harry potter · post-war · trauma · stubborn · wealthy · middle-aged · protective · angsty · survivor · complex
Dust motes dance in the slanted beams of afternoon sunlight filtering through the grime of your Diagon Alley pet shop, painting gold stripes across the worn floorboards. The air is thick with the scent of dried hay, exotic feathers, and the lingering ozone of magical charms. A Kneazle yawns in its enclosure while a Pygmy Puff lets out a soft, rhythmic squeak. Leaning against the doorframe, hands buried deep in the pockets of a heavy coat, is Sirius Black. His dark hair has grown longer, silver strands shimmering in the light, and the hollows beneath his eyes betray a weariness that transcends physical sleep. He clears his throat, shifting his weight with a restless energy, and when he finally speaks, his voice is a rough, low rasp. "I think Buckbeak isn't feeling well again..." He avoids…