The Things I Do for My Godson

The things I do for my Godson

'Poor old snuffles', said Ron, breathing deeply. 'He must really like you, Harry.... Imagine having to live off rats.'

- Chapter 27, GoF

'The things I do for my godson,' I sigh. Holed up in a cave, living off rats with only a smelly old hippogriff for company and to top it all, the only time I get out in the open is by transforming into a great black Newfoundland cross.

I am Sirius Black, the most notorious wizard next to old Voldie himself. Voldemort has his share of followers. As for me, though a murderer (falsely accused!) on the run, I am still brutally handsome with nobody but Buckbeak to appreciate it. At least I am near Hogwarts. Near to Harry.

When I think about Harry, I am amazed at the rush of warmth that fills me. I regret not being there for him all these years, but am happy that Harry has just accepted me for what I am, and that those years of separation never mattered. I sometimes wonder if I think of Harry as a "James substitute" but then other than our momentous meeting last year, we've only been corresponding through owl post. Of course when I popped into the fire in the Gryffindor common room the other night, I could talk to him face to face, and finally today, I will be getting to meet him.

Poor kid, what a lot he has been through this tournament to top it all. Ron did sound like a right enough git for being jealous of Harry's entry into the tournament. But it looks like they have made up. Two tasks under his belt successfully! Way to go kid!

I'd asked the kids to bring me some food as consumed by humans. FOOD! CHICKEN! After all, there was only so much of rats that I could tolerate.

They should be on their way to Hogsmeade now. I transform into Padfoot and pick my way down the slope. While waiting for them, I scrounge for newspapers and whatever magazines I can lay my hands, err, paws on.

I think of the different ways that I will greet my chicken face-to-face. Did I just say chicken? I meant my godson, of course.

'My Godson!' Stupid! He is obviously my Godson. It is like calling Professor Dumbledore as 'Headmaster' all the time.

'My Son!' Oops! Serious paternity issues involved. James' son is a son to Moony and me too, but do I know him well enough to address him as a 'Son'? And will Harry feel comfortable with me after thinking me as the murderer of his parents for the better part of last year?

And by the way, when did I start this introspection bit? Eeyuch! I am even using words like 'introspection' too. Mention Moony, and I start thinking like him.

Where was I, oh... 'Mate!' I think I should not confuse him with James.

'Harry!' Too formal. What the heck, that's his name.

No more time to think. I see the kids approaching, and I feel proud about them. Despite their youth, they show exemplary bravery and really stand by each other.

'Hello Sirius!' said Harry, as he comes near. Appetizing smells arise from Harry's bag. I smell chicken. CHICKEN! I lead them to the cave in the hillside overlooking Hogsmeade, showing them up the stony path. In my eagerness, it is easy for me to run ahead. I told myself that the eagerness was attributed to seeing my godson again, though the voice of reason, which always spoke to me in Moony's voice, told me that the chicken was an equally important motive. Being with chicken and munching Harry or is it, being with Harry and munching chicken... whatever... what Bliss!

In the cave, I transform into my humanself while the trio reacquaint with Buckbeak. I saw Harry look appraisingly at me and I think of the various ways I wanted to address him. I open my mouth to drop the newspapers and with a heart full of love and an unknown emotion choking my voice, say the first word to my godson, 'Chicken!'

I take the bundle of food Harry gives me and happily gnaw a chicken leg. I tell them that I have been living off rats mostly and the trio look aghast.

To lighten their mood, I invent some names for their benefit, Frenchi-fying and fancy-fying my fare.

'Let's see, I start off with a light aperitif of Rodent farcis au Chevre, though I don't think that it was goat cheese; not even milk, mostly some other goat liquid. I move on to Rat Bouillabaisse with some Quiche au Rattus, and finally some ice-cold Rat Mousse. And of course, all washed down with some wine stolen from the Hogs Head. Why are you turning green? Grossed you out, eh?'

Though I explain my rat diet in light-hearted terms, I can see the anxiety in Harry's face. I grin at him but he returns my smile half-heartedly. I tell him I'm there to fulfill my duty as his godfather.

In a more serious tone I tell him that I am getting worried and want to be close by.

The trio fills me in on the happenings at school as I continue with the chicken, tossing the bones to Buckbeak. After berating Crouch, Snape and Karkaroff, we turn to other matters. Harry recounts his two tasks. I tell him that his fancy bit of flying to retrieve the egg from the dragon, should have been a real treat for the eye.

'Yeah', says Ron, 'Krum never even thought of it! He, being the Bulgarian seeker and all that!'

Hermione snorts back laughter.

Harry says, 'I think the Firebolt is one of the best gifts I have ever received. Thank you Sirius.'

My eyes cloud over when I think of what a loving family he lost all those years back. All because of a wrong judgement call on my part.

'Hey Sirius,' interrupts Ron. 'Hagrid said that you had a flying bike. How cool is that? Harry and I have flown a car, but a flying bike should be great!

'Flown a car?' I ask, intrigued.

They recount their adventures with the flying car two years back and how in the battle with the acromantula, the car rescued them.

'I still get nightmares when I think about those spiders,' shudders Ron. 'My boggart is a giant spider!'

With my trademark bark of laughter I comment, 'That should have been a tale worthy of the Marauders! Glad to see that you are keeping up the tradition!'

The trio smile happily while Hermione adds, 'We've, umm, broken a lot of school rules, but we have also helped the school a lot, you know.'

'Aw, sod off Hermione!' cries Ron, 'You enjoyed our adventures as much as we did!'

Harry laughs at his friends' argument and I understand that Hermione plays Moony in this group, ever the cautious one!

Harry jokes that it was harder to get a date to the Yule Ball than attempting the tasks.

'What?' I scream. 'You couldn't get a date for the ball? I thought the girls would be swarming over you, the Triwizard champion and all that. What would James have thought?

'What?' says Harry.

'What about you, Hermione?' I tease. 'According to Witch Weekly, are you toying with Harry's affections?'

'Sirius, Harry is my friend and we are not romantically inclined,' says Hermione flustered.

'Sirius, don't tell me that you have been reading that scurrilous scandal sheet,' says Ron.

'Just kidding you, Hermione. And don't you dare call it a scandal sheet, Ron. It helps me keep in touch with my fans.'

'What?' cry all three.

'You know, I still get voted in 'the top 10 sexy wizards' poll conducted by Witch Weekly. And the amount of fans who believe that I am just a poor mis-understood man... nice to know you are wanted,' I say, giving them a sly wink.

'Sirius, earlier you said about James. Why?' Harry asks.

'James and I were the height of cool.' I sigh. 'The Marauders were the most sought after in school. But as Moony was the serious type who preferred books to girls and Peter was ever the faithful, insipid side-kick, between James and me, we had all the girls in school tied up. Of course, James was more inclined to pursue a particular red-headed beauty, but that didn't stop other girls from trying to get him.'

'What about you?' asks Ron.

'Me? What to do? With James becoming a one-girl man, there was only so much of me I could spread around. Too many commitments, so difficult to juggle dates, put in quality snogging time by the hour in different broom cabinets. Quite taxing!' I sigh in mock vexation.

I take in the looks on the faces of the trio. Hermione is trying to hide a grin, Ron is staring at me open-mouthed and Harry is slightly red and embarrassed.

'I say Harry! You have never snogged anybody yet have you? At your age, I had snogged half the girls in my year, at least the good-looking ones.'

Hermione starts quivering with controlled laughter and hides her face hastily behind a hankie.

Ron asks amazed, 'Even Slytherins?'

'Of course!' I reply, 'beauty does not distinguish between houses. You know, Dumbledore is always on about unity between the houses. I was just doing my share.'

Hermione snorts and turns it into a cough.

Harry is getting hotter under the collar. I see his reddening face and say, 'Harry, mate, I think one of these days, we should have a man-to-man talk about the birds and the bees. As your godfather, I feel duty-bound to educate you in the ways of the world.'

Harry looks stunned.

'You know,' I say with a wink, 'poor Lils will be turning over in her grave for that remark. She was convinced by Moony's argument that as your Godfather, I would be a bad influence on you.'

'Umm,' says Harry and desperate to change the topic asks me if I am finding it difficult to stir out of the cave only in my animagus form.

I sigh and say, 'There are only so much of rats that I could eat. Each time I do, I try to imagine it is Peter that I am scrunching up.'

Ron baulks at the mention of his old pet. Harry and Hermione brood over last year's incident.

To break up the somber mood, I joke, 'Of course, being a lovable stray has its advantage. The people in the village accept me and Betsy Boo.., I mean, Madam Rosmerta....'

'Betsy Boo?' begins Harry. 'Why ...?' His query is cut short by Ron.

'What about Madam Rosmerta?' asks Ron quickly, blushing a little.

Grateful for the diversion from the nickname, I reply, 'Well, she likes dogs, and pets me whenever I stop by the Three Broomsticks.' I watch Ron and wonder about one more generation of Hogswarts students who seemed to be under Madam Rosmerta's spell.

Ron asks in a wistful voice, 'Say, Sirius, is it difficult to become an animagus?'

Ron's face was priceless. One look and Hermione turns her face away and bites her inside cheek; Harry is shaking with silent laughter.

Ron, totally unaware of the chaos he'd caused, continues, 'You know, maybe something smaller,' with a faraway look in his eyes, gazing in the direction of Hogsmeade.

'How about a spider?' says Hermione bitingly, knowing Ron's aversion to spiders. 'Maybe you can hang in a corner above the bar at the Three Broomsticks.'

'Is it possible?' Ron asks me. By now the cave was utter bedlam: Harry was rolling about on the floor; Hermione was choking over a hastily stuffed handkerchief in her mouth and I ...

I was trying to suppress my laughter and also act like a responsible adult and failing to do both. I like these kids, they are real fun and cool. But I am unsure whether to treat them as mates or act the adult out here. Moony get out of my conscience! Ok! Ok! I will act the adult.

To break up the laughter I ask, 'What's the time?'

They realize that they have to get back. I accompany them as Padfoot, up to Hogsmeade and watch them set off towards the school, Ron glancing back at the Three Broomsticks all the while.

I take a short cut and reach the fringes of the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds just in time to hear Ron's clear voice carry across the grounds:

'Poor old snuffles,' says Ron, breathing deeply. 'He must really like you, Harry.... Imagine having to live off rats.'

I realize the truth of that statement. With James gone, it is now up to me to play the role of parent. All of a sudden I feel very grown-up and responsible. Even Moony would not be able to fault me. Crap! At this rate I will be sprouting wings and playing a harp! I really do care for my godson, so, what are a few rats here and there, for breakfast, lunch and dinner?

As I make my way to the cave, from the edge of Hogsmeade, I glimpse Rosmerta in her garden. Hey! I don't waste such opportunities! Time for some playful knock-around games with the closest thing I have to a girlfriend, Madam Rosmerta. Cross-species consorting? Sign of desperate times! Maybe this time around, I can see the frillies she wears under her skirts.

What if I am a stray and have to live off rats? Being near Harry is worth the trouble. Of course, occasions when I could thrust a cold nose down Rosmerta's bosom is a fringe benefit. Maybe, there is more to this 'lovable stray' thing then I thought. Harry is safe at school right now. So, let me indulge myself.

I run into the glorious sunset over Hogsmeade: Betsy Boobs, here I come!

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