache
“You can’t just pull out those eyes pup, it’s like trying to say no to your mother,” Sirius paced a bit, waffling on if he should even be talking about the Muggle with his Godson. There was a chance this would just send his Pup spiraling back into his odd Muggle obsession. On the other hand, it would be a good way to sneak in some more stories of his time with James.
“Fine, you win Pup. Come on downstairs and we can chat about Tony, James, Lupin, and even your Mum. Hell, maybe even that Slytherin git of ours,”
“Professor Snape,” Harry asked innocently, earning a snort from Sirius from his guess,
“Far from it. No, this would be Laci. I think I mentioned him to ya. If not, allow me to tell you how this man managed to pull one over on Kingsley Shacklebolt during the war,”
Sirius was beaming brightly as his mouth started spewing as many thoughts as it could about his past, almost on autopilot. There was joviality that ran through him as he took a seat in the kitchen with his Prongslet and waxed on and on about the past. Seeing him there, looking at him with the same messy mop of hair as James.
Though, in the light of the kitchen, it looks just slightly different. A little bit more contained than he thought. Not to mention the way his Godson talked with his hands, constantly moving them whenever he got overly excited. Had his Pup always done that? It was so much like-
“So, Tony, did he ever find out about you all cheating at cards,” the words seemed to pull Sirius out of his mental stupor, the world sliding back into focus all around him
“Well of course not. Tony was a lot of things, a damn right clever Muggle. However, Laci was just that little bit better at being clever. Think that was why he loved the guy,”
Why are you so obsessed with this man, Sirius thought to himself as he watched Harry ruminate over the information he had been given. Your father was so much better than him.
“James was probably the best card player I knew, second only to Regi of course. You remember when you swindled Minny out of a couple of Galleon at an Order meeting. Swore up and down she was going to find a way to take House Points from you,”
Sirius waved his wand and wordless conjured a bottle of FireWhiskey and two glasses. Happily, he splashed a measure of the spirit into both, sliding one over to the slightly confused-looking James,
“Oh, now that was a wild night. Just before our first Raid at that. Dumbledore was adamant that we got to enjoy ourselves. Never seen you so pissed drunk before,” Sirius happily downed his shot before setting up another one.
Warmth radiated around his body, pushing away that constant cold that seemed to have settled into his bones since leaving Azkaban. James was here, right here, chasing away all those fears and pain. Everything felt right.
“Sirius, what are you on about? Are you okay,” James asked, his face morphing wildly before Sirius’s eyes.
“’ Course I’m fine Prongs, don’t forget I can out drink you,”
“Siri it’s me, Harry. You…you do know that right,”
James began to fade away from his vision, the bright green eyes filtering into view as James’s face morphed into that of Harry. His Godson looked worried and afraid, at least if those watery eyes were anything to go by. The
“Course I do Pup. Just got caught up in the story. Now where was I-,”
“You were about to tell me more about Tony Stark,” Harry asked cautiously, something that Sirius easily picked up on
“Tony was just some Muggle we hung around with for a month before going off to war Harry. I know you think he’s this super genius but he was nothing special,”
“Nothing special? He saved the world from aliens and killer robots not too long ago Siri,” Harry retorted, fixing Sirius with a glare that looked out of place on the face of James’s son,
“Not to mention that just because he is Muggle doesn’t mean he isn’t amazing in his own right. The man is a genius and I’m sure if I could just talk to him we could find a way to bridge the gap between magic and technology,”
“What,” Sirius sneered, his ire growing by the second, though that went unnoticed by Harry. As did the swell of dark magic the house was swirling around the two wizards.
“Sirius, if we could find a way to make Muggle tech work in our world do you not know how drastically we could change things? Hell, I’m already on the cusp of finding a way to use runes as a computer language for PRONGS-,”
“Harry stop with this nonsense,” Sirius roared, the magic of Grimmauld Place stocking the flames of his irrational anger, “PRONGS isn’t real. James was real! Instead of asking about some guy who doesn’t even know you exist, why don’t you ask more about him,”
“Because that’s all anyone talks about,” Harry yelled, his emotions bubbling to the surface, “My father is the only thing anyone ever wants to talk to me about. Ever since I stepped foot in this world the only thing I have ever been told was, ‘James Potter was great’ or, ‘You look just like your father’. Constantly! So, forgive me for taking interest in someone other than him,”
“He died protecting you,” Sparks were firing from the tip of Sirius’s wand, something he hadn’t even realized he had in his hands, “He died, making sure you could live and this is how you repay him,”
“I’m tired of living for the dead,” Harry rose to challenge his Godfather, not breaking eye contact, “The thing that every Wixen knows me for is someone else dying. Do you know what’s that like?”
“Then maybe you would have been better off dying that night instead of the only other brother I had,”
The words were pulled from his mouth, yanked free of his mind by a force not of his own. The moment they left his lips, the pain of regret spiraled into Sirius,
“Harry, wait. I didn’t mean-,”
The damage had already been done, His Godson looked at him, tears streaming down his face. The boy looked ready to leave when the floo roared to life and out stepped Dumbledore, walking in on Sirius gripping his wand while Harry fought back tears.
“My boys, I do hope this isn’t a serious altercation taking place,” the old man's eyes lingered on Sirius and his wand for some time, before turning to Harry.
“No, Headmaster,” came the easy lie from Harry as he dried his eyes and bit down his emotions, “Sirius was just telling me a funny joke. Are you here for our lessons today,”
Sirius watched as Harry ignored him entirely, flocking over to Dumbledore. The old man only gave him another glance, his look unreadable, though Sirius was sure they would be having another conversation before the Headmaster took his leave.
“Find then Prongslet, go hide with the Headmaster. When you are ready to finish our talk I’ll be waiting,”
Sirius didn’t spare a moment, chucking the bottle of Fire Whiskey as Harry and Dumbledore left against the wall. The satisfying shatter did little to sate his conflicting swarm of emotions. Everything around him was heavy, and imposing. Every breath he took felt like a fight. The entire area was becoming stifling and unbearable. The further he was away from Harry, the heavier that feeling got. In the end, there was only one thing he could do for now, as his body shifted and turned into Padfoot and he bounded up the steps.
The pain wasn’t bad when he was Padfoot. There was something so simple about being in this form that made dealing with everything easier. He had curled himself up on Regi’s bed, still untouched from the moment he left. It was easier as a dog to smell the scent of his brother, to feel as if he was still right there with him. It didn’t always chase away the dark feeling that curled around his chest, but it made it feel less cloying.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around Harry and his brain. The kid spent years suffering among Muggles and now he seemed to be obsessed with one that Sirius could barely remember. Dumbledore had told him that Harry was going to be desperate to know everything about the Wixen culture. To learn all the things that James should have been alive to teach him. That was his job as Godfather. A job he should have been doing from the moment James’s body had hit the ground.
But no, he had to run off. He had to let his hate towards Peter get in the way. If only he hadn’t given Harry to Hagrid. Hadn’t been so callous in his attempt to get revenge.
If only.
If only.
Those two words dominated his mind while he was in Azkaban and they were back in full force. He should have been there to raise Harry properly. To show him the joys of being a wizard. Teach him how to fly on a broom. Tell him all about the secrets of Hogwarts and how best to get away with pranks. Tell him what it means to be a Gryffindor. All of this was stolen from him and now that he had a chance to fix it all, Harry was once again being taken away from him.
If it wasn’t for his love of Muggle toys and their gadgets, Harry had been taken from him by Moody or the Headmaster. Mad-Eye and his constant insistence that Harry spend almost every hour training until the boy could barely move. Or Dumbledore, showing up uninvited to steal away even more of Harry’s time. Time that was rightfully his.
Sirius couldn’t help but bristle and growl at the thought. Knowing that right now, in his own house, Dumbledore was taking the time he should have with Harry. He had waited so long in Azkaban for his time with his Godson and he was not going to let another second go by without it. Harry was his Prongslet. His attachment to James. His to care for. The boy shouldn’t and didn’t need anyone else, and Sirius was going to find a way to make sure it stayed that way.
There were, within Grimmauld Place, several dark artifacts and items that the Black family had in their possession. During the height of Pure Blood culture, the only family that held a candle to their collection were the Malfoy’s. The Blacks prided themselves on the dark objects that they found or stole. Among the most ancient of these items, however, were twin rings that had belonged to the Blacks originally.
Cut from obsidian birthed in the flames of a Hungarian Horntail, the rings had been imbued with a particular curse of sorts from the first patriarch of the Black family line. To ensure his eldest progeny followed in the correct footsteps, the rings were carved with runes to ensure the free will of his children could be subverted. With a mere thought, while wearing the dominant of the two rings, the head of the Black family could control his child to an extent. He was able to imprison his son within the walls of the estate. If his child were to ever disobey his direct commands, the ring would deliver pain onto his son until he was obeyed. With enough force of will, the patriarch of the Black family could control the very movements of his son and even prevent him from being able to speak to others. It was a vicious form of control that the Black family had tried to forget. At least until now.
The rings had been hidden away by Kreacher, the house elf thinking that Sirius was not clever enough to find them. What the elf didn’t know was Sirius had a connection to the Black artifacts. Even though he rejected the darker aspects of his family, he wasn’t cut off from them in totality. Finding Kreacher's little hideaway had been simple enough, the man casting a spell to enlarge the elf’s hiding place.
Several items were lovingly stored within the area, many of them gleaming from whatever magic the house elf used to keep them clean. His eyes darted across the trinkets, jewels, and platters until he found just what he was looking for. There, resting upon a bony hand were the rings, glinting with dark malice in the low light. Sirius reached out, hesitating for a moment.
“No, this isn’t right. I can’t do this to Harry,” Sirius whispered, his eyes never leaving the rings even as his hand retracted.
“Would you have done it to save me,” a voice whispered from behind him, one he knew all too well, “If you could have kept me safe with those rings, unable to join the Dark Lord, would you have,” Regulus continued
“This is different Regi. Harry isn’t going off to join the Dark Lord. He should be fine without me hovering around,” Sirius spoke with a spark of rationality, one that was quickly snuffed out by the specter of his dead brother.
“If you were hovering around me, I wouldn’t have left. I would have stayed. You could have made me stay. Just like you could have saved James. Don’t be the fool you once were. You know the boy should stay here. With you. Safe,”
The words were like worms to Sirius, the man so far gone in his misery and depression that the magic of Grimmauld Place only needed to push a bit to get him to cave. It had failed in ensnaring Harry before, but if the boy never left, then it could sink its metaphorical fangs into the boy eventually. Another Black to the slaughter, succumbing to the madness. Feeding the house their magics with their grief and misery. If the house had a concept of joy, it surely would have felt it at that. Instead, it pushed its influence into the broken mind of Sirius Black even more.
“Do it, Sirius. Protect the boy. Keep him safe. Do what James could never do. Protect your little Prongslet,”
Those were the words that seemed to push Sirius over the edge, his broken resolve hardening as he took hold of the rings. His magic latched onto them, surging them with life once more. Sirius examined the larger of the two, his eyes reflecting the glowing runes that had been carved into the smooth obsidian. He slipped the ring on and felt the connection fostered between him and the smaller ring. It felt empty, but once he gave the ring to Harry, he would be able to feel the bond he shared with his Godson.
Before he left, his eyes caught sight of a peculiar-looking pendant hanging from a hook. While Sirius didn’t know just how many artifacts the Black family would have owned, something about this one felt off. The material was far too pristine, looking as if it had just been forged not too long ago. Then there was the long S across its surface. Something about it was reaching out to Sirius, enchanting him to take it. Unlike the house, the Locket's power was far more potent. Sirius barely even recognized it when he pulled it free from the hook and dropped it into the pocket of his robes.
Sirius practically stalked the halls of Grimmauld Place, heading to where he knew Dumbledore was keeping his Prongslet from him. The closer he got to the library the louder he could he the sound of the Headmaster talking to his Godson.
“-and a Mind healer will probably do him some good. However, if you do not call this place home-,”
“And why wouldn’t he, Albus,” Sirius pushed open the door with this declaration, locking eyes with the old man, “Why wouldn’t he call this place home,”
“Sirius, my boy, are you feeling alright,” there was worry in Dumbledore’s voice as he stood, walking carefully over to Sirius as one would a wounded animal, “You are looking rather pale,”
“Never better Albus. I was just thinking that perhaps you should let Harry have a bit of a break from training with you and Moody. He spends so much time with you two that he hardly gets a chance to relax,”
As he spoke, his slightly manic eyes went from the Headmaster to Harry, the younger wizard searching his Godfather's face as if he could see something that the others couldn’t
“I’ve told you, my boy, Harry needs to be trained while he is here. Not only that, but even after the trial it may be prudent for these lessons to continue,”
“What do you mean to continue,” Harry snapped his head over to look at Dumbledore, “I thought these were just until Hogwarts started back up,”
“Harry, I need you to understand, with Voldemort back you need to spend every moment you can getting stronger to beat him. You are the only one who can-,”
Albus was cut off by Sirius chuckling while clapping ever so slowly, that manic glint becoming a ferocious gleam,
“And this, Harry, is what Dumbledore does. Finds ways to make it seem like you don’t have a choice. That the greater good is doomed if you don’t follow his ways. You know you don’t have to listen to him. You could ignore all of that and just stay here with me,”
“Siri, I know the Headmaster is…not always the best, but you aren’t thinking clearly. I noticed it earlier and I can see it now. It’s the house, I can see its magic crawling all over you,”
“Harry,” whispered Dumbledore airily, “What do you mean you can see the magic of the house,”
“Err…I can sort of see magic…I think. I’m still trying to figure it out but when I was training with Moody I could sort of feel the magic around me. I focused a bit harder and then I could see his and the house. This place is dripping with really dark magic and I think it’s alive,”
As Dumbledore turned to face Harry, confusion and awe plain on his face, he failed to notice as Sirius pulled out his wand and began casting a spell.
“Albus Dumbledore, I invoke the wards of the Black Family and banish you,” he intoned, and Albus whirled around
“Sirius, do not dare,” the Headmaster growled in a voice that did not match his genial nature
“I do dare. I banish you and your associates from Grimmauld Place until I or my bloodline revoke the banishment. So mote it be,”
The house and its dark magic began to sing as it was drawn into the incantation. Dumbledore attempted to rush at Sirius with his wand drawn but the magic was faster. It wound around the Headmaster and bodily pulled him out of the library and out the front door. As it did so, Albus could feel the knowledge of where he just was all bus vanish from his mind as his role as ‘Secret Keeper’ had been stricken from him.
Sirius, for the most part, looked pleased with himself, basking in the magic of the House. Harry could only watch in fear and confusion as he saw the magic tendrils of the house coil around his Godfather, unseen to all but him. Even when he blinked and pulled back his gift, he could still feel the tendrils in the air as they enjoyed his Godfather drinking in the darkness to feed off his madness.
“Siri you have got to let him back. The house is messing with you, you can’t let it win,” Harry begged, walking over to his Godfather, “Dumbledore can help you,”
“Help me,” Sirius hissed as he reached out to take hold of Harry’s hand, “Albus wants to keep you away from me, Prongslet. I can’t let him do that. You are mine to take care of and I’m going to do so by any means,”
Tightening his grip, Sirius pulled out the smaller ring and easily slipped it onto Harry’s finger. The moment it settled onto his finger, Sirius could feel his Godson and his magic. It was as if he could feel the pulse of his Godson’s heartbeat alongside his. This connection was close, potent, and powerful. It was filling a void that Sirius had felt ever since James died. It was as if James had come back to him.
“Sirius what did you do,” shouted Harry as he wrenched his hand free from his Godfather and tried to pry the ring from his finger, “Take this off of me Sirius, it doesn’t feel right,”
“I’m trying to protect you Prongslet, you have got to-,”
“My name is Harry!” as the boy shouted his name a small wave of arcane power surged forth, a slight haze shifting around him, “Not Prongslet. Not Pup. Harry. Stop trying to replace Dad with me,”
“But you are him! You are all I have left of him, and I can’t lose him again. Now, stop trying to take that off and listen to me,”
Sirius hadn’t meant to use the rings to fuel his command, but it responded all the same. Pain arched from Harry’s hand as the magic took hold. Against his will he moved his hand from the ring, finding them practically bolted at his sides. The aura of magic was snuffed as panic laced Harry’s soul.
“Sirius…stop,” he whispered, his voice sounding foreign to even him. Any attempt to move his body was met with powerful magical resistance. Despite his Godfather's wording, the runes read Harry’s intent, knowing that he had every intention of bolting to find a way to get rid of the rings.
“I can’t…I can’t lose another moment. I will not lose another moment. Sit,” the words were curt but laced with emotion. Sirius watched as Harry moved smoothly, though he could see the fear in his eyes from his body moving without his consent,
“I know this may seem dark but it is really for the best. I spent so many years in Azkaban, with only memories of you to keep me comforted. James was gone and it was my fault. I should have been there. I should have never left his side. I could have saved the last true brother I had,
“I couldn’t save him, but I can damn well keep you safe. Even if that means locking you away Pup, it is for your good,”
“You mean your good,” Harry muttered darkly, ignoring the tears that were coming from his Godfather, “You aren’t doing this for me,”
“Yes, I am,” Sirius barked, standing up as rage swept through him, “Can’t you see this is the only way to stop you from dying James? I can’t lose you like I lost Regi,”
“I’m not James,” Harry’s magic fought against the runes on the ring, and for a moment he was able to stand before the magic sent a wave of pain to force him back down again, “Can’t you see that Sirius? I’m not James, I’m Harry. This isn’t keeping me safe, this is keeping me a prisoner,”
“James, Harry, Regulus. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fail again. I’m not going to lose anyone again,” Sirius looked at Harry with dark eyes, eyes that were filled with grief, rage, pain, and regret,
“In time, you’ll grow to love it here. I’ll take care of you Prongslet. There won’t be a thing you need or ever want. I’ll be the father to you that James never got to be,”
Sirius paid no mind to the slight flinch Harry gave as he stood over his Godson, placing both of his hands on the young man's shoulders. Harry could only look into those eyes, those empty, emotionless pools of amber. It took a little concentration for Harry to focus his ability to see magic onto Sirius, and when he did he saw the tendrils of the house. They were all over Sirius, slipping into his mind and leeching away at his magic as it fueled his negative emotions and amplified them.
“Sirius,” Harry cried, tears staining his face, “You have to listen to me, you need help. The magic of this house is…it’s hurting you. You have to fight against it,” Harry fought the magic of the ring, his arms weakly struggling to reach up to Sirius. His hands only got as far as the pockets on the man’s robes, Harry’s small fingers curling around them in support,
“Please. Sirius, I need you. Not…not this,”
A flicker of recognition and awareness flared to life and died in Sirius’s eyes. He reached down and pulled Harry’s hands out of his pockets, unaware of the locket that had somehow managed to wind itself between Harry’s fingers.
“You’ll thank me later Pup, I promise. Now, go to your room. I’ll have Kreacher call you down when it’s time for dinner,”
Sirius watched as his Godson cried for him to stop, trying to fight against the ring's magic and all the good he was trying to do for Harry. It would take some time but eventually, Harry would see reason. Sirius was sure of that. He wasn’t going to be letting his Godson out of his grasp, not any time soon. The world outside was scary and dangerous. It had taken so much from Sirius.
He wasn’t going to let it take anything else.
A yell ripped from Hermione’s throat as she shouted, punching right through the wooden board held before her.
There was only a brief moment of pain, held at bay by the immense sense of satisfaction that came with watching the halves of the board fall to the mat.
“Very good little lion. Now, again. This time with a kick,” a man wearing a white gi and black belt asked of her.
Hermione was more than happy to oblige, finding joy from such a thing.
Every since third year the only child of the Grangers had been taking martial arts classes. It wasn’t at her parent’s insistence for her to get fit but at her own. She had lied and said it was for a class at school, the first lie she ever told them, and they were happy to enroll her. The truth was, ever since she punched Draco in the nose for daring to call her such a foul word she had come to a startling conclusion.
Wixen were pants at hand-to-hand combat.
As always Hermione had, of course, done her research on the subject of physical combat in Wixen history. She specially ordered books from Flourish and Blots. Dominated the library during her off-periods. Went as far as to cross-reference the scant information she could find on the mystic arts, a branch of magic she found to be even more interesting. In all of her searching, she could find no evidence of Wixen fighting beyond the use of magic.
Sure, there were mentions of using spells to enchant weapons to fight for you, but even that practice had died out around the 17th century. Frankly, considering how barbaric Wixen of that age could be, Hermione was shocked that the practice of using weapons to hurt your enemies died out so quickly.
Then again, Wixen seemed to be frozen in the past, if their insistence on archaic modes of writing and travel were anything to go by. Sure, they may have magic, but that shouldn’t be an excuse to just ignore literal hundreds of years of technological advancement in the world.
Hermione pulled herself out of her mind as she gave her teacher a curt bow once he dismissed her from the demonstration. He was working on a new class today and had asked her to come in to show a few of them the ropes. Even though it was just symbolic, Hermione was proud of her Brown Belt and happy to help others reach her level.
If one gained knowledge then, in her humble view, it was up to that person to share that knowledge.
It had been that line from Harry that made the boy her fastest friend. That and he was the only person she met in her First Year that had any idea of how the outside world seemed to work. Shockingly, it wasn’t until she discovered she was a witch that Hermione knew of Harry Potter. She had come across his name in a magazine once, about smart kids all across the country. She had grown enamored with the robot he had built and his ambitions to create one that could think on its own. The magazine had called him a ‘Mini-Stark in training’ and Hermione found that title to be far more flattering than ‘Boy-Who-Lived’
Hermione had Harry to thank for getting her out of her shell. Even though both of them could spend hours digesting as much information as they could from the library, Harry and his adventurous nature often pulled them into more practical applications of what they learned. Even Ron, who was assuredly not as studious as his friends, had helped her become a better witch in some regards. Reading and memorizing information only got her so far, Ron helped put things into perspective with his often simple breakdown of Wixen topics and culture.
Even though they were both in a stalemate over House Elves.
Yet another reason Muggle Studies needs to include the actual history of the world, Hermione mused as she watched the class practice their heel kicks.
Maybe then they would understand why the black witch always bristled whenever the subject of house elf slavery came up.
There was a soft chime coming from her bag and Hermione slipped over to pull out her phone, quickly looking over the text from her parents. She had been expecting to hear from Harry by now, but he had been worryingly silent since the end of term. Considering all of what he saw at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, she wasn’t too surprised. Worried all the same though.
The text was of her father, awkwardly holding the phone to take a picture of himself and what looked to be a brown blur moving just out of frame. The words, ‘I think you have mail’ filled in the blanks for her, as she figured the blur was more than likely Ron’s owl, Pig. He was the only one who ever contacted her by Wixen means, beyond Hogwarts when they were handing out booklist of course.
“Is everything alright Hermione? Do you need to leave earlier,” her teacher asked as he corrected another student's posture
“It isn’t an emergency but I should probably go all the same. I will be back tomorrow evening for class though. I’ve been looking forward to another sparring session with you,”
“That makes one of us, pretty sure I still have a bruise from the jab of yours. Take care and stay safe out there. Never know when aliens or robots are gonna come dropping out of the sky these days,”
“Or witches just roaming the streets,” Hermione smirked, enjoying the small joke before gathering her items and taking her leave.
Bright sunlight streamed through her auburn curls as she squinted at the screen, shooting her father a quick text to come to pick her up and to give Pigwigdeon a few of the treats she had stashed in her room. Her eyes went over to the only other text chain on her phone, the one with Harry, and grimaced at it. All of her messages had failed to send, something she didn’t think was possible since she knew PRONGS more often than not received her messages to give to Harry. Not a single one to get through was sending worry spiking along her spine.
“Harry you better not have run off into trouble without us,” she muttered, “Or landed yourself in some sort of danger,”
Somehow, according to Ron’s letter, Harry not only found himself in trouble but may also have gotten into danger as well.
Held captive by the Headmaster while awaiting a trial to decide if the very Ministry that had taken to publishing lies about him would snap his wand seemed very much like the kind of danger and trouble Harry would get himself into. Either that or somehow getting his hands-on advanced software to make his projects just that bit easier.
The thing that left her puzzled was the stuff he wrote about Dumbledore trying to push him into being, as Ron described it, ‘like an auror or something’. She had come across stories about a secret Order of Wixen who fought during the Second Wizarding War alongside Dumbledore. While she wanted to believe that Dumbledore would never try to get children into a mindset of needing to fight a way, she knew that may not be the case.
Still, it was the last part that made Hermione sit on edge just that little bit more;
I don’t know what’s going on but I can’t do much on my end. Mum is still telling us that Harry is just sick and Dad won’t even tell us that much. You are probably the only person who can find out what is going on with Harry, at least in the Muggle world. Maybe that A Eye thing Harry goes on about can help you. Let me know what you find out,
Love, from Ron.
There would be time for her to dwell on the love part later, as well as making a note to tell Ron that PRONGS wasn’t a literal eye as the boy wanted to think. Still, he did have a point. Harry may not be reachable, but maybe she could get a hold of PRONGS. She recalled Harry saying he had a shack of sorts at a park near his house. That was probably her best bet of finding out just what was going on with her best friend. The only thing she had to do now was convince her parents to drive her a few hours to where Harry lived.
Considering they cared for the boy as much as she did, Hermione had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a tough sell.
“Alright Harry, I’m coming to save you. You wait,”