The idea that the men who had cornered Kell, who had fought them both, might just as easily go after someone Sirius cares about hadn't honestly occurred to him. His smile fades instantly, replaced with a heavy drop of guilt and worry. The pain in his shoulder seems hardly more than a faint bruise in comparison as Sirius sits up instantly.

"Harry," he says, a dagger of panic slicing through him. Sirius is on his feet instantly, the spell holding both sling and ice to his shoulder. "I can take us," he says, grabbing for Kell's hand.

Harry could be anywhere, of course. Darrow is no London, but it's large enough on its own that Sirius can't often keep tabs on the daily whereabouts of his godson. But Harry's flat is the most obvious place to start and so Sirius pulls Kell there, landing them both in the familiar front room.

The familiar empty front room.

"Harry!" Sirius calls out, instantly hurrying for the back bedroom.