Chapter - 19 : Discharge and Dilemmas part - 2

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Sirius cursed. "Come on, quick, we'll make a run for it!"

They dashed towards the large glass doors at the other side of the hall, dodging all the people who were pointing and saying moronic things like "I always knew you were innocent, Black!" and "What was Azkaban like?" As soon as they were outside Harry fumbled for his birch wand and stuck it out to call the Knight Bus. They both scrambled aboard moments after it slammed to a halt in front of them, brushing past Stan Shunpike whilst shoving a bunch of galleons in his hand.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, your friendly ride for the stranded Witch or… Oi, what's your bloody hurry?" Stan Shunpike demanded, offended that he didn't get to finish his well-rehearsed speech.

"We need to leave," Sirius said. "Now."

"Yeah, before bloody Rita Skeeter gets here," Harry said, rubbing his arm where he'd hurt it by elbowing a particularly forceful witch.

"Ooh, you famous or summink?" Stan peered at them hopefully. "Didja hear tha', Ern? We got famous wizards on our bus!"

Ern twisted round in his seat to peer at them. "'ere, you're Sirius Black, ain't choo?"

"Sirius Black!" Stan yelped, jumping back in fright, then obviously remembered that Sirius was actually innocent. "Sirius Black, on our bus!" he said with a beaming smile.

"I'm getting off your bloody bus if you don't start driving," Sirius snapped.

"All righ', all righ'," Stan said. "No need ta get crabby. Where ya off ta then?"

"Grimmauld Place, London," Harry told him.

"Number twelve," Sirius added, making Harry start in surprise. He'd forgotten the house wasn't under the Fidelius Charm in this world, making it possible to give an exact address.

"Rightie-ho then. Hold on tight!" Ernie slammed his foot down on the pedal and the bus leaped forwards, throwing Harry and Sirius off their feet. After some frantic flailing, they grabbed onto the edges of the beds and managed to manoeuvre themselves up off the floor.

Harry stared queasily out through the windscreen as the bus lurched madly through the traffic. "Merlin's beard, I feel sick."

"Well don't be," Sirius told him. "There's no way I'm going back to Saint Mungo's. I've only just escaped from that place."

"'Ere's yer change, sir," Stan said, handing Sirius a fistful of silver sickles and a few bronze knuts. "Unless you'd be wantin' a hot chocolate or a toof brush, with yer own choice of purple, yellow or red."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Sirius said firmly.

Harry and Sirius staggered off the bus an endless quarter of an hour later, smiling weakly as Ernie and Stan waved an enthusiastic goodbye before disappearing with a loud bang.

"Urgh." Sirius groaned, clutching his stomach. "Never ever let me have an idea like that again. I'd rather apparate and risk splinching. Who needs an arm or a leg, really?"

Harry was the first to catch his breath. "Come on, old man. Let's check out the house." He bounded up the stairs, Sirius following him much less energetically.

"Bloody children and their ability to bounce back from everything," Sirius grumbled.

"It's one of the upsides to being turned into a ten-year-old," Harry agreed cheerfully, rocking back on his heels as he waited on the doorstep. "So how do we get in?"

"Only a Black can enter," Sirius explained. "Anyone else would be suicidal to try. We Blacks have always been a bit twisted and we've been adding wards to this place for generations."

"Er, right, well I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" Harry began backing nervously away from the house.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Relax. All it needs is a bit of blood. Here, give me your wand."

Harry handed it over and watched Sirius cut his palm with a harsh downwards slash. Blood welled up from the wound and Sirius smeared it carefully over the front door's wooden panelling. Holding the wand in his uninjured right hand he traced intricate symbols in the red liquid, a frown of concentration on his gaunt face.

"I, Sirius Black of the Noble and Ancient House of Black, hereby claim entrance to my ancestral home," he said, his voice solemn and commanding.

A bright red light suddenly burst forth from the symbols traced on the door, creeping over the panelling and spreading to slowly cover the stone walls and tiled roof. The whole house flashed red before the eerie light disappeared, leaving the cloudy February daylight unchanged.

Sirius swayed on his feet a bit and smiled grimly. "Family magic's always a rush. Well, shall we?" He reached for the ornate silver handle and swung the door open with a creek of rusty hinges.

They walked into the gloomy entrance hall, Harry peering around cautiously. The first time he'd stepped foot in the house it had been full of boggarts and doxies and screaming portraits, and that was after Mrs Weasley had been cleaning it for weeks.

"Huh, this isn't actually all that bad," Harry said, taking in the faded but unstained wall-paper and the distinct lack of cobwebs. "In fact it looks pretty nice."

"Another one of those differences, I suppose," Sirius said distractedly, taking another few steps forwards. With a single flick of Harry's birch wand he made torches come to life along the walls, casting flickering light over their surroundings. Then Sirius slowly turned to face the portrait hanging in a gleaming silver frame on the wall.

"Hello, mother," he said calmly.

"Sirius, what in Merlin's name are you doing here?" the painting of Walburga Black demanded. "I thought you were serving a life sentence in Azkaban."

Harry peered round Sirius to stare at the portrait. He'd never heard the woman sound so civil, though he supposed she might be too shocked to be properly angry at her blood-traitor son.

"I've been released," Sirius said flatly. "The Ministry finally got off their arses and gave me a trial."

A strange look crossed Mrs Black's canvas face, but all she said was, "That doesn't tell me why you're here, now does it?"

"Well, I need somewhere for my son and me to live."

"A son! Since when have you had a son?"

Sirius gave a nonchalant shrug, looking as if he was enjoying himself immensely. "Oh, since ten years or so now. May I introduce you to your grandson Orion?" He clasped Harry's shoulder and pushed him forwards. "Orion, this is my dear departed mother."

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