A sanctuary for magical species — tea and biscuits included — a worthy cause and a heap of shared trauma
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
HELLO EVERYONE! 🌙
TODAY WE DIVE INTO CANON.
I’ll be giving you pointers about which chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix we’re currently in (and which exact moment, if needed).
My own scenes will appear separated by dotted lines (···).
They don’t line up exactly with the original, because I’ve expanded a few moments and adjusted some details — all small things, but if you read the whole book from start to finish, you’ll notice the difference.
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HP5 – Chapter 3: from the moment Harry falls asleep thinking about the replies to his letters, up to the scene where he goes upstairs with Tonks to pack his things.
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Tonks watched Harry out of the corner of her eye as he hurried to gather his things, which were scattered all over the place.
He was thin, of medium height, with messy black hair that looked almost purposefully chaotic and a pair of round glasses — crooked and worn. His clothes hung off him, giving him a slightly dishevelled air, and there was something in his face she hadn’t expected: a kind of quiet gravity, as if he were used to carrying an invisible weight on his shoulders.
If it hadn’t been for the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, Tonks would have said he looked like an entirely ordinary boy — the sort she might have passed in the street without a second glance.
But there was something else, something hard to define — something in his eyes that made her understand, in an instant, that Harry Potter was no ordinary teenager.
She’d read so much about him.
Harry Potter had always been a household name in the wizarding world, but ever since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire and he’d become the unexpected fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament, the media pressure on him had reached a whole new level. And then, the labyrinth…
Tonks hadn’t been there, but she could picture it all with chilling clarity. At first, the excitement and anticipation — a crowd holding its breath. Then, Harry’s sudden appearance before the stands, clutching the Cup in one hand and a corpse in the other.
His voice cutting through the night with an unbearable truth: Voldemort’s back.
It must have been quite a night, to say the least.
Terror, confusion, disbelief. And from then on, week after week, his face had appeared on the front page of The Daily Prophet and every other high-circulation magazine. Tonks had imagined that someone exposed to that kind of attention would be, at the very least, a little arrogant. Cocky. Perhaps even condescending — as if the world revolved around him.
But the boy standing before her didn’t fit any of those expectations.
He seemed rather flustered, startled by the sudden invasion of his room, and there was something in his expression — a mixture of weariness and alertness — that caught her attention.
Still, considering what he’d gone through only days before, she couldn’t really blame him. It had to be disorienting — having a group of witches and wizards burst into your house without warning.
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HP5 – Chapter 3
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HP5 – Chapter 4
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HP5 – Chapter 5
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The sound of the teenagers’ footsteps faded up the staircase, leaving behind a tense silence in the kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Sirius still stood there, frowning, jaw tight, clinging stubbornly to his point. His gaze was fixed on Molly Weasley, who remained upright, hands on hips, as if ready to defend herself again.
—This is a mistake —Sirius growled, eyes blazing with frustration—. Harry’s not a child anymore, Molly. He’s been through more than any of us. He deserves to know the truth.
—He deserves to grow up carrying as little burden as possible —Molly shot back firmly—. What he needs is protection, Sirius, not more worries. You said it yourself — you wanted him to have a better life than you did.
—Keeping things from him isn’t going to help —Sirius countered, leaning on the table with both hands—. Dumbledore’s kept him in the dark all summer! How do you think that makes him feel? Does that sound like protection to you? Look at what happened with the dementors — his life’s at stake!
—So is everyone else’s in this house —Remus interjected calmly, though there was a note of tiredness in his voice—. Harry’s had enough to deal with already. I understand what you’re trying to do, Sirius, but there’s a difference between preparing someone and placing the weight of a war they never chose on their shoulders.
Sirius gave a bitter laugh and turned away, shaking his head.
Tonks, perched on the edge of the table, looked from one to the other, not sure whose side to take. Kingsley watched in silence, arms folded across his chest.
Molly drew a deep breath, composing herself.
—We’ve talked enough for tonight —she said firmly—. I’ll make sure the boys are properly in bed. I don’t want them staying up gossiping about what they’ve just heard.
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left the kitchen, her dressing gown billowing behind her.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.
—I’m not going to sit here doing nothing while Harry’s kept in the dark —he muttered, not addressing anyone in particular. Then, without another word, he strode out of the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets, frown still fixed on his face.
Remus watched him go until he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor. Then he turned back to Kingsley and Tonks.
—It’s hitting him harder than we thought —said Kingsley, his deep voice calm but heavy—. Being trapped here, cut off from the world — and from Harry.
Remus nodded slowly.
—He spent twelve years in Azkaban, with no one. Now he finally has Harry, and all he wants is to be there for him… but he can’t. It’s almost like a second prison.
Tonks frowned, glancing towards the door through which Sirius had gone.
—Sirius… did he say he’s Harry’s godfather? —she asked, turning to Remus in surprise.
—He did —Remus confirmed with a faint, wistful smile.
Tonks nodded slowly, finally understanding the intensity behind Sirius’s emotions. She looked down at the table, thoughtful.
—That must be awful —she murmured—. To have someone you want to protect, but not be able to do it the way you’d like.
Kingsley nodded in silence, and for a moment the three of them stayed there, in the dim light of the kitchen, sharing the weight of that truth:
the truth of a man who had waited too long for freedom, only to find himself bound again by chains he could no longer break.
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HP5 – Chapter 6
The part where they clean the drawing room full of doxies, Harry meets Kreacher, Sirius talks to him about the Black family tapestry, and Harry asks whether, if he’s expelled from Hogwarts, he can come and live with him.
I’ve included the last line so you can read it all smoothly.
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—Kreacher never liked him quite as much as he did my mother, but last week I caught him stealing a pair of his old trousers.
Sirius dropped the ring into the rubbish sack and let it fall to the floor. Molly watched him from the doorway, lips pursed, while Harry pretended not to notice the tension hanging in the air.
Since their argument over how much Harry ought to know about Voldemort’s movements and the Order’s plans, Sirius and Molly had barely spoken beyond what was strictly necessary. Their differences were too deep: Molly insisted that Harry was still a boy and had to be protected at all costs, while Sirius — seeing him as an equal, as the heir to the Potters’ fight — refused to treat him with condescension.
The next morning, after hours of cleaning the drawing room, the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were exhausted. They had swept cobwebs, shaken out the furniture and scrubbed the floors until they shone, though the air still carried dust and a faint smell of damp and mould. Molly, her face beaded with sweat, wiped her hands on her apron and gave them a satisfied look.
—Take a break —she said—. But no getting into trouble.
The group quickly dispersed.
Ron slumped into a sagging armchair with a sigh of relief, Fred and George whispered to each other about how to make use of the doxy venom they’d collected, while Harry leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck, lost in thought.
Ginny, however, had wandered towards a corner of the room that they hadn’t yet cleaned but which had caught her eye. She opened a door leading into a small adjoining parlour. Inside, a large piece of furniture stood against the wall, covered by a dark sheet. Curious, she ran her hand across the dusty surface.
—What’s this? —she asked, frowning.
Hermione, drawn by the question, came closer. The moment her eyes traced the outline of the object, her expression changed.
—It’s a piano —she said, with a hint of excitement.
Without hesitation, she carefully lifted the cloth, revealing an upright piano of dark wood — still elegant despite the dust and years of neglect. Ginny stared at it, puzzled.
—A what?
—A Muggle instrument —Hermione explained eagerly—. You play it by pressing these keys…
Gently, she lifted the lid, revealing the yellowed ivory keys. Ginny raised an eyebrow.
—And can you play it?
—A bit —Hermione admitted, shrugging.
—Well, go on then! —Ginny urged, smiling—. Let’s hear it!
Hermione hesitated, glancing at the piano and then at the others. Finally she sighed, sat down on the rickety stool, and rested her fingers on the keyboard. She drew a deep breath and pressed one of the keys.
The sound that came out wasn’t a simple out-of-tune note — it was a rasping, guttural shriek, as though the instrument itself were waking from a long, angry slumber. A moment later, a sinister laugh echoed through the room, freezing them all in place.
From between the keys, a whirlwind of shadows burst forth. The ghostly figure stretched and twisted with jerky, spasmodic movements, its mouth opening grotesquely to release a never-ending cackle. Its eyes burned like coals, and its body expanded and contracted with every peal of laughter.
And then the piano began to play by itself. The keys struck down violently, hammering out a discordant, chaotic melody that mingled with the poltergeist’s laughter — each note higher than the last, each chord more twisted, keeping time with the disaster about to unfold.
—For Merlin’s sake! —Ron shouted, stumbling backwards so fast he tripped over the armchair.
The poltergeist shrieked gleefully and spun through the air. Chandeliers began to whirl madly on the ceiling, cupboard doors banged open, and objects flew from the shelves as if alive.
The piano continued its frenzied accompaniment, pounding out notes that sounded like a distorted, macabre waltz making the very floor vibrate beneath their feet.
—Peeves has a cousin! —Fred yelled, dodging a heavy leather-bound book by inches.
—And he’s not half as funny! —George added, covering his head with a cushion as a chair flew past him.
Ginny screamed as the piano began to tremble; its lid flew open, releasing a black cloud of dust that spread like poisonous smoke.
—Hermione, move! —she cried.
Hermione leapt from the stool just as it smashed into the wall with tremendous force. The keys kept striking on their own, producing a piercing, mocking tune that seemed to laugh along with the poltergeist.
The door burst open.
Sirius stormed in, wand raised, face taut with fury. Barely a second later, Remus appeared behind him, eyes sweeping over the chaos.
—Oh, for the love of—! —Remus growled, aiming at the spectre.
—I hate this house! —Sirius bellowed, brandishing his wand.
The poltergeist, far from intimidated, let out a shriek of delight and dived at them, forcing Remus to duck as a chandelier crashed down from the ceiling.
—Stupefy! —Sirius roared.
The spell shot straight through the ghostly figure without effect. The poltergeist cackled louder, spinning wildly and scattering a shower of silver dust that made Sirius and Remus blink.
The piano thundered on with its sinister melody, as if celebrating the failure of the attack, while the ghost spun through the air in ecstatic somersaults.
—Reducto! —Harry cried, but his curse only made the spectre shiver before bursting into laughter again.
Ginny shrieked as a glass cabinet shattered into a thousand shards that flew in every direction. Fred and George hit the floor, covering their heads, while Hermione gripped her wand with trembling fingers.
—It’s bound to the house! You can’t just make it vanish! —Remus shouted, casting a Protego to block a flying chair that nearly hit Ginny.
Sirius’s expression darkened.
—Then let’s burn it!
With a sweep of his wand, he conjured a jet of blue fire that writhed through the air like a living serpent. The poltergeist screamed — for the first time in fear. The piano answered with a violent chord, a prolonged metallic wail that vibrated through the whole house.
—Hermione —together! —Remus called.
Hermione swallowed hard and raised her wand.
—Lumos Maxima!
A blinding light burst from her wand, flooding every corner of the room. The poltergeist howled in pain, frozen mid-air, trapped in the glare of their magic.
Sirius seized the chance and unleashed one last spell, focusing the blue flames into a blazing torrent that engulfed the spirit in searing light. The poltergeist let out a final, blood-curdling scream before exploding into a whirlwind of ash and dust.
Silence fell at once. The piano keys stopped moving; the last echo of the melody faded into a broken hush.
The piano gave a pitiful creak.
The chandeliers, still turning faintly, slowed to a stop.
The books and ornaments that had been flying moments before dropped heavily to the floor.
Calm returned — though the air still reeked of old wood, mouldy parchment and scorched magic.
Suddenly, Molly burst into the room, breathless, wand in hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of the wreck: cushions strewn everywhere, shattered glass, pages scattered across the floor.
—What on earth happened here?
Ginny, still trembling, sank into a dusty armchair.
—Hermione pressed a key.
Molly pressed her lips together and shot Sirius a murderous glare. He raised his hands in mock innocence.
—Not my fault if the family piano turned out to be possessed —he said with a half-smile meant to lighten the mood.
Molly was not amused.
—Oh, this is impossible! —she exclaimed, throwing up her hands—. Every corner of this house has some deadly menace waiting to jump at us!
Sirius, wand still raised, groaned impatiently.
—Oh, come off it, Molly! It was an inoffensive poltergeist, not a dementor.
—That’s not the point! —she retorted, folding her arms—. This house needs a proper inspection. We can’t keep cleaning and living among traps, spirits and Merlin-knows-what else.
—Well, if it bothers you that much, blow the damned house up! —Sirius snapped.
Before Mrs Weasley could respond, he spun on his heel and stormed out, footsteps thudding down the corridor.
Molly huffed, muttered something under her breath, and followed him, slamming the door behind her.
For a moment, silence returned once more.
Harry stared at the floor, tense. Hermione folded her arms, unsure what to do with the discomfort that hung in the air. The Weasleys looked at one another.
Remus ran a hand down his face wearily and stepped closer to the teenagers with a tired smile.
—Don’t worry —he said quietly—. Sirius and Molly both have strong tempers.
Harry’s gaze drifted towards the door Sirius had just gone through, fully aware that he himself was at the centre of their argument.
—I’ll talk to them —Remus added calmly.
He rested a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder before leaving the room.
Hermione sighed and, after a moment, turned to Ron, Fred and George, still sitting on the floor among the wreckage of books and cushions.
—Well —Ron said, running a hand through his hair—, that was a proper scare.
Fred and George burst out laughing, finally breaking the tension.
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The afternoon was drawing in over Grimmauld Place.
Harry stopped before the door of his godfather’s room. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked softly. No reply. He pushed the door open carefully; the creak of the hinges broke the stillness.
Sirius was seated by the half-open window, his face half-lit by the fading light from outside. Beside him, Buckbeak slept curled up, his grey feathers stirring slightly with each slow breath.
Harry stepped forward.
—Hello, Buckbeak —he said quietly, bowing low in respect.
The hippogriff opened one amber eye, studied him for a few seconds, then bowed back solemnly before closing it again with a soft snort of satisfaction.
Sirius didn’t turn immediately.
—All right downstairs? —he asked at last, still staring out the window.
Harry shrugged and moved closer, his footsteps soft on the worn carpet.
—More or less —he said—. I didn’t mean to bother you, I just… —He paused, the words catching in his throat—. I just wanted to thank you.
Sirius turned his head slightly, surprised.
—For what?
Harry lowered his gaze.
—For insisting. For… wanting to tell me the truth from the start. About… Voldemort. I know the others find it hard, but you — you’ve always been on the side of honesty.
Sirius gave a short, rough laugh.
—I haven’t done anything special. Just what felt right.
A brief silence followed. Buckbeak opened one eye, shifted, and resettled his wings.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair.
—I know I can seem grumpy or… impatient sometimes —he said, his voice quieter now—. But I can’t stand watching people surround you with half-truths. It reminds me too much of my own childhood. Of this house.
Harry nodded slightly, sitting down on the floor in front of him and hugging his knees.
—It reminds me of the Dursleys —he murmured.
Sirius looked at him more closely this time. The shadow of a smile crossed his face.
—What a pair we make.
Harry smiled too, if only for a second.
—Do you think we’ll manage? With… everything that’s coming? —he asked, his tone turning serious.
Sirius didn’t answer straightaway. He looked out at the grey sky, watching the distant flight of an owl between the rooftops.
—I don’t know —he admitted—. But what I do know is this — you won’t face it alone. Not now, not ever. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll be with you.
As he spoke, he placed a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked up, finding in his godfather’s eyes something he hadn’t seen all day: a strange calm — almost comforting. A hint of peace.
Buckbeak snorted approvingly, stretching his wings before curling back up with quiet dignity.
Harry smiled.
—Thanks, Sirius.
—Thanks yourself, James Junior —Sirius replied with a crooked grin, making no effort to hide how much Harry reminded him of his father
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Tonks stopped by headquarters after leaving the Ministry, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the moment she crossed the threshold, an unexpected sound made her halt.
Soft but distinct piano chords floated through the air, wrapping the house in a melancholy cadence. She frowned, intrigued, and moved forward in silence, letting the music lead her.
She climbed the stairs to the first-floor corridor and followed it to the drawing room. On entering, she realised the melody wasn’t coming from there, but from a half-open door in the adjoining wall. Cautiously, she peered through.
In a small room washed with twilight, Sirius sat at a dark-wood piano. His fingers slid across the keys with an unexpected fluency, following the notes on a yellowed score propped on the stand. He played with a mixture of focus and defiance, as if, through the music, he were challenging the weight of time itself.
Remus, seated in a nearby armchair, was reading in the last slant of sunlight pouring through a window. Although his attention seemed fixed on the pages, his eyes often lifted to follow the music, letting himself drift on the gentle flow of notes while sipping a cup of tea.
—What do you think, Tonks? —Sirius asked suddenly, looking up without stopping. —I’ve decided that, when this is all over and I’m finally free, I’ll become a concert pianist.
She leaned against the doorframe with an amused smile.
—You play very well, Black. I’d pay to see you.
—Thank you —he replied, pleased. —Though I admit I’m a bit out of practice.
—Yes, well, that’s what twelve years in Azkaban will do to you —murmured Remus after a sip of tea.
Sirius rolled his eyes in exasperation, but instead of replying, he focussed on the score again.
Tonks watched, intrigued. It was clear he hadn’t practised in a long time; he made the odd mistake, but the technique was still there. His hands moved with ease, conjuring memories of another era — of a younger Sirius, untouched by prison and war, head full of excitement and heart brimming with dreams.
She remembered what Moody had told her: how, after his escape, Sirius Black had outwitted the Ministry by turning into a dog and living in hiding for months, invisible to the Auror patrols hunting him. She pictured him wedged among bins and boxes in a cold, dark alley. Tonks didn’t know how much of that was true, but looking at him now, it was hard to imagine him as a cornered beast; there was far too much life in his eyes.
—How long have you been playing? —she asked, stepping closer to her cousin and away from her thoughts.
—A couple of hours.
She burst out laughing.
—No, I mean before these two hours.
Sirius glanced up again with a half-smile.
—Since I was four or five, more or less. I think this piano is the only Muggle thing in the entire house.
He paused, then let out a dry laugh.
—The Blacks have always loved music —he added with obvious disdain. —They despised everything Muggle… except this. The only acceptable “sin”. Paradoxical, isn’t it?
Tonks let her gaze roam the room, lingering on shelves crammed with dusty music books. Curious, she leaned slightly towards Sirius.
—Did my mother play as well? —she asked, watching his fingers dance over the keys.
Sirius, still playing, pretended to think for a moment, as if searching for the answer in the music itself. Then he shook his head.
—Well, Andromeda tried, but she wasn’t much good —he said with a small, teasing smile. —She ended up taking to painting. Much better for her, really. And for the rest of us.
With a flash of irony in his eyes, he added:
—Every Black had to learn. Whether you liked it or not. A matter of family pride, as if music could polish their pure blood even further.
He nodded at the sheet music, his slanted smile full of mockery.
—So here I am: the family rebel — with a Black legacy I can’t quite get out of my fingers.
Tonks smiled at that, while Sirius struck a couple of quick chords, finishing the piece with a touch of drama before sighing in satisfaction and running a hand along the piano’s surface.
—Merlin, I’ve missed this —he murmured, almost fondly. —And what a fright… good thing we scared off the poltergeist that lived in it.
Tonks blinked.
—There was a poltergeist in the piano?
Remus let out a brief laugh, settling back against the chair.
—Yes. It manifested when Hermione tried to teach Ginny to play. Curious business — and, luckily, sorted without incident.
—Luckily —Sirius echoed, his smile fading. He breathed in and began to play again, as if the music helped him unwind.
Tonks dropped into an armchair beside Lupin, waiting for a fuller explanation.
—Well, “without incident”… —Remus said quietly. —Molly and Sirius had a row.
—A row?
—Yes —Sirius replied without stopping. —Apparently it’s my fault this house wants to attack anyone who tries to dust it.
Remus rolled his eyes, exasperated.
—Oh, come on, Sirius, you know that isn’t fair. You’re both still wound up over your differences about Harry.
Sirius’s melody surged into an exaggerated crescendo, along with the anger that seemed to be pouring out of him — but he didn’t stop. It was even beautiful.
Tonks listened in silence until he finished, and when at last he turned to them, she couldn’t hold back the question that had been circling in her head.
—So… you’re Harry’s godfather?
He nodded slowly, a fleeting spark of emotion in his gaze. He rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, as if remembering something that still hurt but that he treasured.
—James and Lily asked me just before they died —he said, voice softer than usual. His eyes drifted for a moment. —It was one of the greatest honours of my life. James always said that if anything happened to them, I’d be the one to look after Harry.
Remus rolled his eyes with a smile and lifted his tea again.
—Of course —the very epitome of responsibility and maturity —he remarked drily.
Tonks laughed, and even Sirius let out a chuckle, though he went on almost at once.
—What neither James nor Lily could have imagined was that I’d end up fleeing Azkaban, hiding from dementors and riding a stolen hippogriff off the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts.
Tonks blinked a couple of times before bursting into laughter.
—A hippogriff! —she cried, eyebrows shooting up, struggling to match one thing with the other. —Wait, wait — I need more details.
Sirius settled back with a look of self-satisfaction, clearly enjoying the attention. Remus, who had been reading until then, closed his book and took up his tea, ready to enjoy his friend’s story yet again.
—It was during Harry’s third year at Hogwarts —Sirius began, gesturing with his hands. —I was in hiding, trying to put my life back together and work out how to protect my godson… and catch Peter, that filthy traitor…
Tonks frowned at once, but before she could interrupt, Sirius lifted a hand theatrically.
—It’s a long story, Nymphadora —we’ll tell you properly. The point is, Harry, Ron and Hermione —those little geniuses— saved me from a fate worse than death.
—What fate? —Tonks asked, leaning in, already hooked.
—The dementor’s kiss —Sirius replied gravely, though mischief sparkled in his eyes.
Tonks gasped, a hand flying to her chest.
—Merlin! And how on earth did they manage to save you?
—Oh, you know —the usual —Sirius said with feigned nonchalance. —Sneak about Hogwarts, use a Time-Turner, spring Buckbeak from an imminent execution… just another Tuesday afternoon for them.
Tonks stared wide-eyed at Remus.
—Is he serious? —she asked, half laughing, half stunned, searching his face for any hint that Sirius was making it up.
Remus took a sip of tea, fought down a smile, and nodded slowly.
—Every word of it —though, told by Sirius, it always sounds a touch more… extravagant.
Tonks laughed, shaking her head.
—Definitely, my life as an Auror is far duller than yours —she concluded, leaning back. —But… you escaped from the Astronomy Tower… at Hogwarts?
—I mounted Buckbeak and we flew off —Sirius said, springing to his feet with unrestrained enthusiasm. He spread his arms like wings, making such a dramatic gesture he nearly knocked the score off the piano stand.
—It was a spectacular night, Nymphadora! —he cried, turning to her. —Don’t laugh, but I think I even cried.
Tonks broke into such a fit of laughter she had to clutch her sides. Remus watched the scene with amused fondness, enjoying the show that was the two Black cousins together.
—Incredible —Tonks managed at last, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. —And… what did you do with the hippogriff afterwards?
Sirius and Remus shared a conspiratorial look, that synchronised smile only those with half a life of secrets together can manage. Tonks raised an eyebrow, feeling there was something she was missing.
—Is Buckbeak here? —she blurted, suddenly sitting bolt upright.
Sirius’s grin turned properly wicked, like someone about to unveil the best bit of a story.
—Oh, absolutely. He lives in my mother’s old bedroom, third floor.
Tonks stared at them, trying to decide whether they were serious. She couldn’t help a disbelieving laugh.
—Wait, wait… —She placed a hand on her chest, savouring the revelation. —You’ve got a fugitive, stolen hippogriff —accomplice to the greatest jailbreak in the wizarding world— hidden in a room of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black?
Sirius folded his arms, plainly proud.
—Of course. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t have at least one interesting magical creature tucked away somewhere?
—Because, obviously, the poltergeist wasn’t enough —added Lupin, glancing at Tonks, who was still smiling in disbelief.
Even Sirius laughed at that. Tonks looked to Remus again, hoping for a scrap of sense, but he merely chuckled under his breath.
—Want to meet him? —Sirius offered, leaning towards her with the mischief of a boy about to show off a forbidden treasure.
—Do I ever! —Tonks cried, springing to her feet and darting for the stairs before anyone could say another word. —Third floor, right? —she called over her shoulder, already halfway up.
—Tonks, wait! —Remus called, setting down his cup with a smile and standing. Sirius was already following, quick steps behind her.
—Oh, come on! I’m sure we’ll get on —I’ve got natural charm —Tonks sang from the landing, turning to toss them an extravagant bow… and nearly tripping on the banister.
—Yes, I’m sure Buckbeak will adore you… once you stop bumping into everything —Sirius muttered through a laugh as he climbed after her.
Tonks reached the door Sirius indicated, barely containing her excitement.
—Ready to meet the noble Buckbeak? —Sirius asked grandly, hand on the doorknob.
Tonks nodded and Sirius opened the door.
Inside, Buckbeak rose in imposing splendour on a bed of clean straw. His regal bearing seemed fully aware of the anticipation he’d inspired; his amber eyes gleamed shrewdly as he watched the doorway. His hooked beak had a defiant tilt, as if he were appraising the newcomers with a certain relish.
—He’s enormous —Tonks whispered, a mix of awe and delight, taking a small step back as she found herself face to face with the hippogriff, who stared at her unabashedly.
—Well, don’t forget to bow first —Remus said calmly, though there was a faintly protective note as he watched Tonks closely.
Tonks shot him a doubtful look, then drew a steadying breath and bowed with all the solemnity she could muster. Buckbeak, every inch the monarch, studied her for several long seconds before giving a gravelly cough and bending one knee in acceptance — with the dignity of a king granting audience.
—I did it! —Tonks murmured, beaming as she straightened carefully so as not to trip over anything.
—Well, well… —Sirius said with a wink, clearly entertained.
Unable to resist, Tonks held out a hand and began to stroke the feathers along the hippogriff’s neck. Buckbeak made a deep, resonant sound — almost a satisfied purr. He inclined his head into her touch, surprisingly docile.
—I think he likes me —Tonks announced, turning a triumphant smile on Sirius and Remus.
—He’s got good taste —Sirius replied, folding his arms with an air of pride. —He’s a Black, after all.
—Buck… Black? —Tonks echoed, tilting her head impishly. —Sounds like a witch-rock star.
—Or a wildly over-the-top stripper in a dodgy club —added Remus, who had stepped closer as well.
Tonks rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Buckbeak. She smiled as she realised how Sirius and the hippogriff shared a look of understanding, complicity… and something more. Something instinctive, almost animal — equals recognising each other. The air hummed with a spark of mutual recognition, a quiet respect between creatures who knew too well the taste of blame, captivity and stolen freedom — and still refused to stop flying.
When she glanced back at her cousin, she saw he was already smiling, as if he knew what she was thinking.
—By the way… Moody once told me not all Azkaban escapees hide in cellars —she said, feigning innocence. —Some prefer doing it as a giant dog.
Sirius nodded, amused.
—Ah, so old Mad-Eye’s hawking my secrets around.
—Only the good ones —Tonks shot back, mischievous. —Though I admit everything makes sense now.
—How so? —Sirius asked, not quite following.
—That habit you’ve got of barking every time someone contradicts you —she said, cheeky.
Sirius barked a laugh.
—Careful, Tonks —he warned, crooked smile in place. —Dogs bite.
Remus huffed a resigned smile, as if he’d witnessed that sort of exchange a thousand times. Reaching out to stroke Buckbeak’s back, he brushed Tonks’s fingers by accident. They looked at each other briefly, said nothing, and withdrew almost at the same time — a tiny, shared flinch.
Buckbeak —or Buckblack, now— snorted contentedly, oblivious. He had earned a new nickname and perhaps a new bond — or at least, one more person to scratch his back.
Sirius stepped back for a moment and watched them in silence. The scene felt faintly unreal: golden light slipping through the window, the soft creak of the floorboards, the smell of dust and straw, and the easy quiet that had settled between the three of them. Well — four.
The fugitive hippogriff dozed content on his straw bed: magical creature half bird, half horse; symbol of freedom, keeper of secrets, accomplice to an escape — and a wanted criminal in the eyes of the Ministry.
There he was, living in what had once been his mother’s room.
The same room where pure-blood relics had been kept for generations.
The same mother who had called him a traitor. The same who had kicked him out.
In the same house where he’d been taught to revere surnames and despise everything else. Such as the two companions standing there with him.
On his left, Remus Lupin — the most dignified, brilliant and sensible werewolf he knew. Condemned to discrimination and, consequently, to perpetual unemployment because the wizarding world couldn’t fit decency in its head if it came with fangs once a month.
On his right, Nymphadora Tonks — second cousin rediscovered, a vocational Auror with double shifts and more overtime than was healthy, a Metamorphmagus with control but unpredictable emotions, clumsy as they come — and with a heart more in the right place than the entire Ministry.
In a house that used to smell of prison, hatred and repression — and now smelled of tea, hot stews, hippogriff feathers, and something like home.
“What a family of nutters,” he thought.
But for the first time in a very long while, he didn’t think it with bitterness.
In fact, Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable in his own house. It might well be the first time in his life.
Perhaps, he thought, this was his family now.
And if Remus, Tonks and Buckblack had a place here, then perhaps Molly — Sergeant Molly Weasley — did too.
The woman who filled the house with delicious smells, who wore herself out for everyone without asking permission; who loved Harry like a son and faced down the dark with an army of ladles, a volley of scoldings and a stack of soup recipes.
Yes — she probably belonged in that menagerie as well. Not because they got on. Not because they always understood each other. But because they fought on the same side.
Sirius sighed and leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. He bit back a smile as he thought of his canine alter ego, his friend the wolf, the piano’s poltergeist and the hippogriff in the bedroom.
—There you have it —he murmured, looking around. —This isn’t a house. It’s a sanctuary for magical species — tea and biscuits included — a worthy cause and a heap of shared trauma.
Buckbeak gave a soft snort, as if enjoying his sarcasm. Remus shot him a sidelong look. Tonks chuckled under her breath.
Sirius smiled.
—And even so… —he added, one eyebrow arched— the irony is I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Not a chance.
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After saying goodbye to Tonks, Sirius headed for the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and his head full of tangled thoughts. He didn’t like giving ground, but he didn’t want any more tensions in the house either. When he stepped through the doorway he saw Molly with her back to him, stirring something in a saucepan with more force than necessary.
She turned at the sense of his presence and, for a moment, the air seemed to thicken with the awkwardness they’d both been avoiding.
Molly spoke first, as if she’d already been considering it.
—I’m sorry —she said plainly. —I know it isn’t your fault there was a poltergeist in the piano.
There was no reproach in her voice — only honest fatigue. Sirius leaned on the back of a chair and looked at her with an expression far more relaxed than the day before.
—Yes… well —he coughed—. It wasn’t my finest moment either.
Molly raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
—I know you worry about Harry —Sirius went on, more serious now. —And you’re right about a lot of things. This house is a disaster, and there are dangers everywhere. I don’t want you thinking I don’t care about the kids’ safety.
Molly seemed to weigh his words, then nodded.
—I know you want what’s best for him —she said. —And I… I don’t want you to feel I’m trying to take your place.
Sirius gave a small, wistful smile.
—Harry isn’t James —he said, looking down— but sometimes I struggle to remember that.
Molly sighed and, in an unexpected gesture, held out her hand.
Sirius stared for a second, surprised, then took it firmly.
Molly smiled a little, and so did he. They hadn’t solved all their differences, but at least, in that moment, they chose to bury the hatchet.
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IF YOU’VE BEEN READING THE BOOK ALONGSIDE THE FIC, YOU’LL NOTICE THERE’S A CHUNK OF CHAPTER 6 MISSING. I’VE SKIPPED IT BECAUSE I REWROTE THAT MATERIAL AS A MORE DETAILED SLICE-OF-LIFE TAKE ON THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. WE’LL REJOIN CANON FOR CHAPTER 7 (THE MINISTRY). I’LL FLAG IT WHEN WE REACH IT. 😉
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
I hope the canon–fanfic blend wasn’t too confusing.
This chapter I wanted to focus on Sirius, a character who fascinates me as much as he breaks my heart.
Think about him: his story is truly tragic. A young man hungry for the future, with a good name, charisma, looks, audacity — forced to flee his family to be true to himself… and ending up in a war he never asked for, betrayed by one of his closest friends while being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, with James and Lily’s bodies barely cold. Twelve years in one of Azkaban’s bleak, freezing, unhealthy cells, only to finish up in another kind of confinement in Grimmauld Place.
I picture Sirius as a survivor: scarred by a dark past but unbowed; sardonic, starved for freedom, with a whole life beating behind his eyes. Here I give him music, laughter — and that tension with Molly that hides equal parts affection and fear. So yes, this chapter is dedicated to him. Well, and a little to Buckbeak (BuckBlack?) who, by the way, is the real elephant in the room… or rather, the hippogriff in the mansion.
Tell me, what you think of Sirius, of his situation. What would you do in his case?
Tonks remains my compass: chaotic, bright, “elegant as a sack of potatoes”, with an innate talent for side-stepping personal questions with humour and charm. And Remus… well, Remus holds the room together with a calm that also cracks.
If I’ve won a smile (or an oof), the effort was worth it 💛
I’m posting illustrations and little comic snippets on socials. Come to see me! I’m boooored! :’(
Links here: https://lagatakafka.com/links
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