The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow III » Harry Potter

3.17 | Two Times the Quartet

On the other side of London, the scenes outside Grimmauld Place were quite curious throughout the week.

Not a day passed without one or two people arriving outside without any purpose other than to lean against the railings, and watching the joint between Numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place. These oddly-dressed lurkers were never the same two days, but none of them seemed to gain any satisfaction from their vigil.

Friday evening fell with the first bout of chilly rain of the season, one of them started forward excitedly as if he had seen something interesting, only to fall back looking disappointed a moment later.

Meanwhile, inside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius stumbled into the hallway, closing the front door carefully behind him. He had nearly lost his balance as he Apparated wrong on the step just outside the front door. He thought one of the Death Eaters might have caught a glimpse of his shaggy dark hair that was falling out of its bun.

The usual low whisper of "Severus Snape?" greeted him, the chilling wind sweeping over him, and his tongue rolled up for a moment.

"I didn't kill you, Albus," whispers Sirius once it had unrolled, his head was still spinning slightly. He coughed as the dusty jinx figure exploded only to find three wands pointed at him. "Hang on! It's me, Sirius!"

"Oh thank goodness," breathes Hermione. She and Ron lowered their wands but Harry did not, stepping forward a little.

"Show yourself!" he demands.

Sirius raised one arm in surrender for the other was bleeding heavily, and, while leaning on the wall for support, he stepped into the light of the ancient gas lamps.

"Sirius Black... sometimes known as Padfoot, one of the makers of the Marauder's Map, older brother of Regulus Black who stole Vol- Riddle's Horcrux."

Harry lowered his wand, his eyes widening at the sight of Sirius's injury. He hurried forward to support him while Ron took his bag and the day's copy of the Daily Prophet. Sirius groaned as they headed into the sitting room and collapsed onto the creaky old sofa, catching sight of Harry's worried expression.

"M'okay... You should've seen how the other guys looked," he says lightly. "One of them was small and furry when I was done with him."

"What on earth happened?" asks Harry.

"Just ran into a couple of Death Eaters outside my flat. They seemed to want to capture me."

"Well, of course, they'd want you," says Hermione shakily, crouched next to Harry with her wand raised. "You're Harry's godfather. That's why we told you not to leave... Harry, help me find Dittany, it's in my bag; here." She thrust the beaded bag into his hands.

"I knew that, so I haven't been staying at my flat. I only went to pack my things tonight," says Sirius, cringing slightly at the pain and continuing darkly, "And I couldn't've just stayed cooped up in here, could I? Not when Margie's still out there..."

"Any news?" asks Harry even though his hope was dwindling.

Sirius shook his head slowly, averting his eyes.

A contemplative silence settled between them as Hermione continued to murmur healing spells under her breath.

There was an odd sort of weight in Harry's chest that seemed to get heavier by the day. As much as he hated even the fleeting thought entering his mind, Harry could not help but feel as though something bad had happened to Margaret. No matter how skilful she was, he had seen even the most powerful wizards meet their end.

Margaret had become one of his closest friends in the past two years, fitting right along with him, Ron and Hermione. She had been the balance that their trio needed. While Hermione was always there with books and answers, and Ron was his moral support and stumbled across with good advice, it was Margaret who was always there like a constant to count on.