The next morning was quiet. As quiet as it could be when he has two children in the house.
Shikaku had already left for work, Saeko was off managing clan affairs, and Harry—well, Harry had the boys. It was a rhythm he knew well by now, the comforting chaos of their little unit.
He'd promised them time together at the compound later, but first… he had to see to something else. Something he couldn't have the boys underfoot for.
The gateway had finally stabilised last night.
It had taken a couple of days for the runes to settle, grounding them in this world and linking it to the Keep. But it held now. It was a real, true portal. One that his dragons could use to come and go into Konoha whenever they wanted.
Still, stabilised or not, he didn't want to take the boys with him.
Not today.
Tilly popped in mid-breakfast and agreed to watch them, eyes going soft when Teddy held out a mush-covered hand to her like it was a gift. "Tilly will keep the young masters safe, yes she will," she promised, tucking a napkin under Shikamaru's chin like he was two, which he objected to with a grumble and pink cheeks.
Harry promised it would only be for a few hours.
Shikamaru had argued. "But I could come too—if you use the doorway, you're not even leaving the village technically!"
"I don't want to scare your dad again. What if he decides to pop in for lunch and you're not here? Or what if he can't feel your chakra signature in the village?" Harry said gently. "He's still recovering from the last time I accidentally stole you."
Shikamaru scowled, but relented with a put-upon sigh, muttering something about 'troublesome adults.'
Not long after, Harry was stepping through the portal.
The cave mouth was still faintly glowing when Harry stepped through it.
He felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders when he saw the Keep lands in all its glory, with three gateways tethered to his home—the runes on his palm, the yew tree on Duck Island, and now the dragon roost—Harry felt… not safe exactly, but steadier.
The thought of leaving the Keep forever, of having his dragons or his elves sealed behind a gateway he couldn't go through. The fear that the runes on his palm—his only access to the Keep at the time—would disappear during the ritual, it had haunted him since the night of the ritual into this world.
Now, standing alone on the other side of the mountain passage, he took a moment to release his magic fully, letting it settle around him into the land.
It was warmer here, the enchantments allowing for perfect weather and the occasional rainfall.
He jerked slightly when he felt little flickers of joy and anticipation blooming along the bond that stretched from the back of his mind to his dragons.
He didn't have to wait long.
Rigel arrived first surprisingly.
The young Hebridean Black seemed to be growing at a rapid rate, still barely an adolescent though. Now, he was all lean limbs and tumbling scales, still gangly, still awkward, but he had Altair's confidence now, and Nox's shamelessness.
"Grandmother!" came the high screech.
Harry braced himself as the adolescent dragon crash-landed at his feet and promptly coiled his neck around him in a half-hug, half-body slam. He nearly fell, but he laughed as he steadied himself, smoothing a hand down Rigel's smoky-black scales.
"Too fast," Harry chided gently in Parseltongue, warmth in his tone. "You'll knock me off the cliff one day."
"Never!" Rigel replied with a huff. "I would catch you."
Harry smiled and scratched behind his horns. "And Teddy? Would you catch him too?"
"Yes! I would catch all of them! I miss them, Grandmother! When can we fly together again?"
"Soon," Harry promised. "Very soon. I've opened the mountain gate. You'll be able to visit our new home soon and fly over the village, as long as you behave."
Rigel wiggled with anticipation, letting out a chirp of joy as his wings trembled with excitement.
Then came the Nox and Altair, playfully sabotaging one another as they tried to reach Harry.
It was Altair that glided down first, his white wings spread out. Nox wasn't far behind though as she dive-bombed the landing spot and skidded to a graceful stop with the smugness only a Queen could carry.
"Mother," Altair murmured, pressing his nose into Harry's shoulder, eyes soft. "You're safe. Sister and her hatchlings are exploring far away again. We missed you."
Harry reached up and ran a hand along the side of his son's jaw. "I'm sorry, love. I just had so much to do to get out new home ready for all of you."
"Good," Nox said, not bothering to disguise the way she slithered up beside them and planted herself directly in front of him. "Are the two-legs treating you well? Shall I burn them?"
"No burning, Nox," Harry sighed with a fond smile. "They're our people now. And you'll frighten them."
She huffed, wings twitching with displeasure. "Not if they worship us like before. The two-legs should have a shrine to us. I liked those."
"To you, you mean," Harry corrected, narrowing his eyes.
Altair let out a soft trill of amusement. "Sister said she liked the songs more than the squishy food. She wants to be called the Night's Flame again.""I am Night's Flame."
"Yes, yes, terrifying as always. The terror of the skies," Harry muttered, smoothing a hand over her hot scales. "Now behave, or you'll be grounded again."
That earned him a growl, but she leaned into his touch all the same.
They stayed together for a time, Harry sitting cross-legged between his two eldest and Rigel curling behind him like an oversized heating pad. He listened to their breath, and the excited rumblings of Rigel who was trying to convince him that he was big enough for Teddy to ride now, not accepting that it was Teddy who was the one too small.
Lounging with his children eased the tension out of his shoulders even more.
But it returned the moment he turned toward the castle and made his way there.
He walked slower than usual, taking the winding garden path that circled the east wing. It felt strange, being here without his children, but he didn't know what Barty had called him here for today.
Harry trusted him. Liked the man even. He didn't know when that had happened, not exactly. Somewhere between the research and the quiet evenings spent pouring over obscure magical texts, and their whispered conversations about Sirius. His oath to Harry and his line certainly helped.
As he passed the great doors into the central hall, he was greeted not by silence, but by the cheerful scolding of his grandparents' portraits.
"Where are our boys?" Dorea demanded, hands on her hips.
"They're in Konoha," Harry said, amused. "You'll see them soon, I promise."
"You said that last time!" Charlus huffed. "We miss them. Especially the little one. He's growing far too fast!"
Harry laughed. "I'll see about connecting a master frame to the new compound, alright? Then you can visit without harassing me every time I visit."
That seemed to placate them. Barely.
He was halfway up the staircase when the voice he'd been waiting for floated down.
"Harry," Barty called, obviously having heard the commotion. "I'm in the study!"
When Harry reached the study, Barty was standing beside the long table, several parchment sheets laid out in front of him. His hair had grown longer, pulled back today into a loose tie that made him look strangely elegant, despite the smudges of ink on his cuffs.
Barty looked up, and his face softened. "You look tired."
"Thanks. I have a baby and a six-year-old at home," Harry said wryly. "This is my rested face."
Barty's lips twitched, and he gestured him over. "Then you'll want to sit down. I've found something about the curse on Sirius."
Any humour drained from Harry's expression.
Barty's voice was steady, but Harry could hear the strain behind it. The hours of work, the sleepless nights, the endless dead ends. He listened with his hands clenched tight in his lap as Barty explained what he'd found, how deep he'd dug into the Black family's library, all the way into the darkest corners.
"The curse," Barty said, tapping the parchment before him, "is called the Κατάρα του Επιάλη. Or the Curse of Epiales. He is known as the spirit of nightmares, but also goes by the name Melas Oneiros, literally Black Dream... an ironic name considering. The curse creates a dreamscape prison, one that can be altered."
Harry leaned forward, heart pounding.
"Modified really," Barty continued, voice tightening, "to cause physical deterioration. In this case Bellatrix fused the curse with the Cruciatus. The subject can't wake because every attempt triggers feedback through the nervous system. And the only way to counter it is through a specific chant embedded with a trigger word—known only by the caster."
Harry felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. "So—what? Anyone else tries to break it and—?"
"It'll increase the damage tenfold," Barty said grimly. "Which, considering the current state of stasis we've kept Sirius in, could be fatal. You've healed his body fully but if we do this wrong, there's no amount of healing that would save him."
A long silence settled between them.
Harry looked down at the notes, the careful quillwork, the ancient Greek runes that had been translated into Latin, then English. The references, the annotations in Barty's sharp, angular script. He knew better than to doubt it. But still.
"I want to see it all," he said softly.
"You don't believe me?" Barty's voice was quiet.
"No—I do," Harry said, shaking his head. "But I need to be sure. If I have to leave him like this, I need to know it's because there really is no other way."
Barty nodded, stepping aside as Harry moved closer.
The next hour passed in silence as Harry poured over the notes. Every line, every footnote. He read until the runes blurred and reformed, until he had to lean back and press the heels of his hands to his eyes. Barty stood still the whole time, only moving once to bring him a drink.
When Harry finally set the last sheet down, he said the words he didn't want to. "You're right. We can't risk it. Not unless we know the trigger word."
Barty placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Harry gave a shaky exhale.
"With Bellatrix dead," Barty continued, "there's no way to find the word. Not unless we can force her soul from the deepest depths of Tartarus—"
Harry shot upright.
"Barty! You're a genius!"
Barty blinked in surprise, mouth opening. "I—I am?"
Harry didn't answer, he let out an excited sound and surged forward, grabbing the older man's face in both hands and pressing a sudden, firm kiss to his lips.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't romantic. It was exhilarated, adrenaline-laced, and entirely stupid.
Barty made a surprised noise—a muffled, confused hum—and Harry pulled back, grinning. "Sorry. But also—thank you."
Barty was blinking at him, stunned. "What did I say?"
Harry didn't answer right away. He lifted his hand instead and with a whispered word, dissolved the Notice-Me-Not and Disillusionment charms he'd cast on one of the rings there.
The fifth ring.
Barty's eyes narrowed, curious. "I recognise the Potter ring, the Black, the Peverell, and the Slytherin. But whats the fifth—?"
Harry smiled faintly. "It's not like the others. Not really."
The ring was an unassuming stone set in twisted metal, so dark it looked like void. But up close, the faint symbol of the Hallows could be seen engraved beneath the surface.
"The Resurrection Stone," Harry said softly. "The legends are… exaggerated, but the artifacts are real. I used the stone the night I went to die. I wanted to see my parents…just once. I didn't know what it would do exactly, but—it let me summon them."
Barty's expression shuttered, and for a moment, a shadow passed behind his eyes. A memory, maybe. But then he nodded, slowly, eyes fixed on the ring.
"You're going to summon her," he said flatly.
Harry nodded. "She can't lie to me."
Barty hesitated. "Even if she appears, even if she speaks… she's Bellatrix. She'll do anything to hurt you. She'll give you the wrong trigger. She'll twist the counter."
Harry shook his head. "She can't lie to me. Not with this ring. I summoned Ignotus once at his portraits request. His spirit explained the rest to me. Spirits summoned by someone with Peverell blood can't lie. Not to the true bearer of the stone. There are no secrets in death, he said."
Barty's brows drew together, suspicious and intrigued in equal measure. "That's… that's very specific magic. Necromancy?"
Harry smiled grimly. "The Peverells had many gifts. Soul magic was one of Ignotus'. I suppose he had a great affinity for necromancy as well. If you wish to see it in action, you'll have to touch my skin."
Barty hurriedly put a hand on Harry's bare arm as he twisted the ring three times, murmuring softly under his breath, "Bellatrix Lestrange."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
And a figure shimmered into being. Tall, wild-haired, bloodied at the throat where Harry's own dagger had torn her life away.
Bellatrix looked exactly as she had the night she died—robes singed, wandless, mouth still stained with laughter and blood. Her eyes lit with hatred the moment they landed on Harry.
And then they found Barty.
"You traitorous little mongrel!" she shrieked. "I should have slit your throat when I had the chance! You belong to the Dark Lord, not this—mudblood—"
"Shut up," Harry said, his voice iron.
Her mouth snapped closed, but not by choice.
Barty flinched but held his ground.
Harry kept his voice even. "Tell me what curse you used on Sirius Black the night of the Department of Mysteries. The last spell you cast on him before he fell." Leaving no room for loopholes.
Bellatrix's jaw trembled. Her eyes burned. But the magic of the ring bound her. Her voice came, hoarse and strained, through gritted teeth.
"Κατάρα του Επιάλη."
Barty's research was right after all.
Bellatrix smirked as she saw his face fall. "It won't help you. You'll never break it. He'll rot in that pretty little dreamland. Forever."
Harry ignored her. "Tell me the counter-chant."
She snarled as her mouth opened against her will. She spat the chant in rapid Ancient Greek, the syllables laced with venom. Harry committed each word to memory, noting the exact words matched the scrolls.
"Now tell me the trigger word," he said quietly.
She screamed, but it didn't stop her from answering.
"καθαρόαιμα!" she spat.
Harry blinked as he translated it in his mind, and nearly snorted because that was the closest Greek word to Pureblood.
Of course it would be.
Bellatrix stood there, ghostly blood still dripping down her throat, panting as if the effort of speaking had cost her dearly. Her eyes were full of hate. But she said nothing else.
She couldn't.
Harry turned to Barty, who was staring at him with something between awe and horror.
"She really can't lie to you," he said quietly.
Harry nodded. "No."
They stood together in silence as Bellatrix slowly faded back into the mist of the dead, her form dispersing like smoke.
Harry let out a long breath.
"We can wake him," he whispered.
~
The laughter of children echoed in his ears as Harry apparated from the Keep back to Konoha.
He appeared just inside the Ryūjin compound gates. Harry paused there, his magic brushing out instinctively, catching on two very familiar threads of joy and mischief not too far away. Their laughter rang like bells, and Harry's chest tightened with the sudden, almost painful longing to join them.
But not yet.
So he turned away from his sons and made his way down into the village searching for Tsunade's chakra.
He tracked her easily enough.
Tsunade's signature was distinctive—strong and steady, threaded with enough power and familial magic to act like a thread between them. Harry followed the pull until he reached a tall, white building marked with the Konoha symbol and the crest of the hospital.
Harry approached the desk calmly, giving the woman at reception a polite smile. "Excuse me, is Tsunade-sama available? Could you tell her her cousin is here?"
The woman blinked, her mouth opening and closing. "You—You're… Ryūjin-sama? The one with dragons?"
He gave a short nod, already starting to regret this.
"Oh—of course! I—yes, I'll get someone to escort you to her office! Please wait a moment!"
Before he could say another word, she scrambled off, heels clacking against tile.
It wasn't long before a nervous young medic-nin—Kaede, her badge read—scurried into view and gestured for him to follow. She kept her distance as she led him through the hospital, barely breathing in his direction. When she finally stopped in front of Tsunade's office, she bowed so low it looked painful and her voice croaked as she wheezed out her words.
"Tsunade-sama will be with you shortly. Please wait here, Ryūjin-sama."
Harry murmured his thanks and stepped into the room.
It was warm, sunlight filtering in through the open windows. Books stacked in careful towers along the walls. The faint scent of sake and mint lingering in the air. Utterly Tsunade, really.
Tsunade arrived not long after, one brow raised.
"You're flaring your magic everywhere," she said instead of greeting, crossing her arms. "No wonder Kaede was half-dead walking you here."
Harry winced. "Ah, sorry. I forgot."
She rolled her eyes. "What's happened for you to let it out?"
He shrugged, sheepish, and began reining it in. Not his magic, precisely—just his aura, the invisible pressure it exerted on the world around him. Magic always felt more alive in the Keep, more present and he loved letting go of the restraints he placed on himself sometimes. Letting his magic and aura flow through him and the land without barriers.
"Better?" he asked.
"Barely," she muttered, though the edges of her mouth softened. "What brings you crawling into my domain, cousin?"
Harry flicked a silent spell at the door, locking and silencing it with a twist of his fingers, and gestured to the couch.
"I've told you about Sirius, havent I?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Your godfather? Aside from the funny stories you tell the kids, I don't know much. Other than he's in a coma."
He nodded slowly, sitting beside her. "I don't like talking about it because it's complicated. Still is."
And he told her everything.
The battle at the Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix's final spell. The curse that trapped Sirius in an endless, agonising sleep. How every attempt to wake him risked frying his nerves, his brain, his soul. How only the original caster's trigger could undo it. How they just found the trigger and could finally counter the curse.
Tsunade listened in silence; leg folded over her knee and a fist resting below her chin.
He didn't look at her until the end, when he said softly, "I want to lift the curse, but I need you to check his physical condition first. Especially his brain. I'm a good healer, but you're better. I know you don't owe me any—"
"You idiot," she interrupted, thwacking the back of his head. "You think I'd let you shoulder this alone? You think I don't owe you anything? You're family. Of course I'll help."
Harry smiled, relief loosening something in his chest.
"Thank you."
Tsunade clicked her tongue. "If your godfather is half the mutt you claim he is, and I catch him peeing on any wall like a dog, I swear on the Senju name he's getting neutered."
Harry barked a laugh, shoulders loosening. "Noted. I'll warn him. When are you free?"
She waved him off and stood. "Now. Shizune can cover for a few hours. You're lucky I haven't had time to drown in paperwork yet."
They walked toward the hospital exit, Tsunade tugging her coat on as they went. Harry hesitated before quietly said, "We'll have to apparate from the compound."
Tsunade groaned, already grimacing. "Ugh. That damn twist-in-your-gut travel—no genjutsu is as disorienting. Is there no other way?"
Harry bit the inside of his cheek, then nodded slowly. "There is another way… but you can't breathe a word of it."
Tsunade stopped walking. "Oh?"
He met her gaze seriously. "I'm trusting you with this. You tell another soul, I'll obliviate the memory myself. I don't say that lightly."
Tsunade stared at him for a moment, then softened. "Alright. You have my word, Hari. Whatever this is—I won't say a word."
Harry gave her a grateful nod. "Come on. It's this way."
He led her through the outer path of the Ryūjin compound, and into the mountain caverns that glowed faintly from the residual portal magic. He gestured for Tsunade to take his hand and stepped through.
Tsunade stepped through beside him, and the moment her foot hit the mossy stone of the mountain, she faltered.
"There's… nothing," she said slowly. "No chakra. It's like walking into a void."
Harry nodded. "Shikamaru felt the same. Said the longer he stayed, the more he felt its absence."
"But there's energy," Tsunade said thoughtfully. "It's not chakra—but I can feel it. Raw. Untouched. It feels like… my Yin seal. Not chakra, but something older. Denser. Is that magic?"
"Yes," Harry said softly. "You're feeling the land's magic, our ancestors magic."
She looked around, eyes wide.
"This place…" she whispered. "What is it?"
"A pocket dimension," Harry answered, leading her further. "Our ancestors built it—yours and mine. I inherited it as the Lord of the Peverell line. But it's always open to you Tsunade if you need a safe place."
Tsunade turned in place, watching the dragons fly overhead, flying in tight circles as they danced. Tsunade's eyes took in everything they could.
"Sage," she muttered. "It's beautiful."
They moved through the fields, Harry pointing out the greenhouses. House-elves paused their tasks to wave excitedly. Butterflies the size of dinner plates flitted by, and somewhere in the trees, a hippogriff screeched happily.
Fawkes and Hedwig dove through the sky together, and when Harry lifted his arm, Hedwig landed neatly and he pressed their foreheads together.
"This is Hedwig," he said fondly. "And that's Fawkes."
Fawkes circled once before landing on Tsunade's outstretched arm, staring into her eyes for a long, long moment. Then he trilled, a clear melodic song that vibrated through their bones like sunlight.
"Phoenixes are real," Tsunade murmured. "I thought they were just a legend."
"So were my dragons," Harry grinned.
When the castle finally came into view, she slowed. "Why didn't you just stay here, Hari? You have everything you need."
He sobered. "We wanted to see the world. And the longer we stayed here, the more uncomfortable Shikamaru became without chakra. Maybe as his magical core grows, he'll be able to handle it better—but for now, the village is safer. Maybe we can take some chakra infused plants and let them grow alongside the magic."
She hummed, seeming to understand.
Outside the main doors, Barty was waiting, hands behind his back.
"Lord Ryūjin," Barty said in perfect Japanese, bowing. "Welcome back. Lady Senju—it's an honour to meet my Lords cousin."
Harry sighed. "Barty, we've talked about this. You don't have to call me lord in front of everyone!"
Barty straightened with a little smirk. "It is proper etiquette to greet our guests formally, my lord."
He didn't care about proper etiquette when he swiped the shogi board off the table last time Shikamaru beat him, he thought.
Tsunade grinned, giving Barty a once-over. "He's a pretty one, isn't he? And you do like your men older, don't you cousin?"
Harry groaned. "Please don't start—"
She waggled her brows. "So tell me, cousin. Just how subservient is your steward? Have you tested that yet—in the bedroom?"
Barty flushed scarlet.
Harry choked. "Tsunade!"
"Oh don't 'Tsunade' me," she said gleefully. "Don't pretend you haven't thought about it. Have you kissed him yet?"
Barty looked like he wanted to disappear. "I'll… if you will follow me."
"Wait, Barty—!"
He was already walking briskly away.
Harry turned, flustered. "It wasn't—it didn't mean anything! I just got excited, okay?! When he told me the solution to Sirius' curse—I… I might've kissed him. Once. In excitement!"
Tsunade was cackling. "One little victory kiss and you're both blushing like virgins at a bathhouse. Kami, you two are hopeless. Shikaku will be heartbroken."
Harry groaned. "Please don't tell Shikaku."
"Why not?" she asked, fake-innocent. "Is there something he should be jealous about?"
"No! I mean—there's nothing to be jealous of! There's nothing going on!"
"Mmhmm." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Muttering about oblivious bottoms and idiots under her breath.
Harry trailed behind her as she strutted after Barty with the smugness of a gossip-loving aunt, and he cursed his luck. As much as he loved her… she was absolutely evil.
And now she was going to meet Sirius.
Merlin help them all.
~
The doors to Sirius' room creaked softly open as Harry led Tsunade inside. Barty lingered just behind them, his mask of formality slightly loosened, curiosity written plainly across his features. Embarrassment forgotten.
Harry moved forward, speaking softly as he approached the bed. "He's stable. The pendant—it's what's kept him alive, held him in place while we worked on healing his physical injuries. Without it… I don't think he'd have lasted another minute."
The blonde Senju crouched beside the bed, brown eyes locked on the silver-coated runestone resting just over Sirius' heart. "What do they all mean," she murmured, reaching out but hesitating a moment before her fingers hovered over the etched runes. "Is it tied to your magic? Or would it work with chakra?"
Harry nodded, a quiet pride blooming in his chest. "Partially. It's designed to pull from the wearer's ambient energy and anchor it in a kind of magical stasis loop, it activated using my magic though, so it's my own magic that's cycling through the runes mostly. It pauses all biological processes and damage in place. It's not just sleep exactly, it's like freezing a moment in time."
Tsunade's brows rose slowly. "Do you know what this would be worth on the battlefield?"
He winced. "It's not a weapon."
"I didn't say it was," she said mildly, then perked up with a grin. "But damn if it wouldn't be useful. Who invented this? Can you make more?"
Harry crossed his arms, mock-offended. "Me. I invented it. I worked the runes myself after weeks of research with Tazgira… my friend back home. And yes, I can make more. I'll get one made for you to test with your med-nin, but it's not a field tool. The stasis puts the person fully unconscious because it freezes everything. Awake but paralyzed isn't exactly conducive to healing."
She whistled low. "Still. You're going to cause riots with this. Imagine all the lives that could be saved if an injured ninja had one of these activated until a med-nin gets there."
He checked the pendant once more, brushing his fingers over the etched runes to verify they were still working. Then he stepped back, gesturing for her to begin.
"Be careful. I know your chakra won't interact with the magic directly, but just—don't force anything."
Tsunade huffed. "Please. I've got more finesse in one finger than most medics have in their whole body."
Her palms began to glow a gentle green, the chakra humming softly as she swept them across Sirius' chest first. "Vital organs are strong," she said, her tone all clinical now. "Signs of prolonged malnutrition but seems healed enough. Nothing life-threatening. His lungs look good. Heart's steady."
Then her hands moved up to Sirius' temple, hovering near his skull as her chakra drifted inward. Her expression shifted.
"Here," she murmured. "Nerve damage. Some fraying, likely from the curse itself and the pain responses. It's like… the paths in his brain got burnt through repeatedly."
Harry felt his heart thud. "Can you fix it?"
"I'm already doing it," she replied, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. "Coaxing them back gently. There's residual bruising too, you missed a few spots."
He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.
"Thanks."
This is what he brought her here for after all, to heal what he might have missed.
"Mm. He'll be fine. His body's healthy enough to wake." She sat back on her heels and turned her head. "There's nothing physical left keeping him under."
Barty had remained quiet, but now he stepped forward slightly. "Your chakra didn't interfere with the magical stasis?"
"No," Tsunade said thoughtfully. "It's like the chakra moves around it. Like oil on water. I could feel it, but I couldn't touch it."
Fascination lit Barty's expression, the previous formality now gone. "What kind of energy does it remind you of?"
She tilted her head then tapped the seal on her forehead. "Closest thing? Yin chakra. Like the kind I store in my seal."
Harry didn't speak. He was already unrolling the parchment with the counter curse written on it.
The silence that followed was heavy. His fingers brushed over the parchment, the Greek letters scrawled in Barty's neat, meticulous hand. His other hand rose and settled gently over Sirius' chest.
He closed his eyes, and his magic moved.
Words flowed from his lips, and he felt his core stretch outward, as the magic layered over Sirius' form, seeping past flesh and bone, reaching into the tethered place where the curse had lodged itself.
And as he spoke the final trigger word— καθαρόαιμα —the pendant pulsed once with light.
Then shattered.
Sirius let out a great, gasping choke of air, his whole body jolting as though he were pulled from a nightmare. His back arched briefly, then slumped back to the bed as he struggled to breathe.
Harry didn't even realise he was crying until his vision blurred. "Sirius—"
He launched forward, arms wrapping tightly around his godfather's chest.
"Hey, pup…" Sirius rasped weakly, his voice dry, hoarse, but full of warmth. Full of life.
Then Harry sobbed.
Because hhefinally had his godfather back, and he was never letting him go again.
Chapter End Notes