No, you don't remember anything at all
I'm sleeping, I'm flat on my back
Never woke up, had no regrets
Monday, April 8 • Evening
A cleaning service retained after the War had prevented Grimmauld Place from sinking into disrepair a second time once the Order had finished cleaning it up.
Would that something similar could be arranged for me, Sirius thought as he paged through what passed as one of his journals from ... before.
He hadn't been much inclined to writing, it seemed. The basics he could piece together, from the journal and from listening to people over the past year — what his parents had been like, which spare bedroom at Godric's Hollow had been "his," the names of some of the people he'd dated — but little of what he knew seemed real. Seemed his.