            He was frozen on the stairs, one hand wrapped in a crushing grip around the wooden railing, the other floundering at his outer robe’s pocket, as if searching for the wand she’d confiscated. Gently, Hermione took the hand and pulled, grateful that he clambered up beside her instead of resisting. "It’s really him," she said, starting to lead Harry into the sitting room. Newspaper crinkled underfoot. "It’s Sirius. I—we," she added, with another glance towards the blonde wizard, "brought him back."