Whatever you say, whatever you do, I know it's alright
August 28, 1995
It had been less than twenty-four hours since Harry had learned of his predestined fate, but in truth, it felt much longer. Much, much, longer. He felt Buckbeak nestle his head in a bit closer and began idly running his hands over the hippogriff's head, reveling in the softness and warmth of his feathers. Buckbeak gave an affirming noise of contentment and Harry dug his hand in a bit further, thankful for the company. He'd always wanted a dog growing up and reckoned this was as close as he was going to get for the foreseeable future. He tried to ignore the fleeting thought that his foreseeable future was most likely going to be very short and, most likely, very bloody.
He was brought out of his brooding by a quick knock on the door before it was thrust open. It was Sirius, looking slightly worried and holding a plate. Buckbeak made a small noise of greeting as his godfather slumped down beside him and offered him the food.
"The next time you hide from us, could you at least do it on one of the lower floors? It's been a wrench trying to find you, and my knees are killing me," he said.
Harry chuckled. "You could have apparated," he replied as he took the offered plate.
"I wouldn't do that to Molly. She already thinks of me as a slightly older version of the twins, and I don't want to add to that perception by apparating from room to room."
"I think Fred and George are brilliant," Harry countered, a bit more angrily than he intended. He knew that Sirius didn't deserve that anger...that he was actually grateful for the help that his godfather had provided...but he couldn't help himself. It was why he'd shut himself up here in the first place. No-one else needed to have to worry or deal with what he'd discovered. It was his burden to bear.
Apparently Sirius didn't detect the anger or purposely chose to ignore it as he plowed on, pointing at the plate. "You should eat."
"I'm not hungry," Harry lied, placing the plate on his lap, amused at Buckbeak's intense interest in his supper.
He'd expected Sirius to call him on his lie, to point out that he hadn't eaten since noon and that it was a virtual impossibility that he didn't find the corned beef sandwich in front of him the least bit appetizing. But Sirius remained quiet, staring at the wall and leaning into Buckbeak's side.
"My parents chucked me in the summer after my sixth year? Did you know that?"
Harry shook his head no.
"I can't even remember what started it. We'd rowed so many times over the years that the arguments have all sort of faded together over the years. I probably said something stupid...I don't know. But this argument kept going and became much more personal; a kind of last stand."
Harry remained quiet, sensing how difficult it was for Sirius to share this particular memory.
"It had all been a bit of an abstract concept up to that point, I suppose. My parents had been upset from the off when I was sorted into Gryffindor and took up with the Potter blood traitors. I thought my parents' views on muggleborns were ridiculous and told them as much whenever the subject came up, but it was always a bit of a laugh for me...a way to feel superior and wind them up a bit. But that day, for whatever reason, our argument escalated, and my mother said I had to make a choice. 'It's either us or them' she said. She was furious, but I still didn't get it. I still thought it was a game. I thought there was no way they would throw me out. So I took a side, and they chucked me."
Buckbeak let out a soft wail of sympathy. Whether or not the hippogriff actually understood the words, it was clear that he felt the pain behind them.
Sirius shot him a weary smile. "Actually, I think I'm underselling it. Before she chucked me, Mummy tortured me with the Cruciatus in front of Reg."
"Reg?"
"Regulus, my brother. He was younger and a bit more compliant to the old ways than me, but he had a good heart. I suppose my dear old mum had given me up as a lost cause and wanted to show Reg what happened to boys who made poor choices. And fair play to her, because it worked. Reg joined up with Voldemort after he graduated. I tried to talk him out of it but he was too far gone at that point."
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
Sirius waved it off. "Anyway, I'm not sure how I managed it, given what awful shape I was in at the time, but I was able to apparate to your Dad's house. James wasn't there, he was at Hogwarts learning that he was to be Head Boy, but your grandparents were home, thank Merlin."
Harry wondered what his grandparents looked like...whether they liked his mum...whether they would have liked him...so many unanswered questions and possibilities. All of them depressing and eternally out of reach.
"Your grandparents had James a bit later in life so they were older than most parents, and sick...very, very sick...with Dragon Pox. Do you know much about the disease?"
Harry shook his head no.
"Well if you're young it's usually not a problem; take a potion, have a lie-in for a few days and you're all set. But if you're older, and you're unlucky, it's a bit harder to fight off. And if you're older and really unlucky you can't fight it off. It doesn't kill you straight-away but it saps your strength, wears you down, and eventually, it kills you. They'd caught it while we were off at school in sixth year and hadn't been able to shake it. They looked a decade older than when I'd seen them the summer prior.
I tried apologizing for bothering them but your granddad just smiled...he had the kindest smile...then he told me to stop being a numpty, grabbed my bag, put his arm around me, and brought me inside. After I told them what happened your gran went off and started getting a room ready for me. I was confused because they had an elf to do those sorts of things. Her name was Jess and she was the opposite of Kreacher; loud and friendly...a bit bossy but always happy to help. Your granddad said it was a waste of time trying to stop her, because when it came to family, Mrs. Potter always insisted on doing things herself if she could manage it."
Harry assumed Sirius was telling this story in an effort to cheer him up, but unfortunately, it was having the opposite effect. Just more family he could have and should have known. More good people who would have loved him that he'd never met
"Well when old man Potter called me family, I lost it. I started bawling like a baby...so loud, in fact, that Mrs. Potter stopped fixing up my room and came running. You see, that's what families do, Harry. When one of them is struggling, they come running to help."
Harry suddenly realized what the point of this story was. He was all set to stop him but Sirius beat him to the punch
"Before you start, you're the one who is struggling, and as such, you don't get a say in the matter. Family gets to help, whether you want them to or not. That's the rule. It took me longer than it should have, but this is me coming to help."
"I'm fine, and you can't help," Harry said.
"No you're not. Everyone in this house isn't fine. I'm a sodding mess right now. You should have seen Molly jump out of her chair when I said I was fetching some supper for you. I've never seen someone pay that much attention to making a sandwich. She did that because she isn't fine and wants to do whatever she can to help. We all do."
He felt the now-familiar prickling at the corner of his eyes but stubbornly ignored it. He was fine. He was all set to try and inconspicuously wipe the moisture away when he was forcefully punched in the shoulder.
"Oi! Haven't you been listening? Molly put a lot of effort into that sandwich! Dig in."
Despite himself, Harry chuckled. He grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. It was good...his favorite, as a matter of fact.
"Anyway," Sirius continued, "there I was, bawling my eyes out, and suddenly James comes bursting in, all excited to tell them his news. Your granddad shuffled James out of the room and I guess explained what was going on. Mr. Potter came back a few minutes later and took his seat, as if nothing had happened. He must have told James to stay out of sight because I didn't see him for the rest of the evening. Jess made supper for James and took it up to him in his room.
The Potters let me cry for as long as I needed to. Mr. Potter made me some soup, which was awful by the way, Mrs. Potter whipped up a potion to help with the effects of the Cruciatus, and then they put me to bed. The next day, because I was seventeen and stupid, I did everything I could to avoid your dad. Not only had he seen me moaning to his parents, but I'd ruined his big announcement. I felt weird...embarrassed. The Potters were dying, this horrible war was brewing, and I'd just heaped more misery on them."
"What did Dad do?" Harry asked.
"That is an excellent question, but before I answer, we need to retire to another room," Sirius said. "Hold onto your sandwich. See you later, Buck."