In which Harry is stuck in his feelings, but Sirius cheers him up
Harry’s tea had gone cold without him noticing.
Grimacing at the chilly drink and the gross film that had formed on the top from the cooled-down milk, Harry tosses it back quickly so he can pour himself a fresh cup.
With a glance at the clock, Harry realizes he’s been awake for several hours now. He had woken up around four in the morning and come downstairs to the dining room, not wanting to bother with tossing and turning for a few hours. It was now nearing seven, and Harry knew Sirius would be joining him soon.
It had been three days since the trial.
Three days since Sirius had come home from his meeting with Dumbledore and told him what happened to his relatives.
Harry’s mood had been wildly swinging ever since – one moment, he was thrilled about Sirius getting his name cleared, the next, he was guilty that his relatives had been attacked, and here he was celebrating. Then the guilt would expand into feeling bad that they were attacked because of him, and maybe his Aunt and Uncle had been right to complain about Harry so much – he had brought the dementors into their life, after all. He put them in danger they never would have been in if not for him. Then he’d be indignant that he felt guilt over people who had tormented him most of his life. And then Harry would feel happy again that he was with Sirius now. And around and around he went.
Sirius had asked him a few times if he wanted to talk about everything that happened, but Harry hadn’t taken him up on it yet. Despite thinking of little else the last few days, he was avoiding verbalizing any of it. It was as if the moment the words left his mouth, everything would be a little bit more real – there would be no avoiding it anymore. Or at least pretending to avoid it.
If you refused to acknowledge something, it never really happened, right?
Returning to his previous activity of staring blankly at the wall opposite him, Harry settles in to wait until Sirius joins him.
He just couldn’t get his last image of Privet Drive out of his head. No matter how many times he inspected his memory of it, he couldn’t parse out every minutia of emotion that was on Petunia’s face. At the time, he wondered if it was something like regret.
But regret for what? That he was leaving? Regret over the way she had treated him and allowed her family to treat him? Regret she couldn’t get him to do a few more chores before he left for good?
He didn’t know. And now he never would.
So, in addition to trying to figure out his own feelings over the last few days, he was obsessively trying to understand the emotions of a woman who was – for all intents and purposes – dead.
His brooding was interrupted when Sirius joined him at the table, plates laden with breakfast food floating behind him, “Morning, Harry. I made extra. Would you like some eggs?”
Harry nodded half-heartedly and watched as Sirius dumped eggs on a plate and then snuck some bacon and toast on it as well before setting it down in front of him on the table.
“Thanks, Padfoot.”
“Of course, kiddo.” Harry set himself to his breakfast, mainly as a way to avoid the assessing gaze he knew Sirius was leveling at him from across the table rather than any actual hunger.
“I know you haven’t wanted to discuss it, but I need to have some idea of where you’re at with everything that happened, Harry.”
Knew he wouldn’t bloody leave it alone for long.
Harry ducked his head further and shrugged one shoulder, “I dunno. It’s not like I’m really missing them, am I? I was happy enough to never see them again just a few days ago.”
“That’s true, but moving away and not seeing them is different from losing them because their souls were sucked out by dementors.”
Wincing at the blunt description of what happened to his relatives, Harry shrugged again, “But the end result is the same, isn’t it. They’re out of my life – for good.”
Sirius had clearly decided today was the day they would be discussing this in detail because he asked again, “And how do you feel about that?”
Suddenly angry that Sirius was forcing him to talk about things he’d really rather not, Harry sent a glare across the table, finally making eye contact before he replied irritably, “And how am I supposed to feel, Sirius? Why don’t you tell me what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say any specific thing. I just want you to say something,” Sirius said entreatingly, remaining calm in the face of Harry’s abrupt fury. “No matter how you feel about what happened, I want to hear it.”
“Fine. Fine, you want to know what I’m thinking?” Harry’s voice rose to a shout, much louder than the near whisper he’d been speaking in for the last few days. “I’m thinking that all along, Petunia was bloody right; I was nothing but trouble for them, and when I was left on their doorstep, it was the beginning of the end for their family.” Harry’s voice broke, but he forced himself to continue, “If they hadn’t taken me in all those years ago, they wouldn’t have been attacked. Or if I had just fucking been there instead of mucking around here, I could have put a stop to it. I’ve been casting the patronus for over a year; I could have handled any dementors that showed up. I could have actually done something this time. Instead, more people died instead of me. Just because they were there – because they were in the way. Because they were spares.”
Harry couldn’t hold back his sobs, all of the tumultuous and confusing emotions from the last few days finally coming out at once. Covering his eyes with both hands, as if that would stop Sirius from seeing his tears, he didn’t realize the other man had stood and come around the table until he felt strong arms wrap around him.
Leaning further into his godfather, Harry stopped trying to hold back his tears and just let them out. Over his cries, he could hear Sirius whispering comforting words above his head although he couldn’t focus enough to really take in what he was saying.
Eventually, Harry’s eyes dried, leaving him feeling wrung out. While he didn’t think the crying had made him actually feel better, he at least no longer felt like he was constantly on the verge of exploding his emotions all over whatever room he was in.
Harry felt Sirius shift back from him and looked up to meet his gaze when he felt Sirius running his fingers through Harry’s messy hair. For a split second, Harry worried that Sirius would judge him for his breakdown or even just try to make a joke out of it in an effort to lighten the mood.
Instead, Sirius just smiled sadly at him before nodding slightly to himself and standing from the awkward crouching position he had assumed next to Harry’s seat before pulling out the chair right next to him and sitting down again.
“You said a lot of things that we’ll need to talk through, kiddo, but first. I need you to hear this.” Sirius waits until Harry makes eye contact with him before continuing, “Nothing that happened was your fault, Harry. Blame me for running after Pettigrew instead of keeping you safe, blame Albus for putting you with the Dursleys in the first place. Blame the Ministry for the many ways they’ve failed you in general, and specifically for whoever ordered the dementor to attack. Blame Voldemort for targeting your family or the wixen community at large, for creating the environment where a dark lord could rise. If you’re going to play the blame game Harry, there are many, many more people who should be held at fault before you.”
“But if I had just been there –“Harry insisted.
“We don’t know that, Harry.” Sirius quickly interrupted, “We don’t know exactly what happened during the attack or even exactly when it took place. Maybe you could have stopped the dementor. Maybe you would have been away from your wand – in the shower, or sleeping or something – and then unable to protect yourself, and you would have been kissed as well. Or perhaps you would have driven them off, but the Ministry would have taken the underage magic as an opportunity to punish you. Or there could have been people or creatures there in addition to the dementors that you couldn’t have defeated on your own.” Sirius squeezes Harry’s shoulder comfortingly, “We just don’t know what exactly happened to your relatives, and we can’t ever know what would have happened if you had been there. And I am incredibly relieved that you were here because I don’t bloody care if it makes me selfish or not a good person - but I’d much rather lose them than you, Harry.”
Logically, Harry could understand what Sirius was saying. However, it didn’t seem to help the guilt that sat like a heavy stone in his stomach.
“It’s all right if you’re still working through your thoughts on this, Harry, you likely will be for a while – but I do want to give you a few updates on things that…well, that I thought you maybe weren’t ready to hear yet the last few days.”
Before continuing, Sirius pauses for a few beats, ensuring Harry isn’t going to protest. “I’ve tasked Nathaniel with raising hell at the Ministry. The results of a Dementor’s Kiss are rather difficult to dispute, so the DMLE either needs to admit that the Dementors are taking unsanctioned actions or that someone within the Ministry ordered the attack on your family. It might take a while, but I’m confident Nathaniel will be able to track something down to push the issue.”
Harry just nods to show understanding, not sure what he wants to do with the situation. It’d be nice to hold someone accountable for the harm done to his relatives, but Harry was already exhausted by the whole situation – after seeing what Sirius went through, he had to wonder how long dragging it through the justice system would take?
“Although your uncle passed away immediately, your aunt and cousin had enough magical blood in them to retain life even after their souls were removed. It seems like the old theory about muggle-borns coming from exiled squib lines might be true – at least in your mother’s case. If Lily was a true muggle-born, as it’s currently defined - with her magic appearing spontaneously, and the rest of her family was one hundred percent muggle – then Petunia and Dudley would have passed immediately, like Vernon.”
“I’ve had Petunia and Dudley moved to a private ward in Saint Mungos, where they’ll receive care until they – w-well, for as long as they need it.” Sirius stumbles over this sentence, but Harry knows what he’s really saying. Even if there was some magical blood in Petunia and Dudley, it wasn’t enough to keep them alive for long without a soul. Even full wixen would pass within a few weeks after the Dementor’s Kiss. Bodies aren’t meant to go on without the life force they’re meant to house.
“If…if you want to visit them, Harry, I can certainly arrange that.” Sirius offers tentatively and then hurries to add, “But if you don’t want to see them, that’s also understandable. The healers will take great care of them. You don’t need to decide anything now.”
Harry wasn’t ready to commit either way yet, not sure if he wanted to see his aunt and cousin, but he also felt like paying his respects was something he ought to do. Setting that issue aside for now, Harry takes a moment, not the first time this summer, to be grateful for Sirius. While Harry had spent the last few days brooding and wallowing in guilt, Sirius had clearly been working through the logistics of everything that needed to be done. Things that Harry would have had no clue how to handle.
It was nice. Being able to rely on someone else to take care of things instead of blundering along and doing things all on his own.
“I also had Nathaniel go and do a sweep of the house after the aurors finished their examination. There were a few things in the attic that he brought back for you to go through, things he thought might have belonged to your mum’s parents, but he also found this.”
Sirius pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket and set it gently on the table. Harry recognized it as the letter Vernon had confronted him with before he departed Privet Drive the last time. The letter Harry had guessed was from Hermione, an assumption that was now confirmed when he recognized her handwriting on the front of the envelope.
Strangely, Harry had no desire to open the letter. He knew he would want it eventually – he didn’t intend to rip it up in a fit of pique.
But right now, after the last few days of upheaval with Sirius’s trial and then the Dursleys, the last thing Harry wanted was to read a potentially upsetting letter from his friend. Harry looks away, avoiding both the letter and Sirius, who was still watching him patiently.
“Tell you what, Harry, I think we’ve both been shut up too much this summer. Let’s get out and do something.”
Harry swings his head back to look at Sirius in surprise. “Leave the House? And do what?”
“I dunno,” Sirius says with a grin and a twinkle of mischief in his expression, “what do you want to do?”
Harry hadn’t realized until this moment how badly he wanted to get out of Aquarius House. Despite it being a large manor with plenty of rooms to explore, the events of the last few days had Harry feeling claustrophobic and restless. He just hadn’t realized that leaving would be an option.
“Is it safe? I thought I needed to stay hidden now that Voldemort is back.”
Sirius shrugged one shoulder unconcerned, “Ehh, we’ll take some precautions. But it seems like the Death Eaters are mostly lying low. Since we’re making plans spur of the moment, there won’t have been time for any complicated plan to be put in place, so they’d lose their secrecy if they tried to curse you on sight.”
Suddenly faced with a world of possibilities, Harry had no idea what he wanted to do.
Falling back on his usual recreational hobby, Harry asked uncertainly, “Could…could we go to a quidditch match, maybe? If there’s one happening today?”
“What an excellent idea, Pronglset!” Sirius says delightedly, “Unless they changed the schedule in the last decade, there are always matches on Fridays. Let me grab The Prophet and see who’s playing today. Why don’t you run up and get ready? We can go a little early and do some exploring. Bring your cloak and your wand.”
Despite his glum thoughts the past few days and his minor breakdown this morning, the idea of going to a professional quidditch match quickly improved Harry’s spirits.
*
By the time Harry had showered, dressed for the day, and been cajoled by Sirius to eat a full breakfast, it was nearing ten o’clock before they were finally ready to leave. Sirius had selected the Wimbourne Wasps versus Puddlemere United game. Neither Harry nor Sirius claimed either team as their own, but the pitch was near Brighton, and Sirius was practically bouncing at the thought of showing Harry the magical district of the seaside town.
Harry, who had seen photos in muggle primary school of the cheerfully painted row houses and the carnival rides on the pier, was hoping to also fit in some exploration of the muggle side in the five hours or so before the quidditch match started. If he remembered correctly, he also thought Oliver Wood had joined Puddlemere United, so he knew who he’d be cheering for today. Sirius had decided some friendly competition was in order and had spelled his robes into clashing yellow and black stripes.
“Got your wand?”
Harry nodded and tapped his new holster strapped to his forearm that held his wand securely. It was another treasure found in Aquarius House, and every inch was covered with protective charms and enchantments, including some to ensure that most people wouldn’t even notice it unless he brought their attention to it.
“Got your cloak?”
“Yep!” Harry nodded again and patted his trouser pocket where he had stuffed his invisibility cloak for easy access.
“Got your portkey?”
Harry had to restrain an eye roll at this question, seeing as Sirius had made Harry swear up and down never to take the portkey necklace off, and in the weeks since receiving it, the jewelry hasn’t left Harry’s neck since. Rather than show his slight irritation, Harry just nodded again.
“Good. I’m going to put both of us under light notice-me-not charms. People won’t be totally oblivious to us if we get up to anything eye-catching, but we shouldn’t attract too much attention if we’re just walking around. If anyone looks at you funny or you get a bad feeling at any point today, just throw the cloak on and use your portkey to come straight home.”
Should remember to learn this charm before going back to school. Would be nice not to have everyone staring all the time, Harry thought to himself as Sirius carefully cast first on Harry and then on himself.
“Right, now, we’re going to apparate. Have you done that before?” Sirius asks, and continues at Harry’s head shake, “I won’t lie to you, side-along apparition is shit. It’s going to feel awful, and most people throw up the first time. No shame if you do. It does get better when you’re apparating yourself. Not a lot, but some.”
With those cheerful words of caution, Sirius reaches out and grabs Harry’s arm tightly. Instinctively – and suddenly thinking this mode of travel might be similar to travel by portkey – Harry grips Sirius’s arm in return.
Cautions and warnings over with, Sirius’s grin was infectious as he said, “Alrighty then. Let’s go!” and turned abruptly to the side, dragging Harry along with him.
The apparating itself only lasted a few seconds, but Harry had the distinctly unpleasant experience of feeling like his body was sucked through a tiny straw and then shook around a few times before his feet landed back on solid ground. Doubling over and trying to keep from expelling the breakfast Sirius insisted on, Harry took a few moments to breathe through the nausea, just barely cognizant of the hustle and bustle of many people nearby and the comforting weight of his godfather’s hand on his back.
Once Harry no longer felt like his stomach was doing jumping jacks, he stood and leveled a glare at Sirius. “I thought portkeys were bad. That was bloody awful.”
Barely able to keep the amusement from his face, Sirius adopted a sympathetic expression. “Unfortunately, there isn’t anything to counter it. Even potions don’t do much for apparition-sickness. I promise it is a bit better once you’re the one apparating, but the side effects for side-along do fade pretty quickly, you feeling all right now? Ready to explore Brighton?”
Realizing Sirius was right and the nausea had faded as quickly as it had come, Harry nodded and finally glanced around. They were clearly still in the muggle side of Brighton, tucked behind a vendor booth on the pier. The salty sea-scented air was pleasantly warm as the sun was still climbing to its highest point in the sky but not yet overheated. Despite it only being mid-morning, Harry could tell it was already crowded at the pier with families and groups of teenagers flocking to the popular entertainment.
The excitement from earlier was growing again, and Harry was picking up on the infectious good mood from the rest of the crowd of people on the pier. With a grin at Sirius, who dramatically stepped back and swung his arm out with a bow to usher Harry around the corner they were hidden behind, Harry moved out onto the pier proper.
After a quick stop at a blue and white striped kiosk where Sirius had purchased a length of red tickets, the two spent the next hour riding the various amusement rides scattered the length of the pier. Sirius loved any that went fast, but Harry’s favorite was the giant Ferris Wheel that provided an unimpeded view of the ocean to one side and the pier and Brighton to the other.
After an early lunch of fish and chips, Sirius reminded Harry that there was still an entire Wixen neighborhood to explore and guided him toward the end of the pier.
“Do you have to tap something like in Diagon Alley?” Harry wondered
“Kind of, it’s a bit of a mix between the entry to Diagon Alley and the Platform for the Hogwarts Express” Sirius murmured distractedly as he counted posts along the walkway. At the seventh post from the end, Sirius discreetly placed his wand tip on the top of the post and let it rest there for a moment before stating clearly, “accessum punctum.”
Unlike Diagon Alley, nothing visibly happened. Worried the spell had failed, Harry looked to Sirius again and watched as he calmly holstered his wand, glanced back at Harry with a wink, placed his wand hand on the post he had just touched with his wand, and used it to lever himself over the rail over the edge of the pier.
Blinking in shock, Harry rushed to the guardrail and looked over the edge, sure he’d see Sirius landing in the water below. Instead, Sirius had just disappeared. He must have made it through the barrier to the magical side of Brighton.
With a furtive look around to make sure no one was watching him, Harry pulled out his wand and tried to copy what Sirius had done. Crossing his fingers that he had pronounced the Latin words correctly and that he wouldn’t be going for an unplanned swim in the ocean, Harry heaved himself over the rail, unconsciously closing his eyes tight as he leaped over the edge.
When his sneakers hit solid wood instead of open air, Harry’s eyes flew open only to see his smugly grinning godfather a few feet in front of him. “Glad you made it, Prongslet. For a second, I thought you might have been too scared to join me.” Harry wanted to glare at him again but was distracted by the sights behind Sirius, and his attention was quickly diverted.
Unlike Diagon Alley in London, the magical community in Brighton didn’t have a name to differentiate itself from the muggle area it was hidden within. Wixen referred to it simply as “The Pier” as it was the only magical shopping district of its kind in England. The Pier was essentially a second half of the muggle pier, extending the same length past the shoreline but doubling the width of the structure, with the wizarding half wholly invisible and hidden from the muggles walking just a few feet away.
Over breakfast, Sirius had also explained that The Pier was the sole source of trade with Mermish clans. Although there was a small community in the lake at Hogwarts, they tended towards isolation and a lifestyle that was entirely self-sufficient and self-sustaining. However, the mermen in the Atlantic Ocean and the English Channel were open to commerce and trading. Beneath The Pier that Harry and Sirius stood on, a second level was half-submerged in the ocean where those interested in mermish imports could browse.
Glancing around at the top level of The Pier, Harry knew they wouldn’t have time to make it to the bottom level before they needed to leave for the Quidditch Match. Unlike Diagon Alley, which was generally clean and orderly, The Pier was haphazardly put together, with buildings fitting together like puzzle pieces. One building’s second story jutted out over its neighbor’s first floor, while another building curved around half of its front windows on its other side.
Some kind of plant. That’s what it reminded Harry of. A plant that has grown up and around itself over the years.
Along the main pathway, street vendors were calling out to passersby, trying to entice them to make a purchase. From here, Harry could hear people shouting about protective amulets, ancient and rare books, newly invented potions, and chocolate bonbons that “smelled as sweet as amortentia.”
While Harry had been wide-eye gaping at the different shops, Sirius had moved to stand at his side and swung an arm around his shoulders.
“Ready to explore, kiddo?”
*
An hour before the match was to start, Sirius dragged Harry away from a candy shop tucked away in the corner of The Pier. Harry’s only real exposure to sweets had been Honeydukes, but this shop had completely different offerings. The hard candy that promised to improve eyesight as long as you were sucking on it was of particular interest to Harry.
While Harry hadn’t gone crazy with purchases, Sirius had continued the trend of the summer of encouraging Harry to purchase whatever had struck his fancy. Today, that meant Harry had picked up a new set of robes with protection spells sewn into the seams, a quill charmed to write in different fonts with a simple tap of his wand, and a hefty bag of new sweets to try.
While Harry and Sirius could have happily continued their exploration of The Pier, Sirius wanted to make sure they got to the Quidditch Pitch early enough to snag decent seats. Although you could owl-order them ahead of time unless it was a championship game, Sirius said there would typically still be seats up for grabs the day of.
After shrinking their purchases and tucking them away in their robe pockets, Sirius gripped Harry by the arm again and quickly apparated them to the nearby pitch.
Immediately upon landing, Harry realized the temperature was significantly hotter. Away from the cool breeze coming off the ocean, things were distinctly warmer. The mass of people nearby probably didn’t help either.
Although they had landed in what was clearly an apparition point, with others popping into existence near them, a crowd of people was walking past just a few meters away, heading towards the massive Quidditch enclosure up ahead. Looking further, it looked like the pitch was in an otherwise empty field, although Harry could see what looked like sheep meandering around a ways away. Spending a moment to wonder if the same muggle-diverting enchantments were laid on this pitch as the Quidditch World Cup enclosure they had visited last year, Harry let Sirius guide him gently by the arm away from the apparition point to join the surge of people.
Keeping his head ducked down low to try and shield his recognizable features, Harry looked around, trying to take in as much as he could. Most of the crowd around them was dressed in some shade of yellow, as it was a color for both teams playing today, with only the black of the Wimbourne Wasps and navy for the Puddlemere United differentiating between the two teams’ supporters. With this much yellow surrounding him, Harry felt like he had somehow fallen into the Hufflepuff common room.
As the enclosure grew nearer, Harry spotted some merchandise tables set up along the path the crowd was taking and steered Sirius over so they could pick up some gear before attending the game. A quick look at the decorative pins and badges proved Harry was right in his memory that his old quidditch captain had joined Puddlemere United. Picking up a round badge with Oliver’s name and photo, he handed over the sickle it cost and proudly pinned it to the front of his robe.
Sirius, meanwhile, had purchased a floating wasp the size of a small cat that was charmed to float above Sirius’s head and buzz menacingly at anyone wearing Puddlemere gear. After a quick stop at the ticket office, where Sirius traded some gold for the best available seats, Harry and Sirius hurried to find their spots before the match began.
As they snuck between large groups of other fans, Harry was happy to see that the notice-me-not charms Sirius had placed earlier that day were still in effect. He was sure that if they had faded, the pair of them would be receiving much more attention than the distracted glances tossed their way as they flitted around and between people.
Upon finally finding their seats, Harry was thrilled that they were surprisingly well placed despite not reserving them ahead of time. Near the center of the pitch, but high enough that they should be eye-level with much of the game-play, Harry eagerly looked around while Sirius fiddled with an old pair of omnioculars he had packed from Aquarius House.
Overall, the pitch looked similar to the one he had visited with the Weasleys last summer, if a bit smaller. Around him, excited fans chattered about the upcoming match or their favorite players. A pair of old men a few rows in front of them cheerfully bickered about which team would win. A section over, a man had his young daughter - decked out head-to-toe in Puddlemere blue - seated on his shoulders as she sang along to the Weird Sisters song that was playing loudly throughout the pitch.
Spaced evenly amongst the stands, so they could be seen from every angle, four magical billboards were displaying images and statistics of the players from each team, interspersed with advertisements and what looked like messages from fans that must have been sent in ahead of time.
Harry let out a cheer when Oliver’s face slid into view, with the text underneath listing him as the starting keeper for the last seven matches, and statistics showed him as having a save percentage of almost 86%. Considering Oliver was barely into his professional quidditch career, for him to be topping the charts like that indicated he’d likely be a popular player for some time. Harry was happy to see his old teammate doing so well, even if it was likely due to Oliver’s sheer bloody insanity when it came to quidditch. While he had missed quidditch last year, he had not missed Oliver getting the team up before the sun for his brutal practices or keeping them out in the worst storms to hit Scotland as “preparation” for any matches that would be impacted by weather.
A vendor passing by was shouting about butterbeer and popped corn. Sirius glanced his way in question and got the vendor’s attention after Harry’s nod.
“Can I get two cold butterbeers, please? And just one popcorn?” Sirius asked, digging his bag of gold out from his pocket.
Passing an ice-cold bottle over to Harry - that the vendor had pulled from what must have been a heavily enchanted trouser pocket - Sirius placed the paper container of brightly colored popcorn in his lap and used his own bottle to tap Harry’s.
“Cheers, kiddo. To a good day and a great summer.”
Despite everything Harry was still worried about - the Dursleys, Dumbledore’s manipulations, the lackluster communication from his friends, and his persistent worry about what Voldemort was plotting, Harry had to agree that this had been a great summer. All thanks to Sirius.
With a grin, he tapped Sirius’s bottle with his and repeated, “Cheers!” before taking a long drink.
As if their toast had been a signal, within moments, brooms suddenly rushed over their heads as the two teams flew onto the pitch and did a circuit around the stands while the announcer read off their names and positions.
Worries and fears set aside for now, Harry leaned forward to focus on the game and began tracking the two seekers. Hopefully, he’d be able to pick up a few new tricks to bring back to Hogwarts in a few weeks.