Chapter 69: 3

The Story of How the Black Dog Found the Girl

—Just one glance.

The black dog, his ribs and leg bones jutting out, stood and walked by sheer willpower alone. Occasionally avoided by Muggles—humans—as if they were looking at filthy trash, he sifted through his memories and a mind that, while perhaps paralyzed, had not decayed, all to search for that house.

I'm sure—Lily had said it was Privet Drive. That was where the Muggle house her sister married into was located. James's treasures were left there.

They must be overflowing with affection. Both Harry and Maria had been radiantly adorable children since they were babies. Surely—surely—their bodies and souls had been nourished by love—

The black dog could not believe the sight before his eyes. What was with those wrists? Those hollowed cheeks? Those bleak eyes, so unlike a child's?

The green eyes inherited from Lily were blazing with anger. The hazel eyes inherited from James were completely exhausted. Did a thirteen-year-old child... have eyes like that?

Weren't they loved? Weren't they kept away from the magical world to protect their bodies and souls?

Even though they were children who should be loved. Even though they were treasures that should be protected from everything. —And James and Lily, who could give them that more than anyone else, were no longer here.

Why, how could this be? The black dog stood frozen.

What was I doing it all for?

"Maria?"

When the twin boy, who looked nothing like her, called out to his other half inquiringly, the black dog realized the girl was looking at him.

The black dog tucked his tail, flattened his ears, and cowered pitifully. The girl's eyes evoked unbearably nostalgic memories, stirring up a heart that had been continuously devoured by Dementors.

—What is it, Padfoot? You've got the eyes of an abandoned dog. Ah, I guess you can turn into a dog, so it's not wrong. If you're free, could you play with Harry? He's your godson, right? You've been a father to these kids since that day, too, you know.

He would laugh. His voice. Mixing in jokes. Saying you had become a parent. And yet, when he realized Harry was particularly attached to me, he would childishly wield his authority as the biological parent. Such an ordinary, everyday life. —It had been the symbol of happiness.

The girl's eyes were—indeed, cruel. Trying to bring his heart back to life this much. Awakening the warmth he had cast aside so he wouldn't freeze completely.

—Would I be forgiven? If I approached, just a little, just a tiny bit.

If I stayed by their side a little longer to watch the children—your son, your daughter.

Would you forgive me, who couldn't protect anything, for touching your treasures... James?

The black dog timidly revealed himself. The green eyes widened in astonishment and fear, and the hazel eyes—narrowed as if looking at something nostalgically beloved.

They look exactly like them, the black dog couldn't help but think.

"Good evening. —Are you lost, too?"

At the girl's question, which sounded almost like child's play, the black dog suddenly felt everything fall into place.

I see—I've been lost all along.

Astounded by the unbelievable information that Harry could speak to snakes (Parseltongue), he felt his body temperature returning as he listened to the twins' lighthearted conversation above his head. Managing to get his paws on some human-seasoned chicken for the first time in a while likely played a big part in it, too.

Judging from the children's conversation, it seemed the daughter, Maria, was the particularly tomboyish one who took after James. The sheer intensity with which Harry scolded Maria midway through was exactly like Lily scolding James, making the black dog instinctively prick up his ears in surprise.

Good heavens. They were a miniature Potter couple with completely reversed genders. He had heard that daughters resemble their fathers and sons their mothers, but to think it was to this extent.

Stroked by the unreserved Maria and the seemingly thoughtful Harry, the black dog savored a fleeting moment of happiness. Along with the chicken.

"This will be your food. We'll be fine. Our parents left us a surprising amount of money. I don't even know if the two of us can use it all up."

Leaving behind a bag stuffed with what looked like food, Maria—who was acting more manly than the boy, Harry—showed such mercy to a pitiful stray dog that the corners of his eyes grew hot again.

I'm sure they did, I'm sure they did. James and Lily left you everything they possibly could. Praying only for your happiness. ...And yet. Ah.

The girl, having given the black dog a parting kiss, summoned the Knight Bus. The black dog watched over the two children as they boarded.

His desire, which was supposed to be just a little, swelled boundlessly into a comfortable love. Now, towards these grown children—though even the boy, Harry, was far too small for a thirteen-year-old. Good grief, unbelievable!—his affection made this second parting agonizing, as if his body were being torn apart.

He had a plan to sneak into Hogwarts, prepared to die to exact his revenge—but when he did, he would probably never appear before these children again.

The black dog's resolve was entirely self-righteous and painful. The black dog of this time never could have imagined that the very same Maria would later cry and beg him, "Forget about that, just stay by my side."

Devouring the long-lasting canned and dried goods, and the Honeydukes sweets that were a testament to his youth, the black dog cried just a little.

Ah, my friend, my brother, Prongs—I've received the kiss from your daughter that you had made your goal, but please don't hold a grudge against me.

The black dog was astounded by the girl who appeared alongside his dear collaborator—rather, his feline collaborator.

"Hello, Mr. Lost Black Dog. I brought some chicken, you'll eat it, right?"

The girl, as if knowing no caution, placed a plate and food she had seemingly swiped from the Great Hall next to the black dog. Gently scooping up the cat, who was twitching its squashed face with interest, she chided, "You can't eat this, you know."

The black dog couldn't understand it. Had this cat brought her here? He was sure he had made it clear that his presence was to be kept a secret.

"It's okay, no one knows about you."

As if answering the black dog's confusion, the girl announced while stuffing her cheeks with a sandwich.

"Except for me and Crookshanks. Oh, Crookshanks is this boy here. He's a smart and wonderful cat, isn't he?"

Urged on by the girl, who was proudly stroking Crookshanks and asking if he wasn't going to eat, the black dog hesitantly pressed his nose to the plate. ...Wait, there are onions in this. It seemed this child didn't know that onions were dangerous for dogs and cats.

The girl continued talking merrily, even without a reply. It was as if she knew the black dog understood her words. The way she laughed, saying she heard it from Crookshanks, was exactly like James at the height of his mischief-making days. The black dog felt his heart leap, while at the same time wanting to hold his head in despair at James's genes. His state of mind was entirely that of a parent with a mischievous brat.

If it were just the eyes, it would be one thing, but what on earth have you passed on to your daughter, Prongs? Looking at her, she's clearly got the face of someone who's already pulled off plenty of sneaking out of the castle at night to wander around. Sneaking into Hogsmeade without permission, or secretly tailing a suspicious best friend to uncover their secrets—

The black dog stifled his relaxing mouth by plunging it into the mashed potatoes. Every time he found traces of his best friend in the girl, he felt like jumping up for joy. When she talked about Harry winning the Seeker position, his whiskers finally twitched with excitement.

"So, um, what was I saying? ...Ah, right. I'm lonely with no one to talk to. Ron is keeping Harry company, Hermione is busy studying, Cedric is in another house so I can't meet him whenever I aim to, and Draco is—"

Astonished by the sheer number of boys' names tumbling out of the girl's mouth, the black dog felt a complex mix of relief—realizing she had inherited this from Lily, who was incredibly popular (and whom James had constantly kept other boys away from)—and rubbed his nose against the girl's hand like a dog.

Just dump any man who makes you feel lonely. With Lily's looks, you'll have your pick of the bunch. The black dog's frame of mind was exactly that of a father eager to weed out the scoundrels trying to lay a hand on his daughter.

—Never once imagining that the number one "man making her lonely" was himself, the black dog clumsily comforted the girl.

"I missed you."

His fur, which had been cleaned by a cleaning charm, was gently stroked.

"...Hey, can I hug you?"

The black dog slipped under the girl's arm of his own accord. Resting his chin on her lap, he looked at his feline accomplice curled up just beyond.

While having his neck hugged and his ears scratched, feeling the tepid sunlight and the girl's body temperature, the black dog thought:

I don't want to see these eyes cry—I don't want to see this child sad.

The girl came bringing food the next day, and the day after that. It was almost every day. On days when she couldn't come due to bad weather or errands, Crookshanks would come over, playing the messenger by carrying a bag of food in his mouth and swishing his bottlebrush tail to keep the black dog company. Thanks to them, the black dog was experiencing a level of comfort he hadn't known since escaping hell. —Except for the fact that he couldn't return to human form. The moment he turned back into a human, his ego would be devoured by "them" prowling about.

Today, too, the girl cheerfully spent her lunchtime with the black dog. Her topics of conversation were almost exclusively about her twin brother, making it clear just how much she loved her little brother—she claimed she didn't care who was born first, but insisted she was the older sister because it was more amusing. Good grief, she truly is James's child. They were the only two family members left. It was inevitable that they would become each other's most precious existence.

However.

The black dog—the man who, for all intents and purposes, should have been the children's parent—was worried.

These children are precarious.

At first, he saw a tendency towards dependency in the girl's affection for her brother. However, his perception was soon revised. —It was Harry. Harry was definitely the one on the absolute edge of the balance.

They were held together by something that would crumble at the slightest trigger. Frighteningly—distorted yet perfect.

Ironically, this was the exact same feeling his former best friend Remus, currently on staff as a teacher, had sensed in the girl.

She, and he, were too similar. To their parents. —To James and Lily, who would readily offer up their own lives for what was precious to them.

These children—could die for each other.

The man, who had learned to watch over them as a black dog—regretted it now. He regretted not forcing the children to leave with him on that day.

What have I been doing all this time? Twelve years—in twelve years, the children I love have become this distorted. With twelve years... there was a mountain of things I could have given them.

The black dog felt an unbearable heartache at the girl's innocent smile, a smile she would surely direct at him again tomorrow.

The black dog was fiercely excited. It was a pleasant sense of elation. These cheers! This support! The wind and rain meant absolutely nothing in the face of his completely thrilled wildness.

The information the girl had just given him—that his fated enemy was teaching at Hogwarts, or that one of his former best friends was among his colleagues—had completely vanished from his mind, just for now. Additionally, he intentionally forgot about the child who looked exactly like that insufferable man, who had confidently set up camp right next to the girl.

After all, it was the grand stage of his proud godson. Though the actual weather was a rare, massive storm.

Sending the highest of praises solely in his mind to his godson's flying sense, and sending heartfelt boos to the interfering Slytherin players, the black dog was incredibly busy without uttering a single sound. If he had it his way, he'd want to let out a howl that wouldn't lose even to the thunder. Though it was a safe bet that the moment he did, a smack from the unreserved girl's hand would come flying his way.

And then, as the match descended into a mud-slinging battle—the black dog, Sirius, saw his best friend.

Prongs.

Nestled close to his child, the silver stag drove away the darkness. It looked anxiously at his child who had fainted.

Everything was enveloped in deep affection. It was a scene as beautiful as a painting.

That is Prongs—

Sirius could not tear his eyes away from the silver brilliance. His lost best friend was right there. —His daughter had summoned him back.

James lived on inside Maria.