|Sirius Black and the Four Founders
Author: Lady Red 88 PM
What is the Veil exactly? Sirius discovers this the hard way when he finds himself in the future as an 11 yr old and attending Hogwarts a second time with James Potter II. One thing's for certain, life sure has gone to the dogs. DISCONTINUED.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Friendship - Harry P. & Sirius B. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 17,660 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 30 - Updated: 01-03-08 - Published: 11-23-07 - id: 3907244
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Sirius Black and the Four Founders
By Lady Red
What is the Veil exactly? Sirius discovers this the hard way when he finds himself in the future as an 11 yr old and attending Hogwarts a second time with James Potter II. One thing's for certain, life sure has gone to the dogs.
A Hot Summer Night
It was a clear, crisp night on the moors in Scotland at the end of a long, hot summer. The heat had rolled in early that year, hanging about like an unwanted smell. The locals had written it off as the worst summer in the last thirty years.
Abigail Thatcher was no exception as she trundled home in her little, old VW Beetle. She had just finished a rather lengthy visit in town with the local Woman's Institute. Lyn Norwood had been most unpleasant and had reminded Abigail all too vividly of her disastrous carrot cake at the Summer Fair last month. After several hours complaining about the weather however, Abigail felt confident that she'd buried the issue and hopefully the obnoxious Mrs. Norwood wouldn't bring it up again.
With her mind full of weather and Lyn Norwood's terribly sharp tongue, Abigail almost didn't see the shape in the dim darkness in the middle of the road before it was too late. As it was, there was a tremendous screech of tyres on the asphalt as Abigail slammed on the brakes. She shrieked loudly as the car careered sideways, the little Beetle threatening to tip as her groceries flung themselves against the windows.
Finally the car slide to a halt, the engine idling for a moment and suddenly dieing away with one last choked grunt. Silence descended as Abigail listened to the sound of her heart beating against her ribs. After a moment though, she pulled herself together, straightened her shawl and opened the car door.
The figure lay unmoving, face down on the road and illuminated by the headlights of the car as she tottered around to get a better look.
"My word," she breathed, pulling back a length of dark hair to reveal a young, rather battered and bruised face. Why, the boy could be hardly more than 12! What on earth had happened to him she wondered.
Despite pushing nearly seventy, Abigail Thatcher was as tough as they came so she hardly thought anything of it as she hauled the boy up, pulling one arm around her own shoulders. His head lolled uselessly against his shoulder like a drunken puppet but Abigail hardly minded. She was more concerned about the thin feel of his ribs through the shabby robes he was dressed in. In any case, the clothes were far too big and kept slipping off one bony shoulder as she man-handled him around the side of her car.
Panting by then, Abigail somehow managed to open the door and drop the boy onto the back seat with the groceries. An orange burst under him, leaking out onto the floor and Abigail sighed.
Taking a few quick breathes, she gathered herself once more and finally succeeded in folding his legs up and shutting the door then she got into the driver's seat.
After a few tries, she finally started the old beetle and then they were off. Abigail thought it might be wise to head straight back to town and the local hospital but in the end, she was much closer to home and having been a nurse in her younger days, she decided it would be much easier to go home.
Despite the roughed up look, the child was only unconscious she told herself and besides, Abigail found she was rather curious. It wasn't often you came across unconscious children in the dead of night. Perhaps the child was a run away? Or maybe there was more to it. The robes for certain, were definitely a little odd she mused to herself but as adults are won't to do, she pushed the unusual thought to one side. Had she known what was in store for her, old Abigail Thatcher might have changed her mind but then again, it is sometimes the memories we wish to forget that define us the most of all.
In the dim darkness the following morning of Mrs. Thatcher's guest bedroom, Sirius Black slowly came too.
Blinking hazily, he tried to make sense for a moment of the unfamiliar ceiling but when he failed to recognise it, he sighed to himself and slowly sat up. Every muscle in his body winced and protested against the movement but Sirius forcefully ignored it.
The bedroom he was in smelled faintly of lavender. On the bedside table rested a glass of water and a short note. Sirius picked it up and read it over quickly.
In case I'm not awake when you read this or not around, you are in the house of Abigail Thatcher. I discovered you lying on the roadside last night as I journeyed home from town.
Please make yourself at home. The cereal's in the pantry and the bread is in the bread box on the bench by the window. You can find spreads in the cupboard beneath and milk in the fridge. Feel free to also make yourself a hot drink if you like.
I'm not sure how you came to be lying on the roadside but please remain at home until we can sort something out for you.
Sirius frowned. The note really didn't explain much to him but at least he knew he was safe for the time being.
Standing up, Sirius pushed his hair back, stretched lazily and stumbled over to the door, still half asleep. He nearly tripped over something and looked down, surprised to realize he was wearing a set of black robes, far too big for him and horribly filthy.
Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Sirius looked around and spotted a neatly folded set of clothing at the end of the bed. There was another note pinned to the chequered shirt as he picked it up.
These were my late husbands. Probably a little too big for you but we'll do something about that later.
The shirt, like the room, smelled faintly of lavender as he discarded the robes and slipped it on. He pulled on the pair of shorts folded underneath and had to use the belt and cinch it on the last hole to hold his shorts up. There were no shoes but there were a pair of socks which Sirius pulled on, grateful he didn't have to stand on the cool, wooden floorboards anymore.
Opening the door, Sirius padded quietly out onto the landing. There was no one in sight as he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He passed several unusual items, including a misshapen object about the size of his hand with a spiralling cord and a flashing light on it. There was also a funny looking machine parked outside as he looked out the kitchen window and a tall, white box standing in the kitchen that was cold to the touch. Various other odd looking objects lay scattered about the kitchen and Sirius eyed them curiously but refrained from touching. He wasn't sure he wanted to test his luck and one of the objects looked like it could cut his hand off with a pair of blades protruding from a metal cylinder.
Opening the cupboard, he located the spreads and pulled out a jar of jam, feeling it should be safe enough. Selecting several slices of bread, Sirius suddenly found himself ravenous as he layered on the jam thickly and dropped the three slices of bread onto a plate left out for him.
Picking up the plate, he wandered across to the table and sat down. Gradually the sun had risen and filtered into the room through Mrs. Thatcher's lacy curtains. It gave the room a rather pleasant feel alongside the patterned wallpaper and the squashy armchairs. Stacks of ornaments made out as little woodland animals were placed carefully throughout the room and Sirius even spotted a little black cat curled up on the windowsill outside, enjoying the benefits of the morning sunshine.
Something about the little black cat tugged at his memory. Black…black – his name was Sirius Black, wasn't it? But for some reason he felt it unwise to spread that information about. Why was that?
Sirius frowned, forgetting about his slice of bread as it dropped unnoticed, into his lap. It had something to do with someone, someone called Harold? No, Harry. Yes, someone called Harry. But who was this Harry person? Sirius couldn't remember. In fact, he couldn't remember anything. Who was he? Why had he been lying in the middle of the road like that?
Sirius suddenly began to feel panicky. What was going on? What were those strange clothes he had been wearing? Why couldn't he remember anything? Who were his parents? Did he even have any?
His thoughts seemed to throb round and round his head in some sort of strange rhythm. Blackness consumed his vision and suddenly, someone was shaking him by the shoulder.
"Boy, BOY! For heaven's sake, wake up!"
Groggily, Sirius turned sideways to see a slightly blurred and worried face. The image sharpened and Sirius realised an old woman was shaking him. Mrs. Thatcher then?
"If you're not well you shouldn't be up. Come along."
Grasping Sirius arm, she pulled him to his feet. The bread dropped out of his lap to land on the floor but Sirius didn't notice.
With surprising strength, Mrs. Thatcher steered Sirius over to the couch where he flopped down onto it and lay back, his head spinning. His blood was pounding and pins and needles ran up his legs, like he had been seated for a very long time.
"Dear me," grumbled Mrs. Thatcher.
Sirius heard her move away and a moment later she was back, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead.
"You're a silly fool for taxing yourself like that. You should have stayed in bed if you weren't up to it."
"I'm fine," growled Sirius, something about her words sparking rebellion within him.
Pushing away the cloth, Sirius sat up. Mrs. Thatcher's lips tightened into a grim line and she eyed Sirius disapprovingly.
"I'm sure you are now love," she snipped, "but you're still as pale as a ghost."
Sirius said nothing, choosing to glare moodily at the carpet. He heard a sigh and a moment later Mrs. Thatcher moved away.
He listened to her clear up his uneaten breakfast and then heard the sounds of her footsteps followed by running water and a clatter as she dumped his dishes in the sink.
"Honestly, children these days," Sirius heard her mutter.
There was the sound of washing up but by then, Sirius thoughts had drifted and he was recalling his little 'episode'. He was sure he'd never experienced anything like it before but then again, he couldn't remember anything, could he?
This time, Sirius thought about it calmly, rationally going through everything he could remember up until he'd woken up. The list brought up next to nothing other than that his name was Sirius Black, he was connected to someone called Harry and he probably wasn't from around here. Sirius still didn't recognise many items in Mrs. Thatcher's home and his state of dress only confirmed the fact that he didn't belong here.
Sirius tried to remember more but hastily gave up when his head started to pound a little.
A moment later, Mrs. Thatcher was back, hands on her hips as she eyed Sirius up and down. She tutted to herself for a moment, shook her head and then walked over to the armchair opposite Sirius and sat down.
Fixing Sirius with a straightforward stare that dared Sirius to lie to her, she let him stew for a moment before hesitantly speaking.
"So…dear. I suppose we can't call you that. Do you have a name child?" she asked.
Sirius opened his mouth to say his name but pulled himself up short at the last possible second. Something was telling him it was dangerous to use the name Sirius Black. It was more of a gut instinct then anything but Sirius trusted that feeling and eventually mumbled out the first thing that came to mind.
"Harry, just Harry."
"What? Can't you remember your last name?"
Mrs. Thatcher's concerned gaze tugged at Sirius conscious but he stuck to the lie. He might be lying about his name but it was true that he couldn't remember anything else.
"No and I can't really remember anything else either," replied Sirius. "I don't know why I was lying on the road. It kind of hurts though, if I try to remember."
"Oh you poor thing," murmured Mrs. Thatcher sympathetically. She reached out and grasped Sirius hand. Sirius was surprised to find the comforting gesture nearly brought him to tears and for the first time, Sirius felt the enormity of his situation surround him.
"Do you remember how old you are?" she asked gently.
"Eleven," answered Sirius. "I turned eleven in May."
The answer had rolled promptly off his tongue and Sirius felt a little surprised. He wondered what other things would come automatically to him.
"I see, do you remember your parents?"
Sirius thought about it, his face screwing up slightly. He tried to remember but once his head began to pound a little he gave up.
"I can't…" Sirius paused. Something else had emerged instead and with a frown, he answered, "no. They're dead. Died ages ago."
"Really?" enquired Mrs. Thatcher, her eyebrows going up a little.
Sirius didn't answer for a moment, still wondering how this knowledge had come to him.
"Yes," he answered eventually with a half-hearted shrug. "I just know its true is all."
"Very well dear," sighed Mrs. Thatcher finally.
"Well I have to go into town this morning and make some enquiries. You'll need some things to I suppose," she said, looking Sirius up and down thoughtfully.
Nodding to herself, Mrs. Thatcher disappeared upstairs for several minutes before she returned, dressed in a summer blouse and hat with her handbag swinging from her arm. She didn't walk as Sirius had seen a lot of old woman do but rather, straight and proud with a smooth flow to her gait.
He followed her to the front door and watched curiously as she got into the strange machine he'd seen from the kitchen window. To his surprise, it suddenly began to make a loud noise and took off with a clatter. Mrs. Thatcher waved at Sirius' gob-smacked expression before he hastily remembered to close his mouth and wave back.
He watched her for several minutes until she disappeared around the bend and silence gradually descended as the noise of Mrs. Thatcher's machine faded into the distance. Sirius took a moment to take stock of the surrounding countryside which consisted of rolling hills and no other sign of civilisation before he turned and retreated inside.
The next several hours passed rather slowly for Sirius. He explored the house thoroughly, discovering that Mrs. Thatcher slept just down the hall from where he had awakened. Outside, there was a small paddock with six cows and four sheep which he spent an hour or two harassing before he grew bored with that and went back into the house. Eventually he fell asleep on the lounge, the warm summer air making him feel rather sleepy.
He dreamed he was wandering down a darkened hallway. The wallpaper was grey and filthy and for some reason, it was important that he keep utterly silent. In his care to be quiet, he didn't notice an umbrella stand until he had tripped over it. The resulting noise invoked a horrendous shrieking scream of rage. Sirius covered his ears as the sound swept over him, totally deafening him and just like that, the noise stopped.
Sirius opened his eyes to a cold, dark cell. The place felt harsh and barren. There was no sign of life and Sirius instinctively curled up so he took up the smallest amount of space possible. He shivered in the darkness and suddenly froze, fear crawling up his spine as he sensed something approach.
Any aspect of warmth seemed to vanish from the cell. It had hardly been warm to begin with but this new cold felt completely freezing. His breath misted in the air before his face as every last inch of feeling seemed to flee from him. Sirius whimpered slightly. The fear was engulfing him. Something was telling him he'd suffered this kind of thing before and he hated it, whatever it was.
A swishing of something through the air reached Sirius' ears and he curled up even tighter. It was coming for him.
Abruptly, the door to his cell began to creak and slowly swing inwards. A slimy, skeletal hand appeared, pushing the door open and Sirius reeled in horror.
He woke with a yell, tumbling sideways off the lounge and bringing the side table down with a crash as his hand caught on the edge. Panting, Sirius lay for a moment, letting the silence wash over him as his racing heart tried to calm down.
The nightmare continued to linger and Sirius shuddered. He had no idea what that thing had been. It never occurred to Sirius that it may have been a figment of his imagination. He somehow knew such creatures existed so he didn't think to question his own sanity.
Rolling over, Sirius collected the things he'd knocked off the table and carefully replaced them. He was relieved to note that he hadn't broken anything.
As he placed a long, black box with buttons back onto the table, something rather peculiar happened. Sirius turned, surprised to hear a voice speaking behind him. The black box sitting opposite the lounge suddenly had a person in it. He was talking and moving away as if everything were normal.
Fascinated, Sirius picked up the little black box again and moved in front of the box with the moving pictures.
He was still in the same place an hour later when Mrs. Thatcher returned. Hearing the front door open and shut, Sirius jumped and hastily turned off the box, returning the little control for it to where he'd found it. He wasn't sure what Mrs. Thatcher would think should she find him playing with it and he'd didn't particularly feel like taking the chance.
"Harry? Ah, there you are," said Mrs. Thatcher, walking into the lounge room.
"Could you help me get the shopping in?" she asked.
"Err…sure," answered Sirius, dutifully heading outside.
Mrs. Thatcher's strange machine was sitting around the side of the house this time in the shade and Sirius was relieved to see that it was open so he could easily get at the shopping. He shuddered to think what would happen if he wasn't able to get into the odd contraption.
Once Sirius had finished, he returned to the kitchen to find Mrs. Thatcher cutting up some vegetables. Sirius had failed to realize the sun had almost set and it was coming up close to dinner time. His stomach gave a small rumble at the thought of food as he recalled that he hadn't eaten since the episode this morning.
"All done Harry?" queried Mrs. Thatcher over her shoulder. Sirius nodded.
"Good, you can help me out with the vegies then please."
Sirius nearly protested but stopped himself and coloured slightly.
"Of course," he answered, moving across to help.
Mrs. Thatcher moved aside to make room for Sirius and passed him over the vegetables she'd started on. She then picked up half a dozen potatoes and began peeling them over the sink.
"So," she said after awhile.
"I dropped by the local orphanage and asked about you. They haven't had any children go missing from there and they also ran a search for me using a network hooked up throughout all the orphanages in the country. Clever things these days," mused Mrs. Thatcher.
"I tell you, one day technology is going to become so advanced it'll seem like magic."
"I suppose so," agreed Sirius, not really paying attention.
"Anyway, no such luck. No child fitting your description or name has gone missing. I also got in touch with the police and they're running a search on you as we speak. We should know by tomorrow who you are hopefully and where you've come from. In the mean time, I guess you can stay here with me. Of course, I expect you to help out a little. I live alone and it's nice to have a helping hand."
Sirius didn't particularly like the sound of work but he resigned himself to it. The old bird had helped him out after all and she wasn't really ordering him to do it. Something about been ordered about struck a chord with Sirius but Mrs. Thatcher had merely kindly requested that he do a little to help out. At the end of the day, Sirius figured it was the least he could do.
Dinner had never tasted so wonderful. When Mrs. Thatcher offered seconds, Sirius accepted without a second thought. Mrs. Thatcher smiled as she watched Sirius wolf down his food, like she had known how hungry he would be all along.
She didn't press him for any more details and Sirius didn't offer any. After dinner, he helped wash up and then they retreated to the lounge room. Mrs. Thatcher turned on the strange box which Sirius learned was called a television. They watched a show about a rather uncaring, drunken slob who owned a bookshop. The show was rather amusing although Sirius was once again reminded uneasily of his surname. The show was titled 'Black Books' and it had been a few minutes before Sirius had been able to forget about it and enjoy the show.
After that, Mrs Thatcher presented Sirius with several shirts and pairs of shorts and pants. Sirius felt a little overwhelmed by the old lady's generosity but thanked her graciously. It turned out she had a good eye as the clothes fitted perfectly when Sirius tried them on later upstairs in the privacy of his own room.
Things carried on in a similar fashion for the next week. It was two days later and not the next as promised, that the police informed Mrs. Thatcher they'd turned up no one matching Sirius' description. Sirius didn't think too much about it though. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Sirius found it strangely difficult to miss a life he couldn't remember.
He spent the long summer days helping Mrs. Thatcher in the garden and then wandering off into the surrounding country side for a few hours in the afternoons. He teased the cows and the sheep a few more times before being told off and made to help wash the strange travel machine which he learned was called a car. Mrs. Thatcher found it a little odd concerning how limited his knowledge was of technology and let Sirius know that. He could only shrug in return and put it down to memory loss or maybe they didn't have such luxuries where ever he'd come from.
It was one week out from the last day of summer that it happened.
Sirius went up to bed like usual at around 9:00 or there about. It had been a long day so it was only a matter of minutes before Sirius was fast asleep, sprawled on his stomach in the wake of the dreadful heat of the day.
For the most part Sirius' sleep was peaceful but during the early hours of the morning, nightmares once again intruded upon Sirius' mind. He'd only suffered one other minor one since arriving but it had been so brief Sirius didn't even remember it.
He was standing in a street full of people. Just in front of him was a man with his back to him, dressed in black. He was hurriedly pushing through the crowd, screaming after someone. The man's voice was laced with rage as he chased after a smaller man, dressed in shabby brown clothing. He kept glancing back over his shoulder fearfully as he scuttled along. His movements struck Sirius as rather rat-like as he tried to get away from his pursuer. Curious, he followed after the pair.
Finally the taller man in black caught up with his quarry and knocked him down. There was a mad scramble for a moment as people leapt aside from the fighting pair and suddenly they sprang apart. Several metres now between them, Sirius noticed that the smaller man had managed to fend off his attacker. There was a shallow cut in the right sleeve of the man in black which dripped with blood.
"That wasn't very smart of you Wormtail," growled the man. Sirius saw his head turn to glance down at the wound and then look back up and pointedly at Wormtail.
The smaller man flinched slightly, trying to edge away.
"You deserved it," he said fearfully, his eyes wide. "After what you did to Lily and James."
"You mean what you did," he drawled.
Sirius shivered slightly, the voice sounded so casual and yet so dangerous. Evidently the small man sensed this to as he squeaked and tried to flee.
"Don't move!" bellowed the black man, as he suddenly pointed a stick at the smaller man. Wormtail froze and turned to face his attacker once more. Sirius could see he was starting to get desperate and he found himself hoping that Wormtail would get away. The black man was terrifying although for the moment, Sirius couldn't see what was so threatening about a stick. Never the less, he sensed that to Wormtail, it was quite deadly despite its seemingly innocent appearance.
"You thought you were going to get away with it, didn't you?" asked the man.
"Stop it!" shrieked Wormtail.
"GIVE IT UP! I KNOW IT WAS YOU! DON'T YOU DARE DENY IT!"
Wormtail was not cowed by the furious tone. He frantically searched his clothing and whipped out a stick of his own.
"Expelliumous!" shouted black man. Wormtail's stick soared out of his hands. He made a desperate grab at it but missed.
"That was stupid Peter," said black man grimly.
"Now, now Sir-" began Wormtail, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Don't you 'now, now' me Wormtail," growled black man. "Let's not forget who's the auror here."
Wormtail backed up several steps but black man continued to follow. By now, people were trying to ignore the fighting pair but Sirius could see the occasional curious glance. Wormtail seemed to sense the glances to. Sirius could see his head occasionally whipping sideways looking for help when he sensed a glance and yet receiving none. In a desperate bid, Wormtail suddenly made his last stand.
"SHUT UP! I KNOW YOU KILLED LILY AND JAMES! YOU BETRAYED THEM!" cried Wormtail shrilly.
"Hardly," snapped black man.
"YOU DID IT! YOU WERE THEIR SECRET KEEPER!"
"We both know the truth Wormtail and one way or the other, it will come out. For you though, that doesn't really matter," said black man, advancing a few steps.
Wormtail backed up hastily, his eyes wide with fear. "What do you mean? You're not going to kill me to, are you?" stuttered Wormtail.
"Why shouldn't I?" retorted black man coldly.
"It's what you deserve."
Sirius gasped and hastily covered his mouth but no one had heard him. Black man still continued to advance and Wormtail retreated step for step. Sirius felt dizzy with elation as he suddenly noticed Wormtail trip. He landed hard and hastily scrambled back to his feet but Sirius noticed he'd managed to grab his stick in the fall. Apparently black man hadn't seen it so at least now they were even.
"Say hello to your master Wormtail," said black man softly.
Suddenly the pair moved with lightening speed. Sirius heard shouts but could see nothing as the whole street exploded. People screamed and chunks of debris flew hundreds of metres into the air.
The noise finally died away and Sirius dared to uncover his face. Bodies lay strewn across the street, blood colouring the shredded pavement in dark pools. There were groans and screams and standing right beside Sirius was black man. He had apparently been flung backwards by the force of the blast and had landed next to Sirius. The man's face looked terribly familiar but Sirius could think no further. His mind seemed to have gone numb as he observed the carnage.
A strange noise began to resonate through out the ruined street. Sirius turned, surprised to realize black man was laughing. It grew louder and louder as he looked about the devastated street. Of Wormtail, there was no longer any sign. He had vanished, completely incinerated in the blast.
There was a loud pop behind Sirius and he turned to see several grim faced men and woman, all dressed in crimson robes.
Sirius jumped, startled at the sound of his name.
"Yes?" he answered.
A man with a limp and a revolving eye had said his name but he wasn't looking at Sirius. He was looking to the right of Sirius at black man.
"What is it Mad-Eye?" asked Black.
Sirius stared, feeling the blood drain from his face. No wonder black man had looked familiar. An older version of himself stood beside him. Sirius Black stared calmly back at Mad-Eye and the other men and woman, completely undisturbed by what had just happened.
"You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew," growled Mad-Eye.
He glared at Black and Sirius was surprised to see Mad-Eye almost looked disappointed. Sirius was disturbed to see Black snort with disdain.
"The little traitor would have deserved it, if I'd actually killed him."
"That's enough Black," snapped Mad-Eye.
"You will hand over your wand and come quietly."
Like the day Sirius had dreamed about the hallway and the monster in the cell, he awoke with a yell, tumbled out of bed and hit the wooden floorboards with a thud.
He lay, sweaty and panting in the mess of blankets for several moments, trying to still his racing heart. It felt like it wanted to burst out of his chest and gallop away.
He heard footsteps and the door opened to admit Mrs. Thatcher into his room, her expression becoming concerned when she noticed Sirius on the floor.
"Good heavens Harry, what happened?" she asked, moving over to him.
Sitting up, Sirius realized he had been crying. The nightmare had utterly horrified him and he couldn't believe he could do such a thing. The worst thing was it already felt like it had happened although Sirius couldn't see how but never the less, that was the way it felt.
"I..I don't know. It was a nightmare," whispered Sirius, bitterly wishing he believed his own words. "I was an adult. I…I killed a whole lot of people because I believed this Wormtail person had betrayed me. But it didn't sound like that, it sounded like the opposite way around. You should have seen his face, he was so scared," said Sirius.
"Oh Harry," sighed Mrs. Thatcher, her eyes brimming with sympathy. Without hesitating, she knelt and enfolded Sirius in a warm embrace. It felt so comforting, being held in Mrs. Thatcher's arms like that. Sirius cried a little more, trying to gain control of his emotions but finding it next to useless to try. He didn't know what was happening. Who was he? What had he done before all this? Sirius had never more desperately wished to know the truth than now.
Finally Mrs. Thatcher pulled back, giving Sirius a gentle smile.
"Better?" she asked.
Sirius could only smile rather watery-like in return but it was enough.
"Well I suppose that's that," she sighed.
"If it's alright with you Harry, I'll go into town first thing in the morning and adopt you. How does that sound? We can still keep looking for your real identity of course but for now, school's coming up in a week and it'd be better for you if you were able to get into some kind of a routine."
Sirius wasn't sure what to think. He sat there, a little stunned as his brain tried to process what Mrs. Thatcher had just told him. It was a generous offer considering how long she'd known him but in all likelihood, she was probably lonely and had enjoyed his company over the last week.
"I'd like that a lot," said Sirius finally. Grinning and truly happy for the first time, Sirius hugged Mrs. Thatcher enthusiastically, summoning a surprised laugh from the old lady.
"Alright, let's get you back to bed. Will you be alright now?"
"Fine," answered Sirius confidently as he climbed back into bed.
Mrs. Thatcher gave him one last wave and quietly left. Sirius looked at the closed door for a minute before settling back down. He wasn't as fine as he'd claimed. Chills still ran through his body at the memory of the dream but eventually Sirius did sleep, his rest not disturbed until the next morning.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is © J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this fictional piece and it is merely to improve my own writing and share with other, fellow fanfiction writers.
Sneak Peak: Abigail Thatcher may have just adopted a child out of the goodness of her heart but when Sirius defends her in the most extraordinary manner, Abigail promptly forgets all about it thanks to a couple of Ministry workers and Sirius is swept away by the Headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witch Craft & Wizardry! Its gnomes, broom sticks and moving paintings galore. However, a startling introduction to one, James Potter, creates more problems for Sirius and his mysterious past than he'd have believed possible.