The Boy Who Killed God {Sirius Black | Marauders Era Fanfiction}

Pay the Ferryman

NOVEMBER 3, 1971

Sirius shivered, clutching his cloak tight against his chest. He'd transfigured it, a little bit longer and a little bit heavier, to combat the cold weather, but it still did little against the wind outside the castle. Snow flurried around him, coating the ground and, much to his annoyance, his hair. His breath came out in little frozen puffs.

He'd barely reached up to knock on the enormous door to Hagrid's hut when Andromeda threw it open and nearly tackled him in a hug. She was laughing, almost manically, and Sirius returned it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and let her warmth surround him.

After a minute, Andromeda pulled back, cupping his probably-frostbitten face in her hands. "Happy fucking birthday, kid," she said, a grin spread wide across her face.

Inside, Hagrid crouched over the hearth, stoking the flames, and coaxing a kettle to boil. He stood, when Andromeda and Sirius walked in, and clapped his gigantic hands together. "Sirius!" Hagrid boomed. "So glad you could make it. Spot hasn't shut up about missin' you since you left. She's even saved you a seat."

Hagrid gestured to the table, where two large chairs were pulled out. On the one nearest them, Spot, the orange-striped kneazle, sat, curled around herself, her tail flicking, and her large, green eyes locked on Sirius. She jumped down, as elegantly as a lioness, and pranced right up to Sirius, wrapping her long tail around his leg. She purred.

"Oh, she's quite taken with you, Sirius," Hagrid said, with a deep, bubbling chuckle. "No surprise, really. Professor Cuckoo says yer the top of his class, did ya know that?"

Sirius hadn't, and shook his head. If he was at the top of his Care of Magical Creatures class, it was only because Remus was the absolute worst when it came to the handling of magical creatures. He'd come within a few feet—or sometimes even just within a thousand meters—and every creature, from Hickory Dave to Professor Cuckoo's flobberworms, seemed to lose their shit. Sirius spent most lessons first calming down Remus, who took great offence at the creatures' distaste for him, and then consoling whatever creature had been traumatised for the day. He had a knack for handling the creatures, sure, but he hadn't really thought it was anything out of the ordinary.

Spot hooked her tail around the back of his knee and more or less dragged Sirius to one of the giant chairs. He sat, obediently, and Spot immediately hopped into his lap and went to sleep.

"She's... nice," Sirius said, and he meant it. Mostly. She hadn't try to claw him to shreds just yet.

For the record, Sirius still hated cats.

"That she is," Hagrid said, with a burst of pride. "Wanted to wish you happy birthday, Sirius. Woulda baked you a cake if Andy had given me any warning that you'd be comin' by today."

Andy?! Sirius mouthed to Andromeda, when Hagrid turned his back to grab the kettle. Andromeda ran a finger across her throat, demanding his silence on pain of death.

"Er, thanks, Hagrid," Sirius managed, after another pointed glare for Andromeda. "It was kind of a... last minute thing."

It had been, too. Andromeda had written him that morning: a short note that wished him a happy birthday and then went into vague allusions to a viable plan to keep Sirius at Hogwarts over Christmas. Sirius had scribbled back a hasty reply, then had ducked out of History of Magic the second Professor Binns began his lecture.

"Well," Hagrid said, clapping his hands together once more, after handing off the kettle to Andromeda. "I'll leave ya to it, then."

"No," Andromeda said, her voice genuinely kind. She set the kettle down on the table next to Sirius. "No, Hagrid, please stay. It's not fair for us to kick you out of your home, especially when it's snowing."