"If I had to live here, I'd shoot myself.
"That's unlikely. You'd paint the door the colour of mad salmon, put a couple of pink flamingos on the lawn, and systematically drive your neighbours to distraction.
(N.R. "The lawyer might not have known.")
***I stayed in France for a few more hours, during which time I updated my wardrobe and bought a couple of useful things. In particular, my most necessary purchase was a small, thin briefcase with a charm of invisible expansion. It held all my other belongings and Nazemnikus, once again transformed into a snuffbox. And why did it come to mind?
Next, I wanted to buy a normal wand, but the ones offered by the "Meliéza's Magic Tools" shop were not suitable, and I didn't have time to order one, so I left Fletcher's wand for the time being. It didn't suit me either, but it obeyed me a little better. Perhaps it was because of its simplicity, or perhaps because of my "victory" over its owner. There was such a belief in the magical world. Already in Muggle Paris, I shaved my head, trimmed my moustache and stubble, instantly looking five years younger. The last time I shaved was in London, in a hurry, and now I had already managed to grow a rather uneven stubble.
Now, without makeup, a pale young man of about thirty stared back at me from the mirror. I clearly looked younger than my biological age, but I was still quite thin. Unfortunately, the effects of Azkaban were evident, including on my appearance, which had aged too quickly. Much faster than time flows outside this terrible place.
I bought a set of restorative potions in the shops of the French magical quarter. All the really good potions were made to order, so I had to make do with mass-produced ones and a "basic course," but even they made me feel much better in a short time, with a very quick effect that was noticeable to the naked eye.
At least I didn't look like a wild madman grinning from the photos on the wanted posters.
I left France around noon, crossing directly into Lutny. After such a long journey, the "jumpy" began to vibrate slightly on the chain. Judging by all appearances, it would last for a couple more times, and then it would be time to throw it away.
"Hello, Mr Black!" Old Gorbine greeted me warmly. I could literally feel him calculating his future profits. "Everything is ready. Please follow me..."
And after this undoubtedly polite invitation, in the next five minutes I became almost a thousand Galleons poorer. Someone is robbing people in the alley. Someone hiding behind a polite smile. For comparison, the Comet-260 sports broom, which had just been launched by this company and was considered one of the best in its class, cost only two hundred Galleons. And the set of restorative potions I bought in France cost only fifteen.
However, such a high price was indeed justified. I was particularly pleased with the small bottle of Veritaserum, which I immediately placed in a folder next to my snuff box. I already knew exactly how to use a couple of drops. And the rest would come in handy.
***Throwing off my cloak, I Transled to Little Whinging. Classes at the junior school ended around twelve, and I hoped to meet Harry.
My face was no longer capable of scaring away all the wildlife in the area, my wand was only working moderately well, but it still allowed me to cast spells, and the charm amulet made me almost indistinguishable from the crowd, increasing my chances of spending some quiet time with my godson.
First of all, I needed to see what kind of protection the old man had put on his house. There was something in those films about protecting the Dursleys' house that made Harry have to live there, but I couldn't remember exactly what it was, so I had to check it out. Whatever it was, there had to be something on the house. At least an alarm.
I apparated straight to the park, counting on the fact that there shouldn't be many people there on a weekday. I couldn't rely on distracting spells alone, so I had to run.
After a couple of minutes of brisk walking, I was already at the house on Tisova Street. Harry was apparently still at school; at least, all I could see through the windows was Petunia, who was cooking dinner alone. There was no sign of Mr. Dursley's car either, so the moment was perfect.
"Magis Revelio!" A barely visible wave floated from my wand towards the house. For a second, a transparent dome flashed around the house, and the wave continued on, bending around obstacles. When it touched Petunia, she flinched unexpectedly, dropping a plate of fresh cucumbers. "Clang!" Only shards flew around the kitchen.
Wow, I didn't know Petunia was a Squib. I don't remember anything about it, and Sirius doesn't remember anything either. However, if a witch was born into Lily's family, the chances of a second wizard being born are high. But apparently, it wasn't meant to be.
The spell I used just now allows me to detect sources of magic, such as distracting spells — a weak Repello Inimicum, spread over the Dursleys' house. But that spell won't scare away even a Squib, let alone the Death Eaters! If that's the case...
"Magis Aperio!" — Again, nothing, just a slight distraction. Hmm...
***Over the next ten minutes, I systematically bombarded the Dursleys' house with every detection spell I could dig up from my memory, but to no avail. I just wore myself out. Prolonged use of magic after Azkaban was generally contraindicated. But I had to be sure.
There were only two possible explanations for why a whole bunch of different spells had produced such a result: either I wasn't strong enough to detect the protection, or all the talk about it was nonsense, either invented by the Great Wizard or by the author of the book herself. Like everything else around me, for that matter.
The first option was possible, but unlikely. Although I am far from Dumbledore in terms of power, it was enough to detect the alarm. And ten minutes of continuous powerful spells only confirmed that I would have noticed something, at least.
So all I could do was wait.
***A short time later, Vernon pulled up to the house and unloaded his bulk from the gratefully creaking car. With him was his little copy, Dudley, but there was no sign of the black tuft of hair. I stood there for a few seconds, blinking stupidly, trying to understand what had just happened. Had they forgotten him at school?
Realising this, I apparated straight there. Sure enough, Harry was just walking away from the gate of a large brick building. The sight of his lonely figure made my heart ache. But you can't just walk up to him like that, I can already imagine: "Sirius Black, I'm a friend of your parents. I recently escaped from the most terrifying prison on the islands, from which no one has ever escaped before. Would you like to come live with me?" Any normal child in his place would run away immediately, screaming in terror for the whole neighbourhood to hear! And they would be absolutely right, because they are taught from childhood not to trust suspicious men who claim to be criminals. Damn, it would be easier to gain a child's trust by pretending to be a dog... Wait, that's it, a dog!
I threw away the amulet, which was twitching noticeably, and hung a "probe" in its place. A barely audible pop of apparition, and I was on the outskirts of Whitby, where I spent several weeks in the guise of a sausage on a stick. Animagi actually have one bonus that you can only learn about after spending a large number of days in this form, and in the company of your own kind. When a wizard transforms into an animal and becomes one with it, he can find a common language with almost all members of his species, but that's not all. At a certain point, they recognise you as a "big brother" or, if you think about it and delve deeper into animal psychology, more like a leader, and they begin to listen to you.
Here in Whitby, strange as it may sound, I "met" a stray dog. I called him Lucky. He was really big, up to my hip, and as far as I know, a purebred Asian who had somehow ended up on the street. Black with a white "front apron," he was already old, smart, and quite peaceful. Usually, on weekends, when there were a lot of people around, he would pretend that his paw hurt. Limping and looking at people with pitiful eyes, Lucky could beg for anything, and in return, he would play with children or let adults pet him, as if reluctantly. He was the first thing that came to mind when I thought of a way to meet Harry more formally, under any pretext.
***In my invisibility cloak, I ran through the streets of Whitby until I saw a familiar tail flash by a banker's house. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that Lucky was also a professional food thief. He would climb onto open terraces, even in the presence of the owners, and steal everything that would fit into his big fanged mouth from the tables. I went "on the job" with him a couple of times, and I should probably explain why I called him "Lucky." As far as I can remember, he never got caught, even though there were times when I, a human in dog form, was almost caught.
"There you are, Lucky! Sopporo..." I whispered a sleepy spell, pointing my wand at the dog finishing off the cat food. When the spell hit the thief, he gasped in surprise and fell on his side, instantly snoring.
As soon as he fell asleep, I transformed the leash into a collar and fastened it as carefully as possible to the sleeping dog so that it wouldn't accidentally break, then apparated with him to Little Winging, dispelling the sleep spell as I went.
"Look, dog, this is your chance for a carefree life," I said, putting Lucky down on the ground and trying to convey as clearly as possible with thought images what he had to do.
Lucky, stunned by such sudden changes, resisted half-heartedly and tried to run away a couple of times, but finally barked something affirmative, causing me to breathe a sigh of relief.
At the same time, I noticed Harry wandering along the road from school and breathed a sigh of relief again, because I had found the dog before he could get to the Dursleys' house. Harry was walking rather slowly, even for a child his age, and he was lost in thought, clearly not the happiest of thoughts, judging by his furrowed brow and pursed lips, and he didn't notice anything around him. The moment was perfect.
"All right, go!" I threw off my invisibility cloak and, slapping the dog on the rear to set him off, let go of the leash. From then on, it was all up to Lucky. I hoped the dog would live up to his nickname this time.
***Harry had no friends at school. Everyone knew that Dudley and his cronies couldn't stand the fool Potter with his baggy clothes and broken glasses, and no one wanted to go against a gang of boys who loved to fight and bully others. So the boy was happy when school was over. It wasn't that he didn't like studying, quite the contrary, but surrounded by people who hated him, every minute was torture, making it impossible to concentrate. And today was a particularly awful day, because Aunt Marge was coming to visit again. Fortunately, she hadn't been able to come for the weekend. From the conversations of the older Dursleys, Harry understood that her beloved bulldog had fallen ill and she had taken him to the vet, but today Uncle Vernon's sister was supposed to arrive at Privet Drive. In honour of this, Uncle Vernon even picked Dudley up from school early, leaving Harry with no choice but to make his own way home.
Not that he was particularly upset about it; Harry tried to spend as much time as possible away from home, away from his horrible relatives. He usually wandered around the neighbourhood or fed the pigeons in the park, so walking home from school wasn't a big deal. The less he saw the Dursleys, the better.
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice a large, almost completely black dog appearing from behind the neat bushes on the other side of the street. The dog was running aimlessly, but when it saw the boy, it slowly headed towards him. It ran strangely, limping, and behind it trailed the handle of a leash that looked expensive, making it even more unusual. The dog ran up to the boy, who had stopped, sniffed him suspiciously, then nudged his small hand and whimpered quietly, rubbing its wet, cold nose against his skin.
It was unexpected, but Harry had long since grown accustomed to the fact that even wild animals were not afraid of him and sometimes ran up close, fawning over his hands. Not long ago, a stray dog had even saved him from Dudley and his gang, greatly improving his mood. Of course, Harry had to spend the whole weekend in the cupboard under the stairs for that, but his cousin's frightened expression was worth it.
"Hey, buddy, are you lost?" Harry scratched the shaggy dog behind the ear, curiously examining the collar. The dog's name was engraved in beautiful monograms on a gold-plated tag, but there was no number or address. "Lucky... So that's your name. Nice name."Mechanically scratching the dog, Harry wondered what he could do in this situation. He didn't want to take him to a shelter, because he had heard terrible stories about what happened to animals that weren't claimed by their owners... But he couldn't take the dog home with him either. The Dursleys would never allow him to have a pet, not even a hamster, let alone a dog half Harry's size.
"Lucky! Lucky, come here, you big dog!" A loud male voice came from somewhere in the distance, at first sounding vaguely familiar to the boy. But then Harry saw a young man hurrying towards him, who was soon beside them, and the fleeting feeling disappeared as he began to examine the newcomer.
It was a tall, dark-haired man in what looked like an expensive suit and a top hat. Holding a leather briefcase in his right hand, he deftly picked up the leash from the ground and began to pull it gently.
"Where are you going, you runaway?" Asking a clearly rhetorical question, the man smiled and ruffled the dog's head, then finally noticed Harry. "Phew, I barely caught up with him. Thanks for stopping that little rascal, lad. Now, let me catch my breath..."
The man did indeed look slightly out of breath and dusty, having apparently chased the runaway dog down more than one street. Harry thought that he must love his dog very much to run after it in such an expensive suit.
"My name is Sirius, Sirius Black, and you?" the man introduced himself, quickly dusting off his trousers and jacket.
"Harry... Harry Potter, sir," the boy said, a little embarrassed. He had been taught at school not to talk to strangers, but the man who called himself Sirius had a kind of inner sincerity that made Harry think nothing bad would happen if he told him his name.
"So, Sir Harry Potter? Pleased to meet you, young knight!" Sirius laughed softly, a little barking, smiling broadly at the timid reply.
Harry didn't know how to respond to the joke, so he just smiled timidly, still stroking the dog that was fawning over him.
"And Lucky seems to like you," Sirius smiled again, noticing this too. "All right, you rascal, taking advantage of a child's affection, you'd think you don't get enough scratches behind the ear at home!"
The dog responded with a demonstrative snort, offering his head for more affection and ignoring his owner, who tugged gently on his leash again.
"Can you imagine, he got scared by the exhaust from the car and took off... I didn't even know he could run that fast," Sirius complained about the dog, shaking his head. "If it weren't for you, Harry, I don't know how long I would have been chasing him! I should at least buy you an ice cream!"
"Thank you, sir, but I didn't do anything..." Harry tried politely to refuse, although the memory of ice cream made his hungry stomach rumble invitingly. Embarrassed by his reaction, the boy looked down.
"Don't even think that your noble deed will go unpunished!" The man wouldn't hear of it, pulling the child and the dog along with him. "There was a place on the corner, I think... Yes, here it is. What kind of ice cream would you like, Harry? Choose any flavour you like, and don't forget the syrup. The girl will serve us now...
Without even noticing, Harry found himself inside the cosy café. He sometimes passed by it on his way home from school, looking at the shiny display cases full of sweets, but he never imagined that he would ever be inside.
"Excuse me, sir, dogs are not allowed here!" As Harry and Sirius sat down at a table, the owner of the café rushed over to them. "You must leave this café immediately!"
This plump woman with dyed curls and a bright yellow dress had chased Harry away from the window many times so that he wouldn't spoil the appetite of customers entering the café, and at the sight of her, the boy instinctively shrank, tucking his head into his shoulders. Mr Black, as if sensing the change in Harry's mood, changed himself. A chill seemed to emanate from the figure in black, and for a moment the boy felt uneasy, but when he turned back to Harry, he smiled gently again.
"I think you'll make an exception for us," Sirius said, pulling a wad of paper banknotes from somewhere in his coat and thrusting them into the confused woman's hands. "Won't you?"
"Yes... Yes, of course," Lina Esveld would not have been a successful businesswoman if she had not sensed an opportunity. It was understandable, because the amount in her hands would easily cover a whole month's work at the café, and the dog... Well, it was just a dog, and she loved animals herself. "Evelyn, serve our dear guests in the best possible way!"
"What can I get you?" A young girl in a uniform that fit her pretty figure like a charm appeared next to the table they had sat down at, beaming with a smile.
Sirius glanced at the boy, who still couldn't seem to believe that this wasn't a dream, sighed, and began to order. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated.
***
I spent almost the entire day with Harry. First, we sat in a café, then walked the dog in the park. All this time, my obsession was to grab this frightened boy in my arms and move somewhere to Australia, sending Dumbledore and Voldemort far away. Judging by how easily Harry began to trust me after just a few minutes, I could have told him everything right then and there... Especially since it was shameful enough to lie to a boy. He had been lied to his whole life.
But running away from problems was never the solution. I was sure that sooner or later they would find us, anywhere in the world. And constantly hiding, moving from place to place and living in fear... I didn't want that fate for little Harry. He should have a normal childhood, and so far, all was not lost.
So my intervention was limited to a fancy lunch at that café and another fancy serving of lies. I paid for the boy's meals for a month in advance, shelling out a hefty sum. And I did a little mental digging in the brain of Esveld, the owner of the establishment, and left the dog in her care. Now Harry could come here and eat whatever he wanted in exchange for walking the dog, although I asked the waitress Evelyn to make sure he didn't eat only sweets. Thanks to transfiguration and copying spells, I had practically unlimited funds.
I wanted to slip Harry a couple of banknotes, but he resisted with all his might, and if he had horns, he would have used them too, like a ram rather than a noble deer. I barely managed to persuade him to take him out for lunch in exchange for looking after the dog. Even then, I had to use all my charisma to negotiate with the stubborn child.
I had to lie that I was going away on business for a week and had no one to look after Lucky, as he wouldn't let strangers near him. Yes, I played on his pity for the dog... But the end justifies the means, anything to ensure that this stubborn boy at least eats properly. I couldn't ask the Dursleys for such a favour; Mrs Figg, the cat lady, might have told Dumbledore about a suspicious visitor who smelled of magic, just like the Boggart tried to do in my third year.
But if Harry lingered a little after school, I don't think anyone would notice, not even the old squib cared where the national hero was. It was strange, but it played into my hands, considering that in a couple of days I planned to take him away altogether.
After saying goodbye to my godson and leaving the satisfied dog in the care of the café owner, I began to prepare for my break-in at Black House. My plan was to knock out Dumbledore's observers with living death powder while wearing an invisibility cloak and slip unnoticed into the house on Grimmauld Place. I didn't think there would be any Aurors there, because Dumbledore would most likely keep the location of Black House a secret until the last moment, hoping to single-handedly "seize" the only place that was protected no less than Hogwarts. That meant one, maximum two members of the Order, old or new. I was sure I could handle it.
All I had to do was wait until evening.
***
Sturgis Podmore, a tall, long-haired blond man of middle age, was languishing with boredom. Dumbledore's task, which had gathered some of his former comrades after Black's escape, had initially seemed like a breath of fresh air in the monotony of grey everyday life, but on closer inspection turned out to be just as boring as life after the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Sturgis, a rather ambitious and powerful Muggle-born wizard, happily joined the Order of the Phoenix after graduating from school, when it was just being formed to fight the cursed Death Eaters. It seemed like the right thing to do, and participation in the organisation was well paid by the Great Wizard, not to mention other perks such as being acquainted with the most powerful wizard in Great Britain. It was this acquaintance, after the Dark Lord's disembodiment, that allowed Podmor to start a promising career at the Ministry. However, he quickly grew tired of it. Sturgis did not like poring over papers or conducting research, but he loved chases and fights... He would have been perfect for the Auror Corps, but strict obedience to orders was not to the liking of the talented half-Muggle.
Moreover, after graduating from Hogwarts, Sturgis was surprised to discover that even the most mediocre wizard could make a very comfortable living without a penny to his name. So, having easily earned enough money to buy a nice house in Clapham, at 2 Laburnum Gardens, Sturgis happily indulged in laziness and idleness. That is, until his former comrade escaped. And what could a criminal possibly want in this unremarkable street in an old neighbourhood of London...
***
"Yeah," I said, looking through Podmore's lazy thoughts with Legilimency. We were now in one of the bars on Grimm Square, where this corpse was methodically pumping himself full of alcohol until I found him there.
"So there's only one observer here, unless the old man took extra precautions. And they don't even know what they're guarding. I'll find out who the Great Wizard is," I thought, and with that, I further convinced my old acquaintance to get thoroughly drunk.The powder of living death worked on the principle of Imperius, only thinner and more subtle. A person who inhaled a grain of this powder became soft in the head and very suggestible, which made it easier to use Legilimency. The powder got its name from its effect in large quantities. A couple of breaths and a person falls into a state indistinguishable from death. The brain stops working, the heart barely beats, and all bodily processes slow down. Mungo healers use this powder to transport the seriously ill, but others use it for other purposes. Stergis knew nothing more, so I left him in the bar to drink himself silly. I went out to the front of houses eleven and thirteen on Grimm Street.
The square had changed over the years. The soot-covered facades of the tall, dilapidated houses now looked, to put it mildly, uninviting. Some of the windows were broken, the paint on the doors was peeling, and behind the broken gates leading to the steps were piles of overflowing rubbish bags, which stank of rot even from a distance of ten metres. This had once been a very prestigious area of the city, but time had not been kind to it.
Approaching the gap between the houses, I carefully cut Seko's palm and, muttering incoherently in pain, pressed it against the dome that flashed instantly. Blood — why do all old spells use blood?!
While I was healing the damage with healing spells, something was happening in front of me! A huge mansion, towering above the other houses, appeared out of thin air, silently pushing aside the houses standing next to it and expanding in width and depth, half hidden in a fog that had risen from nowhere.
Large dark windows, ornate mouldings on the stone walls, wide marble steps, gilded monograms - all of this screamed of the luxury to which the owners of the house, which literally stood on the border between two worlds, were accustomed.
I sighed. Neither Sirius nor I had ever suffered from gigantism. In my previous life, I was quite content with a cosy studio on the seventh floor of a high-rise building, and Sirius had spent half his life first in a Gryffindor dormitory, sharing an already small room with three other people, and then in Uncle Alphard's small summer cottage. This palace was definitely too big for me alone. But I hope Harry will like it.
Holding my breath, I stepped through the welcomingly open door, preparing myself for a reunion with memories. Or something else.
It's a matter of luck.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970