Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Forty

Ron stormed out of the room, muttering about rubbish and frilly dress robes, leaving Harry and I staring after him.

"Well, okay, then," I said dryly, picking up his weird dress robes and folding them.

"I've noticed something," Harry said. "You don't call Sirius 'Dad.' "

"Oh," I said, putting the frilly mess into Ron's trunk and pressing it down to make room for the pile of normal robes Ron still had to pack. "I guess you're right."

I figured it was probably time I started calling Sirius dad. It just felt weird, though.

"You know you can trust him, right?" Harry said. "You're good at knowing."

"I do trust him," I said. "Um. I guess it's just... weird?" I didn't know what to say, so I started to let my mouth run. "I mean, I always thought my dad was this blond-haired, blue-eyed guy who lives in Manhattan and barely knows I exist. Then I find out he's actually an escaped convict who allegedly killed thirteen people, Confunded my mom, and betrayed your parents. Then I find out, he's not guilty, he's actually innocent, and I can't even live with him because his stupid friend is literally a rat and if we can't prove he's alive, then Sirius will never be free. And it's stupid, because why can't they just give him Veritaserum? Then he won't have any choice but to tell the truth, and they'll know he's being truthful and that he's innocent, and then—"

"Ash!" Harry grabbed my wrists. "Calm down."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"I'm just worried about him, y'know?"

"I know. Me, too." Harry sighed. "I was really excited that night, you know. I actually thought we were going to get to live with him. I was going to be able to leave the Dursleys and stay with him in his... his house? Does he have a house?"

"I think so," I said. "I mean, the Blacks were pretty high in the pureblood ranks, weren't they? I think Grandma'am was friends with Sirius' mom. Her name was Walburga."

Harry tried and failed to stifle a laugh, causing me to grin.

"I know, right?" I laughed. "Who names their kid Walburga?" I made my voice all stuffy and posh like Grandma'am's. "Walburga, dear, how do you do? I heard strange names run in the family."

Harry laughed, also speaking in a posh voice. "It is quite serious, my dear Walburger. No, not Sirius your son, though I suppose we should discuss his name, too, shouldn't we?"

"Walburga, I rah-ther like that dress you're wearing," I drawled, trying not to laugh at Harry saying Walburger. "It matches your name. Ah-hah-hah."

"Oh, yes, Walbuggy, I am quite enjoying this party."

I was certain he was mispronouncing the name on purpose now. "Why, Walburga, I think everyone is looking at you tonight. It's because your hair resembles an upside-down Category Five hurricane."

"I'm not drunk, Walla-bunga," Harry slurred like a drunk. "I'm enlightened."

"Walla-bunga," I wheezed, breaking character. Harry and I burst out laughing. I tried to sit down on Ron's trunk but forgot that it was still open. I nearly sank to the bottom, bending in half, unable to escape from the trunk because my knees were pinned against my chest. "Oh, gods. Help?"

With barely curbed laughter, Harry grabbed both my hands and tugged me out of the trunk. He pulled a little too hard, causing me to knock into him, which caused him to fall backwards onto Ron's bed, which caused me to fall on top of him.

I didn't realize how close we were until Harry's face came into focus. His emerald-green eyes were wide with shock, and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. I noticed his lightning-shaped scar had grown fainter since third year.