“A shop? As a Christmas present?”
This ti, Kyle was genuinely speechless. “What did you just say?” he asked, thoroughly confused.
“Is it so hard to understand?” Sirius laughed. “Didn’t you find it odd yesterday? Why didn’t you get a Christmas gift from ?”
“I did,” Kyle replied. “The Firebolt, wasn’t it? It helped with the first task of the Triwizard Tournant.”
“No, no, no,” Sirius corrected him. “That was for you becoming a Champion. You didn’t think I was lying in the Headmaster’s Office, did you? Well, you were wrong. I did prepare a gift that couldn’t be delivered to Hogwarts...”
“Wait a second,” Kyle interrupted, narrowing his eyes. “Did your uncle leave this to you, too?”
“No,” Sirius said with a grin. “This one’s a Black family heirloom. But it’s mine now, and I can do whatever I like with it.”
Kyle shook his head firmly. “Forget it. The Firebolt is already a valuable enough gift. I can’t accept a shop, too.”
He couldn’t even begin to calculate the cost of a shop in Diagon Alley, but he was sure it was worth several thousand Galleons at the very least—possibly ten thousand if it was a pri location. Such a gift felt impossibly extravagant, and Kyle couldn’t accept it without feeling a deep sense of guilt.
“No way,” Sirius said, his expression suddenly serious. “You’ve helped so much—”
“Stop,” Kyle interrupted, raising a hand. “It was Professor Dumbledore who helped you. Whether it was defending you at the Ministry of Magic or retrieving Regulus from the cave, he was the one who did the most. I was just there to watch.”
“You’re wrong,” Sirius said, shaking his head.
Feeling tired of standing, Sirius led Kyle into Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour and ordered two hazelnut-and-peanut ice creams. They took seats at a small table outside the shop, the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley providing a lively backdrop.
“Or maybe you underestimate your own role in this,” Sirius said, handing Kyle an ice cream before continuing. “Let’s start with . You may not realize it, but you made a real difference.”
“With Peter Pettigrew, you could always clear your na,” Kyle said matter-of-factly.
“That’s the funny thing,” Sirius said, watching the passersby on the street. “I had a conversation with Professor Dumbledore, and he told that even with Peter Pettigrew and all the evidence out in the open, Fudge was very unlikely to act in my favor."
“It’s a scandal for the Ministry, and Fudge might have killed Peter outright to cover it up.”
“But Fudge didn’t do that,” Kyle pointed out.
“That’s because of what you said,” Sirius replied seriously. “You made Fudge realize he could distance himself from the entire affair."
“Rember what you said? ‘If you’d been the minister at the ti, this mistake never would have been made.’ Dumbledore said neither he nor I would have thought to phrase it that way, and I agree."
“In other words, you paved the way, and we just walked it.”
Sirius took a big bite of his ice cream, relishing it, before continuing. “And then there’s Regulus..."
“You found Slytherin’s locket, which led us to Kreacher and his story. Without you, I would probably have tossed that locket as junk, and there would’ve been no story at all. You know how awful my relationship with Kreacher was.”
He paused, glancing at Kyle. “By the way, when we were at the cliff, you called Dumbledore. I rember you used a phoenix tail feather for that—sothing precious, ant to save your life. That alone is worth more than two shops.”
“Well...” Kyle hesitated, then added, “You probably don’t know, but Fawkes and I are on good terms. He gave another tail feather yesterday, for Christmas.”
Sirius acted as though he hadn’t heard.
"Take it," Sirius said firmly, almost to himself. “Because of you, I can stand in the sun again, and Regulus was able to return ho. I don’t know how else to express my gratitude, and this is the best way Lupin and I could think of.”
“You really don’t need to,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “Besides, Harry and I are friends. Helping a friend is the least I can do. You should just leave the shop to him.”
“It belongs to the Blacks, not just to ,” Sirius replied, shaking his head. “I won’t be using it, but it’s fine for you to have it... After all, Regulus was my parents’ favorite child, and I should show my appreciation on their behalf.”
Kyle still felt uneasy. The gesture was far too generous, and the prospect of owning a shop in Diagon Alley was dizzying. It was never sothing he had imagined for himself.
However, Sirius seed resolute.
“This is the magical contract for the shop, and it’s already yours,” Sirius said, pulling out a piece of parchnt and slapping it onto the table. “If you don’t want it, throw it away. I’m not taking it back."
“Like my uncle once told , the Blacks don’t take back gifts. Ever.”
“But weren’t you disowned by the Blacks?” Kyle said sullenly, throwing a pointed look at Sirius.
Sirius, who had been adopting a proud air as a pureblood for a mont, deflated instantly. He looked thoroughly exasperated.
“Even so, I can still represent the Black family,” he muttered.
Kyle sighed and picked up the parchnt. The address on it read 31 Diagon Alley, accompanied by a complex magical sigil. Holding it, he could sense a faint magical pull toward the shop’s location.
“You take it back,” Kyle said, extending the parchnt to Sirius. “We can talk about this shop after I graduate.”
Sirius ignored the offer, pretending not to see the parchnt.
The two were locked in a silent standoff when Kyle’s eyes accidentally landed on a passing wizard holding The Daily Prophet.
The cover photo imdiately caught his attention.
Kyle stood and approached the wizard. “Excuse , may I take a look at that newspaper?”
The man, startled at first, nodded once he composed himself. “Oh, yes, of course. You can keep it—I’ve already finished reading it.”
“Thank you,” Kyle said, taking the newspaper.
“What is it?” Sirius asked, coming over.
Kyle didn’t answer imdiately. He opened the paper and quickly scanned the front-page article. His brow furrowed as he pointed to a particular passage. “Hagrid might be in trouble.”
Sirius leaned in to read.
“We can exclusively reveal that the mother of this Professor Hagrid is none other than the Giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.
Giants are bloodthirsty and cruel by nature, and we do not know whether Hagrid has inherited these traits.
Has Headmaster Dumbledore inford students and their parents of this fact?”
“Wait!” Sirius exclaid. “Hagrid’s a half-giant?”
“That’s for sure,” Kyle said. “No ordinary wizard can grow to be over three ters tall. But the issue isn’t about guessing—it’s about soone publicly pointing it out. Hagrid’s behavior at Hogwarts has never been bloodthirsty or cruel. Many people actually like him. But now...”
Sirius’s expression darkened as he realized the implications.
He thought of Lupin. Despite being one of the most popular professors at Hogwarts for an entire year, Lupin had been forced to resign when his identity as a werewolf beca public knowledge. The stigma and fear surrounding werewolves had been insurmountable.
And Hagrid... A half-giant’s identity might not evoke the sa terror as a werewolf’s, but it was far from benign. Giants had a reputation for savagery, and many had allied with Voldemort during the war.
“So what do we do now?” Sirius asked gravely.
“I don’t know,” Kyle said, tucking the newspaper into his robe pocket. “Let’s head back to Hogwarts and talk to Hagrid.”
“Good idea.”
Without another word, Sirius stood and led Kyle back toward the Leaky Cauldron at a brisk pace.
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