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The only upside to what had happened in Little Whinging that night was that their mother was far too upset to remember to charm the kitchen door, Ginny reflected as she listened through the newly created Extendable Ears her brothers were trying out, the whole lot of them crammed onto the third floor landing.
It was amazing how clear their mum’s voice was coming through. “How did the Dementors even find him?”
“Harry’s residence is a matter of public record, Molly,” explained Albus Dumbledore with exceeding patience. She couldn’t imagine how he had the time to field the Orders’ questions and run interference at the Ministry on Harry’s behalf.
“Yes, but you said he’s meant to be safe there, Headmaster,” her mum persisted. Only extreme worry would cause her to argue with Professor Dumbledore like this.
“The blood wards protecting Harry only extend to the property limits of his relatives’ house. This is why the Order guard has been necessary. The preliminary report from the Ministry says that Harry and his cousin were attacked off the property, and Arabella’s account supports this. So long as he remains inside—”
“So he’s under house arrest, then?” Asked a voice Ginny was beginning to grow rather familiar with. Sirius Black, wrongfully accused escaped convict and their host of sorts in this gloomy house that used to be his family’s. Ginny couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this.
There were a number of weary sighs.
“No, I just want to be clear. Can’t leave the property for his own safety and all that? In that case, Albus, could you tell me for what reason we sent Harry to stay with his relatives all the way out in Surrey — spending valuable time and resources this group doesn’t really have — when he could have been, oh, here maybe?”
“Ooh,” the twins breathed together, grinning.
“You’re meant to be writing that letter to him,” her mum snapped waspishly. She hadn’t taken much of a liking to Sirius ever since they’d gotten here. Ginny thought he’d have better luck with her if he cut his hair.
“Yes, and I’ve written it on the scrap of parchment I’ve been allowed. ‘Stay out of trouble’. Not much use when the trouble came to him in the first place.”
“Harry will be moved once it is safe to do so, Sirius,” said Dumbledore.
“Not an answer, though, is it?” Ron muttered at her elbow. Beside him, Hermione shook her head.
“He does have a point, Albus,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice. Kingsley had an ear piercing like Bill and was therefore cool even if they didn’t know much else about him besides his job. “Moving him from one location to another is a security risk that could have been avoided.”
“I have explained before why it is necessary for Harry to spend a portion of his summers at his relatives’.”
There was a scoff at the word “necessary”. Ginny could guess who it originated from.
Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later by her mum asking, “Perhaps instead of undermining the Headmaster you could criticize your friend, Mundungus.”
“I haven’t defended him,” said Sirius. He said nothing further, though it was hardly any surprise. Mundungus Fletcher had been the one to supply Sirius a new wand off the black market. And Dung was funny in an odd way.
The front door opened and shut, though none of them could see who it was from their vantage point. Shuffled footsteps stopped with a bang and a curse as something heavy fell over; Tonks with the troll’s foot umbrella stand again.
“Quick, the Ears!” Fred began reeling them back up as, loud and clear without magical aid, old Mrs. Black’s portrait started her screaming back up again.
“HALF-BLOOD TRAITORS WALKING MY HALLS, SULLYING THE NAME OF BLACK!”
The adults could be heard rushing up to quiet the commotion, and Ginny snuck down a flight to watch the end of Dumbledore’s purple cloak disappear through the front door.
She came back up. “Meeting’s over. Dumbledore just left.”
“But we still don’t know what will happen to Harry,” Hermione said in clear disappointment.
“They can’t wait that long to move him, can they?” Ron looked to be trying to keep his spirits up. “Anyway, Harry’ll be alright. He’s fought off way more than two Dementors before.”
The twins agreed with nods, but Ginny wasn’t so sure. It was one thing two years ago; they’d all been warned about the Dementors guarding the school. It was another thing to be attacked out of the blue just streets away from your own home. Harry had to be wondering who had done it and why, just like they all were.
They were all forced to scatter at the sound of more footsteps, this time coming up the stairs towards them. Ginny peeked out of her hiding place in the drawing room to watch Sirius trudge past. He continued up to the room he shared with Buckbeak the hippogriff, and she heard his door shut with a snap.
“He’s in a mood,” she heard Ron mutter from his room down the hall.
“He always is lately,” Hermione replied in clear disapproval.
Ginny wasn’t sure what to think of that. She wondered what Sirius had been like the times Ron and Hermione had met him before and how that differed to now. Every so often she thought they caught glimpses of it, like the first night they’d arrived or whenever a good number of Order members stuck around for dinner after a meeting. He was always more jovial then, or trying to be.
Ginny looked around the dusty old room and shivered. They hadn’t started cleaning this one out yet, so she’d do better to steer clear of it for now. It felt like something or someone was watching her, holding their breath and waiting for something. She hurried back to the room she shared with Hermione to wash up before dinner.
---
Sirius hadn’t been at dinner, a point her mother refused to acknowledge. In fact, she’d made every effort to behave as though everything was perfectly fine. The only indication that it was not was near the end of the meal when the dishes were being cleared away and her father voiced a quiet question about taking up leftovers.
“He’s a grown man. He can make his own food if he doesn’t want to eat with us.”
Ginny privately thought that even if Sirius had been a grown man when he was arrested, he’d not had much experience cooking the last fourteen years or so and should possibly be cut some slack since he was forced to put up with the lot of them all summer. Ginny loved her family, but even she knew they could be a bit much sometimes to outsiders.
They were all sent up to bed soon enough. Ginny tossed and turned for a while. She just couldn’t seem to settle, mind occupied with Dementor attacks and Harry skulking around his Muggle relatives’ house — which in her mind’s eye resembled something like Grimmauld Place as she’d never seen it before — barred from leaving just like Sirius was and they all had been since the start of summer.
After a while, she gave sleeping up and rose from her bed. The house seemed even creepier at night, things looming out of dark shadows at unexpected moments. She might lose her head if she ran across Kreacher with no warning. For some reason, her feet carried her upstairs instead of down; maybe she was unconsciously avoiding waking the portraits by mistake.
Ginny paused in front of the drawing room. As much as she didn’t like it in there, she also felt some sort of morbid pull towards it, almost like…
Shuffling feet a couple floors above broke her from her thoughts, and Ginny quickly backed up out of the room. She hadn’t even realized she’d opened the door and stepped inside.
She heard the footsteps again and decided to have a look. It was coming from the floor above Ron but below the twins. Ginny didn’t actually think anyone slept on this floor, come to think of it. She passed by a door labeled pompously with the name Regulus Arcturus Black, noticing a light on in a room she hadn’t thought was in use. Ginny went to the door and pushed it open a few inches.
Inside she found a bedroom in shocking red and gold after all the black, silver and green of the rest of the house. There were posters on the walls, still like Muggle photographs, of women in hardly anything. In the middle of it all stood Sirius, who looked to be sorting through some old papers.
He glanced her way. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
“Point taken.” He gestured around the place. “How do you like a fifteen year old’s attempt at decorating?”
It made a very sudden amount of sense. “This was yours?”
“Yeah, when I Iived here. The first time, anyway.” Sirius looked down, his face cast in shadow.
She could tell he was likely to wallow if she didn’t rescue the conversation soon, so Ginny said, “Well, it’s very typical boy.”
He laughed, not quite the bark that seemed to be his usual. “Oh, I wanted my mother to think so. She was too busy goggling at those Muggle girls I cut out of the advertisements in the magazines to realize I was reading up on motorbikes. I built my own, enchanted it and everything.”
A man after her father’s own heart, Ginny noted to herself. “And the Muggle girls weren’t a side benefit?”
He shook his head, hair whipping about his face like shaggy ears. “Never interested me much. If I can figure out how to undo the old Sticking Charms, they’ll be coming down.”
“How come?”
“Thought I might clean this up for Harry to use. Though your mum reckons he’ll go in with Ron. Probably better he does,” Sirius muttered as he rubbed at his face with one hand. “No sense being alone in this house.”
“No,” Ginny agreed.
“Still,” Sirius said, rallying himself. “Might be worth it to show him some things. Look here at this.”
He took a photo off the pile he’d been sorting through and handed it to her. Ginny nearly gasped at the sight of an older Harry — except it wasn’t Harry at all, but a similar-looking man with different shapes glasses and hazel eyes. He was chasing a green-eyed baby on a toy broomstick around a cozy sitting room while a woman with deep auburn hair laughed and laughed.
“This was his family?”
“Yeah, his first birthday. I couldn’t be there — they were in hiding already, and the Order was spread pretty thin. Back when we could do something about all this,” he noted, though the usual bitterness was softened as he continued to gaze down at the photo of the Potters. “So I sent him that toy broomstick. Lily said it was his favorite. She sent a letter with the photo, should be somewhere...here!”
He’d gone back to his pile and withdrew two pages of old parchment filled with Lily Potter’s neat script. Ginny held her breath as she took a piece of the past. Her eyes only skimmed the text. She couldn’t really concentrate on the words themselves, only that they’d been written by a woman who’d been killed less than three months later.
“Harry writes his ‘g’s the same way as her.” Sirius pointed it out with a finger, undeniably proud.
Ginny’s eyes jumped from one ‘g’ to another rapidly, zeroing in on the two capital ‘G’s in the name Gellert Grindelwald, which was mentioned for who knew what reason.
“Does he?”
“You don’t think so?” Sirius was frowning a little, like he thought she doubted him.
Ginny shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never really read Harry’s writing.”
“You don’t write letters at all? Not just this summer?”
“Oh. Well, Harry is Ron’s friend, really. We all like him, though,” she added quickly. “Actually, I, er, I sort of had this massive crush on him when we first met. Sort of makes things awkward. He probably wouldn’t want letters from me.” She turned away under the guise of setting Lily Potter’s letter down. “And I don’t know why I just told you that since you said that sort of thing was stupid.” He probably thought her a real idiot now.
“I said it wasn’t for me, not that it was stupid. James and the rest all thought I was the stupid one when it came to that.”
Ginny didn’t know what to say, not sure she really understood.
“Did Harry say he didn’t want letters from you? Doesn’t seem like him. Then again, he’s yet to ask me about girls.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, he’s always been nice about it. Even during everything with the Chamber.”
“Chamber?” Sirius asked, his brow furrowing.
There was a moment where she thought her face might heat up, but it passed. Ginny was so used to everyone sort of knowing, even if they never spoke about it, that she’d quite forgotten that Sirius would have no reason to. Well, almost no reason. “Er, I was tricked by an enchanted diary in my first year, and Harry had to come and rescue me. I was a blubbering mess.”
“Ah, well that’s alright then. I was completely useless two years ago when the Dementors nearly caught me. Harry doesn’t resent me for having to rescue my sorry arse.”
Ginny found her lips curving into a grin, which Sirius matched with his own. “Will he be here soon, then?”
Sirius nodded. “The Order’s arranging a guard to collect him and transport him here. Mad Eye’s been put in charge, so he’s keeping tight-lipped. But before the week is out, I’m sure.” He looked happier just to say that out loud. Even if Ginny had yet to see them in the same room together, she could tell how much care Sirius had for his godson.
Well, good. Harry ought to have someone who was there just for him. Merlin knew those Muggles in Surrey weren’t up to the task.
Sirius checked a fine watch at his wrist. “I’ll put in a couple more hours here. You should really get to sleep, though. I doubt your mum will let you skive off chores tomorrow.”
“You think she’ll let you?”
He really did bark a laugh that time. “Maybe not, but I’ve got Buckbeak upstairs to ward her off.”
Ginny sat on the side of the bed. “I’m not tired just yet, so I may as well keep you company. No sense being alone.”
Sirius paused, his gray eyes meeting hers and for once looking absolutely clear. “No. No sense at all.”
He went back to sorting through the old papers. Some, he explained, had been left behind when he’d first ran away from this place. The others had been collected over the last few months by Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore. He seemed particularly happy about a set of mirrors the Headmaster had managed to locate.
“These were mine and James’,” he told her. There were a lot of those asides about his old friends. Gradually, she found it comforting rather than unsettling; the more Sirius spoke about Harry’s parents, the more he seemed to breathe life back into them so that they weren’t the silent, shadowy figures in the old Boy Who Lived story, but real people.
“I wish I had James’ old notes. He used to draw snitches in the margins and hearts with his and Lily’s initials when he thought we all weren’t looking. You might check Harry’s homework some time, just to see if he’s the same…”
She thought again about Lily Potter’s capital G, trying to imagine it on a fresh piece of parchment accompanying a Dear Ginny...and she drifted off to sleep.
---
She hadn’t meant to, of course, and woke the next morning quite disoriented. For a moment, she thought she must be in her dorm at Hogwarts with all the Gryffindor colors surrounding her — then her eyes caught sight of a woman in little more than underthings and remembered. Sirius must not have been successful about that Sticking Charm.
There was a blanket over her she definitely didn’t remember pulling over herself.
Ginny stretched with a yawn and headed downstairs to see if she could find anyone else up. The only ones in the kitchen were her mother, brothers and Hermione.
“Morning, all.”
The twins and Ron gave vague murmurings of greeting, the three of them devoted to their breakfasts. It would take a few minutes for them to regain their wit.
Her mum set a plate down for her. “Eat up, dear, we’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Which room?” Ginny asked, her mind going back to the old drawing room for some reason.
“I thought we might tackle the second bathroom,” said her mum. “With Harry coming in, we’ll have more company and that much more need of it.”
“That bathroom’s too small for all of you to work on it,” said Sirius. They all turned to find him in the doorway.
“Well, I suppose we’re not needed today,” Fred remarked. Beside him, George placed his feet up on the table.
“Don’t think I won’t find something for you two,” their mum said, swatting at George’s feet. “Even if Sirius has decided he’s making up the chore list for today.”
He hardly seemed bothered by the sullen tone; Ginny suspected he rather enjoyed getting small rises out of people. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow the girls.”
Ginny blinked in interest even as her mum asked, “What?”
“Buckbeak needs to get out in the back for a bit, stretch his wings, general business.”
“I could go with Hermione,” Ron said.
“And never come back inside,” Ginny replied quickly. She wasn’t about to let an opportunity to get out of the house even for a few moments pass her by. “You and Hermione would get so distracted bickering that Buckbeak might just decide to fly away.”
“He’d be smart enough to manage it,” Sirius agreed. “Come on, I’ll bring him downstairs for you.”
Hermione patted Ron’s hand with sympathy while Ginny made faces at all of her brothers while their mother wasn’t looking.
“Have fun cleaning up Hippogriff dung,” George said in a low voice just as the two of them left through the kitchen door.
Ginny stood in the main hall with Hermione, each of them quiet as possible considering the portrait-lined walls. She noticed the older girl watching her, though, and had a feeling a question was just waiting for the chance to be asked.
Sirius returned but in his Animagus form, as he seemed to be demonstrating for Buckbeak how a four-legged creature ought to navigate steps. The proud Hippogriff followed slowly, snapping his beak once or twice when he nearly stumbled. Ginny sent a nervous glance back at Mrs. Black’s portrait, but the curtains remained shut.
Once both animals had reached the bottom of the steps, Sirius changed back. He took the reins Buckbeak wore and passed them off to Hermione. “He’ll trust you best. Ginny, you just give him a bow.”
She did so, waiting with her breath held until Buckbeak mirrored her.
“There. You two will be fine now.”
“Er, Sirius?” Hermione asked. “What should we do with the, erm, droppings?”
“What the old Purebloods did, naturally.”
Ginny let out a snort that she hastily covered with a hand over her mouth.
“Someone will take care of it. Off you go,” Sirius said before Hermione could voice no doubt a series of follow-up questions. “He’s impatient.”
Soon enough, Ginny was leading the way into the backyard. It was incredibly small and fenced in with hardly anything struggling to grow in it. Buckbeak pawed at the ground in places and tossed his head once or twice, forcing Ginny to grab onto the reins to help Hermione. It was obvious the animal longed to fly.
“Poor thing,” Ginny couldn’t help saying aloud. “You probably miss being on the run.”
“Where did you go last night?” Hermione asked her rather than comment on her conversation with Buckbeak, which seemed to her a bit rude. She hadn’t even left him room to reply.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you weren’t in your bed when I woke up but you weren’t down in the kitchen either. You acted like you’d just woken up when you joined us.”
There wasn’t much point to lying to her. Hermione was a much early riser than Ginny anyway — she’d gotten into the habit of sleeping in two shifts at a very young age, after all.
“I was in Sirius’ room.” At the great gasp and shocked face Hermione pulled, she let out a laugh. “His old bedroom, Hermione, not the one he’s staying in now! It’d get a bit crowded with Buckbeak in there, too.”
“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed before immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. They both glanced about nervously, but the shout didn’t seem to have shattered the protection they were living under. “What were you doing in his old room?” Her friend hissed after the tense silence.
Ginny shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Sirius was sorting through some things in case Harry wanted to use the room.”
“But Harry always stays with Ron.”
“Not when he’s with the Muggles,” Ginny pointed out. “But he’ll probably stay with him here, yeah. That’s what Sirius thought mum would decide. So he was just going through some old things to show Harry, maybe. He’s got loads of stuff from his parents.”
For some reason, this caused Hermione to frown rather than smile like Ginny might have thought. “Yes, I wonder if Sirius isn’t a little more focused on Harry’s parents than on Harry.”
“What?” Ginny scrunched her nose up. “That’s barkers. He wants to show Harry their things, not ignore Harry for them. And wouldn’t Harry want to see them?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. He hardly ever talks about them, you know,” Hermione told her. “The only things he keeps of theirs were given to him by other people. I don’t know if his aunt just keeps everything else at home or if he doesn’t like the reminder.”
“Oh.” Ginny hadn’t thought of that. Harry always seemed to be so enthralled by the atmosphere and clutter of possessions that filled Ginny’s house that she’d always thought — but maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Harry didn’t want his parents’ things. Would it be too painful?
The door opened behind them.
“You’ll have to bring him in now.” Sirius stood two feet back from the door, hidden mostly in shadow. Ginny wondered if he’d been told to keep from opening or answering the doors. Like Buckbeak, his eyes were on the sky. “Your mum’s getting nervous,” he added to Ginny. Without further explanation, he turned and retreated into the house.
Ginny sighed. “Alright, Buckbeak. You heard the rules.”
The Hippogriff did not want to go back inside, but between the two of them they managed. Hermione led the way up to the master bedroom and peered inside. “Eugh, it’s filthy.”
There were animal bones littering the floor by Buckbeak’s makeshift nest of blankets. Ginny swallowed down a spike of panic and stayed in the hall.
“Wonder where he gets the food,” she said, for something to focus on.
“Well, I wonder where he keeps his rubbish bin. Honestly.” Hermione came out and shut the door, leaving Buckbeak to resettle inside. “You mother would be horrified if he let her see in there.”
“Mum’s horrified by a lot of things. Anyway, least the bones are picked clean.” Ginny started down the stairs with Hermione following. “One time the twins forgot a plate of chicken when they left for school and didn’t tell anyone. Their room smelled for weeks.”
“Oi. Not nice to talk about people behind their backs,” said George as he poked his head out of the second bathroom. He didn’t look too grimy, all considered.
“Good thing we were to the side of you, then,” Ginny replied without missing a beat.
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“Girls?” Her mum called. “If you’ve finished with Buckbeak, see if Sirius needs anything else. Otherwise, I’ll have to find you something.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione answered.
Try as they might, they couldn’t find him. When Ginny checked his old childhood bedroom in hopes of catching him there, the old boxes of photos and letters were all packed up tight.
---
Harry came soon after, livening up the place with anger and nervous energy. Some of that dissipated once he learned more about the Order thanks to Sirius’ intervention — Ginny was still incredibly cross with her mother for forcing her to leave, even if she’d gotten it all from Hermione later anyway — and the rest left once the result of his hearing came back. Ginny had quite a bit of fun celebrating that with the twins.
Harry was soon roped into cleaning the house with the rest of them, and Sirius began participating more obviously as well. She hesitated to call it fun, but it passed the time as well as anything.
Ginny often worked with Sirius because she reckoned if something was about to blow up in their faces it was best to be standing next to the wizard who knew the most magic and was capable of performing it outside school. When not with Sirius, she stuck by the twins for exactly the same reason.
It was also to give him and Harry some space. She knew in an ideal world, they’d have probably spent the whole summer together and come over to the Burrow for dinners or games of pickup Quidditch. Had Sirius even played? She’d seen Mr. Potter’s name on a trophy during the odd detention or two.
Sometimes Sirius would call her over on his own. “Ginny, take that end of the sofa with Harry, there. I’ve got this side.” Or, “Can you and Harry take that bag down to the front hall? Mad Eye’s collecting them to dispose of.” Always her and Harry, too.
But Harry ended up spending a lot of his time with Ron and Hermione, which was what often happened when the three of them were in the same space. With the twins holed up together planning their business and her mother on a cleaning warpath, Ginny often found herself in Sirius’ company. One afternoon she was perched on the flat surface of an unused vanity in the master bedroom as Sirius fed Buckbeak — with supplies from Dung, as it turned out. Pigwidgeon flitted about his head with slightly more calm than usual, while Hedwig slept standing on an ornate owl perch probably placed there decades if not centuries ago, and Crookshanks slept on the bed. He was a veritable magizoologist, and Ginny wondered if that might have been what he’d have become had there not been a war on.
Rather than puzzle about the possible career choices of Sirius Black, Ginny decided to voice her suspicions. “I know what you’re doing, and you may as well stop.”
“Think Buckbeak would be rather cross if I did,” he replied.
“Come off it,” she said, grinning in spite of himself. “Making Harry do things with me. I said I had a crush on him as a kid, not that I’m in love with him.”
“I never said you were either. Just reckon you two could be better friends.” He tossed the last animal carcass to Buckbeak, who scarfed it down with rather overdone messiness.
“Sure. But just so you know, I’ve been talking to a Ravenclaw boy the last few months. And Harry likes a Ravenclaw the year above him.”
“Hm, similar taste.”
“I’m — oh no.”
“Were you about to say it?” He finally turned to her with a full grin. “Everyone does at some point.”
“Not me.” She’d stopped herself early enough, thank Merlin. “I’m merely telling you in an earnest fashion to stop your nonsense if you think it’s helping.” Having skirted the mention of the homonym to his name, she nodded to herself.
“It could be my own mean-spirited joke. I was quite known for those in the day.”
Ginny looked him up and down, scrutinizing him. Perhaps what she knew of him was little, but, “Nah, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t make a joke about Harry.”
Sirius’ look became one of chagrin. “Caught me out, did you? You’re pretty brilliant, you are.”
“I’ve worked hard on it,” she said, not bothering to hide that she was pleased. It wasn’t often adults saw her for much more than the youngest and smallest of seven. “Since I am so brilliant, I suppose you might as well induct me into the Order now. I promise not to give its secrets away to Fred and George.”
He barked a laugh. “That decision would be up to Dumbledore. And your mother.”
“Was worth a try,” she sighed.
“Always is.”
Two loud cracks outside on the landing announced Fred and George’s sudden proximity. “Ickle Gin-Gin? Our mother is calling us to dinner,” Fred said, loud enough to be heard from where he stood on the landing but soft enough not to carry down to old Mrs. Black’s portrait.
“Special party for the perfect Prefects before they assume their duties on the train tomorrow,” George added. “Don’t want to be late!” They Disapparated with two more cracks, probably to search for her on other floors.
“Merlin, forgot it was already the thirtieth.” The usual milestones of summer had seemed muted in the darkened house. Even her birthday had passed by with little fanfare, everyone too concerned with Harry’s hearing the next morning to be in a mood for celebration.
“So it is,” said Sirius, almost too quiet for her to make out. He went to the bed and scratched Crookshanks behind his ears. “You finished all your work?”
“Left History of Magic for last. I’ll just scribble it down the morning before first class. Not like Binns knows the difference.” Ginny hopped down off the vanity and crossed to the door. “You eating with us?”
“I might be down in a bit. Save me a plate.”
“Alright.”
He did arrive in plenty of time for the party, but though he talked and laughed with all of them, Ginny thought there was a shadow hiding behind his eyes. The way he followed Harry about the room, sometimes right at his elbow and sometimes at a bit of a distance, made her think of his Animagus form. She wondered if Harry thought the same.
---
Having Sirius accompany them to the platform had been a wonderful sendoff no matter what Hermione said about vague threats Malfoy had made to Harry. So what if the Malfoys knew Sirius was in London? They’d probably already assumed that, and it wasn’t as if they could go to the Ministry without revealing their source was an illegal Animagus himself and reportedly dead man. The sheer joy in his eyes and in that doggy grin as he’d chased birds about the sidewalk and jumped up to bid Harry and the rest of them a last goodbye had been worth it, and Ginny wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.
She thought about Sirius every so often during the first term. Wondering what was going on at Headquarters, how he passed the time. Harry might know, but he had enough to be getting on with without her pestering him about his own godfather.
As the holidays neared, she wondered how Sirius would be spending them, too.
Then her dad was attacked and they were all back in Grimmauld Place, so in a way she was finding out.
Ginny wasn’t planning to stick around long enough for that, though. She waited long enough to hear Harry’s whole story after Sirius pulled her up from the floor when they were deposited by Dumbledore’s Portkey before stating, “We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s. Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything—?”
“Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!”
Despite her and the twin’s arguments that they needed to see their dad, he refused. And she understood not wanting to draw attention to the unexplainable connection Harry seemed to have with You-Know-Who, she got that Sirius was trying to protect his godson. But this was her dad!
He made them sit and drink Butterbeer instead. What had happened to them being old enough to know things? To not being kept in the dark? Hermione had told her they’d gotten word of Sirius’ support for the D.A., so why was he suddenly acting like her mum?
She sat glaring into the fire for the rest of the night until her mum came back with news about her dad. Overjoyed as she was to know he was recovering, Ginny barely touched her breakfast. They still weren’t being allowed to go right away.
Her mum and Sirius were making nice at the stove — making nice! — and talking about bloody Christmas plans or something.
She couldn’t believe the lot of them.
Ginny was still so angry she couldn’t sleep the next night, even after seeing her dad for herself at St. Mungo’s. She’d forced herself to appear happy to her mother and the others on the trip, but betrayal at Sirius’ actions the previous night stewed in her like a stomachache.
She got up, heading down to the kitchen in the hopes that a cup of tea might soothe her enough to settle for a few hours.
Except that Sirius was already sitting at the table nursing a mug of something. She didn’t much care what it was. Probably more of Dung’s cheap liquor.
“Evening,” he greeted casually. When all she did was glare, he sat up a little straighter. “Something the matter?”
Ginny scoffed. “Really? You have to ask?”
She crossed to the cabinets and started opening and closing them with loud bangs, not really looking inside. She was being so her mum at the moment and hated it, but right now she was more interested in hating him.
Then his hand reached for the cabinet handle she’d been about to grab and pulled it open, taking out a tin of herbal tea. It occurred to Ginny then just how tall Sirius was; he spent most of his time either slumped into chairs or slightly hunched over.
It made her wonder how tall the cells in Azkaban were.
“Here. Unless you’re after something else.”
His words reminded her of her anger, and she wrapped it around herself like a cloak to ward off her chilling thoughts. “Like an apology maybe?”
She could hear the aristocratic raise of his eyebrow and didn’t even have to look to know it was there. “For?”
Ginny whirled around. “You didn’t back me up!”
“Of course I didn’t,” he said, and it sounded so damn dismissive she wanted to curse him, or punch him since that wouldn’t get her in trouble with the Ministry. “You weren’t thinking clearly.”
“And you got to decide that?”
“As the only adult in the room, yes, I did.”
Ginny petulantly opened her mouth to argue he hadn’t been the only adult in the room with Fred and George of age, but realized at the last second that would be playing into his hand.
So she struck lower.
“No one in the Order thinks you are.”
Sirius’ eyes flashed and for a single moment she was reminded of the wanted posters and how very terrified she had been of him the last several years of her life. “No, they don’t,” was all he said quietly. Then he turned his back to her.
“Sirius. I- I didn’t mean—” Somehow his lack of fight was so much worse than any shouting would have been. Because he was a fighter, and if he was giving up already then she didn’t know what that meant.
“Sometimes I forget the years. It’s hard not to, especially here. Then I see you or Harry or the others.” He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You’re nearly as old as we were, but don’t you see? How young that is.”
Her protests all seemed to have died on her lips.
“No one told us we were too young. No one tried to hold us back.” He shrugged. “We thought we were invincible, for a while. Then the bodies started piling up. And the Inferi came. And the Dementors…” Sirius shuddered, but he carried on in a hoarse tone, “Did you ever wonder why there’s barely forty kids in a year at Hogwarts anymore?”
“No,” she admitted quietly. “I thought it was normal.”
“I want you lot to be prepared, yes. Because it’s going to get uglier, a lot uglier, before it gets better. If it does. But I don’t want you to be like me.” His gray gaze held hers, and it sent chills up her spine. “I don’t want you to have their lives. I want you to grow old and have children of your own and get fed up when they yell at you for being such a broomstick in the mud.” His eyes were wet now. “I want you to have the lives they should have had. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I- I think I am tired after all.” She turned and left the kitchen, glancing back once to see Sirius leaning his back against the counter as he rubbed thumb and forefinger over his eyes.
She did what she’d always done since the Chamber with her tears and cried into her pillow for the lives that were never lived. And the lives that this war had yet to take.
---
She didn’t have a present for him, Ginny realized on Christmas morning. She hadn’t thought they’d be here for Christmas and hadn’t known how to get it to him. Then she’d been so distraught and angry the next few days. But they were all sitting around the table talking about their gifts and thanking each other, and she realized it didn’t seem as if he’d gotten a thing.
They were shuffled off to see her dad at St. Mungo’s, but when they returned Ginny hurriedly took out some parchment and ink and scrawled out a quick card.
“It’s an IOU,” she explained when she found him still stringing up tinsel on the bookcases in the library. He was big on decorating, she’d discovered in the days leading up to Christmas. “Next time we see each other, I’ll have the present.”
He hummed as he looked over the sloppily drawn tree. “And when will that be?”
“Next summer. We’ll be coming back here if nothing changes, won’t we? Or maybe you could come out to the Burrow for a day. Have you ever been?”
“No. But your uncles described it when your parents bought the land and started building the place.”
Ginny blinked. She’d forgotten Sirius had known her uncles. Ginny usually forgot about her uncles as well, but the looming war seemed to provide frequent reminders.
“They said it was hilarious,” Sirius added.
Ginny smirked. “Is a bit, yeah, but it’s home. You’ll have to come. I know King’s Cross is too public, but the house should be alright, shouldn’t it?”
“We’ll see,” was his answer. “But I accept this delayed present on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You help me spread some cheer today.” He threw some tinsel over her shoulder and wrapped the rest around his neck, galloping out of the room. Ginny laughed as they ascended the steps, and joined in on the second half of the verse of his carol.
“Oh, tidings of comfort and joy—”
A door flew open on the landing above, cutting them off mid-song.
“Sirius, please.” Her mum’s face was red and splotchy; probably still upset by the fight she and Ginny’s dad had had about the Muggle stitches. But she froze as she took in the sight of Ginny.
“Er, sorry, mum.”
“No. No, that’s alright, dear. It- it is a holiday,” she said. “Carry on.” Then she turned and shut the door.
“Downstairs, eh? Let’s see if we can find your brothers,” Sirius suggested, the tinsel train connecting them already tugging her in the other direction.”
“Right.” Ginny waited till they cleared the next landing, then heaved in a big breath.
“God rest ye, merry Hippogriff, let nothing you dismay!”
---
She never saw him again after that holiday.
A quick hug as she hurried down the stairs to join the others on their ride back to school was what she’d left with. She couldn’t remember if there had been words. It was a regret Ginny carried the rest of her life.
Harry at least had seen him and spoken to him before the end. She was proud she’d helped to give him that. Proud still that she’d gone with him to try and rescue Sirius. She’d do again in a heartbeat, especially if it did save him this time. But time didn’t work that way.
Three summers later, Ginny entered Number 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time since that Christmas before his death. She did it for Harry, since he didn’t want to go alone.
The house felt small and dim instead of strange and Gothic the way it lived in her memory. Kreacher wasn’t present — he’d opted to stay among the Elves at Hogwarts, lonely in his old age, they suspected. That was just as well; Ginny could only muster pity for him, no matter how much he had changed since the spring he helped orchestrate Sirius’ death.
They walked hand-in-hand through the house, using their wands to move the furniture that would be leaving to the front hall. Then Harry led them up to Sirius’ childhood bedroom, looking unsurprised as he stepped into total chaos. Ginny gasped.
“Snape did it,” Harry told her. “He was looking for something.”
“In Sirius’ things?”
“It’s complicated.” Everything with Snape was. She was still processing how she felt about her one-time Headmaster. “I wish I’d known all this stuff was here before,” Harry remarked, more to himself than anything as he looked about the parchment scattered on the floor.
“He was going to show them to you. He told me that, but I think...I think he got the impression you wouldn’t want to.”
Harry frowned. “How’d he get that impression?”
Ginny shook her head. It was only a sneaking suspicion, nothing to get him riled up at Hermione over. They were all older now, and wiser for it. “I don’t know for sure. Only there was talk. I think he worried he was doing everything wrong by you.”
“Most everyone back then was telling him he was,” Harry said. “They didn’t understand. He wasn’t perfect, of course.”
“He had a lot of his own troubles.” Ginny was reading things, Muggle books Hermione had lent her. They talked about things they called illnesses but to her sounded like curses. Post-traumatic stress. Depression. The Dementors never had wands, but she thought they’d put a curse on Sirius all the same.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly. “Yeah, he did. He didn’t need to be perfect, though.”
Ginny stepped forward, circling her arms loosely around his lower back and forcing him to look at her. “He told me about some of this stuff. I can’t remember everything, but looking at it might help.”
Harry kissed her forehead. “It might.”
They packed up the boxes and antiques and furniture and left. Bill removed the Fidelus and Unplottable Charms, and it sold for a small sum before the year was out.
A weight lifted off her chest. One of her own curses gone.
---
They were having a boy. They’d gone to see one of the Muggle Healers. Her dad has been fascinated to know how much the Muggles could see about a baby that had yet to be born.
They’d gone in part because they were having trouble deciding on names. This was to be Harry Potter’s first child, after all, and like it or not people were going to obsess about it.
Her husband threw himself down into a chair. “I don’t want my name in it.”
“You have your dad’s name,” Ginny pointed out from her own seat. She preferred sitting to standing these days, though sometimes she grew stir crazy. “Bill has my dad’s, and I have my mum’s. It’s not like it’d be out of the ordinary.”
“It’s not that. It’s just...a lot to put on a baby, you know?”
She nodded.
“I’d rather give him my dad’s name. I always sort of thought I would. Only…”
“Only?” She prompted, knowing if she didn’t he’d just stew for another day or so.
“Sirius.” Harry looked at her, his eyes sad.
“Oh,” she said softly.
“When I think of — it’s horrible, isn’t it? But when I think of a dad, or what a dad would do.” He shrugged helplessly. “I know my dad would’ve if he’d been given the chance, I know that. I just…”
Ginny leaned as far as her belly would allow and touched his shoulder. “It’s understandable, Harry. Sirius was all you knew.”
“I know, but I know he’d never want to take my dad’s place.” He put his head in his hands, hair sticking out at even odder angles.
She thought for a while. He was right about Sirius’ wishes, but Ginny wanted to honor him, too. She always would.
“James Sirius, then,” she said after a moment, and Harry looked up. “That way, they’re never apart.”
His face slowly split into a wide grin, his shoulders slumping in relief. “You’re brilliant, you are.”
She closed her eyes, smiling at memories of a young girl who’d thought herself so grown up. “Suppose I am.”
At least she’d had the chance to become one. Ginny rested her hand on her stomach, feeling James Sirius kick to meet the touch.
The life they should’ve had. The life that every child could have now. Sometimes it didn’t feel real.
She’d fight every day to keep it, though. Sirius had said once that some things were worth dying for, like the children he’d charged into battle to protect. But some things were worth living for, too.
Ginny would never forget that.