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The air was crisp with the bite of autumn, and despite the vibrant splashes of orange and purple streamers draped across storefronts, Hogsmeade retained the same timeless, weathered charm it always had. If he closed his eyes, Sirius could almost hear the clatter of hooves from the carriages, the excited chatter of students just released from the confines of the castle, and the echoes of James’ laughter as they sprinted down the cobbled streets.
He smirked. Even the carved pumpkins perched in shop windows seemed identical to the ones from almost twenty years ago, their grins chipped at the corners as though they'd been reused since his own school days. The Three Broomsticks' sign creaked as it swayed gently in the breeze—just as it always had. The smell of butterbeer and old wood lingered in the air.
For a moment, Sirius felt like a teenager again, reckless and untouchable. But only for a moment.
Time may not have touched Hogsmeade, but it had changed him, in ways both subtle and brutal.
Bits of old wanted posters still clung to weathered walls, half-torn and faded, yet his own grief-stricken, hollow-eyed face peeked out beneath newer ads for broom servicing and Quidditch gear. A reminder of the madness that once consumed him—and perhaps still lingered in the minds of those who glanced his way.
The Ministry had officially cleared his name, finally admitting to their grievous mistake. They’d even awarded him an extraordinary sum in damages for his wrongful imprisonment. But the gold meant nothing to Sirius; he couldn’t buy back the lost years or the friends who were gone. Instead, he’d donated every Galleon to St. Mungo's, insisting they use it to open a free Wolfsbane clinic.
Yet, even with the Ministry's pardon, the whispers hadn’t fully stopped. The residents of Hogsmeade gave him wide berth as he walked by, their eyes cautious, uncertain. Twelve years of believing someone was a mass murderer wasn’t easily erased with a few official statements.
But he ignored them all because he was on a very important mission.
Halloween marked the first Hogsmeade trip of the term, and Sirius had been looking forward to this day for weeks.
Pushing open the door to The Three Broomsticks, Sirius was immediately greeted by the warm, familiar scent of butterbeer and roasting chestnuts. The cozy atmosphere wrapped around him like a long-lost friend, a stark contrast to the cold October air outside. His eyes swept over the crowded pub, scanning the sea of students and locals, searching for that one familiar face.
In the corner booth by the piano, Harry sat waiting. He must have been watching the door closely, because the moment Sirius stepped inside, Harry stood up with a smile, his relief unmistakable.
“Sirius!”
“Harry,” Sirius grinned as he crossed the room. “Thanks for meeting me. I know you probably had plans, but I wanted to check in on you today.”
Harry waved it off with a smile. “I don’t mind. I’m glad to see you. How’s Buckbeak?”
“Good, but I think Beaky’s getting restless. Dumbledore’s put out feelers to a friend of his with an animal sanctuary. Hippogriffs don’t make the best flatmates in a small London flat, unfortunately,” Sirius said with a laugh.
Harry’s expression faltered, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but if the bedroom’s going to be free, maybe I could stay with you?”
Sirius' smile softened. “You’re always welcome, Harry, but you know the deal. You have to stay with the Dursleys. I know they’re awful, but it’s what’s safest for now.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Sirius squeezed his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “I’ll get us some butterbeer, alright?”
He stood and made his way through the bustling crowd toward the bar. The pub had grown noisy with the usual mix of laughter, conversation, and clinking glasses, but Sirius still felt the occasional wary glance from patrons as he passed. Twelve years of mistrust wasn’t easily forgotten, no matter what the Ministry had declared.
“Sirius Black!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a warm hug. “Well, look at you, back in Hogsmeade! Drinks on the house for you—welcome back.”
Sirius chuckled, grateful for the rare embrace of normalcy. “Thanks, Rosmerta. I’ve missed your butterbeer.”
She winked as she handed over the mugs. “Just like old times, eh?”
Sirius laughed, appreciating Rosmerta’s warmth, and made his way back to the table with two mugs of butterbeer, sliding one across to Harry.
As Sirius sat down, Harry looked at him thoughtfully. “Why today?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching.
Sirius blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“You said you wanted to check in on me today,” Harry replied, leaning forward. “Like, today was special.”
Sirius was once again struck by how perceptive Harry was. His godson never missed much.
“Well,” Sirius began, pausing to take a sip of his butterbeer before continuing. “It’s Halloween.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, the giant pumpkins clued me in.”
Sirius gave a soft smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He watched Harry, taking in his youthful face, his wide, green eyes—so much like Lily’s, yet full of innocence and strength. Behind Harry, the soft melody of a piano drifted through the pub. Sirius’ heart clenched as he remembered James, his long fingers dancing across the keys, getting the whole room to join in on some rowdy drinking song. He could almost hear his laugh, see the gleam in his eyes.
“Halloween is… when your parents died,” Sirius said quietly, his voice thick. “I didn’t know how you’d be. Thought I’d check in.”
“Oh.” Harry scratched the back of his neck, his gaze dropping as he shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess I don’t really think much about that.” He avoided Sirius’ eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug.
Sirius felt a pang in his chest. “Oh,” was all he could manage at first.
Harry looked up quickly, sensing Sirius’ unease. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t think about them or anything,” he added hastily. “It’s just… Halloween is just a day for me, you know?”
Sirius nodded slowly, though it was hard to process. He took another sip, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “It makes sense. You were just a baby. You don’t…” His voice wavered. “You don’t remember them.”
“Yeah.” Harry looked away again, his expression tight. “I wish… I don’t know. I’ve never really talked about them with anyone. It’s okay, though.”
Sirius stared at Harry for a long moment. His heart ached—not just for James and Lily, but for Harry too. For everything his godson had lost. For everything he never got the chance to know. He swallowed hard and reached across the table, his hand hovering for a moment before he rested it gently on Harry’s arm.
"Come on, let’s go," Sirius said softly, his voice full of something unspoken.
Harry frowned. "But we just got here."
"I know," Sirius said, standing and gesturing for Harry to follow. "But come on."
Harry stood and followed him out of The Three Broomsticks and back onto the bustling Hogsmeade high street. Sirius led the way in silence, his long strides carrying them past the shops and the students enjoying their day. They didn’t speak again until they reached the old, abandoned train station at the edge of the village.
The platform was quiet and desolate, its only occupants the bare wooden benches and the creeping vines that clung to the rails. The trees beyond the tracks were nearly stripped bare, their leaves having fallen weeks ago, scattered now by the biting autumn wind.
Sirius sat down on one of the benches, staring out at the horizon. After a moment, Harry sat next to him.
The silence between them stretched out, broken only by the occasional gust of wind. Harry shifted uncomfortably before finally speaking. “Did I… did I upset you?”
Sirius blinked, his gaze still on the distant trees. "What? No, of course not."
"Oh." Harry exhaled, relieved. "I was worried that… I don’t know. I’m sorry."
Sirius turned to look at him, his expression soft. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry."
Harry stared down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "It’s just… Halloween doesn’t make me miss my parents more, because I miss them every day. I guess that’s why I don’t get sad on this day in particular."
Sirius nodded, understanding. "I get it. I miss James and Lily every day, too."
Harry hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter now. "It’s weird, though, isn’t it? Missing people I can’t even remember. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be allowed to miss them, because I don’t really know them. Not like you do."
Sirius sighed and leaned back, looking up at the swirling clouds above them. "You don’t ever have to apologize for your grief, Harry. It’s yours. No one—not me, not anyone—can dictate how you feel about your parents."
He glanced back at Harry, noticing him wiping his face with the sleeve of his cloak. Sirius couldn’t help but think about the new clothes they’d bought for Harry over the summer, how he’d made sure Harry finally had a proper set of clothes that fit him—clothes that were his, and not someone else’s hand-me-downs.
“In our first year,” Sirius began again, his voice taking on that familiar, nostalgic tone, “James convinced us to follow him into the Forbidden Forest on Halloween night. We didn’t have the Marauder’s Map yet, and fitting four of us under the Invisibility Cloak, well, that was quite the challenge. But we managed.”
Harry leaned in closer, his expression shifting into that focused look Sirius had come to recognize. It was the way Harry always looked whenever someone talked about his dad, like he was trying to absorb every word, every detail, as if he could piece together the father he never got to know.
Sirius smiled, continuing. “James said we should have a proper Halloween, so we snuck into the forest, lit a little fire, and sat around telling ghost stories.”
“Yeah?” Harry’s voice was quiet but eager.
Sirius nodded. “Yeah. We were only eleven, so the stories weren’t really that scary, but at the time it felt like a big adventure. We were just a bunch of kids, trying to make our own fun. It was a good time.”
Harry grinned slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on Sirius, absorbing every word.
Sirius chuckled softly, the memory warming him. “You would’ve loved it. James had a way of making everything feel exciting—like we were unstoppable, no matter how ridiculous the plan.”
“Your mum,” Sirius said, forcing a smile as a memory came to him, “was quite upset when she found out how witches and wizards celebrate Halloween.”
“She was? Why?”
Sirius let out a small chuckle. “She expected something grand—huge ceremonies, ancient traditions, the whole lot. And what do we do? Just have a big, stupid feast.”
“I like the feast!”
Sirius laughed along with Harry. “Yeah, well, Lily always wanted something a bit more magical. So the first Halloween after you were born, she invited me, Remus, and Peter over. She dressed you up as a pumpkin—” Sirius paused, smiling fondly at the memory, “—and we had a bonfire in the garden.”
“A pumpkin?” Harry asked.
“Yup,” Sirius said, grinning. “Cutest little pumpkin I’d ever seen. But that wasn’t even the best part. Your mum—brilliant witch, your mum—enchanted the fire. She made colored flames in the shape of woodland creatures dance around the bonfire. Deer, foxes, birds… all glowing and swirling in the night.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really,” Sirius nodded, his voice softening. “You were completely mesmerized by it. Couldn’t stop watching. Lily just sat there, holding you, smiling at how funny you were. It was quite the evening.”
Harry averted his gaze, and for a moment, Sirius wondered if he'd said something wrong. But then he caught the small smile tugging at Harry’s lips, and the tension in his chest eased. The wind picked up again, rippling along the railroad tracks, swirling the last of the autumn leaves past the empty station.
In the distance, students hurried along the path from the village, making their way back to Hogwarts, the looming castle glowing warmly against the deepening twilight.
“The feast will probably start soon,” Sirius said, standing up and slipping his hands into his pockets. "You shouldn’t miss it."
Harry chuckled softly, his smile growing. “No, can’t miss the grandest of holiday traditions, after all.”
They began walking back toward the castle in companionable silence, the sounds of distant chatter and footsteps filling the air. When they reached the gates, Sirius slowed to a stop. This was as far as he could go.
Sirius turned to Harry, his voice quiet but sincere. "I came here to comfort you, but... I think it was more about me. This day—it’s never easy."
Harry nodded, his gaze understanding. "I figured. I’m glad you came."
Sirius let out a soft laugh. "Most teenagers would be upset if their family members crashed their Hogsmeade weekends."
“You’re not crashing," Harry said with a smile. "I like seeing you. I like feeling like I have family.”
Sirius felt warmth spread in his chest at those words. “Either way, I promise I won’t just show up again unless you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you for Christmas.”
Harry’s face lit up, hope and excitement brightening his expression. “Are you sure I can stay at your place?”
“Yes," Sirius said with a grin. "You can visit for Christmas."
Harry’s smile widened, practically beaming now. "Fantastic."
Sirius gave Harry a pat on the back. He watched as Harry made his way back toward the castle, his steps lighter. In the distance, Sirius could see Ron and Hermione waiting for him on the steps, their familiar figures huddled together in the fading light.
A crow, perched on the top of the gate, suddenly flapped its wings and took flight, its dark silhouette cutting through the evening sky as Sirius turned and made his way back to the apparition point. The wind stirred the leaves once more as he walked, and for a brief moment, he felt a sense of peace settle over him.