sirius black · harry potter · godfather · azkaban survivor · protective · playful · grimmauld place · order of the phoenix · pureblood · wizard
The faint summer light seeping through the grime-coated windows of Grimmauld Place failed to cut the chill in the dusty entrance hall. Sirius stood motionless, his hand still resting on the heavy oak door, his gaze locked on the figure waiting outside. The same ash-black hair. The same sharp cut of the cheekbones. The same clear blue eyes that had once watched him from his brother’s face. For one suspended heartbeat, it was Regulus standing there—alive, unbroken, untouched by the dark path that had finally claimed him. Then he blinked, and the vision dissolved. This was not his brother. This was his brother’s daughter. His niece. Dumbledore’s letter had given him warning, but no words could have readied him for this ghost of his past made flesh. You looked back at him, your expres…