In which there are repercussions (maybe)
The heels on his dragon skin boots clicked with every step, sending echoes down the vacant hallways, each turn of the corridor bringing up memories from his days at Hogwarts.
Here, James and I set off that product from Zonko's that made everyone who walked that hallway speak gibberish for two days.
There, in that hidden nook, Remus used to hide out from us after every full moon when he was feeling poorly and ashamed of his wolf. The rest of us would have to go and drag him out with the lure of chocolate to make him stop brooding.
Around that corner, Peter finally worked up the nerve to ask Florence O'Donnell to Hogsmeade after mooning after her for weeks. In response, she flat-out kissed him.
Behind that tapestry, all four of them hid from the caretaker for almost six hours one night, which eventually sparked the idea for the Marauder's Map.
Sirius was quite proud that he had reached the point where he could think of his school days - Peter and all, with fondness instead of being swamped with grief or betrayal.
In the early days after Peter's betrayal, his anger and rage had been pervasive - tainting all of his good memories from when he was younger. Azkaban did him no favors in that regard, essentially freezing his healing process in a perpetual state of mourning and rage. Sirius is still half positive that the only reason he has any good memories left is that reflecting back on them while in Azkaban had caused him enough pain that the dementors didn't view them as good memories to be stolen.
After two years out of Azkaban, it's only now he's had luck separating Pettigrew - the man who betrayed them, from Peter, the clever boy who was quiet but was the brains behind many of their best pranks. Sirius wouldn't allow the later memories of Pettigrew to take away from those joyous years at school, despite how everything ended. Most of his memories of James also included Peter, after all, and Sirius refused to let those memories be overshadowed by the aftermath of the betrayal.
So Sirius would grieve for both of them - James, his brother, his other half, killed by the betrayal of a traitor, and Peter, the boy killed by his own fear and ambition. Or at least that's what Sirius assumed caused Peter to turn traitor. Merlin knows he had never spouted pureblooded rhetoric before.
Shaking his head to clear the distracting thoughts, Sirius continues through the deserted hallways of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's office. He had sent a letter via the floo first thing this morning and received a reply by the afternoon granting him his request for an urgent meeting.
On the surface, this visit was to obtain permission for Sirius to bring Harry to Grimmauld Place. As Dumbledore was still the secret keeper, Harry would need Dumbledore to tell him the location before Harry could go for a visit.
The more important purpose of Sirius's trip was to see if Harry's spell last night had been effective.
If someone had asked Sirius a day ago if Harry could disarm and obliviate Albus-master legilimens-Dumbledore, he would have been confident that Harry could not have succeeded, nor even attempted it.
But attempted it, he had, and the power that rushed out of Harry when he cast that second spell was unlike anything Sirius had ever felt before.
The closest thing to that level of magical power that he could remember was the spells lobbed across the battlefield during the first war that Sirius had witnessed. The spells cast by Dumbledore and Voldemort, that is.
Sirius knew Harry was powerful of course. Had known for sure since he cast a fully formed patronus and warded off dozens of dementors. However, they had all had an inkling back when Harry was still a baby. His first accidental magic happened months before what was expected and was more powerful than usual.
But last night had been something else. Something Sirius would never have expected.
It worried him.
Wixen with that much power, rarely got to live peaceful lives.
Finally reaching the stone gargoyle that guards the Headmaster's office, Sirius gives the password Dumbledore had included in his note- Bubble Yum - and rides the moving staircase to the top before rapping on the door.
"Come in"
Pushing the door open gently, Sirius quickly scans the room before focusing back on the man sitting behind the large desk.
"Sirius, my boy. I'm so glad to see you." Waiving at the squashy armchair in front of the desk, Dumbledore floats a wobbling tray laden with tea and biscuits over to rest between them. "I must confess I was surprised to hear from you this morning. I thought we wouldn't be seeing you any time soon."
Settling down in the armchair and crossing his legs, Sirius readies himself a cup of tea to give himself some time to consider. Albus didn't seem like he remembered last night. One would assume if he remembered his student disarming him and then attempting to obliviate him, he'd be a touch upset.
"Yes, well. I would have preferred to have kept my distance a bit longer. Give everyone time to cool off and get used to the new normal before stirring the cauldron anymore."
"And how are you enjoying your new freedom, Sirius? I know I might have done a poor job showing it this summer, but I am truly happy that you have been declared innocent of all you were blamed for."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Sirius like they used to, back when the four of them would be called up to Dumbledore's office when McGonagall was fed up with them and hoped Dumbledore would talk some sense into them, but he was always more interested in discussing the theory of the magic behind the pranks they pulled. Sirius quickly takes a sip of tea to help get rid of whatever had suddenly become lodged in his throat.
"Thank you, Albus. I'm still getting used to it. It's more than I ever thought I'd have again, so it's taking me some time to really believe that I can just go out whenever I want."
"Yes, I imagine that would take some getting used to. I saw you went out and about the other day," Sirius tensed, sure Dumbledore would accuse Sirius of recklessness for taking Harry out in public, "the Prophet included quite a feature on you. I'm just sorry your preferred team lost at your first quidditch game in over a decade."
Blinking at the continued surface-level talk, Sirius slowly responded, "Well, I don't really care about the wasps, so it was no great disappointment. I just picked one of the teams playing that day to support for the fun of it."
Albus smiled happily at him, "Ah, well, all is well then. Hopefully, at your next match, you'll get to celebrate a win. Do you have other plans for the future? Things you missed the most while in Azkaban?"
"Yes, I've got a few things in mind for the next few weeks and then some things that I'm putting on hold until after September 1st."
Sirius nibbles on a biscuit, unsure of how to proceed. He can hardly come right out and ask "So what do you remember of last night?"
Deciding to bring Harry up another way, Sirius says, "I know I made it clear when I left Grimmauld that I didn't intend to return any time soon, but I was hoping to return for a short visit. Hermione and the Weasleys are staying there, and after talking it over, we thought a visit to see them all would be good for Harry. After everything that happened."
"Harry?" For a moment, Dumbledore's face is frighteningly blank, with no recognition.
Sirius has just enough time to panic over Harry wiping his own existence from the mind of Albus Dumbledore entirely before Albus blinks and says, "Of course, of course - Harry."
"Yes - I thought I'd take him to Grimmauld for an afternoon. Maybe stay the night. So he could see his friends, and I could show him around Grimmauld. Harry said he usually does school shopping with the Weasleys, so we could also do that."
"Hmm. I don't see why that would be a problem. I'm sure young Harry would enjoy some time with his friends." With a wave of his wand, a piece of parchment drifts slowly over to land in front of the man on his desk. Dipping a quill in some ink, Albus scrawls a few words on the note and allows it to dry before rolling it up and handing it over to Sirius.
At a loss, Sirius accepts it and allows Albus to guide the conversation. After a few more niceties, Albus subtly asks about Sirius's plans for the House of Black, to which he probably shares more than he should, preoccupied as he is with his thoughts of last night. At one point, Albus recommends some transfiguration books for Sirius that had been published while Sirius was incarcerated. As Dumbledore moves to his own shelves to collect them, Sirius casts silently with his wand held low and tucks the object that flies towards him into his chest pocket as quickly as possible.
Glancing over at Fawks, who had been silent and unobtrusive during their conversation thus far, Sirius endures a few seconds of nervewracking eye contact with the bird before it eventually shuffles on its post and returns to preening itself.
Eventually, the conversation comes to a natural end. It doesn't escape Sirius's notice that the most pleasant conversation Sirius can remember having with Albus in months is also the one in which Harry is only briefly discussed, Albus never mentioning him again after the request for his access to Grimmauld.
Unsettled, but as reassured as he's likely to get that Dumbledore didn't remember last night, Sirius takes his leave.
*
As the door closed behind the young Lord Black, Albus smoothed his hands down his long beard, mulling over their conversation.
Sirius had displayed more hesitancy in his words than he had most of the summer. As if he had been waiting for Albus to ask him something. For the life of him, Albus didn't know what could have suddenly sparked more subdued behavior from Sirius. The man usually had no problems letting everyone in the vicinity know his opinions.
Shrugging slightly and chalking it up to Sirius's emotions being off from the tumultuous summer - being declared innocent after over a decade of assumed guilt was no easy thing to come to grips with, after all - Albus puts it out of his mind. Too many other concerns vied for his attention, after all.
Noticing the darkening room as the sun sets on the other side of the castle, Albus waives his wand to light the candles and frowns when only those nearest him alight.
With a frown, Albus inspects his wand for a moment. It didn't look like the elder wood was damaged in any way, but since he had woken earlier that morning, Albus had felt a distinct separation from his old wand.
However, they were nearing half a century together, Albus reminds himself. For a wand that usually passed hands frequently through various conflicts and duals, Albus might have managed to hold on to it the longest out of his predecessors, which may have impacted the wand's abilities. After he had won the wand from Gellert, Albus had made a point to avoid outright duals. He had hoped that if he died peacefully, the wand's power - and thus its bloody history - would die with him.
He had never read any theories about the Elder Wand that hypothesized this, but perhaps due to the nature of the Death Stick, it only worked so long with a single user before it was ready to move on to the next. Or perhaps it needed the conflict involved in the passing of ownership to increase its power.
Smiling at his own ability to distract himself with a unsolved mystery - many of his academic achievements had come about in this way, he forces himself to set aside the question of the Elder Wand for now.
Albus opened the locked drawer in his desk and withdrew the wand he had purchased so long ago in Olivanders. He would need to keep his old ebony wand within reach if the Elder Wand was failing him.
*
Sirius finds Harry sitting on the sand, legs outstretched in front of him and leaning back on hands that have dug under the top levels of sand.
Taking a seat next to him, Sirius looks out at the waves, and the pair are quiet for a moment.
"I couldn't come right out and ask him, of course, but from his behavior and what he said, or rather, what he didn't say, I think your spell was effective. He doesn't remember anything about last night."
Pulling his pilfered object from his pocket, Sirius handed the small, half-empty vial of blood to Harry, who accepted it without words.
They both stared at it for a few seconds while Harry turned it over and over in his hands. Sirius didn't know what Harry was thinking about, but Sirius was angry all over again about Dumbledore having this. Even if it was for a good reason, even if it might have somehow helped keep Harry safe, Dumbledore should have asked. All day before Sirius left for Hogwarts, he had watched Harry unconsciously thumb at the pink scar on his arm, where his blood had been taken in the ritual to restore Voldemort to his body.
Eventually, Harry dug a small hole in the sand in front of him and uncorked the vial before pouring the blood out and piling the sand back over the hole, finishing by throwing the vial as hard as he could toward the water where it landed with a small splash and quickly disappeared from view.
"Are you mad at me?" Harry asks in a soft voice a few minutes after the empty vial had sunk beneath sea level.
"No." Sirius keeps his tone even and watches his godson calmly, but Harry keeps his face towards the waves.
"Are you - are you disappointed in me?"
"No."
"Why not? I made him forget. Hermione once said she thought the obliviate curse should be considered an Unforgivable. She thought it was nearly as bad as the imperius curse because you could change someone's entire personality if you made them forget the right things."
"Well… I can't say I entirely disagree with her."
Harry flinches as if Sirius's words were a blow.
"So then, why aren't you mad at me?"
Sirius sighs, "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, Harry. But, I suppose it's because I don't think that the 'Unforgivables' are truly unforgivable."
Harry scoffs but whips his head to look at Sirius at his next words, "I've cast all three of them, Harry. Are you angry or disappointed with me?"
"W-what? You've cast all of the Unforgivables?"
"I have. And a few more that your Hermione would probably classify as 'just as bad' as an Unforgivable. Including obliviate."
"Why?" Harry sounds more confused than upset.
Squinting out at the sun reflecting on the waves, Sirius explains, "It was war, Harry. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of, but if we're going to be brutally honest here. I don't think I regret a single Unforgivable curse I cast in the war."
"Even the cruciatus?" Just from his tone, Sirius can tell Harry is thinking back to the torture he endured at Voldemort's hands.
"The only time I cast it during the war, when I really meant it, was during a skirmish with some Death Eaters. Your mum had just told us she was pregnant with you but hadn't told the rest of the O - the group who was fighting back against the Death Eaters, and she wasn't with James or me when we got word that the Prewitts were being attacked, so no one knew to keep her back. We got there too late, of course. The Prewitts were already dead."
"I don't even know who it was, with them wearing those stupid, pretentious masks. But someone cursed your mum, and she didn't see it in time to shield. She was towards the back arguing with James - he wanted her to leave, and it hit her in the abdomen."
"I don't think I had ever been so angry." Even now, Sirius could feel an echo of the rage from a decade and a half ago. The only time his anger had ever surpassed it was after the Potters were killed. "It was like everything froze, and all I could think about was that if they lost you, James and Lily would lose the only thing bringing them peace in the midst of war. Merlin, the idea of you was the only thing bringing me comfort at the time. They had already asked me to be Godfather. It would have devastated all of us if we lost you."
Sirius reached out and ran his fingers through Harry's tousled fringe, pushing it back so he could make eye contact easier, and then rested his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I could have killed them. But in that split second in which I was looking at a future without you - or without the little tiny embryo you were then - I just wanted to hurt that Death Eater as much as they had hurt us. And death would have been too quick, too painless."
"So yeah, I cast the cruciatus, and I never regretted it, even when you and your mum were both okay and Saint Mungo's cleared you. I figured the bastard deserved it for the fear and pain they gave all three of us for the few hours before your mum could get checked out."
The heaviness of Sirius's story rests for a few minutes before Harry is brave enough to ask, "What about the other two?"
"Oh, those aren't as interesting. We were all casting AKs at each other. Quickest way to take someone out with no possibility of healing. That's the important thing in a fight, Harry - down your opponent as efficiently as possible, and if you can - make sure they won't get back up to fight you as soon as your back is turned."
"Imperio was less common. Generally, that was used for information gathering or covert stuff."
Smiling ruefully at Harry, Sirius asks, "So. Have I tarnished your opinion of me?"
Harry starts playing with the sand in front of him, picking up a fistful and slowly letting the sand seep out as he thinks it over.
"No. I don't think poorly of you. I reckon you did what you had to do."
"That's right. And maybe there were other ways to do it. Your mum and Remus were of that opinion by the way - they wouldn't cast the Unforgivables. Said they weren't personally comfortable with crossing that line, but they didn't hold it against your Dad and me, or the rest of us for doing so."
Moving his hand over to rest on top of Harry's fist to make sure he had all of the teen's attention, Sirius says, "This is a lesson I wish you never had to learn, Harry. When you're at war, and that's where we're headed, you've gotta think about where your boundaries are ahead of time."
"What are you capable of, and what can you live with after it's all said and done. Because in that moment, when you're facing the enemy, spells are flying at you, and most of what you're doing is just instinct, you can't stop and think about what is moral and ethical. You have to know already where your line is and be willing to go right up to it."
"So that's why you're not upset with me about Dumbledore? You think I should be willing to cast things like that?"
Sirius shrugs, "It's not up to me to make that decision, Harry. I'll support you whatever you decide, wherever you draw that line, and I won't judge you for your decision or if one day you change your mind and move that line around. I just want you to consider it now. As for last night, you did what you thought you had to do. You protected yourself. How could I hold that against you?"
The last remaining bit of tension in Harry's shoulders relaxes, and he leans over just enough for their shoulders to brush against each other as they both look back out at the waves. High tide rolled in while they were speaking, with the occasional wave splashing over their bare feet.
After a few minutes of sitting quietly, Sirius remembers his other purpose in visiting Dumbledore today. "Dumbledore cleared your visit by the way. Here, read this -" Handing Harry the rolled-up piece of paper he had shoved in his trouser pocket, Sirius can make out the words in Dumbledore's scrawl as Harry opens the piece of parchment.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
"Grimmauld Place…like, like 'grim old place.' That's the primary Black home?"
Sirius can't help the laughter that erupts from him, "Yeah. Bit on the nose, that name; Grimmauld's been pretty dingy for a long time. It's like the question of the chicken or the egg…not sure if the name came first or the disrepair. I'm sure somewhere along the family tree someone thought it would be hilarious for the House of Black to be dimly lit and generally pretty creepy to wander around it, and it just stuck. "
"And what's the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asks curiously
It had been clever of Albus, to wrap up the secret of the Order along with the secret of Grimmauld's location. Most of Sirius's contemporaries and older would have known about Dumbledore's resistance force from the first war, but they wouldn't have been able to outright discuss it, and the younger set - on both sides - wouldn't have been able to learn about the Order without Dumbledore's permission.
"A group Albus started a few decades ago when the Death Eaters really started moving violently, and the Ministry wasn't doing much to stop them. A covert source of resistance."
"And this is where Ron and Hermione are staying? Where you were living before moving here full-time?"
"The Weasleys moved in because Molly took over as a sort of den-mother for the Order. Last time around, Livia Fawcett managed all of that. She ensured there were beds and meals available if anyone needed a safe place to hideout or recover." Sirius allows himself a pang of grief for the kind but no-nonsense woman who was always ready with a hot meal and various healing charms.
Liv had been killed when Death Eaters had attacked one of the Order's safehouses just a few days before Voldemort went after the Potters.
"I dunno why Hermione moved in, I wasn't paying much attention at the start of summer to what they were up to. But Albus put the whole place under a fidelius charm…" At Harry's sharp look, Sirius nodded, confirming it was the same spell used on the house in Godric's Hollow.
"Now that you've been let in on the secret, I can take you there for a visit and tell you a bit more about the Order. In addition to the Weasleys and Hermione, there will be others who might be there and would be happy to see you - Remus of course, Moody, I even saw Hagrid once or twice early in the summer."
"I'd like to see them. Could we go the day after tomorrow?"
"Of course, Harry. Whenever you like. You might want to write your friends though, let them know you're coming."
Harry thinks it over for a minute before sending a smirk at Sirius, "Nah. They might have had a good excuse for it, but they kept me in the dark all summer. I think I'd rather surprise them."
Sirius grins back at Harry but is glad to see Harry is able to joke about his friend's actions. If he was still as hurt as he was just a few weeks ago, he doubted Harry would be laughing about it.
Harry looks back out over the waves and slumps a bit more of his weight onto Sirius, seemingly content just to enjoy the view. Knowing he needed to get dinner made for both of them, Sirius allows himself just five minutes to enjoy the moment.
Right now, he has everything he needs; his godson, healthy and within reach, and a safe house behind them filled with soft beds and warm food.
They'd deal with everything else as it came.