The engine made a wheezy sort of rattle, which Sirius claimed was the charm of the thing. Harry had his doubts. They were halfway down the M25, stuck behind a lorry that reeked of eggs and diesel, and the tape deck was playing Bowie on loop. Not that he minded Bowie. It was the volume Sirius kept flicking it to that was the issue.

“I think my ribs are vibrating.”

Sirius grinned at him from the driver’s seat. “That’s called bass, Harry. Revolutionary stuff.”

“I’m fairly sure I can feel the lyrics in my spleen.”

“Good. That’s how you know it’s working.”

Harry shook his head and sank lower into the passenger seat. They hit a bump. The glove box popped open and smacked Harry in the knee. Sirius didn’t even flinch.

Sirius had moved in just next door last summer. Bought Number Five. Petunia nearly swallowed her own tongue when he turned up with a leather jacket, a moving van, and three charmed trunks full of cursed books.

Since then, the neighbourhood had become… livable. Sort of. Sirius’s house was proper old. Still smelled of smoke, mould, and old dust, but he’d fixed the broken stairs, slapped a few wards over the porch, and convinced the neighbours he worked in antiques.

Harry had spent most of the summer there. Less shouting or Vernon shivering upon seeing him. More toast and dodgy music. And Sirius decided it was his duty to drive him to and from the station.

Now they were back on the road, Sirius driving carelessly, elbow out the window, hair whipping around as if he was in a music video nobody asked for, tapping the steering wheel. “Still can’t believe Old Man makes you go back there every summer.”

Harry shrugged. “You’ve seen it. It’s better now.”

Sirius snorted. “Bet they’d be even better if I showed up in that kitchen again.”

“You’d probably set the tablecloth on fire. Again.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “Once. One time.”

“You burnt the sink.”

Sirius raised a finger. “We agreed not to talk about the sink.”

They fell quiet for a minute. The road opened up, traffic thinned. A fox darted past ahead and vanished behind a wall. The song changed.

Harry tapped the edge of the window. “You reckon it’ll be bad this year?”

Sirius didn’t pretend not to understand.

“Depends on how bad you think.”

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered. “Worse than last time?”

They both knew what “last time” meant.

The tournament. The Cup. Barty. Voldemort.

Sirius blew out a breath through his nose. “Azkaban’s gone soft.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Like you could escape if they haven’t.”

Sirius shot him a look. “I could have anyway. I was just being polite.”

Harry gave him a flat stare. “Sure.”

“Oi, I was.”

“Watch the road.”

Sirius turned back to the windscreen as the car wheezed as it accelerated. Harry reached down to shove the glovebox shut again, muttering under his breath.

Sirius grinned and tapped the steering wheel. “Anyway. Back to your Azkaban slander. I could have escaped, years before I did.”

“Didn’t,” Harry said.

“Chose not to.”

“You’re telling me you sat in that cell for a laugh?”

“I was playing the long game.”

“You ate rats.”

“That’s called commitment. And practise.”

Harry leaned back against the seat and let the tape play. Bowie had looped to Heroes again, which felt slightly ironic given the current conversation.

Harry turned his head slightly. “You ever think about going back?”

Sirius blinked. “To Azkaban?”

“No,” Harry said dryly. “Home. Real home. That grim, old place Blacks lived.”

Sirius didn’t answer straight away. His fingers drummed once against the wheel.

“Not much left to go back to.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

Sirius shifted in his seat. “Reckon I’d rather build something new anyway. Maybe get a proper oven. A couch that doesn’t growl when you sit on it.”

“That couch’s haunted.”

“Comfortably haunted.”

Harry cracked a smile.

“Besides,” Sirius went on, “I’ve got you now. Your mess, your school politics, your cursed socks. Why’d I want to go anywhere else? All I need is a job.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, but didn’t push it.

The road curved right, down toward the city. Smoke curled from chimneys in the distance. Shop windows flickered. Somewhere, bells rang faintly, too far to place, but close enough to remind them both that summer was ending.

“Have you heard from him?” Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head. “We’re not exactly quill-pals, you know.”

Harry huffed and shifted in his seat. “I heard he left home.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on the road. “Did you now? Where’d that come from?”

Harry shrugged. “Twins heard from Lee, who heard from Zacharias, who heard from Montague, who apparently heard it from Vaisey-“

Sirius let out a snort. “Reliable lot.”

“-who got it from Tracey Davis, who apparently told Daphne, who-“

Sirius held up a hand. “Enough. That’s too many snakes for one sentence.”

Harry leaned his head back against the seat. “So it’s true?”

“Sort of. I heard things.” Sirius kept his eyes on the road. “Over the summer. A few whispers. Same ones from six different countries.”

“What kind?”

He paused. “Man and a dragon, walking through forests. Talking to things.”

Harry frowned. “What things?”

“Don’t know. But they weren’t people.”

The car made a coughing sort of hiccup as it slowed, inching toward the King’s Cross car park. Sirius flicked the indicator, even though no one was behind them.

“You think that was him?” Harry asked.

Sirius cut the engine. “You ever met anyone else who’d try having a conversation with squirrels, deer and fawns?”

Harry didn’t answer.

They got out of the car. Sirius popped the boot and started hauling out Harry’s trunk.

Platform 9¾ was already busy. Families bunched at the barrier, parents passing over last-minute scrolls and sandwiches. A seventh-year with a brass telescope strapped to his back nearly knocked over a third-year Hufflepuff in his hurry.

Sirius tossed the trunk onto a trolley and started pushing.

Harry blinked at him. “You’re walking me in?”

Sirius shrugged. “You want me to honk goodbye from the car?”

Harry followed, frowning. They passed through the barrier, out onto the platform. Steam curled from the train, voices echoing off the high ceiling. Somewhere near the front, Ginny was arguing with Ron about something to do with broom storage. Harry waved at them, indicating he was going in first. Ron nodded, turning back to shouting at Ginny. Fred and George were cheering both.

Sirius helped lift the trunk into the carriage, then passed Hedwig’s cage up after it. Harry climbed in, still expecting Sirius to wave him off from the step.

Instead, Sirius stepped in right after him and shut the door.

Harry stared. “You’re getting on?”

Sirius gave him a wide grin. “What, you thought I came all this way to give parenting advice through a window?”

“But-“

“Relax,” Sirius said, already turning toward the corridor.

Harry followed him, still frowning.

“Why are you actually coming?” he asked. “Because of the Death Eaters?”

Sirius didn’t answer straight away. They passed a pair of third-years trying to wrestle a cage full of puffskeins. One of them sneezed glitter.

Sirius gave the cage a nod. “That one’s leaking.”

Harry waited.

They reached an empty compartment near the back. Sirius opened the door, gestured for Harry to go in first.

“Honestly?” he said, stepping in after him. “No. I’m not coming because of the Death Eaters.”

“Then?”

Sirius grinned. “Why of course, because I’m your new Defence professor.”

Harry froze mid-sit.

“What.”

Sirius tilted his head, grin widening. “Surprise.”

“No, no, hang on… what?” Harry stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Defence professor? At Hogwarts?”

“Mm-hm.” Sirius flopped into the seat across from him and stretched out like he was on his own bloody sofa. “You’re looking at Professor Black. Professor Sirius Orion Black, if you’re feeling formal.”

Harry’s mouth worked for a second before sound came out. “Since when?”

“Since Dumbledore came begging last week. Gave me the usual speech, ‘dangerous year ahead, vital the students have someone reliable in the position, blah blah blah.'” Sirius waved a hand. “Flattered, obviously. Had to say yes. Would’ve been rude not to.”

“You’re not even qualified.”

Sirius shot him a look. “Rude.”

“I mean…”

“I’ve fought Death Eaters. Escaped Azkaban. Lived with a werewolf. I’m probably the most qualified Defence professor they’ve had in decades.”

Harry groaned and dragged his hands down his face. “You’re going to get fired by November.”

“Unlikely. I’ve already got tenure.”

“You’ve been hired for five minutes.”

“And in those five minutes, I’ve revolutionised the department.”

Harry stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“I am Sirius.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Harry made a sound like he was dying.

Sirius leaned back, propped one foot on the seat beside him. “You’ll thank me when we start practicals. No more throwing cushions around a classroom and calling it a duel. We’re going outside. Real training. Field stuff. You’ll love it.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“You should. They gave me an office and everything. Bit dusty, mind you. Found a jar labelled ‘Curse Beetle Teeth – Do Not Eat’ on the shelf. Left it where it was. Didn’t want to risk it.”

Harry gave him a look. “What are you actually going to teach?”

“Oh, all sorts. Jinx deflection, counter-hex chains, maybe some light forbidden arts…”

“You can’t teach forbidden arts.”

“I said light forbidden arts. Softcore duelling. Nothing that’ll get me banned. Again.”

Harry slumped back in the seat. “This is going to be chaos.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I’ll take it anyway.”

The train gave a lurch, steam hissing past the windows. Voices echoed outside as students ran up and down the corridor. A girl shouted something about forgetting her wand. Someone else was singing the Slytherin chant off-key.

Sirius tapped his foot to the rhythm.

Harry sat in silence for a bit. Then, cautiously, “Does Professor R. know?”

“Probably.”

Harry blinked. “Probably?”

“Technically,” Sirius said, “I don’t start until tomorrow. So if I get kicked off the train for throwing a Slytherin prefect out a window, it won’t count against my record.”

Harry stared at him.

“Relax,” Sirius said, spreading his arms wide. “It’ll be fine.”

The train jolted into motion. Smoke drifted past the glass.

Sirius grinned.

Harry buried his face in his hands.

This year was going to be insane.

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