The Lost Black (The Predestined Trilogy - Bk 1) (A HP FanFic)

Chapter 18: Season's Stranglings

 Grimmauld has never felt so alive.

With me, the Weasley's, Harry, Hermione, and a few others, Sirius was in overly high spirits. It wasn't an odd thing to find him singing as he walked through the house, even his mother's screams didn't dampen his spirits. I found out that "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriff," fell almost in perfect tune with "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen" and was able to play it for everyone one evening with Mom singing like how we did on the first night I returned to Grimmauld. I was able to finish my Christmas shopping as well after Mom and I took a little day trip to Diagon Ally a couple days before Christmas.

While I did enjoy spending the time with Mom and Sirius and everyone, I couldn't help but shake this feeling that lingered in my back. Maybe it was knowing that this would be Sirius' last Christmas? Or that this would be mine and Mom's first and only Christmas with him? The urge to tell Sirius what's suppose to happen grew each time I saw him and became more intense with each wild smile he had.

But if he lives, who knows what could happen to this war. That one night, after having that vision of his death, I created a timeline of impactful events that I know for sure shape the war and played key factors in Voldemort's defeat. After creating the timeline, I looked at each of those individual events and created a branch timeline and theorized what could happen if that event didn't happen or ended differently.

It took a lot of thinking and many of the branch timelines are just theories and there's no guarantee that my theories would come true. However, when I got to Sirius' death, I realized that his death creates such an impact on this war, from Harry's own internal struggle to how the Order utilizes Grimmauld from his passing. And let's not get started on the 'what ifs'. My head is still hurting from analyzing all the possible endings just from Sirius surviving.

And I still don't know if him surviving will help or hurt us in the war against Voldemort.

On Christmas Eve, I found my mind wandering through my thoughts and considering if the consequences of telling Sirius his fate will be worth it or not. As I pondered, I strummed my guitar as I sat on Walburga Black's bed, leaning up against Buckbeak who seemed to be enjoying my music.

"He likes you."

I nearly jumped. I didn't notice Harry come into the room. He bowed to Buckbeak, who returned the bow. He came over and sat on the other side of Buckbeak and the hippogriff rested his head on Harry's lap.

"He likes you more," I smiled, returning to my position and strumming my guitar. "How are you doing? You've been brooding a lot lately."

"I'm not brooding."

"Keep telling yourself that, Batman." I put my guitar to the side and turned to him. "Look, I know that I practically just got here and that I'm in Slytherin and all that good stuff, but if you need anything, even if it's just my company, let me know. I want to help in any way I can. You're not alone, Harry. I really hope you know that."

"I do know that," he snapped, but then stopped and lowered his head. "Sorry."

"I know that it's hard and it's like everyone is against you-"

"They kind of are," he muttered.

"But you can't let it get to you. It's easier said than done, but you have to at least try. I know I'm not one to talk, hell, I beat the snot out of Pansy and nearly did it again after she called Hermione a mudblood because she knew it would piss me off-"

"You did what?" Harry gaped.

"Never you mind that," I said, waving my hand. "Just remember that I'm here for you no matter what. And I'm not one to tell lies," I held up my hand as I said it, earning a smile from Harry.