Sirius was in the stands.
He had not announced he was coming --- this was characteristic --- and Ron had not known until he saw him from across the pitch after the match, standing near the teachers' section with Dumbledore in what appeared to be a perfectly comfortable conversation, the two of them watching the celebrating students with the quality of people who had each decided the other was worth taking seriously.
Sirius looked well. Better than Christmas, better than the gaunt quality he had carried through most of the first months after Azkaban. He had the specific energy of someone who had been useful and knew it --- the private work Ron had heard about through his father, the Auror consultations on dark object identification, the afternoons in the Black library organising what was there into something that could be used. He looked like someone who had found a reason to be awake in the morning.
He found Ron in the crowd with the ease of someone who had been looking.
'Good match,' Sirius said.
'You were here,' Ron said.
'Dumbledore invited me,' Sirius said, with the quality of someone who had not asked why and had not needed to. 'I thought I'd come and see Harry play properly.' He looked across the pitch to where Harry was still in the air, doing a circuit with the Snitch still in his hand and the team around him. 'He's extraordinary.'
'He's been working at it,' Ron said.
'I can tell,' Sirius said. He looked at Ron with the warm assessment he always had. 'How are you?'
'Good,' Ron said. 'I have something I want to talk to you about. Not now. After.'
'After the celebration?' Sirius said. 'That could be quite late.'
'Tomorrow morning, then,' Ron said. 'If you're staying.'
'Dumbledore's put me in one of the guest rooms,' Sirius said. 'Come and find me after breakfast.'