Sirius mills about some more, talking to a few Order members—including Hagrid, who tells him he still has his motorcycle—but finds himself keeping Remus in his sights, as though afraid that if he looks away Remus will vanish. He really isn’t looking too great, Sirius must admit; he’s favouring his right leg—his left always had a harder time re-knitting—and his hands shake when he holds anything for too long. Sirius wonders what bandages he has on underneath his robes; cursed wounds always take so bloody long to heal.