After the War

Chapter 23

Life can be strange sometimes. Something obvious can become clear in a moment with barely any connection. Something that you knew for the longest of times can be revealed as if it was something you never knew. A life changing something, realized in the most inconsequential of moments. But, realized from the most consequential moments.

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Emerging from the claustrophobic darkness, Harry appeared on the front step of number 12 Grimmauld Place and felt someone grip his upper arm, steadying him so he didn't stumble backwards down the steps.

"Blimey, I'm out of practice apparating here," he commented after finding his footing.

"No kidding," Ron dropped his hand with a playful grin and looked over Harry's head to see the street behind him. No passerbys seemed to notice anyone appear out of midair or wonder at the lack of building 12 in the row of houses. Harry reached past him and opened the door into the old Order's Headquarters. A musty smell filled his nose before he had even entered the corridor, followed by the smell of ash.

Without a word, they both started down the narrow hall with Ron closing the door behind him. Someone had definitely been here since their last visit after the run in at the Ministry. No furniture was left standing and everything was thrown about the house without a care, most likely searching for clues as to where they had gone. The walls were singed black and a heavy layer of ash carpeted the floor, their shoes leaving distinct footprints. With only a backward glance to Ron, Harry frantically sprinted up the stairs to the fourth floor at the top of the house.

He stopped in front of an open door granting access to Sirius' teenage bedroom and pushed it open without hesitation. Harry let out a heavy breath as he stood on the threshold.

"Wow," Ron muttered softly. "That's... lucky." Harry entered slowly and he felt the fear that had settled into his stomach ease slightly. The carpet was burnt to a crisp, but the fire seemed to burn out at around the knee level, so the wall decorations, bed, desk, and drawers still stood-- covered in ash, but still stood.

"Tell me about it," Harry whispered as his fingers gently traced a dust covered picture of teenage Sirius with his three friends at Diagon Alley. The four of them smiled with their arms around each other, clearly too young to know what was in store for them. Naturally, his eyes fell upon James in the middle with his matching untidy hair and a smirk that seemed far too familiar. Harry made a slow circle around the room, kicking burnt parchment and unknown possessions out from under his feet.

With far too few words exchanged, the pair peeked their heads into Regulus Black's room across the landing which was in a similar state of disarray. They made their way down to the next floor and saw the peeling wallpaper covered in scorch marks and the bedspreads burnt to a crisp. The lower levels were in the most horrendous states of destruction with the entire rooms covered in soot and the cupboards smashed before being burned. When they reached the drawing room, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction erupt in his chest that the Black family tree had finally been defeated. The horrid painting of Walburga Black was silenced at last and he knew that Sirius would be smiling alongside him.

"Well, at least something good came out of this," Ron commented with a cocked eyebrow and a faint smile painted on his lips. Harry nodded silently, finally tearing his gaze away from the spot where the tapestry used to be.

"It's safe to say we have our work cut out for us," Harry stated in an overly cheery voice. They made their way to the last room of the house-- the kitchen-- and weren't surprised at the table now barely resembling a charred plank of wood. Harry pointed his wand at the tabletop and cleaned off the dust while Ron managed to conjure two chairs for them to sit on. They both set their wands on the surface next to them and Harry couldn't help but run a hand through his dark hair and let out a deep breath while simultaneously making a split-second decision.