"Malfoy…"
Harry murmured the name, momentarily forgetting his friend in all the excitement. He was about to grab parchment and quill to dispatch a letter via Hedwig when a door clicked open behind him.
Sirius Black burst in, energized. "Harry! Fancy going to see some Quidditch...?"
"Godfather! I'm going to the Quidditch World Cup!"
Sirius blinked, his train of thought derailed. "Huh?"
"Sirius, Tom Riddle invited us to the Quidditch World Cup!" Harry bubbled over with excitement. "We'll have seats right on the field, cheering on our favorite teams… well, Tom Riddle probably doesn't even know the teams… but that's not the point!"
"The amazing thing is, he's taking me to the Quidditch World Cup!" Harry jumped for joy, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. "Godfather, what should I wear? Tom Riddle tends to favor those black robes, maybe I should get one ready? Matching outfits are all the rage with Muggles these days…"
"..."
Maybe you shouldn't go at all.
Lost in his own enthusiasm, Harry failed to notice Sirius's smile slowly morphing into a look of utter despair.
Damn it, that wretched Dark Lord has stolen my godson!!!
Sirius, who had been planning to take Harry to the Quidditch World Cup himself, suddenly deflated, rendered speechless.
"Godfather? Godfather?"
Harry's voice finally snapped him out of it.
"Oh, it's alright, Harry, I'm fine…" Sirius mumbled, his face a mask of disappointment. "I'll just stay here all alone. I can cook, eat, and then sit and reminisce. It'll be easy, even by myself…"
"Phew~ That's great."
"..."
Seeing Harry's genuine relief at the prospect of him "relaxing on his own," Sirius's frown deepened.
Does this kid even understand human emotion?!
Damn it, James, your son is just like you!
"I'm practically spelling it out for you, and you still don't get it!"
"Oh, right! I still need to write to Malfoy! Godfather, remember to close the door on your way out!"
And with that, Harry hurried back to the table, snatched up his quill and parchment, and began to write.
"Well… I'm leaving now."
"..."
"I really am going now."
"..."
Sirius gripped the doorknob, pointedly making his departure known, but Harry seemed completely absorbed in his letter.
"..."
Click.
Sirius closed the door and stood there, head bowed, his expression unreadable.
"Sigh…"
A sigh filled with resignation escaped his lips, making him seem years older.
Sirius then quietly descended the stairs, needing to escape this place that had suddenly become so painful.
...
The Leaky Cauldron, late in the evening.
"Another drink!"
Sirius had barely stepped inside when he heard someone shouting to drown their sorrows.
Looking toward the bar, Sirius saw a well-dressed, middle-aged man, his once refined demeanor now undone by the heavy scent of alcohol.
Sirius recognized him; they had been classmates, after all.
Sirius sat down beside the man and called out to the bustling Old Tom, "A Butterbeer, please!"
"..."
Hearing the voice, the middle-aged man looked up. "You're… Black?"
"Mr. Volle, long time no see."
Sirius nodded; they weren't close enough to use first names.
Frederick Volle seemed taken aback by the unexpected encounter and fell silent.
The atmosphere suddenly became strained.
Finally, Sirius broke the silence. "It's late. What brings you here?"
Frederick Volle sighed in relief and didn't try to hide his troubles. "Sigh… my little darling is causing me grief again."
Hearing this, Sirius suddenly felt a surge of empathy, even though Harry wasn't his daughter, but his godson.
"You don't happen to know my daughter, do you?"
"I do. She even zapped me with lightning once."
"…"
Silence descended again, the atmosphere growing even more awkward than before.
"Ahem, sorry about that, Black…" Frederick Volle said, breaking the silence. "She didn't hurt you, did she? I apologize on her behalf."
Sirius calmly sipped the butterbeer that had just arrived. "It's alright. I don't hold it against her."
"…"
Although somewhat confused, Frederick Volle didn't press the matter.
The two men continued to chat idly over their drinks.
"So, what brings you here so late? Experiencing similar woes?"
"No, mine are just woes."
"Oh~ your woes are…"
"…"
Sirius remained silent. Actually, he had been feeling disheartened since earlier.
Seeing Sirius's pensive expression, Frederick Volle felt as if he were looking at a kindred spirit and clapped Sirius on the shoulder in sympathy.
Their camaraderie growing, Frederick Volle elaborated on the reasons for his drunken state.
The Quidditch World Cup was fast approaching, and he had planned to take his wife and daughter, buying VIP tickets in advance and securing prime, exclusive seats.
Unexpectedly, a letter had arrived, causing his daughter to abandon him.
If it were anyone else, he would have taught them a lesson in "aristocratic power," but, tragically, he had no right to object to this person's decision, nor even offer an opinion.
That person was his boss.
He was so frustrated, unable to vent his anger, forced to play the role of a "helpless old father."
"..."
Listening to Frederick Volle's woes, Sirius didn't speak but nodded in understanding.
Adding incompetent old father to the list.
After a few more rounds of drinks, even wizards began to feel the effects.
Looking at his empty glass, Sirius was reminded of his own Quidditch World Cup tickets, tickets that Harry would sadly not be using…
What to do with all those useless tickets?
Just then, as if struck by a sudden idea, Sirius looked up at Frederick Volle beside him, only to find Frederick Volle looking back at him.
"Do you want to go to the Quidditch World Cup?" x2
The simultaneous question startled them both out of their stupor.
---