"Meeting at the Bookshop"
Sirius took a deep breath. His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped into the bookstore.
He wanted to see Harry. He had dreamed of this moment over and over in Azkaban, clinging to it like a lighthouse in the darkness. But before he could even take a step toward his godson, something stopped him. A feeling. Instincts he hadn't lost despite the years. He felt a gaze burning into his back. He turned immediately.
And there she was.
From behind the counter, Wanda was watching him with an intensity that could almost be felt in the air. Her eyes, green like a memory, studied him with the dangerous calm of someone who had protected Harry with tooth, nail... and magic he barely understood. Sirius remembered her instantly, though he had only seen her once, long ago. Yet now... her presence dominated everything.
He approached her.
"Hi... Thank you... thank you for everything you've done. The Potters told me everything," he said, his voice heavy with restrained emotion. "I did the psychological evaluations… like they said you wanted. So I could see Harry. So I could be near him."
He looked at her with sincerity. With regret. With a pain he hadn't known how to name until now. The woman before him wasn't just his godson's mother. She was the one who had raised him, who had loved him, who had been there for every moment Sirius Black had missed. Because of his own stupidity. Because of his absence.
Luckily, according to Fleamont and Euphemia, Wanda had taken excellent care of Harry. So much so, they had named her heir to the Potter family's estate while Harry remained a child.
Wanda didn't answer immediately. She looked at him as if she could see every corner of his soul, every shadow of guilt, every regret and every wound. Her eyes were steady. Unmoving. Not filled with hatred, but not with compassion either. Just a mother assessing whether the man before her deserved to be near her son.
Even Lockhart couldn't get too close without Wanda giving him a look that could reduce him to something reality itself wouldn't tolerate.
Finally, she spoke:
"Fine. I'll be watching you."
And she turned away.
"Harry, come here a moment," she called, gently but firmly.
Harry, who had been looking at books with Hermione at one of the tables, lifted his head and walked over calmly. His green eyesidentical to Lily'srested first on his mother, with quiet ease… and then on Sirius, with a slight frown.
"What is it, Mum?"
"This is Sirius Black. Your godfather. Your father's best friend. The man your grandparents told you about."
Harry looked at him carefully. He seemed to be evaluating whether this well-dressed, slightly nervous man could truly be who he claimed to be.
"Sirius Black?" he asked.
His eyes showed no emotion. Just curiosity.
"I see. Nice to meet you."
He extended his hand with perfect manners.
And Sirius… froze.
In truth, he had idealized this moment in his mind. He had expected Harry to hug him, to shout his name, to say how much he had wanted to meet him.
But all he got was a polite greeting. Courteous.
"Ahem… I brought you a gift, Harry," he said awkwardly, digging into his bag. He pulled out a child-sized broomstick, nearly identical to the one he had once given Harry as a baby. The one Harry had used to destroy several vases at the Potters' homeearning Sirius a lovingly scolding Lily.
"Eh… you didn't have to," Harry replied softly. "I already have one. Mum bought it for me."
"Oh… I see." Sirius smiled uncomfortably. "W-Would you like to hear some stories about your parents?"
Harry looked at him with more interest this time. He nodded.
"Sure."
Sirius exhaled in relief. He followed Harry to the couch where the boy had been reading and sat beside him. Hermione stayed close, watching everything closely.
Harry listenednot with childish excitement, but with caution. As if taking notes. As if every word Sirius said needed to be weighed, measured, evaluated. He wasn't listening with an open heart… but with the guarded walls of someone who had learned too early that not all adults stayed.
Hermione, for her part, had her brow furrowed. She didn't like the stories that started to emerge about Sirius and James picking on other students. Sirius noticed and quickly shifted gears.
"Your mother… was brilliant. Smart, proud, competitive. She was always arguing with Lupin for the top spot in class. We all thought she should've been in Ravenclaw, but when the war started… she proved the fierceness of a true Gryffindor."
Sirius's voice changed. It became warm. Almost reverent.
"They faced the Dark Lord and lived. Not many can say that. Once, to save your father, she fought ten Death Eaters. Took down two instantly, grabbed your wounded dad, and escaped with him. She was… magnificent. Powerful. Clever."
He paused. Smiled, nostalgic.
"We used to tease James, saying he'd be lost without her. But thanks to her, he changed. They both did. They were like… like a fairy tale, you know? Beauty and the Beast. Her love made him better."
Sirius lowered his gaze.
"He was the only one of us who found a place where he truly belonged."
And he fell silent.
From behind the counter, Wanda listened. There weren't many customers. But that didn't mean she let her guard down. Still, for the first time in a long time, her expression shifted slightly.
Not to one of trust.
But one of consideration.
Perhapsjust perhapsSirius Black still had a place in his godson's life.
The story flowed with quiet laughter and anecdotes tinged with nostalgia, until a deep voice, dripping with contempt, cut through the air like a blade.
"Well... it seems the rumors on the street are true. Sirius Black has been released from Azkaban."
The voice came from the entrance of the bookstore, unmistakable. Its owner stood tall, his black robes billowing like they were part of the shadows themselves. His eyes locked onto Sirius with a mix of resentment and bitterness that had clearly festered for years.
Sirius turned slowly, his words falling silent, and a barely contained grimace of irritation appeared on his face.
"Greasy hair, same sour face, and that gloomy robe you haven't changed in twenty years. A real pleasure to see you again, Snivellus," Sirius spat, a half-smile full of venom curling on his lips.
Snape raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening further. "Still more presentable than someone who spent years as the Dementors' favorite toy. I'm surprised you can still speak coherently, Black."
The air between them seemed to tighten. Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances as Sirius clenched his fists for a moment before responding.
"And you? Still hiding behind your potions and petty insults? Though I suppose that's all that's left when the only love you ever had chose the person you hated most."
Snape didn't answer immediately. His gaze, sharp and poisonous, suddenly flicked to Harry, and for a moment, his eyes widened in surprise. He looked at him with unsettling intensity, as if seeing a ghost… or something worse: an impossible blend of James and Lily.
But before he could say a word, an invisible pressure descended on him. A sharp, focused stare had struck him from the side. A seasoned wizard used to danger, he turned immediatelyand found himself face-to-face with a woman of commanding beauty and emerald green eyes.
Wanda.
There was something about her that unsettled him. Maybe it was her calm, authoritative posture, or that unmasked spark of power that seemed to ripple around her. But what truly made him falter was that, for a split second… he swore he saw Lily. Not physically, but in something deeper: in her fierce protectiveness, the clarity of her gaze, and that unconditional love for the boy behind her.
"If you came to buy something, pick a book. If you came to argue with that man, I suggest you do it outside. But if you came to cause trouble, I'll have to ask you to leave right now," Wanda said, her voice low and firm, edged with the cold sharpness of steel.
Snape frowned, but didn't reply. Instead, he pulled a parchment from his robes with a brusque motion and dropped it on the counter with a sharp smack.
Wanda glanced down for a few seconds, read it quickly, then moved a single finger.
A whisper of power swept through the bookstore, and suddenly dozenshundredsof books flew from the shelves. They soared with mathematical precision and stacked themselves into a perfectly ordered mountain on the counter. It was so impressive even Hermione's eyes widened.
"That'll be 100 galleons," Wanda said, as if nothing had happened.
Snape watched her for a few more seconds. A silent battle crossed his expressiondisdain, discomfort… and something akin to respect.
Without a word, he placed a pouch filled with gold on the counter, cast one last icy look at Siriusa look that spoke of old wounds, of enmities time hadn't healedand then his eyes locked onto Harry once more.
Harry held his gaze calmly. There was no fear in him. Just observation.
Snape finally turned on his heel and left, his black robes vanishing like a shadow beyond the door.
Silence settled over the room for a moment.
Harry was the one who broke it.
"Was that the one from the Hogwarts stories?" he asked suddenly, turning to Sirius.
The man blinked, puzzled. "How did you know?"
"His eyes," Harry replied quietly, almost to himself.
"Yeah. That was Snape."
...
The Next Chapter: A Glimpse of the Future