Remus Lupin picked up the tiny box on the mantel in the drawing room and resumed pacing. He muttered softly to himself, frequently ceasing both his words and his steps abruptly, only to start anew after an anxious expression and a deep breath or two. At one point he set the box back down, pressing it against the marble as he worked it open; the hinge was far too stiff. He opened and closed it several times to soften the spring. When the action finally suited him, he paused reverently to arrange the contents: a small but elegant diamond ring, nestled in the velvet lining.
Glancing for the hundredth time at the drawing room door to assure himself it was closed and bolted, he returned the box to the mantel once again. He continued to pace, this time without mumbling, though the look on his face was no less intense. He had finished planning and rehearsing the words he would say; now it was time to convince himself to go downstairs and say them. People were just sitting down to dinner. With any luck, he'd be ready by the time the kitchen was empty again--empty except for Adora, who had agreed to meet him for a late supper.
After another five minutes of pacing, he picked up the box again and worked the hinge a few more times. At this rate, the box would open itself at the right moment, out of a conditioned reflex.
This was madness. He was a marked man, Voldemort's next target. What in the name of Merlin was he thinking? I love her. So you'll make her a widow? At least she'll have that to remember--that she was truly loved. Just what she needs hanging around her neck like an albatross, that her "one true love" lies buried or, worse, forgotten on some battlefield. No! She's a soldier too, she knows the risks--she cherishes the time we have together, just as I do. And how many times have you believed that, if by some miracle you survive and she does not, you will never find another? That's different. I'm a werewolf, she's not; it'll be easier for her to move on. It would be easiest for her to move on now, if you were man enough to let her go, even send her on her way.
Lupin stopped pacing and threw himself into one of the easy chairs, his knuckles white as they gripped his hair in a feeble attempt to silence his internal dialog. He was staring at the box on the mantel again when the fireplace below it burst into emerald flames.
"Hermione? What in--Harry? You too? And I just..." Lupin's voice shriveled to nothing as his gaze moved past the paradox of Harry's tears and euphoric smile, onto the dark form draped heavily on Harry's shoulders. He was dimly aware of a fourth person coming through the Floo, and of Hermione dashing out of the room, and of shouting, laughing, crying, but such things barely registered. His mind was reeling, trying to grasp the incomprehensible, to somehow make the sight before him jibe with reality.
I'm dreaming. I've gone mad. I'm dead.
Then Harry was beside him, leaning onto him for support, and so was the other. He felt Harry's cool, wet tears, felt the young man's body trembling from excitement and exhaustion. Lupin dared not believe his eyes and ears, but touch was irrefutable. He threw his arms about both of them, fearfully and desperately taking on the weight of Harry's burden.
Warm gray eyes met his own and a brief but jaunty grin flashed from a weary face, and Lupin's heart accepted what his mind could not.
"Sirius."
By the time Hermione returned (trailed by the entire crowd from the kitchen), Harry and Lupin had managed to settle Sirius into one of the armchairs. He was pale and weak and could barely talk, but his expressions were quite clear and spoke volumes: he was utterly mystified by their behaviors and wondered what all the fuss was about.
"Drink this," said Hermione, shoving a pewter tankard of water to his lips and tipping it for him. He drained it in a long series of gulps, looking surprised by the recognition of his own thirst. Someone handed her a pitcher and she refilled and served the tankard again, but Sirius pulled it away after drinking half of it. "Thank you," he rasped, his hand falling away from the vessel as he tried to grasp the handle. He frowned at the hand as though it was a foreign thing, perplexed by its unwillingness to obey his wishes.
"You're very weak. Just let us help you," admonished Harry, continuing to smile and cry at the same time.
As if to prove Harry wrong, Sirius placed a clumsy but tender hand on his shoulder. He moistened his lips several times and coughed, then spoke. "What in Merlin's name is all the fuss about? I just fell asleep, is all. Sleeping. Nothing amiss."
Harry and Lupin had the same impulse to crush Sirius in a hug, and ended up clunking their heads together en route. "Of course, Sirius, just be patient with us," said Lupin with a groan as he clutched the goose egg already developing on his forehead. "We've got some explaining to do."
At that point, Sirius took in the crowd of strangers gawking at him and uncertainty dawned in his eyes. "Uh, Reem? Where... who are all these people?"
Harry answered him, squeezing him about the shoulders joyfully. "They're the Order, Sirius. The Order of the Phoenix! This is only a handful of the ranks now; we're at Headquarters!"
Sirius blinked, then glanced about the room, his eyes widening as he took in the warm, clean appearance and the dour Black Family Tapestry in the corner. He gaped in disbelief, first at Harry, then at Lupin. "This is my house?" he croaked, his dry, disused voice breaking in surprise.
Harry and Lupin eyed one another mirthfully. "You know, I suppose it is," smirked Lupin, shaking his head. "Though we may have to dig out the deed itself, to make sure." He hugged Sirius again, and though Sirius accepted it, he looked more bewildered and distracted than ever.
Molly Weasley arrived in the doorway at that moment with a steaming bowl of soup and some bread. Rather than jostling her way through the spectators, she loudly insisted that everyone clear out and let the poor man regain a little strength. There was something unquestioningly authoritative about her, though her wand was nowhere to be seen. Despite a few quiet grumbles, all present promptly filed out of the drawing room. When Harry and Lupin were the only ones remaining, she glared at them and approached with the soup. Sirius winked at Harry, who shrugged, smiling, and left him to Molly's ministrations.
They had scarcely reached the stairway when Lupin took Harry by the arms and pulled him around until they faced each other. The wonder in Lupin's eyes was being displaced by suspicion and distrust. "Harry... how?" he asked solemnly.
"We pulled him out from that veil, Remus! Come on, I'll tell you the whole story."
Harry led the way to his bedroom on the second floor. He sat on the window seat and waited for Lupin to close the door, then recounted the whole story of their trip to the Ministry. "I'm still not quite sure what happened at the very end. Fawkes showed up and went incendiary on the spot, and then the next thing I knew, Sirius was staggering out of the archway. Well, more like he fell out of it, right onto me, and I caught him."
His eyes suddenly wide, Harry jumped up off the sill. "Oh, my God! Fawkes! I have to go back and find him!"
He headed for the door, but Lupin caught him by the arms again. "You're not going anywhere, Harry," he said severely. "Sit down. I'll send someone after Fawkes."
Harry gulped. He had only heard Lupin use that tone once before, during his third year at Hogwarts. It was in the Shrieking Shack, when he, Ron, and Hermione were confronting Sirius and Peter Pettigrew for the first time. Lupin had meant business then, and he meant it now. Though Harry knew it was his duty to tend to Fawkes, he dropped his gaze and sat obediently on the windowsill. He didn't budge until Lupin returned.
"Ron had Fawkes. He's fine," Lupin held out a tiny chick cupped in his hand. Harry took the phoenix and cuddled him in the crook of his elbow, petting his damp, fuzzy down. "Finish your story," said Lupin bluntly.
"There's really nothing else to tell," said Harry, subdued. "The three of us hauled Sirius up to the Atrium as fast as we could and Flooed over here. Obviously Ron must have grabbed Fawkes on the way--Hey!" Harry yanked his hand away and shook it. "He bit me!" he exclaimed.
"I'm not surprised," said Lupin flatly.
Harry's jaw seemed to fall all the way to the floor of the room below his. "Remus, what's the matter with you? We RESCUED SIRIUS!"
"I know very well what you did. And while I'm... while I can't even describe how glad I am to see Sirius, I'm also very angry with you, Harry." He folded his arms and glared until the younger man averted his eyes.
"I wasn't alone, you know, I had--" began Harry, but Lupin raised his hand in a no-nonsense gesture for silence. Harry's shoulders drooped in resignation. He set his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs nervously as he waited for Lupin to read him the riot act.
He didn't have to wait long. "I made it clear last night that it's too dangerous for you to go out alone." Lupin's voice was cooler and softer than ever, which was somehow worse than if he had yelled or ranted. "I know you understood me, Harry, because that was the first thing you said just now to defend yourself. Technically speaking, you weren't alone. But we both know that technically speaking, you wouldn't be alone if you had a Muggle with you either. Or a Death Eater, for that matter! In terms of your protection, Harry, there's a big difference between the company of someone in the Order versus other students! I'm embarrassed that I have to stand here and explain this to you."
That stung. Harry stared fixedly at a wrinkle in the rug below Lupin's feet.
Lupin's voice finally took on an angry timbre. "I anticipated that this might happen, Harry. I hoped it wouldn't--I hoped you'd grown out of your willful, reckless habits. I thought that witnessing Dumbledore's death might have finally made it clear that even the most powerful wizards can be cornered and overwhelmed. I trusted you to keep your word and use your head." He paused a moment to let that sink in, but there was no need; Harry just wanted to crawl under a rock and wriggle with the earthworms by that point.
Lupin sighed, a sad, defeated sound. "But as I said, I anticipated this. I'd made arrangements a long time ago, hoping I'd never have to implement them. I almost did it last night, but I thought you had listened to me. Having to accept that it was all just lip service, Harry... well, I've already made it clear how I feel about this whole business. Now it's time to act.
"As of today, I'm assigning you a bodyguard. You're not to leave this house until he arrives. Hopefully he'll be able to come right away and escort you back to Hogwarts in time for class tomorrow. One of the Aurors will take Ron and Hermione back this evening, at any rate; I assume that once you're under guard, they won't run off alone without you. If you think they might, Harry, tell me now--I can assign guards for them, too, if they need it." Lupin paused, then spoke more firmly. "I want an answer, Harry. Do I need to assign guards to Ron and Hermione?"
Harry raised his head. "No. They won't leave Hogwarts. They wouldn't have left today if it weren't for me."
Lupin held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded. "All right, then. I'm glad I won't have to pull anyone else from the field."
Wriggling with the earthworms was sounding better and better all the time, but there was only so much guilt Harry could take before it transformed into anger. Lupin must have sensed that Harry had nearly reached his quota; his face softened at last and he laid a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "I should have done it a long time ago anyway," he said gently. "James and Sirius and I always had each other's backs, and we were... well, no one ever got the better of us when we acted together, let's put it that way. It was only when we were separated that we had any trouble."
Harry looked him in the eye. "Ron and Hermione and I are like that."
Lupin gave him a half-smile. "Only to a point, Harry. You and Ron and Hermione are also the prime targets of the entire Dark Army. That's a lot of powerful enemies for three students to hold off."
Harry averted his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry, Remus," he said, simply and sincerely.
At that moment, a beautiful arpeggio issued forth from the vicinity of Harry's elbow. Fawkes had stretched out his neck and was singing in a delicate soprano. Both wizards listened raptly, holding their breath. When he finished his song, Fawkes waggled his pointy rump into a cozy spot, tucked his bill under his featherless wing, and closed his eyes.
"I think he's forgiven you," said Lupin. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, and Lupin continued. "He died tonight, you know--to save you. Just because he's reborn every time doesn't mean it's easy for him. Or painless."
Harry looked down at the little ball of fluff tucked in the crook of his arm and felt a fresh pang of guilt. He covered Fawkes's back with his hand to warm him, which resulted in a tiny chirp and a contented wriggle.
"The worst part is that he can't protect you now, not until he grows again," continued Lupin. "That's why he waits until his feathers are literally falling out before he burns up under normal circumstances, you know. He hates this period in between, knowing that he's helpless to protect you if you need him."
"How do you know these things?" asked Harry quietly.
"I don't--not for sure, anyway. But I do understand what it's like when your body goes through harsh transitions." Lupin grinned wryly. "Plus, I know he loves you desperately; that's why he Bonded to you. Knowing that you're vulnerable has to be torture for him." Lupin's voice thickened as the ring in its little box popped unbidden into his thoughts. "He'd be devastated if he lost you because he couldn't be there when you needed him."
A fresh tear slipped down Harry's cheek. He lifted up the little cygnet and kissed him on the head. Fawkes nuzzled Harry's chin, but his little eyes were droopy, as though he might fall asleep at any second. Harry briefly rubbed the arch of Fawkes's skinny neck and then tucked the cygnet into the inner pocket of his silk robes, right over his heart.
Wiping away the tear with his palm, Harry spoke, his voice rattling with emotion. "Yet he knows I'm not immortal. Poor Fawkes. I wonder how he can stand it, giving away his heart, even his life, knowing that no matter what, he's going to have to carry on alone again, sooner or later."
Lupin thought again of the box on the mantel in the drawing room, and had no answer.
The sounds of an excited crowd began to filter up from the staircase, and with one deep look in Lupin's eyes, Harry saw that his anger and frustration had passed. "Well, now that's done, shall we go meet Sirius again?" Harry asked. Lupin responded by crushing Harry to his chest in a quick, tearful hug, and then pulled him down the stairs by the wrist at top speed.
Molly Weasely had stuffed Sirius with soup and bread to her satisfaction and announced that visiting hours were now open. Judging by the squeals currently issuing from the drawing room, Tonks was at the forefront of the welcoming committee. As Harry and Lupin dashed in, Sirius looked at them with pleading eyes above his enormous smile. Tonks was squeezing him nearly inside out, laughing and crying at the same time such that only a loud wail was coming out of her mouth. All the solemnity dropped away from Lupin at last, and he simply piled onto Sirius's other side and commenced with his own howl of pure joy.
When all available members of the Order had mauled Sirius to their hearts' content, he was finally permitted to flop back into his chair in a cheery daze. Seeing that all eyes were upon him, Sirius shrugged in a flustered way and shook his head. "Well then. It's very nice to see you all again," he said, "though for the life of me, it only seems like a few hours since the last time. Does anyone mind telling me just what in the name of Merlin I got myself into, then?"
That calmed the excited atmosphere even further. Lupin and Arthur Weasley eyed each other uncertainly. "Sirius," said Lupin in a slow, level voice, "what do you remember?"
Sirius blinked, then frowned. "I'm not sure, Reem. I've been asleep, haven't I? It feels like I've slept for days, or weeks, even. The dreams I was having... they were so long and so complicated, I don't know how I could have dreamed them all in one night."
"Do you remember what you were doing before you, uh, went to bed?" said Lupin tactfully.
Sirius frowned harder, concentrating. "I... I was talking in the Floo downstairs... with Sniv--with Snape. He said... he told me that Harry thought I was being held prisoner in the... in the Ministry of Magic?" Sirius cocked his head and peered at Lupin in a silent query. Though Lupin nodded assuringly, Sirius looked skeptical of his own memory, but he continued his story.
"Next were all standing around arguing about who should go help Harry, and whether we should wait for Dumbledore. I shoved Snape up against the wall and told him this was all his fault for stopping the Occlumency lessons. I remember I told Kreacher to wait here and send Dumbledore along when he arrived." He paused, scrunching up his face with the effort to recall further. "It seems like we Flooed somewhere; I remember the green flame and the spinning, but from there... Did I fall, maybe? That's the last I remember: green light and a feeling of falling for a long, long way... was I sucked off into the Floo Network?"
Lupin sighed. "No, Sirius, you weren't. We all took the Floo to the Ministry. From the Atrium, we went straight to the Department of Mysteries. We found Harry, and others--" he gestured toward Ron and Hermione "--battling with a band of Death Eaters in the interior. You took out at least two of them, then you faced off with Bellatrix Lestrange."
Sirius reared his head in confusion; this was obviously news to him. "Please tell me I smacked her down," he said, but judging by the look on his face, he already guessed the answer.
Lupin shook his head. "In a word, no. She knocked you into... something. An archway, with a veil; some sort of artifact hidden in the Department. We all assumed it was some sort of gateway to... well, to SOME other world, presumably the Underworld. We didn't know what had happened to you, but we all thought you were gone. Dead."
Sirius stared at his oldest friend for some time, then snorted in disdain. "The day my cousin Smellatrix can kill me in a duel will truly be the end of the world. You ought to know that, Reem," he chided.
Lupin chuckled. "You're right, Padfoot; I should have known you were up to something." He resumed his somber tone. "But all the signs agreed with it. Your will revealed itself, just as though you had died, and Harry clearly had possession of the house and Kreacher. We just... believed the worst." Tears suddenly welled in Lupin's eyes.
Sirius promptly threw a small pillow at Lupin's head. "I promise if your will reveals itself, I'll assume you're dead and return the favor," he said with gruff affection. "Besides, no harm, no foul, eh? I'm back and the house is all clean!" He turned to Harry with a big grin. "Your mum was always tidying up the common room after us; I should have guessed you'd inherit the neat gene."
Lupin and Tonks smirked and Harry laughed outright. "Interesting," added Harry innocently. "I seem to have passed it on in unexpected directions."
They all spent the next hour dining in the drawing room with Sirius (who ate ravenously despite his recent meal), explaining the state of Grimmauld Place and the Order. Arthur Weasley and Lupin did most of the talking, which suited everyone just fine; they did a nice job of skirting the heavy issues that no one wanted to talk about. Eventually, however, Sirius began to detect that there were pieces missing and brought them up himself. The first came as he took a hard look around the room and suddenly asked, "Where's Dumbledore?"
After a strained silence, Mr. Weasley spoke up. "Dumbledore was murdered, Sirius. Some four months ago."
Sirius turned pale, gripping the arms of his chair. "Who?"
"Severus Snape," said Mr. Weasley quietly.
A series of contractions coursed over the muscles in Sirius's face and his skin went from white to red in a matter of seconds. He finally spoke through gritted teeth. "Still alive?"
Mr. Weasley gave him a stern look. "He escaped. There's been no sign of him since. And before you get all worked up about revenge, bear in mind that you'll have to go to the end of a very long queue." Every head in the room swung in unison toward Mr. Weasley. Such sentiments did not come out of his mouth very often and were worth confirming.
It seemed to mollify Sirius somewhat, as he bowed his head and stared thoughtfully at his knees. "Four months," he said absently. He took a long, critical look at Harry. "You've grown. I saw it before, but I was a little too overwhelmed to put it all together. Just how long have I been gone?"
Harry flattened his lips in an unwilling grimace, then answered as calmly as he could. "A year ago in June. It's just October now, so a year and three months."
Sirius's jaw fell. "October... Mother of Merlin, I've been asleep for more than a year?"
Mr. Weasley took over again. "I'm not so sure. There was a lot of destruction in the Department that night--in particular, the Time Room had a great deal of damage. The Unspeakables never recovered the Time that was lost that night. There's been a lot of speculation about where it went. We know Time is subject to gravity, so we expected it to pool in the lowest point in the Department. That would be the ampitheater in the Veil Room, unless it managed to escape from the Department into the hallway. We never found it down on Level Ten, but it wasn't in the Veil Room either. I have a feeling it followed you through the veil."
Sirius reached up and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know, this is about three day's worth of whiskers," he said. "And I've shaved every day since I moved back in this house, just for something to do."
"That's it, then!" said Hermione. "You must have been floating in a pool of Time for most of your absence. You aged only a few days, even though a year passed for the rest of us. That would also explain how you survived so long without food or water."
"Do you remember throwing something during the time you were dreaming?" asked Harry pointedly.
"I do!" said Sirius. "I was... let me see, I was fishing, of all things, and this nasty piece of rotten fruit--it might have been an apple--got hooked on my line. I nailed Reem in the head with it!" He smiled impishly; Harry and Lupin exchanged a glance. "I barely had time to cast the line again when I woke up... which of course was when you pulled me out of there. That's right," he said, recalling more of the dream, "I thought I'd knocked Remus into the lake, and I heard you, Harry, saying, 'he needs help, we have to help him,' something like that. Then I saw your line and grabbed it. I had just enough time to realize that if you'd thrown it to Remus, you might need my help pulling him out--and then you pulled me out."
Harry needed a moment to muddle through that, but fortunately Lupin took over the explanations. "You hit me with that fruit just over a month ago, Sirius. Harry and I were down there after... well, more on that later. Regardless, Harry had a bag of pears, and one rolled into the veil. It came back out and hit me on the head, just as you said."
"Perhaps the fruit got caught in some sort of time vortex, so it grew old and rotten before it reached you," said Hermione, frowning. "It must have reversed again when you threw it out, or perhaps the effects of the rogue Time didn't persist once it came back to our side. Either way, one month for us passed by in the blink of an eye for you!"
"And I never throw you a line, not then or now," noted Harry. "We tried to throw in a rope tonight, but it just disappeared."
"No, it wasn't a rope," said Sirius. "It was just like a fishing line, Harry--except it was red. Glowing red, actually, as thin as a hair, and perfectly straight too. It seemed to go on forever in both directions. And it showed up just seconds after I threw the fruit. That's why I thought I'd find Remus on the other end of it."
Around the room, people puzzled over this latest mystery, but soon all eyes fell upon Harry. He was clutching at his chest with a grimace of pain. Stunned, no one moved at first, then several people leapt to their feet to attend him. Harry gave a weak but reassuring wave with one hand as the other fumbled awkwardly at the collar of his robe.
"I'm all right," he finally gasped. "I just... that red line, I've seen it before. It was Fawkes. That's what his magic looks like." Harry extracted Fawkes from his inner pocket and held the tiny cygnet in his palm. His down had dried in the warmth of Harry's robe and he looked quite fuzzy and cuddly, save for his long, sharp bill. "I didn't pull you out at all, Sirius; Fawkes did it."
"Dumbledore's Fawkes?" said Sirius in surprise.
Harry felt an irrational surge of jealousy at those words, followed immediately by chagrin. Sirius looked taken aback and Harry knew his anger had shown on his face, which made him even more embarrassed. "He's sort of my Fawkes now," he mumbled with a guilty shrug.
Sirius exchanged a knowing look with Lupin but said nothing. There was a gleam in his eye, though, that seemed either impressed or proud, and it filled Harry with a warm sense of relief. Look at me, getting jealous... We're Bonding stronger and stronger all the time, aren't we? he mused, absently bringing the phoenix up to his cheek for a nuzzle. Sharp, shrewd eyes peered at him from crimson fluff, and Harry was certain that Fawkes knew his thoughts and agreed completely.
As the conversation resumed, Fawkes began to chirp and whistle quietly but urgently, and Harry realized that his familiar was hungry. Fawkes eyed the cherry pie that some thoughtful soul had brought up for dessert, but Harry tapped his beak. "No sweets for you until you've had a good meal," he whispered. Harry had no idea of what constituted good nutrition for a hatchling phoenix. Fawkes was no help; he avoided Harry's inquisitive gaze and stared intently at the pie.
Beckoning Remus closer, Harry pointed at the cygnet and mouthed, "Hungry." Fawkes confirmed the point by stretching his neck straight up and opening his bill in a characteristic pose of hungry baby birds of all species. Lupin nodded straightaway and excused the two of them from the drawing room.
"Do you know what to feed him, Harry?" asked Lupin in a low voice as they passed the portraits in the hall.
"I don't," said Harry with a pang of guilt. "He wants pie."
Lupin scowled. "He needs to eat something good for him. We'll have to Floo Hagrid." Fawkes let out a disgruntled hoot that made both of them snicker.
It proved impossible to reach Hagrid by Floo, which Harry had suspected, based on his knowledge of the tricky connection in Hagrid's fireplace. Lupin ended up having to Floo Professor McGonagall, who made it clear she'd prefer to roast Harry on a spit than to run off and summon Hagrid at that moment. The plaintive chirps of a desperately hungry phoenix are hard to resist, however, and she soon relented for Fawkes's sake. Harry and Lupin succumbed as well; by the time Hagrid appeared in the Floo, they'd fed Fawkes a huge slice of pie.
"Are yeh daft? Yeh can' give a baby pie jus' coz he wants it!" grumbled Hagrid as he brushed the ashes from his moleskin coat. "Course he's gonna wannit! That don' mean it's good fer him, though!" He scooped Fawkes out of Harry's hand with two fingers and eyed the fluffy cygnet appraisingly. "He needs somethin' that'll stick ter his ribs! Izzere any butter about?"
Harry felt a bit squeamish as he watched Hagrid shovel butter by the spoonful into Fawkes's gaping maw. It was clearly what the little fellow needed, though; he appeared to grow right before Harry's eyes. "There's a good boy," Hagrid cooed encouragingly as Fawkes pumped and rattled his little gullet. Harry felt another jealous pang that he should be the one feeding Fawkes, but Hagrid looked so blissfully happy, he let it go... this time.
After devouring more than his own weight in butter, Fawkes's neck began to weave back and forth as he stretched up for his next gulp. "I think he's getting full," said Harry. Hagrid nodded, but raised the spoon again. Fawkes seemed to swallow it in slow motion, his little eyes drooping at half mast, but he gamely opened up his mouth once more.
"Uh, Hagrid?" said Harry nervously. "Don't you think he's full?"
Hagrid contentedly dropped in another dollop. "Not jus' yet." Fawkes nearly missed it, his neck was wobbling so drunkenly. Again he barely swallowed it, as though his stomach was too full and the butter was backlogging in his throat. Still, the little mouth tipped upwards.
"Hold still, little feller," Hagrid said soothingly as he tried to position the spoon over his flailing target. Fawkes snapped his bill and caught most of the butter, but a large blob fell to the tabletop. He didn't even make the swallowing motion this time, just opened his mouth for more. Sweat beaded on Harry's upper lip, and he caught Hagrid's arm when the giant scooped up another spoonful.
Hagrid looked up at him with a dazed expression. "Ah, I'm sorry, Harry. Here, you feed him." He handed over the spoon with a warm grin.
"Hagrid!" Harry was certain the little phoenix would either choke to death or explode. Hagrid peered at him incomprehendingly, obviously wondering why on Earth Harry wasn't stuffing in the next bite. At that moment, however, Fawkes let out a burble of pure contentment and flopped flat onto the table, feet and wings sprawling on either side and his neck stretched out to its fullest. Hagrid beamed.
"That'll hold him fer a while!" the giant boomed triumphantly. "Now, is there any bacon?"
All Harry could do was stare. Lupin put a paternal arm around his shoulder. "Hagrid's been caring for Fawkes a long time. I think you can trust him on this."
"But... look at him!" Harry pointed in horror at the unconscious cygnet.
"In' he beau'iful?" said Hagrid, oblivious to Harry's distress. "He'll grow the size of a pigeon durin' his nap, an' he'll wake up hungry! No more pie for him, though, 'til he's leas' as big as a chicken. Fruit's not rich enough. He needs a lotter energy teh grow so fas'."
Harry sighed in defeat and picked up the limp cygnet. Fawkes really had grown; Harry could barely stuff him into the pocket that he'd slipped into easily a mere two hours before. Hagrid watched approvingly, then pointed to a cast-iron skillet hanging on the wall.
"Fry up about three pounds o' bacon fer his nex' meal, Harry, an' see if there's some olive oil. He's boun' ter be thirsty, too."
Hagrid returned to Hogsmeade by Floo and took Ron and Hermione with him. It was well after 9:00 by the time they Flooed to the Three Broomsticks, but at least they'd get past Filch with Hagrid as their escort. Knowing full well that if the Headmistress wasn't standing at the door when they arrived, they'd be marching straight to her office, Harry pleaded to go too. Lupin wouldn't hear a word of it.
"Your bodyguard will arrive tomorrow afternoon. You'll remain in this house until then. Full stop. And if you feel guilty that your friends are going to get the brunt of Professor McGonagall's wrath, good. Remember that the next time you get the urge to go out on your own." Lupin glared at him sternly, but he relented a bit as he handed Harry the frying pan. "Better get going. That bacon's not going to cook itself. I have a feeling you're in for a long night, Harry."
At 2 AM, Sirius Black appeared at the top of the kitchen stairs. His legs were trembling, but he sat on the top step for a breather and waved at Harry to go on with what he was doing.
Harry had little choice. Fawkes was awake for the third time that night, his appetite more fierce each time. About the size of a duck now, Fawkes gulped the butter so quickly that Harry didn't have time to refill the spoon before the phoenix howled desperately for more. Feathers poked out from his down, each one rolled tight around its axis and encased in a waxy sheath. Fawkes looked for all the world like a long-necked hedgehog, although at least the quills weren't sharp.
By the time Sirius managed to plod down the stairs to the kitchen, Harry, too, was shaking. "Hey," he gasped between frantic spoonfuls, "You should be in bed."
Sirius watched the proceedings with awe. "You should too. Morgan le Fay, Harry, he's an eating machine, isn't he?" Harry nodded without answering.
After a moment or two, Sirius asked, "Would it help if I grabbed a spoon too?"
Harry shook his head. "I think we're over the worst part. He's slowing down. A few more bites and he'll be ready for bacon."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "A bird after my own heart." He stretched his hand toward the platter of bacon on the table next to Fawkes, but stopped short after a glare from Harry.
"That's his. I'll cook some for you if he eats it all, but believe me, we don't want to run out."
"No worries," said Sirius. "I'll find something else." He continued to watch Harry with an expression of bemused fascination. Harry, focused completely on the task at hand, didn't even look up again until Fawkes was halfway through the bacon. He was taken aback by Sirius's expression. "What?"
Sirius smiled ruefully, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just... You know you look just like your father."
"Except for the eyes, yeah." Harry rolled those very eyes in annoyance.
Sirius smirked. "Right, the eyes. But I swear, Harry, I've seen James in the exact same pose as you're in now, right down to the slump of your shoulders. It's uncanny. And you know what he was doing at the time?"
Harry was too tired to come up with a sassy remark, so he settled for a weak shrug.
"He was tending to you," said Sirius wistfully. "You were about a week old. You woke up every few hours hungry, day and night, just like all new babies. Prongs and Lily were worn out, but the minute you cried, they were right on it, seeing to whatever you needed. I'd never seen James so tired, and yet he was so happy, so enthralled to have this noisy little bundle to take care of. That's how you look now, Harry." Sirius smiled warmly, then cleared his throat. "Ah, listen to me, sentimental sap. I've been in Dreamland too long."
Harry shook his head. "It's not sappy. It's nice, hearing things like that about my dad." He felt a brief tug at his hand and looked down. Fawkes had lunged at the bacon he was holding and snapped off half of it, which he was quietly gnashing in his bill.
"Look at that!" said Sirius. "Strong enough to chew it himself, already!"
Harry offered the rest of the bacon and beamed proudly as Fawkes snatched it from his fingers. He heard the scrape of Sirius's chair but was startled nonetheless when his godfather's hand came to rest on his shoulder. Harry pulled the plate of bacon within closer reach and put one arm around Sirius's waist as he fed Fawkes with the other.
"Go get some sleep," Sirius said when Fawkes finished eating and collapsed contentedly on the table. "I'll feed him the next time."
"What about you?" Harry looked him up and down in concern; Sirius was still pale and rather shaky.
"Not sleepy. A year of dreaming will do that to you, I reckon. Besides, I'm feeling a little peckish myself. Fawkes and I can raid the pantry together in an hour or two."
Warmth radiated from the center of Harry's chest. He was tired to the bone, and yet he would have gladly stayed awake to tend to Fawkes. Knowing that he could trust Sirius to do this flooded Harry with happiness. He stood and pulled his godfather brusquely to his chest. "Sirius. I'm so glad you're back."
Harry Potter and the Heirs of Slytherin by fawkes_07
Chapter Notes: Summary: The return to Grimmauld Place requires a lot of explanations. Harry learns some lessons about responsibility.