Chapter 211: Sirius's Reverie
"I told you, you've just been in Azkaban too long—your head's a little scrambled," Harry said with a grin.
Sirius finally heard him clearly and let out a bark-like laugh, wolfish and wild.
"Call your friends. Let's go to the lounge. I've got a lot to say." He extended a hand to Harry, then nodded at Draco and Ron, suppressing a smile. "Arthur's your dad—I know him. And Narcissa—she's your mum. She's my cousin."
On the walk over, Sirius was already preparing for a long conversation.
Though he wasn't one to dwell on guilt, he understood he'd badly offended Harry's friends earlier. But somehow, after a few greetings—and especially after he mentioned he once had a magically enhanced motorcycle—Ron's frosty attitude began to thaw. Even Draco, usually icy, was a little more polite.
And Harry, most importantly, no longer looked at Sirius with the pity one might reserve for a sick child. Slowly, the wall between them began to fall.
Professor McGonagall gave Sirius a warning glare now and then, but that was harmless. What mattered most was Harry's trust.
"Oh, Professor," Sirius said cheerfully as they entered the staff lounge, "your classroom still hasn't changed. It's comforting, in a way."
"Shut it, Sirius. Try acting like an adult around the children," McGonagall said sternly, but her lips weren't as tightly pressed as usual—perhaps even hinting at a smile.
Sirius flopped into a chair as if he still belonged there. His eyes scanned the room, then fell on the table.
"What's this? Today's Daily Prophet?"
"Sirius, that's you," Harry pointed out, gesturing toward the front page. He had noticed something: Sirius wasn't sure what to say or how to start talking to him. So Harry offered a topic himself. He also hoped it wouldn't drift toward... Draco's father.
"I knew it," Sirius muttered.
"Another glowing profile, isn't it? Great. Just great. I'm not a hero. I—killed James!"
He slammed the table as he shouted, and everyone around him jumped. Professor McGonagall, who had been near the bookshelf, spun around sharply.
"I suggest you don't read it, Sirius," she warned. "It's a Rita Skeeter piece."
"Rita Skeeter? That liar? From Nerd Academy—ah, sorry, no offense to Ravenclaws—I just can't stand her," he grumbled, eyes flashing with the light of old memories.
He was surprised when none of the teens looked upset. They just nodded, understanding.
"What... what did I miss? How do you all know her so well? Is she famous now?"
"You don't want to know," Ron said darkly. He usually didn't mind Rita's articles—after all, they made him popular for once—but now that he was part of something real, something serious, the spotlight felt hollow.
For the first time, he understood Harry's frustration.
Sirius, ever curious, glanced toward the corner of McGonagall's office. He remembered—if the layout was the same, that's where she kept the clippings she found interesting.
He wandered over, flipping through:
"Gringotts Robbed – Who Dares?"
"Robbed? Brave idiots."
"Crouch Sr. Captured, Crouch Jr. Alive?"
"What?! Harry—he's my neighbor! I thought the brat was long dead."
"Ludo Bagman Faces Reckoning"
"Hah! I knew that day would come."
Then, he froze.
"Harry Potter's Troubled Childhood"
"What?!" Sirius shouted. "Harry—what did your aunt and uncle do to you?"
"It wasn't that bad," Harry replied, shrugging. "They didn't starve me. I just wore hand-me-downs and got bullied by Dudley. But Dudley's changed now."
He didn't go into detail.
When he was little—locked in that cupboard under the stairs—Harry used to dream about being rescued. He'd imagined an older brother, or a wizard uncle, someone with a flying motorcycle who'd take him away. He had even written the scene out in his mind, over and over.
But now… none of that mattered anymore.
"Old clothes?! Dudley ought to be in Hogwarts—I'm going to find him!" Sirius stood up abruptly.
"And that old fool Dumbledore—he knew! And Petunia—how dare she! Merlin's beard, Harry… how could I forget about you? I should've told Dumbledore everything when he visited Azkaban. You could've grown up with me!"
Sirius began pacing, fury radiating from him like wildfire.
Harry wasn't sure whether to be touched or terrified. If not for McGonagall's stern presence, Sirius might've flown straight to Privet Drive and hexed Dudley on sight.
"You know my aunt and uncle?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Know them? Barely. They're a pair of ignorant, bitter Muggles. I know Dursley sells drills. That's about all worth knowing," Sirius growled.
"That's enough, Sirius!" McGonagall snapped. "You just got out of Azkaban—let's not plan your return trip!"
"I know, Professor," Sirius muttered, licking his lips. "I'll behave."
McGonagall rolled her eyes. Ron and Draco tried not to cheer him on. Harry just smiled—half troubled, half warmed.
> Maybe Voldemort was right.
Sirius was a little unhinged…
But he cared. Deeply.
"Alright, stop staring at me! Professor McGonagall—I've graduated!"
Then he glanced back at the newspaper.
"Wait—'Harry Potter in Hogwarts – Strange Orientation'? What in Merlin's name—?"
He trailed off, staring at Harry.
His face was so much like James's… and yet, the article suggested something different.
Sirius blinked, stunned. His mind was racing in all the wrong directions.
> If that article is right… if James was the same way…
Then who would've been his partner?
Me?
Sirius's heart skipped.
The idea shocked him.
For the first time in years, he felt something shift deep in his chest—something he'd buried long ago.
"Sirius! That article isn't true!" Harry, Ron, and Draco all shouted at once.
"What?" Sirius blinked, jolting out of his reverie.
He hadn't even read the rest of the piece.
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