Harry Potter Universe, Grimmauld Place
Universal Time: November 29th, 1988
Time until Hun and Po souls are deemed suitable by the laws of the Harry Potter Universe to learn structured HP magic: July 31st, 1991
Harry’s Physical/Mental/Emotional Maturity: 13 years old
---
Green flames roared in the fireplace as Harry stepped out into another place. His eyes adjusted quickly, revealing high ceilings with dark wood paneling. The walls held portraits of stern-faced witches and wizards who watched him with sharp eyes.
Dumbledore came next from the flames behind him, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head on the mantle.
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," he announced softly. "The ancestral home of the Black family."
Before Harry could respond, rapid footsteps approached from the hallway. Sirius appeared in the doorway, wearing casual dark robes that still managed to look expensive. His face broke into a grin at the sight of them, though there was a hint of tension around his eyes.
"Harry! And Albus, good to see you both." Sirius stepped forward to shake Dumbledore's hand before turning to Harry. "Welcome to my humble abode. Well, not so humble really - the Blacks never did anything by halves."
Harry smiled. "Thank you for having us, Mr. Black."
"None of that 'Mr. Black' business," Sirius waved his hand. "It's Sirius or Padfoot, remember? Come on, let me show you around. Unless the Flamels have another surprise training trip planned?"
The bitter edge in his voice made Harry wince.
"No, they don't. And I really am sorry about that..."
"Not your fault," Sirius sighed. "Just would have been nice to get an owl or something before they whisked you away for two months."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should begin the tour? I confess I'm quite curious to see how you've renovated, Sirius."
"Right, yes." Sirius gestured toward the hallway. "Most of the really nasty stuff is gone now. Took three curse breakers to clear out some of the darker artifacts, and I had to threaten the house-elf with clothes before he'd let them touch anything."
They walked into a wide corridor lined with more portraits. Most ignored them, though a few muttered under their breath in disapproving tones.
Harry noticed empty spots on the walls where frames had probably been removed.
"Had to take down dear old mum's portrait," Sirius explained, following Harry's gaze. "Permanent Sticking Charm or not, I wasn't about to leave her screaming about blood traitors all day. Ended up removing that whole section of wall and rebuilding it."
Harry nodded, remembering what Sirius had told him about his mother during their café meeting. His eyes were drawn to a strange sight at the end of the hall…
A collection of mounted house-elf heads.
"Ah." Sirius grimaced. "That's next on the renovation list. Family tradition - mounting the heads of house-elves after they die. Barbaric if you ask me, but Kreacher throws an absolute fit whenever I mention taking them down."
"Kreacher?" Harry asked.
"KREACHER!" Sirius barked.
A small pop pierced the hall as an ancient house-elf appeared. His skin looked like cracked leather, and he wore a ragged tea towel stamped with the Black family crest.
The elf's bloodshot eyes stared at Harry.
"Master called?" Kreacher's voice was deep and croaking. "Oh yes, the half-blood boy comes to soil my Mistress's house. But what would poor Kreacher know? Kreacher only served the Noble House of Black for generations..."
"That's enough," Sirius snapped. "Go make tea and bring it to the drawing room."
Kreacher bowed so low his nose touched the floor. "As Master wishes." He disappeared with another crack, still muttering under his breath.
"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Sirius rolled his eyes. "This way to the drawing room. Mind the umbrella stand - it's made from a troll's leg and likes to trip people."
Harry nodded and followed him into a room that turned out to be a large, high-ceilinged space with long windows letting in pale winter sunlight. Emerald green curtains framed the windows, and the walls were covered in deep green silk. A massive chandelier with little crystal droplets that were swaying back and forth was on the ceiling.
"The family tapestry is over here," Sirius gestured dismissively to an enormous piece of fabric covering one wall. "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - 'Toujours Pur' - Always Pure."
Harry stepped closer to study the family tree. Golden thread connected names and dates, forming a web of relationships going back many centuries. Some names had been blasted off, leaving only scorch marks behind.
"That used to be me," Sirius pointed to a restored mark. "Dear old mum blasted me off when I ran away at sixteen. And there's my brother Regulus... and my cousins Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa."
Harry's eyes followed the connections. "So Draco Malfoy is your first cousin once removed?"
"Unfortunately." Sirius made a face. "Though I suppose he's not as bad as his father. At least according to your letter about healing him."
Kreacher appeared with another pop, setting a tea tray on a nearby table with trembling hands.
Harry noticed the elf's eyes kept darting toward a cupboard in the corner, and the moment he paid attention to it… he sensed something odd.
The cupboard emitted a very deep fear of death.
Harry frowned. The fear wasn't like what he usually sensed from people… this was older, deeper, as if the very essence of death had seeped into whatever lay behind that wooden door. It reminded him of Wei-Ku, the fear spirit he'd devoured, but different. Where Wei-Ku had been a being made of fear, this felt more like an echo of deep-seated terror that had crystallized over time into something solid and permanent.
"Grandpa," Harry spoke quietly. "There's something in that cupboard."
Dumbledore turned from where he'd been examining a glass case full of silver instruments. "What do you sense?"
"Fear of death. But not normal fear - it's like..." Harry struggled to put the feeling into words. "Like someone took their terror of dying and turned it into an object. It feels wrong."
Kreacher made a strangled noise and started wringing the hem of his tea towel.
"Master must not open Kreacher's cupboard!" The elf's voice rose to a screech. "Master promised Kreacher could keep his things!"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you hiding in there, Kreacher?"
"Nothing! Nothing that concerns Master!" Kreacher backed toward the cupboard, arms spread wide as if to shield it.
"Open it." Sirius commanded.
"No, no, no..." Kreacher moaned, but his body moved against his will. Shaking hands reached for the cupboard door.
Inside lay a jumble of objects: old photographs, a pair of pants with the Black family crest, several silver snuff boxes... and beneath it all, partially hidden by a moldy blanket, sat a heavy golden locket with a decorative 'S' carved on the front.
The moment Harry saw it, his stomach lurched. The fear came from the locket like heat from a furnace, but there was something else too.
Something alive.
"That locket..." Harry pointed at it. "It has a soul inside it. The fear… is coming from whatever's trapped in there."
Dumbledore drew in a sharp breath. The twinkle vanished from his eyes.
"I had suspected..." he whispered. "But to confirm it here, of all places..."
"Master Regulus's locket!" Kreacher wailed, falling to his knees. "Kreacher promised! Kreacher promised to destroy it!"
"Regulus?" Sirius stepped forward. "What does my brother have to do with this?"
Kreacher burst into noisy tears, beating his fists against the floor. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher not to tell! But Master Regulus died to bring the locket here! Died to stop the Dark Lord!"
Harry narrowed his eyes. A piece of soul trapped in an object that emanated a deep fear of death... Dumbledore had told him about such things before, in conversations about why Voldemort might have survived that night.
Horcrux.
They'd just stumbled across Voldemort's horcrux in a random cupboard.
The thought made Harry's head spin. All those months of wondering how they'd ever track down these hypothetical soul fragments, and here one sat in Sirius's house, hidden away by a grieving house-elf.
"Kreacher," Dumbledore finally spoke up. "Please tell us what happened with Regulus and this locket. We want to help fulfill his final wish."
The old elf looked up, tears streaming down his face. His bloodshot eyes darted between them before settling on Sirius.
"Will Master permit Kreacher to speak of it?"
Sirius nodded with a pale face. "Tell us everything."
Kreacher's voice shook as he began to speak. "The Dark Lord required an elf... and Master Regulus volunteered Kreacher. The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave by the sea, to a basin full of potion..."
Harry listened carefully to the story, and couldn’t help but frown.
The cave, the glowing green potion that burned like fire, being left to die among the inferi. How Regulus had ordered Kreacher to take him back, to help him drink the potion, to take the locket and destroy it...
"Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to leave!" The elf's entire body trembled. "To leave him there while the dead ones dragged him under! Master Regulus told Kreacher to go home and never tell Mistress... to destroy the locket... but Kreacher tried everything! Nothing worked! Nothing!"
Sirius had sunk into a nearby armchair, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.
Harry stared at the locket, quickly going through everything he knew about horcruxes and soul magic and that deep, primal fear of death from the golden locket. Dumbledore had explained how Voldemort might have survived… by splitting his soul through murder, anchoring pieces to physical objects that would keep him bound to the mortal world even if his body was destroyed. But knowing about horcruxes in theory was very different from actually encountering one, from feeling the wrongness of it pressing against his senses like a splinter in reality itself.
The soul fragment inside felt old, as if it had been separated from its whole for a very long time. And yet it still pulsed with that bone-deep terror, that desperate need to avoid death at any cost.
Harry wondered if that fear had driven Voldemort to create the horcrux in the first place, or if splitting his soul had somehow magnified his existing fears into this crystallized horror that even now leaked out into the world around it. The whole thing reminded him uncomfortably of Wei-Ku and how the fear spirit had tried to possess him - was this so different?
A piece of a twisted soul trying to maintain its grip on existence through an artificial anchor, spreading its corruption to everything around it? No wonder Kreacher hadn't been able to destroy it. Regular magic probably couldn't affect something like this, not when it was protected by such fundamental violations of natural law. Even his divine healing probably wouldn’t work since this was both an object and not exactly a curse... more like a willful act of spiritual mutilation that had somehow worked exactly as intended. Which was honestly worse in a way - at least curses were meant to be broken eventually.
This was meant to last forever, to keep its creator eternally bound to life through the power of murder and soul-splitting and that endless, gnawing fear of death that even now made Harry's teeth ache just being near it...
"I will need to take this to Hogwarts," Dumbledore finally broke the heavy silence. "There are ways to destroy such objects, but they require... careful handling."
Kreacher let out a wail. "But Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy it!"
"And we will help fulfill that order," Dumbledore assured him. "But this must be done properly. This object is incredibly dangerous."
"Kreacher." The words scraped from Sirius's throat. "Let them take it. Let them finish what Regulus started."
The old elf wrung his hands, tears still flowing down his face. But slowly, he nodded.
"Master Regulus wanted it destroyed..." he whispered. "Kreacher will let the wizards try."
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Dumbledore carefully levitated the locket into a conjured box lined with silk. "I believe that's enough excitement for one day. Sirius, maybe you could show Harry something more pleasant? I know you mentioned wanting to take him flying..."
Sirius wiped his eyes and managed a weak smile. "Right. Yes. Enough of this gloomy place for now. Fancy a bit of fresh air, Harry? I know just the spot..."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded encouragingly.
"Go on, my boy. I need to begin analyzing this object immediately. Sirius can bring you back through the Floo later."
"Where are we going?" Harry asked as Sirius stood up.
"You'll see." Sirius's smile grew more genuine. "Ever heard of the Windswept Meadows?"
"I've heard some of the older students mention it," Harry replied. "Bill Weasley said something about traditional broom games, but I've never been there myself."
"Never been-" Sirius gasped in mock horror. "That settles it then. Come on, to the Floo!"
They said quick goodbyes to Dumbledore, who was studying the boxed locket with intense concentration. Sirius grabbed a handful of powder from a silver pot by the fireplace.
"Windswept Meadows!" Green flames roared up as Sirius vanished.
Harry followed, spinning through the Floo network until he walked out into a bright wooden hall filled with rows of broomsticks mounted on the walls.
Each one had a small plaque beneath it with dates and names.
"Welcome to the finest collection of historical racing brooms in Britain!" Sirius spread his arms wide. "The Broomwright family's been preserving magical flight traditions here since before Hogwarts had house teams."
Harry walked closer to examine the brooms. Some looked ancient, with rough-hewn handles and uneven twigs. Others gleamed with polish and brass fittings. The plaques told stories of famous races, record-breaking flights, and legendary games forever enshrined here.
A group of excited children that looked around 9-10 years old ran past, heading toward glass doors that opened onto large green fields. Harry could see multiple playing areas marked out with floating poles and rings, some high in the air, others barely off the ground. Platforms drifted at various heights, carrying spectators who cheered at whatever games were being played below.
Harry couldn't help but compare it to his experiences of flight… soaring as an eagle, and propelling himself with azure flames. Each type of flight felt different: the eagle form was pure instinct and wind beneath his wings, and firebending was raw power and precise control.
But this would be something new, working with an enchanted object rather than his own abilities. He was curious about how it would feel, how the magic would respond to his commands, whether his enhanced reflexes and perfect balance would translate to this form of movement…
"First things first," Sirius interrupted his thoughts. "Let's get you on a practice broom. Nothing too fancy to start with, maybe a Cleansweep Five? Good balance, responsive but not too twitchy..."
He walked over to a counter where a witch in blue robes was arranging what looked like leather pads and goggles.
"Well hello there," Sirius leaned against the counter with an easy grin. "I don't suppose a lovely witch like yourself could help us find a good starter broom?"
The witch looked up, brushing brown hair from her face. She opened her mouth to respond, then froze as she spotted Harry.
"Merlin's beard... Harry Potter?" Her eyes went wide. "I read about your healing magic in the Prophet! And that display at the Grand Exhibition... I've never seen anything like it! I’ve heard you can even fly wandlessly, is that true??"
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Um, yes. Hello."
"Reial McKinnon," she introduced herself, completely ignoring Sirius now. "I studied under Augustus Broomwright himself. It's an honor to meet you!"
"Maybe we could focus on getting Harry his first broom?" Sirius cut in, looking slightly put out.
"Of course, of course!" Reial quickly ran around the counter. "For Mr. Potter, we should start with something special. The new Cleansweep Six perhaps? Much smoother acceleration than the Five..."
"The Five will be fine," Sirius insisted. "No need to oversell him on his first flight."
Reial's face fell slightly. "If you insist... but Mr. Potter, once you've got the basics down, please come back! We have some experimental racing brooms that would benefit from someone like you testing them..."
She hurried into a back room, leaving Sirius staring after her with a bemused expression.
"Shot down completely," he muttered. "Didn't even acknowledge my existence."
"Sorry about that," Harry smiled apologetically.
"Not your fault. Fame has its downsides, eh?" Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.
Reial returned with a polished brown broom and set of protective gear. She spent the next five minutes explaining every safety feature to Harry in great detail while Sirius tapped his foot impatiently.
"...and remember, the cushioning charm automatically adjusts to your weight distribution!" She beamed at Harry. "Will you be needing anything else? We have a lovely selection of racing gloves..."
"The broom and basic gear will do for now," Sirius interrupted firmly. "Come on, Harry. Let's get you in the air."
They walked out onto one of the training fields, a flat grassy area surrounded by cushioning charms. Several other new flyers were practicing basic hovering under the watchful eyes of instructors.
"Right then," Sirius placed the broom on the ground. "Stand next to it, hold out your hand, and say 'Up!'"
Harry held out his hand over the broom, utterly confident that it would work.
"Up!"
The broom shot into his palm with such force that Sirius blinked in surprise.
"Well... that's certainly decisive." He walked around Harry, adjusting his grip on the handle. "Now, swing your leg over - yes, like that. Keep your back straight, don't lean too far forward..."
Harry settled onto the broom, finding his balance easily. The cushioning charm felt a tad strange, like sitting on air, but he quickly adapted. He could feel the broom responding to subtle shifts in his position, ready to move at the slightest command.
"When you're ready, push off gently from the ground. Just hover for a moment, get used to the feeling."
Harry bent his knees slightly and pushed up. The broom rose smoothly, stopping at waist height. He experimented with small movements to test out how the broom would respond. It wasn't like his jet propulsion at all, this felt more like... directing a river? The magic within the broom wanted to move in certain ways, and his job was just to guide it.
"Perfect!" Sirius grinned. "Now try moving forward a bit. Lean slightly- WHOA!"
Harry had barely shifted his weight when the broom shot forward like an arrow. He pulled up instinctively, sending himself spiraling upward in a tight corkscrew. He automatically adjusted his balance and position until he hung motionless fifty feet in the air.
"HARRY!" Sirius shouted from below, already mounting his own broom. "Are you alright?"
"Fine!" Harry called back. Actually, he was better than fine. This was amazing! Different from eagle flight or firebending, but incredible in its own way. The broom responded to his slightest movement and intent, eager to fly, to race, to soar...
He tilted forward, keeping his movements minimal this time. The broom glided effortlessly through a wide arc, picking up speed as Harry grew more confident. By the time Sirius caught up, Harry was directing his broom between the floating spectator platforms with perfect control.
"Bloody hell," Sirius pulled alongside him. "I thought you said you'd never flown before!"
"I haven't! Not on a broom anyway." Harry grinned, exhilarated. "But I can transform into an eagle, remember? And I use fire to fly sometimes. The principles aren't that different..."
"Right, right, prodigy at everything..." Sirius shook his head, but he was smiling. "Well, since you've got the basics down, want to see what else this place has to offer?"
"Lead the way!" Harry followed as Sirius guided them toward the various playing fields spread out below.
Out of curiosity, Harry activated his Sharingan, the single tomoe spinning lazily in each eye. He wasn’t surprised that he couldn't see any magical energy flowing through the broom… unlike chi or chakra, magic wasn’t related to life energy and wasn’t something that his eyes could perceive. But he could still track movements perfectly, his reaction speed tripling as he followed Sirius through some sharp turns, but it felt like overkill. The broom responded so naturally to his commands that the enhanced perception wasn't necessary.
He deactivated the Sharingan with a small shake of his head. No point wasting chi.
"Over there we've got the Aingingein course," Sirius pointed to floating metal barrels that occasionally burst into flames. "Irish game, you fly through the burning barrels while holding a ball, then try to score in that goal at the end. Bit mad if you ask me..."
A witch zoomed through one of the barrels just as it ignited, coming out with singed eyebrows and a triumphant grin.
"And that's the Stichstock arena," Sirius gestured to a circular field where a wizard hovered in front of what looked like an inflated purple balloon. "German game. One person guards the dragon bladder while others try to pop it. First one to pierce it wins."
"Dragon bladder?" Harry wrinkled his nose.
"Yeah, not the most pleasant sport." Sirius laughed. "Probably why it never caught on like Quidditch. Speaking of which..."
They flew past the golden hoops of a Quidditch pitch, where a practice game was in progress. Harry watched the players batter bludgers at each other while two seekers raced after the Snitch.
"But one of my favorites is over here..." Sirius led them to a smaller field with a long hedge running down the middle. Two wizards were hitting what looked like a pig's bladder back and forth across it.
"Swivenhodge!" Sirius spread his arms wide. "Simple but brilliant. Like muggle tennis on a broom. Fancy a game?"
Harry grinned. "Sure! But uh... how exactly do you play?"
"Right, rules..." Sirius summoned two wooden bats. "You hit the bladder over the hedge, opponent has to return it before it hits the ground. Miss the return or hit it into the hedge, other person gets a point. First to eleven wins!"
He tossed one of the bats to Harry, who caught it easily.
"Ready to see how James Potter's son handles a proper wizard's sport?"
Harry gripped his bat, a competitive smile spreading across his face. "Bring it on!"
Sirius served first, smacking the bladder high over the hedge. Harry moved before it even cleared the top, positioning himself perfectly to return it with a quick flick of his bat. The bladder shot back over in a low arc that forced Sirius to dive.
"Not bad!" Sirius managed to hit it back, but Harry was already in position.
WHACK!
The bladder curved sharply left, then dropped suddenly. Sirius barely got his broom turned before it hit the ground.
"Point to me?" Harry grinned.
"Lucky shot," Sirius grumbled good-naturedly. "Let's see you do that again!"
But Harry did do it again. And again. His reaction speed that exceeded the absolute peak normal humans could achieve even without the Sharingan let him react to the bladder's movement instantly, while his perfect balance on the broom meant he could position himself exactly where he needed to be. Each return came faster than the last as Harry grew more comfortable with the game's rhythm.
Sirius proved to be an excellent player, making incredible saves and pulling off tricky shots that would have scored against anyone else. But Harry moved like lightning, never missing a return, sending the bladder in increasingly impossible trajectories that left Sirius cursing and laughing.
"Eight-zero! Nine-zero!" Harry called out after another two points. "Sure you don't want to give up?"
"Never!" Sirius wiped sweat from his forehead. "Your father would never let me hear the end of it if I gave up against his eight-year-old son!"
A small crowd had gathered on the nearby viewing platforms to watch their game. Harry could hear excited whispers about "Harry Potter" and "never seen anything like it" but he tuned them out, focused entirely on the back-and-forth of their match.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The bladder flew between them at ridiculous speeds now, neither willing to let a point go easily. Sirius pulled off an amazing backwards shot that nearly scored, but Harry spun his broom in a complete rotation to return it with even more power.
"Ten-zero!" Harry pumped his fist as Sirius missed again. "One more point!"
"Alright, time to get serious!" Sirius readied his bat with fierce determination. "No holding back!"
The next rally lasted nearly two minutes. Sirius threw everything he had into his shots - curves, drops, sudden changes in speed. But Harry read them all, moving quickly to return each one until finally...
WHACK!
The bladder screamed past Sirius's desperate lunge and hit the ground.
"Eleven-zero!" The crowd burst into applause. "Game point!"
Sirius slumped on his broom, breathing heavily. "Bloody hell... you're not human!"
Harry laughed. "Want to try something else? Maybe that Aingingein course?"
"Merlin, no!" Sirius shook his head. "You'd probably set a new course record on your first try. Let's get some lunch instead, I'm starving after getting thoroughly destroyed by an eight-year-old."
They landed near a small café area where other players were taking breaks between games. Several people approached to congratulate Harry on his performance, but Sirius shooed them away.
"Give the boy some space to eat! Yes, yes, he's amazing at everything, we know!"
They settled at a small table under a striped sun shade. A cheerful witch brought them menus, managing to only stare at Harry for a few seconds before hurrying away to get their drinks.
"So," Sirius leaned back in his chair. "You're taking after James in more ways than one. He was a natural on a broom too, you know. Made the Gryffindor team as a Chaser in his second year."
Harry picked up his menu, pretending to study it while gathering his thoughts. He'd heard stories about his father's Quidditch prowess from the professors, but hearing it from Sirius, a close friend of his father, felt different.
"What position do you think I'd be good at?" Harry asked.
"Seeker, definitely." Sirius didn't even hesitate. "With those reflexes of yours? You'd catch the Snitch before the other team even got in position."
The witch returned with two butterbeers and took their orders: shepherd's pie for Sirius, beef stew for Harry.
"Tell me more about him?" Harry requested quietly. "About my dad when he was at school?"
Sirius's face softened. "Well, there was this one time in third year when he decided to race the Giant Squid around the lake on his broom..."
The stories flowed freely after that. James Potter sneaking into the kitchens to charm all the plates to sing, James teaching himself to juggle with active Bludgers, James trying to impress Lily Evans by enchanting roses to follow her around and accidentally creating carnivorous flowers instead...
Harry soaked it all in, building a picture of the father he'd never known. The food arrived somewhere in the middle of a tale about James trying to convince McGonagall that his missed homework had been eaten by a rogue pack of origami dragons.
"He sounds..." Harry stirred his stew thoughtfully. "Different from what most say about him. I hear a lot of talk about how brave he was, or how good at magic he was, and in one case... that he was a bully. But you make him sound more..."
"Human?" Sirius smiled sadly. "Yeah, that's what happens when people die young. Everyone forgets the silly stuff, the bad jokes, the fun we had. They turn into perfect heroes in everyone's memory. But James wasn't perfect… he was just James. Brilliant but kind of an idiot sometimes, talented but also a massive show-off, brave but also really stupid about it occasionally."
He took a long drink of butterbeer. "Don't get me wrong, he was one of the best people I ever knew. But he was also my best friend who once spent three days with antlers stuck on his head because a self-transfiguration went wrong."
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that image. "Did anyone notice?"
"He told everyone it was a bet he had to follow." Sirius grinned. "McGonagall didn't believe him for a second, but she couldn't prove anything."
Harry chuckled, imagining Aunt Min's face during that incident. "What about my mum? What was she like at school?"
A shadow passed over Sirius's face. "Lily... she was brilliant. Scary brilliant sometimes. Top of most classes except Transfiguration, where your dad barely beat her. She had this way of looking at you when you messed up, like she wasn't angry, just disappointed... worse than any detention."
He pushed his empty plate aside. "She hated James at first, you know. Thought he was an arrogant toerag - her exact words. She was right, too. We were all pretty awful in the early years, showing off and hexing people just because we could."
"What changed?"
"James grew up. Stopped hexing people for fun, started actually helping younger students instead of just pretending to. And Lily..." Sirius smiled. "She saw past all the stupid stuff to who he really was. They both changed each other for the better."
It was strange hearing about them as real people with flaws and growth instead of the perfect martyrs almost everyone else described. He had talked with Sirius about his parents before, but that was more than two months ago, and he had missed learning more about them because of that incident…
The image of his mother looking disappointed rather than angry struck a chord with him though, he'd seen that same look from Perenelle when he did something reckless. And his father's journey from showing off to actually helping others... wasn't that similar to his own path? From being predatory to focusing on art, healing and justice?
"You know," Sirius interrupted his thoughts. "James would have loved to see you fly today. He always said his kids would be naturals on a broom. Lily would have been terrified watching you pull off those moves, but secretly proud."
Harry felt his throat tighten. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Sirius reached across the table and squeezed his shoulder. "They'd both be so proud of you, Harry. Everything you've accomplished, everything you're becoming... they'd be amazed."
A comfortable silence fell between them as Harry blinked back tears. Around them, other players laughed and chatted while children zoomed past on training brooms, but their table felt separate from it all, wrapped in memories of people long gone but not forgotten.
"Want to try that Aingingein course now?" Harry finally asked, voice slightly rough. "I promise not to set any records."
Sirius barked out a laugh. "Nice try, but I've learned my lesson for today. Besides, we should probably head back soon. I'm sure Dumbledore will want to talk to you about... what we found earlier."
"Right." Harry pushed back from the table. "We should return the equipment first."
They walked back to the entrance hall where Reial McKinnon practically jumped in excitement at Harry's return.
"You must come back soon, Mr. Potter!" She called as they headed for the Floo. "We have so many experimental models that could benefit from your expertise!"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Experimental models... more like death traps with fancy names."
"I liked it here," Harry smiled, looking around the hall one last time. The mounted brooms on the walls seemed to shine in the sunlight. "It was nice just... playing a game. Being normal for a bit."
"Normal?" Sirius snorted. "You absolutely destroyed me at Swivenhodge. That's not normal."
"You know what I mean." Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "No healing cursed scars, no fighting, no dealing with..." He stopped there, knowing that it was best Sirius wasn’t mixed up in the horcrux business.
Sirius's face grew serious. "Yeah. I get it. Sometimes I miss when the biggest worry was whether we'd win the Quidditch Cup."
He squeezed Harry's shoulder. "But that's why we fight, isn't it? So other kids can have normal days like this without dark wizards ruining everything."
Harry nodded, throwing in the Floo Powder.