Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to September, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
SIRIUS BLACK
He tossed his attention from side to side, trying to find his cheeky little godson in this massive hall. Well, "little" was not a good word for Harry anymore. Somehow he was almost Sirius's height and he wasn't even seventeen yet. He couldn't have gotten those genes from James—James had always been the smallest of them all. Well, apart from the rat, but who cared about the rat? He found a familiar nest of black hair and just about heard the laughter that escaped his lips next. James, Sirius thought before stopping himself. Harry. Fuck it, you old mutt, that's Harry.
Don't be weird. Harry doesn't deal well with weird. He doesn't like it much either. Sirius, when he had met him in his third year, had expected a different dynamic. A father-son relationship where he did his best to do all the things James would have wanted his son to have done for him but couldn't do himself for obvious reasons. But Sirius was not made to be a father. That was why he had run off. He could have stayed in Grimmauld. Been close enough to Harry for weekly visits, even if they couldn't stretch it to daily. But he couldn't deal with the pressure.
He was a coward. Maybe that was why he did not blame Remus for his own cowardice. Yes, Remus had abandoned James's son to those Muggles, but Sirius could not guarantee that he would not have done the same. Especially in the middle of all that grief. James had been his brother even more than Regulus had, and Sirius had taken years to find himself again without Prongs there to keep him anchored. So, was it not a surprise when Harry reached out after going no-contact for a while?
Sirius suspected that Harry had figured him out for the fraud he was and wanted nothing to do with him. It had hurt, but even that he had been able to rationalize as being for the best. And then Harry had come back. And not just come back, Harry had secured his freedom. All the fears he had about him had ended up being for naught. Harry did not need a father. Sirius did not need to step into James's shoes like that. All Harry needed was an older brother, and when it came to that, while Sirius had not been the best to poor Reggie, he was confident he was doing better with Harry.
For one, Harry laughed a lot more than Reggie ever did. Speaking of Harry's laughter, he heard the sound again and turned to the side, finding him standing next to the boy that had been his opponent in the quarter-finals—Angel Cerulean or something like that. It had been a good duel, but Sirius's prediction that nobody here would be able to push Harry all that far was holding true. Harry was just one of those wizards. The kind that existed once in a generation and came to receive the same treatment as gods with time.
Wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort who could reshape landscapes with a thought and use magic that the rest of the world thought was impossible with ease. That was the kind of wizard Harry was. It was the only way the things Sirius had seen made sense. That Patronus charm that had chased off over a hundred Dementors should have been the first sign. Thirteen-year-olds didn't just master and perfect spells that caused half the dropouts in the final year of the Auror program. They didn't just master spells like that and then use them with more power than anyone Sirius had ever seen. Driving off a single Dementor was supposed to diminish the Patronus.
Over a hundred with a single Patronus should have been impossible. And then after that, he'd killed a hellhound, and then won the Triwizard Tournament, and now could duel a full-grown wizard like Sirius and win more often than not. Sirius had even had to enroll himself in training so as to prevent the gap between him and Harry from growing too quickly.
He took another sip from his glass and began walking over to Harry to find out what was making him laugh so heartily.
"Mr. Black." It took him a second to realize he was the one being referred to. It made him feel like he was back in Hogwarts again, being called Mr. Black. It reminded him of McGonagall, pranks long performed, and halcyon days with friends who were closer than family. He missed those days.
"Sorry, I didn't quite get that," he apologized when he realized that the man who had stopped him—the head organizer of this whole thing—had been saying something while he'd been thinking back to the worst prank he ever got caught in the middle of and who exactly had caught him.
"No problem. Like I said, I'm Julian Russo." The man stretched out a hand.
"Sirius Black, but I am sure you already knew that," he said, accepting the hand somewhat hesitantly. The man had a surprisingly firm shake.
"Yes, yes, I do. I've been trying to get to speak with you all night, but I've found myself besieged for my attention, unfortunately," he said, and Sirius flashed back to seeing the man in the middle of a dozen admiring diplomats at the beginning of the dinner.
"Well, you deserve it. You've designed one hell of a tournament."
"Thank you. Thank you. But I was simply doing my duty. The ministry asked, and I could not disappoint. Back to the tournament though, do you expect your godson to make it all the way through?"
"I do. Harry is one hell of a duelist."
"Yes, he is. Easily one of the best I've ever seen at one of these things. This is the strongest contestant pool we've had in a long time and your godson doesn't seem to be having all that much trouble," he said, and then Sirius's suspicions were raised.
The flattery was a dead giveaway. People didn't just pay compliments for no reason. Julian Russo wanted something, and Sirius had a bad feeling about it.
"Thank you."
"One would wonder, though. So young. So young and yet so skilled. It almost gives one reason to suspect something untoward."
"Is there anything you want to say more directly, Russo?" Because surely this man could not be suggesting just what Sirius thought he was suggesting. If he was, Sirius would lay him out for the audacity and move on with things.
"No. Nothing of the sort. Our anti-cheating measures are second to none. It's just that a man must wonder."
"Then keep your wondering to yourself," he ground out.
"Should I? Hmmm. He's what? Fifteen years old? Not even that. And he's beating people years his senior who have completed their magical maturities. It's cause for concern, no?"
"He is Harry Potter. Maybe that name means nothing where you come from, but it means something in magical Britain. He's just that special," Sirius said with a shrug, not allowing the doubts that the man was stirring in him to take hold. Harry was special, yes, but even Dumbledore was only said to become untouchable after he had turned seventeen. But that was Dumbledore. Harry was better. Regular people don't just survive the Killing Curse. Regular people aren't just prophesied to defeat the most powerful Dark Lord Britain has ever seen.
"Indeed, Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. A legend and more. That must explain it, no? The power, the skill, the judgment. All of it beyond his years."
"Once more, Russo. Is there anything you want to say directly?"
"No. No. Nothing at all. Just that I find myself a fan of your godson and wanted to know more," he said, stepping back.
"Good," Sirius said dismissively and then turned to walk towards Harry. His good mood was beginning to wane.
But hearing Harry's laughter brought it all back. Now, there was a girl with them as well. The Chinese one. Sirius couldn't remember her name for the life of him, but he was sure someone would mention it in conversation, and so he stepped into their midst.
"Anyone going to tell me what's so funny?" he asked as he noticed the boy and the girl were staring at each other, neither of them moving.
"Oh, hey, Sirius. How've you been?" Harry turned to him, and Sirius was struck by the resemblance again. It was like staring at James from all those years ago.
"So-so. Got bored and heard you laughing, so I came to find out what's so funny."
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just a game they're playing."
"A game?"
"You were born in Barcelona but moved to Madrid not even after you'd turned a day old," the girl suddenly said.
The boy groaned, fishing out a galleon. Harry burst into laughter again as the girl pocketed the gold.
"What's going on? Are we gambling?"
"Something of the sort. Angel here fancies himself a master Occlumens in the making, and Cece was just helping him test his defenses," Harry said, stretching out his own hand to receive another galleon from the Spanish wizard. Instead of pocketing it, he flicked it into the air, catching it a second later, and then began to work it through his fingers.
"So she's a Legilimens, then."
"I am THE Legilimens, Mr. Black," she said, and Sirius felt himself retreat behind his Occlumency almost instantly.
"Do not bother. Shields mean nothing to her," the Spanish wizard said somewhat grumpily.
"How do you do that? I've not heard of a Legilimens just being able to ignore shields before," Sirius said.
"I'm not. Not really. Just that I am a natural Legilimens. It probably takes me more effort to stay out of minds than it does to get in," she said.
"I don't ignore shields. I can just bypass them."
"Most of them," Harry added.
The girl growled with some annoyance on her face.
"Yes, most of them. Somehow your mind just won't let me in. I'm almost beginning to think it isn't Legilimency and you just have nothing going on in there," she said somewhat sullenly.
"Now don't be mean," Harry said, the laughter in his eyes reminding Sirius of James when he was playing a prank only he knew about. The rest of the Marauders had been mischievous in their own ways, but James had mischief in his blood. There was a reason the rumor that the ghost that had spawned Peeves was actually one of James's ancestors had lasted so long.
Even Sirius had believed it for a while until Aunt Euphemia had thoroughly disabused him of the notion.
"Have you guys gotten anything to eat?" he asked, feeling a twinge in his stomach.
"Nope. The tables were much too crowded, and everyone kept trying to talk to me, so I banished myself over here," Harry said.
"Well, it's not much of a banquet if we don't do any eating, is it? And the tables are free now," he said, pointing over. The crew of duelists followed him towards the meal table, and Sirius picked up his plate first, heading straight for the pork. He knew enough to avoid fish at events where dancing would be expected at some point, but he was much too starved for anything lighter than the pork. The Chinese girl, Cece, followed his lead while Harry seemed to be picking out his meal on the direction of the Spanish boy.
He took his meal towards an empty table, sitting down. Harry sat last, spinning his wand into a grip and slashing it this way and that.
"A Notice-Me-Not charm?" he asked. Those were rude to cast at public events like this.
"Nothing so drastic. Just a mild aversion ward. Anyone that comes towards us has to really want it," he said. The Spaniard burst into laughter. The Chinese witch looked over at him for a second before she began chuckling as well.
"Pretty certain that most people want to talk to you very much," Sirius said.
"Yeah, they'd have to want to talk to me more than I don't want to talk to them."
"That doesn't sound so mild."
"Because there is no such thing as a mild aversion ward."
Harry chuckled then. "Okay, I might have understated things a bit. But we should be fine. If anyone cares enough that we've got one, they can always come tell us themselves," he said in a tone that said he didn't think it likely.
"Cheeky brat," Sirius smiled. It was good to see him like this. Having fun, telling jokes with people his age. Being teased was good for him. And what was even better for him was having friends his own age to do the teasing. Sirius did the best he could, but no teenager should have their best friend be a man in his thirties. That was just weird. Very weird.
"Tell me about this ward," the Chinese girl asked next. Cece, Sirius reminded himself. Better to learn the name and use it than to keep calling her the Chinese girl. Probably would be less rude. Well, as long as he didn't use any of the words his mother would have used in this situation, he'd be fine.
"Well, it's an aversion ward. But Angel is right that there are no mild aversion wards. From far enough away, it can be a bit mild. Feels like you'd rather go pee or that you've forgotten something important you'd rather be doing than coming towards us. The closer you get, though, the worse it feels. At some point, it starts to hurt. Not like real physical pain. It's all in your head ultimately, but anyone without ironclad determination would quickly turn about," he said, before pointing out a man who had begun walking in their direction before turning about and heading towards the bathroom.
"How does it affect them from so far away?" she asked next.
"The ward has a pretty wide range on its own. But it only works for our table. So if someone plans to sit at a table next to us, then there should be no issue with it," he said next, and then laughed when another person turned towards the bathrooms.
Sirius ate his meal with a wide smile on his face that got wider and wider as time passed. More and more people would sight them, consider coming over, and then head somewhere else.
"That's got to be his third time at least," Cece laughed as one man turned towards the bathrooms again.
"It's his fourth," Sirius said, chuckling as well. He could recognize the face.
And then his smile died as there was a commotion from the door. A commotion that came with a familiar pair of faces. One he'd recognize anywhere as the scarred visage of Mad-Eye Moody practically bullied his way past the ushers asking for his pass, while behind him came Sirius's cousin. Second cousin? For the life of him, he'd never been able to understand the differences.
Her hair shifted from the bubblegum pink it had been the last time he'd seen her—and what a time it had been—to a bright red as Moody grabbed on to her and began to pull her in their direction. The ushers tried following after them, but the aversion ward had them all turning around in a matter of seconds. Moody kept going because of course he did. He was fucking Alastor Moody. Now, the entire table was looking at him and the young girl as he led her over.
And based on the commotion they had caused, the rest of the banquet was looking over at them, and by extension their table, as they came over.
"Moody. It's a surprise to see you here." Harry spoke first, taking the words right out of Sirius's mouth.
"Must be, huh. We've got some questions for you, Potter," he said.
"You do, do you? What about?" Harry asked instead, smirking at the most famous dark-wizard catcher the world had ever seen.
"Dudley Dursley, Dennis Bergkamp, Gordon Ramsay, and Piers Polkiss," Moody read out.
"And are those names supposed to mean anything to me?"
"At least one of them does. It's your cousin."
"What about him? Did he find some wizard to torment? I assure you I haven't seen the fat turd in…"
"He's dead."
"Oh?"
"So are his parents, in case you were wondering."
"How... unfortunate." Nothing about Harry's tone made it seem like he found their deaths even slightly worrisome.
"That's not a very good reaction, Potter," Moody said, his false eye focusing straight ahead, pinning Harry to his seat. Sirius knew that look. The false eye often roamed like it had a mind of its own, but when it focused on one target, then you knew Moody wasn't joking around.
"You can't expect me to be very sad for them. The Dursleys were terrible people. The worst kind of Muggles. If they met their ends, then the world is all the better for it."
"Sounds like something someone would say after killing them," Moody said.
"I assume it happened sometime recently. I would have heard of it if it happened back when I'd been in Hogwarts. I haven't stepped a foot in magical Britain since then. I know the ministry has ways of checking, so don't waste my time with the faux suspicion, Auror Moody." Moody scoffed, eyes still locked with Harry's, before he finally spoke again.
"We need information. You're the only lead we have," Nymphadora cut in. Sirius noted how she studiously avoided looking at him. Good. It hurt, but a vindictive part of his mind could not forget little Nympha had pointed her wand at him and demanded he get out.
"If someone magical is killing the Dursleys and those particular names, then it's probably got something to do with me. Maybe they have the very false idea that I care either way for them," Harry said, not needing to say the name they were all thinking about.
"Not that. We want something concrete. Not whatever ludicrous assertion you and the Headmaster are concocting."
"Oh. Didn't take you for a skeptic. What's the name? Hold on… Metamorphmagus? Nymphadora Tonks, if I'm not mistaken?"
"How do you know my name?"
"If you want something concrete, then I'll give you the name you didn't mention—Malcolm Gladwell. If anyone is going after that group, then he's the next target. I'd hurry if I were you; it doesn't feel like you have much time," Harry said.
A/N: Next four chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.