#atolad

Hey everyone! It looks like there's a bug affecting the latest chapter. Uploading it was already a bit of an ordeal — there seems to be more than one bug going around — and now chapter 11 isn't showing up in the mobile app and is harder to find in the browser version too. I tried reuploading it, but I have the impression, if anything, that only made it worse.

Sneak Peek Chapter 12 :)

He unfolded it in the dark, his wand tucked under the covers. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

The ink bloomed. His heart beat a bit faster until he had seen for himself that the name, Peter Pettigrew, was not there. He breathed out through his nose. Then concentrated. Scanned it the way he always did now — quickly, methodically, Gryffindor Tower first, then outward. The castle was almost entirely still. A few names he didn't recognize were moving through the lower corridors — Aurors on their new patrol routes. Professor Dumbledore, in his office, sitting at his desk. Peeves drifting aimlessly near the Astronomy Tower.

And then he went still.

Regulus Black. First floor. Moving slowly along the corridor near the library, heading east.

Harry stared at it.

He thought about what Lupin had said. The map doesn't lie. If his name was there, he was there. He thought about Reg's face on the mirror, calm and certain, saying no when Harry asked if he had been at Hogwarts. But the Map, which his dad had helped create, it didn't make mistakes because his dad had worked on it for a year. Lupin had said so.

He’s often tough on Reg and Harry - in a way that I often find myself hoping he would dial it down a bit.

I’m not sure if I am explaining myself properly as I understand he is dealing with A LOT in those years and he is a product of his environment but he is short tempered often and very unrelenting in his beliefs. Sometimes I just want to yell at him to see that he doesn’t need to be quite so tough and hard.

Any thoughts?

Thanks for the ask!😊

I understand what you mean, but I think I’m very drawn to the conflict that comes from exactly those traits - the short temper, the rigidity, the relentlessness. I don’t always like Sirius as a person. Honestly, I find Reg and Harry much more likeable and far less frustrating. But that greyness is what makes my version of Sirius interesting to write. He’s both an anchor and a stick of dynamite at the same time.

If he were soft, gentle, endlessly understanding, and always acted “correctly,” it just wouldn’t be the story I want to tell.

And honestly, the fact that you sometimes want to shake him or yell at him is kind of the reaction I want people to have. Unless it genuinely makes you uncomfortable, in which case I think you might naturally gravitate more toward lighter or happier stories than the kind I tend to write.

As a writer, I’m most interested in the rough, gritty parts of people. Psychological hardship, the collapse of ideals, the limits of understanding and forgiveness. I think morally “white” protagonists often work best in action-driven stories. I enjoy reading those, but I’m less interested in writing them. My stories are much more character- and conflict-driven, and I like putting characters into constellations that push every one of their flaws to the surface. That way they can eventually break, rebuild, and hopefully find common ground again.

I’m curious and some of them I can’t figure out.

Oh, that’s an interesting question!

The reasons are actually pretty varied, and I can’t blame you for not figuring it out because it’s not always very straightforward. I usually aim for chapter titles that carry several meanings, titles that reflect important parts of the chapter but they don't have to some it up perfectly.

One aspect is almost always intertextuality, even if it’s only through vague association. I’ve always liked using song titles that fit the chapter, whether because of the mood, the lyrics, or simply because I like the song and the title feels applicable. I’ve been doing that a bit less frequently in ATOLAD, though.

Sometimes the connection is fairly loose, like ch. 4 Night Owl by Gerry Rafferty. I associate that song strongly with Sirius (late 70s London), but a central part of the chapter is him reconnecting with his family in the quiet of the night, coming home and finding them asleep, or staying up with Harry after a nightmare.

Others are more lyric-based, like ch. 10 Riders on the Storm by The Doors (“there’s a killer on the road…”). I was thinking of Peter there - first with Lily and James, and now literally on a ride with Ron and Harry 🫠

Then there are more literary references. Ch. 9 The Metamorphosis is a reference to Kafka's Metamorphosis, tied to Reg’s first transformation, but also to the fact that something fundamental shifts within their family dynamic.

A lot of the other titles are meant to refer to multiple aspects of the chapter at once. Ch. 1 The Prisoner could refer to Sirius or Peter. Ch. 6 Guards is about the Dementors, but also about Sirius and Reg in their roles as protectors. Ch. 11 Two Lines, Failed refers both to the parenting approaches they’re trying and to the fact that, at that point, both of them are failing Harry in different ways.

Some titles are perhaps a bit more cryptic. Ch. 2 Aquarium uses the inflatable pool that becomes a metaphor in the chapter, but also to the feeling of being trapped in an enclosed space, being kept inside behind windows (and even those windows have to stay locked) when it would feel natural to be outside and free.

Ch. 5 Turtle Shell is about Sirius wearing this impenetrable emotional armor that reminds Reg of a turtle skeleton he once saw. And ch. 3 Twelve Plus One is the birthday chapter: Sirius accidentally refers to Harry as still being twelve, but that’s also the emotional core of the chapter, Harry leaving childhood behind and crossing into adolescence.

And finally, ch. 8 The Shadow of the Past refers to the secrets Reg and Sirius have kept from Harry, especially surrounding Sirius’ time in Azkaban. They finally reveal those secrets at the end, but until then the “shadow” manifests in all sorts of ways: the Dementors, the whispering students, his parents' profound worrying - all the things Harry can sense but can’t really understand until the truth is finally brought into the open.

So many exciting things happening! Once again, thank you for the quick update :).

Eeeek, I'm so glad you liked it! I love writing them at odds, but in the end — as Reg might diplomatically put it — "we're all in this together, this is not me pitted against you." It happens so organically too; I set something up and they just make it spiral all by themselves. 😄

And yes, I also do feel for Harry, especially in this chapter. He's had a terrible summer, learned things about his parents he never knew, and for the most part he's really not trying to get into trouble — he just keeps ending up there. The guilt and the fear he's carrying are very real, and he hasn't had anyone to process any of it with. I really hope to give him that space in future chapters.

PS My condolences on your bunny, I lost my bunny in high-school he was my everything it’s been a while but I still remember how devastating it was, it is so hard to say goodbye

Hey, then I'm glad it came at the perfect moment.

Thanks for the request - I was in a writing mood so here you go :)

Bullying (September 1989)

The first thing Sirius noticed was that Harry didn’t run to the door, and the absence of it unsettled him immediately, not as a passing observation but as something that stayed, because Harry always ran, always, chair scraping back, voice already halfway into a story before Sirius had properly stepped inside—and the lack of it felt like something was out of place.

Sirius paused in the doorway for a moment too long. The overhead light was a little too bright, the rest of the basement falling away into shadow.

Harry was sitting at the basement table, small in the chair, his schoolbag still hanging off one shoulder as if he had forgotten it was there, his exercise book open in front of him, pencil set down mid-line.

Regulus was already in the room, sitting at the table with a cup of tea gone lukewarm in his hands, his attention on Harry rather than the book in front of him.

Sirius closed the door quietly, and when he looked at Regulus, Regulus gave the slightest shake of his head.

You see.

It had been building for days.

Regulus had noticed it first, because he always did, the small things that didn’t quite fit until they started repeating.

Harry not talking about school at dinner, where he usually filled every silence.

Harry pushing his breakfast around his plate and leaving it there.

Harry lingering in doorways in the afternoons, hovering as if he were about to say something, and then not saying it.

Harry staying close in the evenings, but quiet in a way that wasn’t tiredness - something held in, something decided against.

And most of all: Harry not telling him.

He’s off, Regulus had said two nights ago, leaning against the doorframe, voice low, controlled. I can’t get him to tell me what’s bothering him.

Sirius had nodded, had waited.

But now -

“Hey,” Sirius said, easy as he stepped further in, setting his bag down, voice kept deliberately light. “What’s going on down here?”

Harry didn’t look up right away. “Nothing.”

Too quick.

Sirius didn’t react to it, not yet.

He moved closer instead, unhurried, coming up beside Harry rather than in front of him, his hand settling briefly on the back of the chair.

“Still in your uniform?” he said, almost casually.

Harry shrugged.

Sirius glanced at the strap digging into his shoulder.

“Here,” he added, softer. “Hold on a second.”

He slipped the schoolbag off carefully, easing the strap over Harry’s shoulder so it wouldn’t catch and setting it down beside the chair with a quiet, dull thud.

“There,” he said.

Harry’s shoulders dropped a fraction.

Sirius stayed there a moment, close enough to notice the way Harry’s sleeve was twisted tight in his fingers, the way his gaze stayed lowered.

“You alright?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “I’m fine.”

Too quick.

There it was again.

Sirius felt it settle properly this time, like a tiny splinter in his flesh being pushed in.

He shifted, lowering himself slightly, one hand resting lightly on the table, bringing himself nearer to Harry’s level.

He had seen this before - Reg at fourteen, saying everything was fine; Reg at fifteen, hiding things that had not been fine at all.

The same look - closed, decided to hide it, like he was pushing a door shut and holding it from the other side.

And Sirius had learned that if he let that stand, it didn’t stay small. It grew. It got infected, grew teeth.

“Long day?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Anything happen at school?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

The same answer. The same tone. Sirius’ gaze sharpened, just a tiny bit, focusing in.

Across from them, Regulus didn’t move, still watching, still waiting. That usually worked. But today, he there was a worn-out helplessness in it.

Harry stayed closed, shoulders drawn in, attention fixed somewhere else.

Sirius saw it. Saw the way the door didn’t open.

And that was when something in him settled into place. There it was and he wouldn’t be able to let it go, the way a scent lingered once he’d caught it, the way a splinter, once it had broken the skin, was there.

“Harry.”

Harry looked up.

Sirius held his gaze now, steady.

“You want to try that again?” he asked, quieter this time.

Harry’s fingers twisted tighter in his sleeve. “…Nothing happened.”

There it was. Not uncertainty nor confusion; a choice not to let it out.

Across the room, Regulus stepped in, because he always tried first. “Harry,” he said, crouching beside the table, voice calm and soft, “you haven’t told me anything about school all week. That’s not like you.”

Harry shrugged, eyes dropping. “I’m fine.”

Regulus waited, giving him time. “You skipped breakfast again,” he added quietly. “And yesterday you stood by the door for ages like you wanted to say something.”

Harry’s shoulders pulled in.

He didn’t answer.

Regulus stayed a moment longer, patient, but Harry didn’t look up. Didn’t open up.

After a moment, Regulus straightened slowly.

Sirius saw it, the wall Regulus couldn’t get through, Harry’s silence like a bar set across a door that was already locked.

That settled it.

Sirius stepped into the space Regulus left.

“Harry,” he said.

Harry looked up again, his green eyes guarded.

Sirius bent down properly this time, bringing himself level, one hand coming to rest lightly against the back of Harry’s chair, close enough that Harry could feel him there.

“You know the rule,” Sirius said, voice low.

Harry’s shoulders tensed. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“…Don’t lie.”

“About what?”

Harry’s mouth pressed tight.

Sirius didn’t let it pass. “About things that matter,” he said. “About things that can get you hurt. You don’t keep those to yourself. Not here. Not with us.”

Harry’s eyes flicked toward Regulus.

Sirius caught it.

“Hey,” he said, softer, but firmer underneath. “Look at me, pup.”

Harry looked.

“Now tell me what happened.”

Harry swallowed. “…Nothing.”

A small word. But still a lie.

Sirius went very still.

Then he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping, losing its softness entirely. “Don’t push this.”

Harry froze.

It wasn’t just the words, it was the tone, the way Sirius held him there with it, steady and unyielding.

Harry knew what came after that tone. He had felt it before, the sharp correction, the way Sirius didn’t let things slide once they reached that point, the certainty of it.

Sirius held his gaze. “I mean it,” he said quietly. “Don’t make me enforce it.”

The words settled heavy between them, like a foot forcing a door back open.

Harry’s breath hitched.

His fingers twisted tighter in his sleeve, knuckles whitening, shoulders curling in as if he could make himself smaller, as if he could hold onto it just a second longer.

But he couldn’t.

Because Sirius didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

Didn’t let the moment break.

Across the room, Regulus had gone completely still.

He knew this part.

“…Some boys,” Harry said suddenly, the words breaking out of him, too fast, too tight, like they had been pushed loose rather than offered.

The shift was immediate.

Sirius exhaled slowly, the pressure easing at once.

“There we go,” he said. He moved then, sitting properly in front of Harry, the edge gone from his voice as quickly as it had come. “What about them?”

“They call me names,” Harry said, voice small now, shaky at the edges. “And take my things. Sometimes they push me.”

Sirius listened without interrupting, his expression tightening. “Since when, pup?”

Harry hesitated.

Sirius’ hand came up, slower now, resting lightly against the back of Harry’s head, thumb brushing through his hair.

“Since when?” he repeated, softer.

“…A few weeks.”

Sirius nodded once. A few weeks.

He glanced briefly at Regulus.

You were right.

Regulus didn’t answer.

Sirius looked back at Harry.

“That’s what I need to know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I don’t let it go.”

Harry nodded, still so small, shoulders curled. “…I thought you’d get mad.”

Sirius let out a breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I do. But not at you.”

Harry looked up at him.

“Never at you,” Sirius said, firmer. “At them.”

Harry nodded again, a little steadier this time.

Sirius’ hand stayed where it was, grounding, familiar. “You come to me with this,” he said. “Right away. You don’t carry it on your own. That’s not your job. It’s mine. Mine and Reg’s.”

“…Okay.”

“Okay,” Sirius repeated.

He gave Harry’s hair a small, gentle ruffle.

Across the room, Regulus watched, arms crossed, silent.

Because Sirius had gotten it out of him.

And Regulus hadn’t.

And he knew exactly why.

///_____///_____///_____///

Harry had gone to bed quieter than usual, but calm, no tears, just that pause at the door that was longer than usual, then the quick hug, and then he was gone upstairs.

Sirius waited until he heard the door to Harry’s room close. Then he turned back, walked into the drawing room.

Regulus was already there, waiting, arms crossed.

“He’s fine,” Sirius said. He didn’t know what to make of this, Reg’s stillness.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“He told us what was going on.”

Regulus let out a quiet breath. “After you made sure he couldn’t do anything else.”

Sirius’ jaw tightened. “I made sure he didn’t get away with ‘nothing.’”

“Yes,” Regulus said. “You did.”

“And it worked.”

Regulus looked up. “Yes.” Too even.

Sirius frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”

Regulus held his gaze. “You don’t give him a way out.”

Sirius didn’t answer immediately. “That’s… the point, isn’t it?”

“You corner him,” Regulus continued. “You make it so there’s only one way through, and you call that a choice -”

Almost instantly, Sirius recognized Regulus’ line of argument. He'd heard this before. “Enough.”

The word landed clean. Not loud or sharp. Just final.

Regulus stopped. For a second.

Sirius stepped forward slightly, his voice lower now, steadier, carrying something older than the argument itself. “We’re not doing this now.”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly what you always -”

“Not. Now.”

That time, it was unmistakable: A line.

Regulus held his gaze. And for a moment, something in him reacted before thought - an old instinct, a memory of that tone, of that certainty. His jaw tightened. He didn’t look away but he didn’t push again either.

Sirius watched him, saw the moment it landed, and didn’t soften it. “Harry comes first,” he said, quieter now, but no less firm. “Not this.”

A pause.

Regulus exhaled slowly. “…Fine,” he said.

The shift settled.

“This stops,” Sirius said. "The bullying. It stops."

Regulus straightened slightly. “Yes. But how?”

“I’m going to go talk to them.”

Regulus didn’t move. “…Talk,” he repeated.

Sirius met his eyes. “Yes.”

“No,” Regulus said immediately.

“They’re putting hands on him, Reg!"

“I know.”

“I’m not waiting for some teacher to write a note and call it handled.”

“You’re not going to threaten a group of nine-year-olds. They're just children!"

“They stopped being ‘just children’ when they started doing this.”

“They didn’t,” Regulus said. “And if you go in like that, you don’t end it - you change it.”

“It ends it.”

“It didn’t,” Regulus said, “back at Hogwarts.”

That made Sirius pause.

Regulus held his gaze. “It made it quieter. Harder to see. But I was an outcast from then on. That’s all it did.”

Sirius shook his head once. “That’s not the same. That situation had already gone out of control.” Sirius stepped forward slightly. “You remember what it led to,” he said, "me not stepping in."

Regulus went very still.

“Those Slytherins,” Sirius continued, voice lower now, tighter. “You thought you had it handled. You didn’t.”

“I told you what they did,” Regulus said quietly.

“You weren’t going to,” Sirius replied. “Not until it was too late and the catastrophe had already occurred. And then, still, you didn’t tell me until I made you.”

The words landed hard.

“And before that,” Sirius added, sharper now, “I went to the teachers. Dumbledore. Asked them to keep you safe in the dungeons. That did nothing.”

Silence.

“So things got worse,” Sirius said.

Regulus didn’t move, he was staring straight ahead, not meeting Sirius’ eye.

“Barty sold you out,” Sirius said. “Bellatrix got to you first.” The air tightened. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “I didn't find you fast enough,” he said, quieter now. “All because I didn’t push far enough, early enough.”

Regulus’ arms tightened across his chest.

Sirius swallowed hard. "What ended it was me dealing with Barty."

A shiver ran down Regulus's back at the recollection of what Sirius had done to Barty all those years ago. "You surely don't mean..."

"I won’t put my hands on these kids. But Harry won't be bullied, I'm not going to let that happen."

Silence.

Regulus exhaled slowly. “I know,” he said. A pause. “And I’m not saying don’t step in,” he added.

Sirius’ attention sharpened.

“I’m saying don’t start there.”

Sirius didn’t interrupt.

“We talk to the school,” Regulus continued. “We make it visible. We make it their responsibility to stop it.”

“And if they don’t?”

Regulus met his eyes. “Then you talk to them.” He let that sit.

Sirius opened his mouth, but Regulus went on before he could speak.

“It matters how we handle this,” he said, quieter now. “For Harry. It has to be predictable. Not… reactive. Not something that spirals.”

Sirius held his gaze.

“He needs to see that we can handle it,” Regulus added.

A pause.

Sirius exhaled, nodded once. His brother’s words made sense. “Fine.” A pause. “And what do we tell him?”

Regulus’ expression softened, just slightly. “We talk to him in the morning. Give him options. Make sure he knows what we’re doing.”

“No surprises,” Sirius said.