God Of Death.

Alvis stopped in front of a door and crouched down in front of Harry. "Okay, Champ. I'm just going to talk to the person inside, and I'll be back quickly. Stay right here, and if anyone bothers you, don't hesitate to open the door or scream."

The little boy nodded, holding his triceratops plush tightly against him. That one was named Diplo because it was identified as a Diplodocus. Alvis hadn't bothered questioning his nephew's naming methods.

"Yes, Uncle Al."

He straightened up, knocked twice on the door, and entered without waiting. Inside were two men. The first looked older than he was and appeared to lack a lot of sleep. He had scars on his face and hands, and his clothes were old and patched, though clean. He was sitting on a chair by the bedside of the second man.

The latter was wearing a St.Mungo gown, in which his emaciated body seemed to float. His long hair was clean and combed, and his beard had been trimmed, making him look somewhat presentable. But most importantly, his gray-blue eyes sparkled with life, and the glint of madness Alvis remembered from the same gaze was significantly diminished, almost non-existent. Spending just under six years in Azkaban, compared to the twelve of the Sirius he had known, had left him with fewer scars. However, that didn't mean he bore none.

Remus half-rose from his chair, one hand in his pocket likely holding his wand, while Sirius tensed. 

Alvis felt a slight pang in his chest at their reactions, especially Remus, with whom he had once been in regular contact. He had long since mourned Sirius, and he understood that the two men didn't know him here. 

Pushing his emotions aside, he inclined his head toward them.

"Hello, Sirius, Mr. Lupin. I'm Alvis Black Peverell. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Remus relaxed slightly and stood properly to extend his hand, which Alvis shook without hesitation. 

Sirius continued to eye him warily.

"Pleasure to meet you, and just call me Remus."

"I've never heard of you," Sirius said. "I'd know if there was a Black by that name."

Remus turned to him with an exasperated expression. "Sirius, I told you Lord Black was the one who got you released."

"I know that. I also know he's not supposed to exist."

Alvis raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he suppressed an amused smirk.

"I'm a bastard, and I left England a little over twenty years ago. So, it doesn't surprise me that you've never heard of me. Just know that I'm a curse-breaker and the current Lord Black." He sat down in the second chair by the man's bedside and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Of course, if you want the title, I'll gladly give it to you—I have no patience for politics."

Sirius looked outraged and shook his head vigorously. "No, you can keep it. I don't want it. What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. Andromeda told me you're refusing to take your potions. Why?"

"I don't need them."

He raised an eyebrow and visibly looked him up and down. "Clearly."

Sirius shot him a dark glare with a stubborn expression. "I don't need them. I just want to see Harry. I don't know where Dumbledore is keeping him, but now that I'm out, I can take care of him."

He stared at him in surprise before asking: "Andromeda didn't tell you?"

The man tensed, suddenly looking worried. "Tell me what? Is Harry okay?"

"Yes, yes, he's fine. I gained custody of him as soon as I returned to the country. He's living with me now. Before that, he was with his uncle and aunt—on his mother's side."

Sirius sat up abruptly, swayed, but paid no attention to it, too focused on exclaiming: "He was with Petunia?! She hates magic!"

Alvis pushed Sirius back against his pillow with a nod. "I know. That's why I gained custody."

Sirius stopped weakly struggling and stared at him intently. "But... is he okay?"

"He was malnourished, and Dumbledore should have taken him to a curse-breaker as soon as his parents died. But yes, he's fine. He still needs to take a few nutritional potions, but that's all."

"Why a curse-breaker?"

"He had traces of dark magic in his scar. I removed them and performed a purification ritual."

Sirius nodded. He still seemed distrustful, and Alvis knew he wouldn't believe him fully until he saw Harry with his own eyes. At least, for now, he appeared to accept the explanation. "I want to see him."

"And I want you to take your treatment. But I suppose we can't have everything in life."

Sirius sat up immediately, anger flashing across his face. "He's my godson!"

In response, Alvis leaned back lazily in his chair. "And he's my nephew. By gaining custody, I committed to prioritizing his physical, mental, and emotional well-being above all else. Something you should have remembered that night."

Sirius recoiled as if struck at the reminder. Alvis continued, relentlessly. "According to Andromeda, you have mood swings and don't always know when or where you are. Harry looks a lot like his father, so the chances of you confusing them are high. I don't want him to meet you while you're not stable enough to treat him as his person, rather than as an extension of his father. I also won't risk putting him in danger of being attacked if you have an episode and lose control of your magic."

"I'd never hurt him!"

"Not intentionally, no. But accidentally? I'd rather not take that chance. You'll see him when Andromeda gives her approval—not before."

Sirius clenched his jaw, clearly angry and frustrated. 

Alvis simply stared him down with an unyielding expression, waiting for him to relent. 

Sirius let out a low growl from his throat, like an angry dog about to lunge at its prey. 

Alvis returned it, much deeper and more dangerous, while releasing a faint pulse of his magical aura.

It startled Sirius enough to snap him out of his anger, and he slumped back onto his pillows, defeated. He nodded weakly. "Fine, fine. I'll do what Andy says..."

Alvis nodded, satisfied. "Good."

Then, he pulled a non-magical photo from his bag and handed it to Sirius. The man accepted it, puzzled, then froze when he saw who was in it.

Harry was in the foreground with Hermione, the two of them playing chess on a coffee table. Alvis, Andromeda, and the Granger adults were in the background, seated on couches and armchairs.

"This is... He's grown so much already..."

Alvis nodded. "He'll be seven soon, after all."

Sirius reluctantly tore his eyes away from the photo and asked, "Who's the girl? And the two adults?"

"The Granger family. Hermione, the girl, is his best friend. They met at school."

He nodded again and lost himself in the photo once more. 

Alvis smiled softly before pulling out two more pictures. The first showed Harry sleeping on Andy's couch, clutching Rexy tightly in his arms. The second was of Alvis and Harry eating ice cream in a park.

Sirius looked at them as if they were the most precious treasures, though guilt shadowed his gaze. "I should have been there," he murmured. "I should have taken care of him."

"That's true. However, that doesn't mean you can't be a part of his life now. You just need to get better first."

Sirius nodded more firmly than when he had earlier given in. Then, a bittersweet smile crossed his face. "I wanted one of my own, you know. When Harry was born, and Lily put him in my arms, I had this overwhelming desire to have my own. A baby just for me... I visited them as often as I could, to care for Harry, play with him, feed him, or just watch him sleep and keep him safe. And I kept wondering what it would be like to have one of my own." He let out a soft laugh, tears welling in his eyes. "Lily and James even offered... Lily offered to be a surrogate for me, with the help of a potion."

Alvis remained silent, shocked by the revelation. He hadn't known Sirius had wanted to be a father. Or that his parents had offered to help him make it happen. Had it been the same in his world? Should he have had a half-sibling?

"It's still possible, you know? I can find you a surrogate."

If Sirius wanted a child, then by Loki, Alvis would help him have one. He deserved happiness. 

But Sirius shook his head. "How could I, when I've failed so horribly with Harry?"

"But you've learned from your mistake. You understand the consequences, and you won't make the same error again." Sirius still seemed defeated and doubtful. Alvis patted his hand. "Recover first, then think about it. The option will always be there if you still want it."

He nodded before returning his attention to the photos. "Will you take care of him?"

"Of course. But if it would reassure you, I don't mind if Remus visits him."

Remus, who had stayed quiet during their conversation, suddenly sat up, startled. Sirius turned to him with a pleading, hopeful expression.

"I... I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to be close to him."

"What? Because your time of the month makes you a bit cranky and prone to biting?"

Remus choked on his saliva, while Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "I don't have periods!"

"You get hairy, grumpy, and bloodthirsty once a month. I call that period. Have you tried paracetamol and chocolate to help? Definitely chocolate—Moony's addicted!"

Remus shot both of them a dark glare, while Sirius continued laughing. Alvis smiled, satisfied that he'd pulled the man out of his depressive mood. Then, he turned serious and fixed the werewolf with a steady gaze.

"Remus, you're only dangerous one night a month. As long as you visit on other days, there won't be any problems. And even if you wanted to come during a full moon, I've prepared one of the basement rooms just for that. It's covered in protections, and the door is lined with a coat of silver on the inside. Plus, my Animagus form is large enough to subdue an adult werewolf. And there's always the option of sending Harry to Andy's for the night if needed."

The man stared at him, clearly shocked, while Sirius looked more contemplative than anything else.

"I... Why go to such extremes?"

"What extremes? It's nothing. As for why, you're an old friend of Harry's father, which makes you one of his uncles. You have a right to be part of his life, and I'm not letting English stupidity or your insecurities get in the way. So, just accept the offer and visit him."

Remus gave him a wary look and mumbled, "Why does that sound like a threat?"

Alvis simply gave him a wide, innocent smile, flashing far too many teeth for it to be polite. "I don't know what you mean."

Oddly enough, Remus didn't seem reassured. Sirius, however, spoke up before he could protest. "Where do you live?"

"For now? Grimmauld Place. We're moving to the U.S. at the end of the school year because I don't like England. This house is rotten and not a place for a child. I'm in the middle of renovating it with Kreacher's help."

Sirius pulled a face of disgust at the name of the elf and asked, "How did you get that filthy thing to obey you?"

Alvis knew it was that particular elf Sirius didn't like, not the species as a whole, so he didn't take offense at the wording. Instead, he recounted what had happened to Regulus and explained how he'd earned Kreacher's unwavering loyalty—though he didn't specify what the artifact was.

Sirius fell silent, stunned, before murmuring, "Regy... He turned against the bastard in the end..."

"Yes."

Sirius buried his face in his hands, though it wasn't enough to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks. Remus sat beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to offer comfort.

Alvis debated whether he should leave and let Sirius recover in peace. However, before he could rise, Sirius lifted his head and, in a weak voice, asked: "His body?"

"I destroyed the entire basement with a cascading collapse; everything was vaporized. I'm sorry, but recovering even a body would have taken too much time and energy, and I would have had to burn it anyway. It had been the fastest way to dispose of it. The place was deserted anyway, so having an entire cliffside collapse wasn't an issue. The non-magicals blamed it on natural erosion and didn't investigate further. He had still taken the time to retrieve Regulus's locket to give to Kreacher. The elf had been immensely grateful and had redoubled his efforts to make the house livable."

"I see... Thank you, regardless, for finishing what he started."

He nodded. "It was a pleasure." Then, he pulled out his pocket watch and frowned. "I'm sorry, but I have an appointment in a few minutes."

Both men nodded, and Remus stood. "I'll walk you out."

He shrugged; if the man wanted to follow him outside, it was his choice. He said goodbye to Sirius and stepped out of the room. 

Remus closed the door behind them, his attention immediately shifting to Harry. "I knew I smelled something familiar," he murmured.

Alvis inclined his head, his eyes fixed on the two boys sitting on the floor nearby, chatting calmly. "Harry!"

The boy looked up and gave him a broad smile as he got to his feet. "Uncle Al!" He ran up to him, with the other boy following more slowly, hiding behind him. Harry pointed at Remus. "Who's that?"

"Remus Lupin. You've seen him in your parents' photos, even though he looked younger then."

"Oh! You're Uncle Moony!"

Remus nodded, kneeling to be at his level. "That's right, Harry. It's a pleasure to see you again. You've grown so much."

The boy nodded, then asked: "Why haven't you ever come to visit?"

"Because he's stupid," Alvis answered.

Remus shot him a dark look, but he simply leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets and a raised eyebrow. The man sighed before saying: "I have a dangerous condition, and I thought being close to you would put you at risk. Besides, I could never have gotten custody of you with my condition. That's no excuse for not visiting, though, and I'm sorry for that."

Harry bit his lip, then glanced at Alvis. He gave the boy a gentle smile and simply said: "Your choice, Champ."

He hesitated for a moment, then finally reached out his hand toward Remus. "Nice to meet you, Uncle Moony. Don't let it happen again."

Remus shook his hand with a relieved smile and replied: "I promise. I'll visit you regularly."

"Good. Was it you Uncle Al was visiting?"

"Oh, no, that was my friend, Sirius."

The little boy straightened immediately and turned to Alvis. "He's my godfather, right? The one who went to prison for something he didn't do?" 

"Yes. He's staying here for a while to recover from his imprisonment. You'll be able to visit him once he's better."

Harry accepted the explanation, though he seemed hesitant for a moment. Then he held out his stuffed animal to Remus. "Do you think he'll get better faster if Diplo keeps him company? He came with me to help me feel brave, but Uncle Padfoot is here for a lot longer, and I have Uncle Al with me..."

Remus took the stuffed dinosaur with a soft smile and nodded. "I'm sure he'll feel much better with someone like Diplo keeping him company. Do you want to write him a note to wish him a speedy recovery?"

Harry nodded eagerly and began searching his pockets for something to write with. Alvis, amused, pulled paper and a pen from his bag. Harry beamed up at him in gratitude and plopped down on the ground to write the note.

Remus accepted both the stuffed animal and the note with a tender expression, promising to deliver them to Sirius right away. 

Alvis nodded at him and said goodbye, as did the two boys before they all left together.

Harry grabbed his new friend's hand and pulled him along behind him, the other boy not protesting at all.

"That's Neville. His uncle tried to kill him, and his grandmother didn't even punish him for it!"

"I... He d-didn't try to..."

"He pushed you off the pier, and you hit your head on the rocks! And you can't even swim!"

Neville lowered his head and mumbled, "He just wanted to see if I'd do magic."

"That's no excuse for trying to kill you," Alvis said firmly.

He had almost forgotten how timid Neville was as a child, long before he grew into one of his most trusted lieutenants. The reminder of the abuse Neville had endured throughout his childhood, especially from his great-uncle, stirred anger deep within him. There was no justification for such attempts on his life.

Alvis stopped and crouched down in front of the boy, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. "Nothing, do you hear me? Nothing justifies hurting you like that."

"But he just wants me to do magic. Because everyone thinks I'm a squib."

"That's still no reason," Alvis retorted. "And if your family is so concerned, they can simply have you examined by a magical core specialist. They can determine if you have a core and how strong it is."

Neville's eyes widened in astonishment, and he looked at Alvis with barely concealed hope. "You can really do that?"

"Yes. Harry and I are going to see one today. If you'd like, you can come with us. I doubt the specialist will mind examining you, especially if we mention that your family has been trying to kill you."

Neville hesitated, wringing his hands in his robes and chewing on his lip. Harry squeezed his hand gently and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. Neville seemed to draw courage from the gesture, nodding timidly.

"Ok," Alvis smiled at Neville and ruffled his hair before continuing down the hall. 

Harry immediately struck up a conversation with Neville, clearly trying to distract him, and Alvis couldn't help but smile, pleased to see his nephew making a new friend.

They stopped in front of a door, and Alvis knocked. This time, he waited for permission before entering. The group slipped into the examination room, where a man who looked to be in his forties was waiting. He wore healer's robes, though they differed from those typically seen on St. Mungo's staff.

When Andromeda had mentioned knowing some specialists, she had conveniently forgotten to mention that they were all foreign. Apparently, English wizards were wary of anyone with the ability to affect their magical cores, even if it meant leaving those with damaged cores without aid.

"Lord Black-Peverell, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," Alvis replied, extending a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

The man shook it without hesitation. "Healer Morgan Reeds. Likewise." Then his gaze shifted to the two children. "I was under the impression you were bringing just one child."

"We ran into Neville in the hall," Alvis explained, "and he mentioned that his family has been trying to force him into accidental magic because they think he's a Squib. So, I told him it was possible to test for a magical core. I'm also concerned that their methods might be causing him to subconsciously fear his magic, associating it with their abuse, which could lead to the development of an obscurus."

Healer Reeds frowned deeply before nodding. "I understand your concern. That's indeed a risk, though it's very rare. Abuse disguised as testing is illegal in America, by the way. His parents would be arrested for such treatment."

Neville stammered, "Th-they're not my... my parents. They're... they're in the long-term ward here."

Alvis placed a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder and the healer's eyes widened in surprise.

"Neville's parents were tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse at the end of the war. He lives with his grandmother, though the abuse seems to come primarily from his great-uncle. Based on what little he's said, it doesn't seem like she does much to stop it."

The healer's expression darkened briefly, then he knelt to Neville's eye level. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I didn't know."

Neville nodded timidly. 

Healer Reeds straightened and turned back to Alvis. "Who's going first?"

"Neville."

Reeds nodded, gesturing for Neville to step into the diagnostic circle. With some encouragement from Alvis and Harry, Neville approached the circle and stood still as the healer activated the diagnostic spell. The man looked visibly relieved at what the spell revealed and smiled gently at Neville as the glowing light faded.

"Good news—you have a perfectly healthy magical core. It's slightly larger than average."

"Really?" Neville asked, wide-eyed. "Then why can't I ever do magic?"

He gestured for him to step out of the circle, then crouched down in front of him and handed him a parchment containing the results.

"Everyone manifests their magic differently," the healer explained. "In your case, you exhibit several markers of a Green Mage—someone whose magic is particularly attuned to manipulating elements and plants."

"Oh!" Neville's face lit up. "I've always loved working in the greenhouses at the manor."

The healer smiled and gently patted his shoulder. "And I'm certain the plants there thrive much better under your care than anyone else's, don't they?"

Neville hesitated, then slowly nodded. "Gran always says I have a gift with plants, like Mum." His gaze dropped, and he started scuffing the floor with his shoe. "But she also says I should be more like Dad…"

Alvis's expression darkened, remembering Augusta's insistence that Neville uses his father's wand—a tool entirely unsuitable for his magical alignment.

"She shouldn't do that," Alvis said firmly. "You're your person, not your father or your mother. You may share some of their traits, but you should be allowed to be Neville—to be yourself."

Neville blinked up at him, looking utterly lost as if the idea of being his person was foreign. Alvis clenched his fists, frustration bubbling under the surface. There had to be something he could do for the boy—something legal, something effective.

But for now, they still had a consultation to finish. Neville took a seat beside him as Harry stepped into the diagnostic circle.

When the healer reviewed Harry's results, his frown deepened. Harry fidgeted nervously, twisting his hands together.

"Is something wrong, Healer Reeds?"

The man adopted a professional demeanor as he turned back to them. "Harry's magical core is indeed fractured, as you suspected. However, I can also see that it's already in the process of healing—albeit slowly. There is a ritual that could expedite the recovery, allowing it to heal entirely in one session."

"I sense a 'but'..." Alvis said.

"The rituals are illegal in England," Healer Reeds admitted, "particularly those that interact directly with the magical core."

Alvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course, they are." Letting his hand drop, he met the healer's gaze. "We're planning to relocate to America at the end of the school year. Would it be possible to schedule a follow-up appointment to monitor his healing progress and perform the ritual if necessary?"

The healer nodded and retrieved a planner. "Yes, that would be entirely feasible. His core is stable and will naturally recover without permanent damage, provided he isn't subjected to excessive stress."

"And what about an obscurus?"

The healer winced before answering. "There are faint traces of a stage-one formation, but development ceased and has since begun to dissipate. He's no longer at risk."

"Good."

They scheduled the follow-up appointment, and the healer handed the children a book of magical tales as a distraction.

When it was Alvis's turn to step into the circle, the healer's reaction was far more pronounced. As the diagnostic magic flared to life, Reeds visibly paled, his expression one of pure horror. "Magic… How are you still alive?"

"Blood sacrifice protections and an abundance of luck," Alvis replied evenly. "Why are you so surprised? Didn't Andromeda send you my previous scans?"

"I thought they were errors!"

"Is Uncle Al going to die?"

They turned toward the two children, who were watching them with fear and concern. 

Alvis immediately responded: "No. My core has healed long ago and is stable."

Harry nodded, immediately reassured. The two boys turned their attention back to the book in their laps, and Alvis fixed his gaze on the healer. The healer frowned but did not contradict him. He noted his findings and Alvis was able to step out of the circle.

"Good. I'll see you both again this summer for Harry's check-up. Be sure to avoid stressing his core."

"Yes, sir," Alvis replied.

They both bid him goodbye and left the room. Alvis sighed, then turned to Neville. "How about we try to find your room again? Or were you here with an adult?"

"The healers said I could go, but Gran wanted to visit my parents. I got lost going to the bathroom."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

Alvis frowned once more. Augusta should have accompanied him, or at least asked a nurse to take care of it. He sighed again and started walking toward the ward where Neville's parents were. He was going to have to talk to the old woman... he wasn't looking forward to it.

They reached the ward and quickly found Augusta, sitting by her son's bedside. She looked up when she heard them approach and immediately stood, her expression stern.

"Neville, where have you been? You took a long time to come back."

Alvis positioned himself between the boy and his grandmother, drawing her attention away from Neville, who was huddling into himself. "And you didn't go looking for him?"

She straightened up and glared at him. "Who are you? What are you doing with my grandson?"

"I am Lord Alvis Black Peverell and Regent of the Potters," he replied, keeping his voice calm but firm. "Neville got lost going to the bathroom and ended up finding my nephew, Harry. I offered to help him find his way back. Once again, Madam, why didn't you go looking for him when he was taking too long to return? Or why didn't you alert a nurse? I know they can make announcements when patients or visitors get lost."

"I didn't want to bother a nurse with him. He would've found his way back."

"Clearly, not."

"Then he should be ashamed of himself for not being able to do something as simple as that at his age. His father would never have gotten lost like this."

He shot her a glare. The worst part was that she genuinely didn't see anything wrong with what she had just said. 

He took a longer-than-necessary breath to calm himself. Now was not the time to lose his temper with her. Not when a trembling child was clinging to his coat, hidden behind his back.

"Neville is his person, not his father. He will never be his father. But clearly, you don't understand that. Do you even care about your grandson? He could've fallen downstairs and seriously hurt himself or ended up with someone less well-intentioned than me and been kidnapped. But I suppose that doesn't concern you, considering you allow members of your family to try to kill him."

Grieving wasn't an excuse. Not for all the trauma she was inflicting on Neville. The same boy who was so terrified of his grandmother that she could have been his Boggart, had it not been for Snape taking the spot.

The same boy who had fought alongside him without hesitation when they had begun to truly battle the Death Eaters. The same boy who had lost an eye and nearly lost an arm while defending an entire refugee camp, until they had all been evacuated, killed a dozen Death Eaters on his own before being rescued by reinforcements. 

She had no right to say he wasn't brave, that he was weak, that he would never measure up to his father. Of course, he would never be Frank, but he had the potential to be so much more if only he were encouraged and allowed to develop at his own pace.

"We're not trying to kill him! How dare you—"

He interrupted her: "Oh? So, he's not here because his uncle tried to drown him?"

"He just wanted to push him to do magic."

"And if he didn't, then it wouldn't matter if he died trying? Better he be dead than a squib, is that it? How can you say you care for him when you allow the people around you to try and kill him!? Has it never crossed your mind that, maybe, your insistence on forcing him to do magic makes him associate magic with fear and pain, causing him to reject it? Do you know children have become obscurus because of this?"

She took a step back as if he had struck her. 

Harry tugged at his sleeve, and he turned his eyes away from the old woman to focus on his nephew. "What's an obscurial, Uncle Al? Is it like an obscurus?"

"An Obscurial is the term used for a child who develops an Obscurus. When a child is terrified of their magic and rejects it, whether intentionally or not, their magic mutates into an obscurus—an entity of pure magic—that attacks anything that scares or harms the child until it destroys the child. It's very rare for an obscurial to reach the age of eleven, let alone adulthood. Even rarer for a fully formed Obscurus to be absorbed, allowing the child to use their magic normally."

The two boys looked horrified at the explanation, and Harry placed a hand over his chest. "I almost had that?"

"Yes, but you recovered by accepting your magic. As long as you don't reject it, you'll be fine."

He nodded, relieved, but his hand joined Neville's, who was clutching his coat. 

Alvis turned back to Augusta. "I can understand that you miss your son, but that's no excuse for neglecting and abusing Neville, constantly putting him down by comparing him to his father instead of encouraging him to be his person. And if you can't do something as basic as that, maybe you should entrust him to someone who will."

"He's my grandson. He's all I have left of Frank. I would never give him to anyone else."

"But you don't mind that they're trying to kill him?"

"He's fine. Algie pulled him out quickly."

"And yet he needed to come to the St.Mungo for that."

"It was just to make sure he hadn't hit his head too hard. He already has a bad memory, no need to add mental damage."

"And you didn't think to have someone accompany him to the bathroom, knowing he has poor memory and a recent head trauma?"

"He's fine, the healers did their job. And like I said, if he weren't such a disappointment, he would have easily found his way back. The bathrooms aren't far on this floor."

He shook his head, replying in a tired tone: "You are the disappointment. You're a terrible guardian. And the saddest part is that you don't even see why what you're doing to Neville is wrong and harmful to his well-being."

"How dare you? It's not your place to tell me how to raise my grandson!"

He shot her a dark look, letting out just a little of his aura. "I dare because I hate those who abuse children. I may not have a say in how you raise him, but I can at least try to make you understand that constantly putting him down will not help him become the best version of himself. You should be proud of the grandson you have and encourage him to be himself, rather than trying to make him the grandson you want and a carbon copy of your son." 

"How can you be proud of a squib?"

He raised an eyebrow and handed her the parchment that Healer Reeds had provided. 

She took it, confused, and Alvis said: "This is Neville's core examination, performed by an American healer who came today to examine Harry and me. He specializes in magical core treatment. Neville has a core in excellent health, with slightly above-average power. It's just that his accidental magic is subtle, and he has several markers indicating he is a green mage. A simple test is enough to prove he's not a squib. If you were desperate to confirm whether he has magic or not, you should've taken him abroad for an examination, where they have healers specializing in magical cores."

She unrolled the parchment with trembling hands and read the diagnosis.

"Neville is not a squib. And you're lucky he hasn't become an obscurial."

She rolled the parchment back up and fixed her gaze on the boy whose head barely poked out from behind Alvis. Neville shrank further, hiding behind him. Alvis placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and the boy relaxed a little but did not loosen his grip.

"I've never heard of this kind of healer."

"That's because the English don't like the idea of someone being able to affect another person's magical core. Like, they don't like healing rituals..." He froze as he remembered that detail, then looked toward the two people in the beds behind Augusta. "Please tell me, the healers did a purification ritual as soon as they arrived here?"

"No, you said it yourself, rituals are illegal in England. Why?"

Alvis cursed in several languages before remembering the presence of the children and taking a deep breath to calm himself, replying through gritted teeth: "The Cruciatus leaves behind toxic residues of dark magic, which continue to slowly erode the nerves until they vanish. This can take decades. In every hospital I've been to in the past, the standard protocol for all injuries caused by dark magic is to perform a purification ritual to rid the body of the residues! After having them examined by the assigned curse-breaker at the hospital."

"There are no curse-breakers at Saint Mungo's," she replied. "They all work at Gringotts."

He flinched at this and cursed again. He was so tempted to burn the English government down... 

Augusta glanced at the couple in the beds and asked: "Are you telling me that their condition continues to deteriorate because they haven't received these treatments?"

"I'm saying you should take them abroad, probably to America, and have them examined by a curse-breaker. Because it seems like all they're doing for them here is giving them potions for muscle spasms caused by the Cruciatus."

Harry tugged at his sleeve again. "But Uncle Al is a curse-breaker. Why go somewhere else when Uncle Al can look?"

"Because I'm a Black, and I've just criticized the way she raised Neville. I doubt she'd trust me with her son and wife."

"But Uncle Al is the best!"

He ruffled the boy's hair and shook his head. "Thanks, Champ', but she doesn't know me. I doubt she'll let me examine them."

"Exactly. Thank you for the advice, and I'll follow it, but it will be with another curse-breaker. Now, Neville, come."

The boy briefly tightened his grip on Alvis's coat, but reluctantly let go and joined his grandmother with his head lowered. 

Alvis gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Don't worry, Neville, we'll see each other again."

"I doubt it," Augusta replied. "Say goodbye, Neville."

"Goodbye, Uncle Al," Neville murmured.

Alvis smiled, amused by the old woman's reaction to the title, then waved and left with Harry. He was going to find a way to get Neville out of there.

.

Remus entered the room and smiled gently when he saw that Sirius had fallen asleep. He carefully placed Diplo in his arms and set the note on the bedside table before sitting down and pulling a book from his pocket. His friend woke up from a nightmare an hour later, looking around, completely disoriented.

"Moony?"

"Yes, Padfoot. I'm here."

He squeezed his hand, and Sirius relaxed, remembering it wasn't a dream, that he was free. That's when he noticed the plush toy. He looked at it in surprise before giving his friend a confused glance.

"Where did the plush come from?"

"It's Diplo, the triceratops. Harry asked me to give it to you to keep you company during your stay at St.Mungo."

"Harry! Did you see Harry? Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's doing great. And Alvis is taking good care of him."

Sirius fixed his gaze on the plush toy in his arms as if it were a precious treasure, then pulled it close and buried his face in it, inhaling the faint scent of Harry. He relaxed with a smile. 

Remus smiled too, touched, before picking up the note. "He wrote you a message."

The paper immediately vanished from his hand and appeared in Sirius's. He read it slowly out loud: "Uncle Padfoot, I hope you get better soon. Uncle Al told me we'll be able to see each other once you're better, and I can't wait! In the meantime, I'm giving you Diplo! He's a triceratops who thinks he's a diplodocus. I hope he helps you not feel so alone. Harry."

Remus didn't comment on the tears running down his friend's cheeks, instead just giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

Sirius buried his face back into the plush toy while clutching the note. His little puppy was okay and wanted to see him. And for that, he had to get better. He was going to get better, quickly, and see his puppy. He was going to make sure of it.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞?

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