Chapter Text
It was the summer before Sirius was set to start his first year of Hogwarts that Walburga called her two sons into their father's study with her husband to have the talk. She had spent many long and hard nights lying awake in bed for the past few years planning. She knew her sons were curious about the hushed whispered conversations between she and her husband but had enough fear of punishment to ask.
Walburga loved her sons. She loved her sons more than anything, and that was why she had to set her plan in motion. So that at least one of them would have the chance to survive and the Black main line could continue to survive.
But now she had to make her sons understand what they must do.
She looked critically between her two sons standing upon the ornate rug that showed the scenes of the Knights of the Round Table. Regulus's back was straight and his head was bowed submissively, his wavy black hair covering his eyes that she could barely see studying the rug. Sirius, unlike her youngest, was fidgeting every few seconds, at first the move of a foot, then a slight finger jerk. He looked at her and Orion with a confident mask on, however, and she had to stop herself from a slight smile in pride, as she knew her oldest was most likely terrified that he had stepped out of line of the perfect heir once again.
Orion was staring blankly at the boys behind his mahogany desk which was covered in Wizengamot papers and Dark Arts texts. Walburga knew he wasn't happy with the plan but was going along with it for the chance for the Black family line to survive the coming war. There was war on the horizon and it was coming fast. They both knew it and were not going to deny it like the sheep-like masses.
“Boys, as you know, Sirius, you, will set off to Hogwarts in a few short months, and next year Regulus will be joining him. With this comes changes that you must be made aware of.”
She could see the fear leave them both to make way for confusion and growing apprehension. Regulus had finally looked up from the ground, frowning slightly as his brows furrowed while Sirius straightened up and listened even more attentively. She loved her boys. She reminded herself she was doing this for them.
“Firstly, I know you are looking forward to Slytherin Sirius, but your father and I have decided that you shall be going into Gryffindor,” she said as quickly as she could without losing composure, seeing Orion's lips slightly downturn at what she said. Sirius however had lost all pureblood composure that had been drilled into him his whole life. His shoulders slumped in shock and a look of outright bewilderment lit his face, mouth hanging slightly open. Even Regulus had tilted his head up further in confusion. As she knew he would, Sirius tried his best to reign in his obvious emotions before opening his mouth to respond.
“But mother, every Black heir has been in Slytherin. I'll be an outcast! Why would you and father even want me to be in Gryffindor?”
Walburga gave a sharp glare in reproach before she let it go. The outrage was not unexpected. It was true that he would most likely be looked down upon by his cousins and others, and it was true that none of the main line of Blacks had ever been in any house but Slytherin. But it was a necessary thing. If her plan had any hope of working, one of her sons in Gryffindor was a must. Regulus wouldn't survive in the house of the brave. He was much too quiet and shy. Sirius was strong, however, and with his training, she was sure he could blend in easily, even with a Dark family background.
“Sirius,” she began, leveling a grave expression at her eldest son so that he would understand the levity of what she was saying, “A war is starting soon. I need you to get into Gryffindor so you have a chance of getting into the Light side.”
Sirius's frown grew as he looked worriedly at his brother. He glanced at his father before returning his attention to her.
“Like a spy? You want me to be a spy?”
Though he had obviously tried to hide it, his voice had quivered in fear. She knew that her eldest son knew himself enough that he wouldn't make it as a spy. Despite being raised to be a perfect pureblood heir, Sirius had always been a little more overbearing and loud and generally clumsy than others of his rank. He wouldn't survive as a spy for very long and he knew it as much as she did. So she shook her head curtly and answered him.
“No, Sirius. I want you to be on the Light side. When you are older you will be in the Light's army. Regulus, next year you will go into Slytherin as you should, and when the time comes, you will join the Dark's forces. This is what your father and I have decided.”
Both children were obviously shocked, with their eyes widened and mouth slightly opened. Walburga had no doubt that they were questioning the decision, they were her sons and if she been told this plan she would have questioned it as well. But she had thought long and hard about it, since her boys could barely talk and the war was only a nightmare and whispers in the hall of the ministry. But now it was almost here and her boys must go through with the plan. One son on each side left a higher chance that at least one of them would return home alive.
They talked longer into the night, going over facades and traits that Sirius would have to practice and perfect until it was second nature, until he couldn't remember ever being anything else. She warned them of how Sirius would likely feel the backlash of the Dark community for abandoning his family and to be aware that even she and her husband may end up having to publicly disown him, though privately keep him the heir. At the future disdain from his family, even if it was fake, Sirius had obviously been pained, and the boy's had long ago into the conversation taken each other's hand and squeezed them painfully tight. Regulus was obviously worried about his brother the most, though he was also scared about fighting in a war.
Walburga knew neither boy knew war like she and Orion did. Neither understood the need behind the plan, or the true nature of war. The last war hadn't even been fought on British soil and it had effected their lives greatly. By the sounds of the rumors, this war was going to be fought in their front yards. She just wanted one of her sons to live through it. As Black heirs, they would have no chance to choose to be neutral.
This had been the only way.
“Black, Sirius!”
The call of the woman who had introduced herself to the herd of eleven year olds as Mrs. McGonagall, made Sirius shake himself out of any nerves, throwing a wide, goofy grin at the boy's he had met on the train, one of such being James Potter, the heir of the Potter family, a decidedly Light family. Instead of sitting with his older cousin Narcissa, or the children of other families in his family's circles that he had known since childhood, Sirius had sat with James. Once he heard the surname of the boy, Sirius had decided he was his best bet of getting into the Light side, through publicly being his friend. Sirius didn't want to disappoint his mother, so he would get into Gryffindor. He would. He would.
He had to.
He took the last few steps to the stool, throwing another grin to the Deputy Headmistress before plopping onto the wooden stool, mentally wincing at the uncomfortableness of it. He pulled the old talking hat over his head and immediately sent the thought out, “Alright hat! I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen well. I will be a Gryffindor and I will be the best Gryffindor there ever was other than Godric himself. So just put me in Gryffindor!”
The Sorting Hat let out a laugh as he answered the determined child, “That's not how this works. I put you where you best belong for you to thrive. From what I see, that's a lot of ambition you have.”
The boy felt his grey eyes widen in horror. No! He couldn't be in Slytherin, even the other two houses would be fine, albeit slightly harder to get into the Light's ranks. But no one would ever trust a Slytherin on the Light side!
“No, please! Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin!”
“Not Slytherin, you say? Are you quite sure? You would fit in quite well with that background of yours.”
“Please!”
“Alright, alright. Well, if you're sure… Better be,” the Hat began before finishing in a shout for the hall to hear, “GRYFFINDOR!”
There were many gasps throughout the hall but Sirius couldn't stop the wide grin from his face. He did it! He was in Gryffindor. He jumped off the stool and gave a small wave to James, still waiting in line and a wink to Mrs. McGonagall before strutting towards his table. The applause was stilted and confused, but he didn't care.
He did it.
A year later, Sirius watched his younger brother be called up towards the stool to be sorted. Worried grey eyes found Sirius's own and Sirius gave a small reassuring grin. Regulus may be shy and studious, but he was a Slytherin. He would make it, he knew he could.
Less than a minute later, the Sorting Hat shouted out, “SLYTHERIN!”
Sirius smiled sadly as James patted him consolingly on the back and Peter crowed on that it was too bad that his brother was one of the snakes. Neither knew he was actually proud. Neither knew the reason he was sad was because he knew one day he would be most likely be facing him on the battlefield.
Neither knew that Sirius was doing everything he could to make his mother proud.
Sirius had done many things that he regretted in his life. He had seen and done things that would make most uncomfortable at the very least. He was an Auror, dealing with gruesome things and fighting on the frontlines were part of the job description. But the thing he both regretted the most and refused to truly regret at all, is loving his friends.
James Potter may be a bit of a bigot and an oaf, but he had a heart made of steel and gold. Sirius loved the man more than almost anything. He had originally became friends with James as a pretense, but over time the boy had became his brother and his soulmate. Sirius would gladly do anything and everything but die for his friend. And even then, he just might. James's wife, Lily, had always been a spitfire Gryffindor who completely blew his expectations and made him truly change his views on Muggleborns. She had never once looked down on him for coming from a Dark family, and had even been interested when he had drunkenly rambled about the types of Dark magics he had been taught about as a child. And most importantly, she truly loved James, just as much as James loved her.
Peter was a bit of a follower and he would often be the first to run if one of their pranks seemed to be going sour, but he was a witty man and wasn't too afraid of doing what he needed to.
Remus had made him rethink his childhood teachings that most creatures were too dangerous to survive. Remus was gentle and book smart and cared so much about all of them. Sirius just couldn't find it in himself to think Remus deserved the death sentence for his affliction.
But Sirius was a Black. A Black's first priority would always be family. Was it wrong that Sirius had found himself a family away from family since he was pushed away at only eleven years old? He knew his mother loved, even as she had yelled and cursed him in front of others and kicked him out of the house after his fourth year. He knew she loved him, but that didn't make it hurt any less. And when he cried that night at Potter manor, overwhelmed by what this war had done to his family and life, Sirius had the arms of James's mother wrapped around him and his best mate attached to his side. And when the year before, Sirius had twice drunkenly stumbled into James bed, crying his eyes out after learning of the death of his baby brother and then his father, James had only hugged him tight. He hadn't spoke, he hadn't needed to. Sirius had loved him all the more. To James, Sirius knew he was family. And if James wanted a brother in him, he would play brother, calling his parents Mom and Dad included.
Sirius loved his new family just as dearly as he loved his old.
Which was why he was staring at a filled potion vial in his hand. The potion wasn't technically illegal. But that was mostly because it was an obscure version of it. The more common versions had been long outlawed as Dark due to the fact that it was technically blood magic. But Sirius didn't care if it was legal or not. He was an A uror. James was an Auror. There was no way any charges would stick if they were found out, especially since he had went out of his way to find a version that had not been outlawed.
Now he just had to convince James.
Just a few weeks ago, James's firstborn son was born. Harry was an adorable baby and Sirius had fallen completely when he held him in his arms that first night he had lived. Sirius wasn't ashamed to admit he had cried when he was named Godfather. James had rolled his eyes and said Sirius was an idiot for thinking he wouldn't be named Godfather, but Sirius didn't care. James had made his son and heir legally and magically an official member of the Black family.
Sirius was ready to make him a member by blood.
Blood adoption rituals were an old known pureblood conclusion to the problem of the rise of squibs and sterility. Some completely wiped the child of it's old blood, others, such as the one Sirius was holding, would merely add the added bloodline to the child, so that it would be as if it had three parents. Sirius wanted James's permission to complete the ritual with Harry. He loved the infant as a son, and knew he would die for him in a second, and all he wanted to do was make it official.
Sirius had given a few thoughts to if this would anger his mother, before deciding that she wouldn't mind. After all, the reason she had sent her sons to both sides of the war was so that one of them had a chance of continuing the line. Sirius highly doubted he would ever naturally have any children even if he did survive the war. Harry was his only chance.
But how to convince James of this.
Sirius took a fortifying breath before going through the door of the cottage at Godric's Hollow. It was small in Sirius's opinion, but it was certainly homely enough for James and Lily to live in and raise Harry. Sirius's eyes took a sweep around the living room before alighting on James's figure slumped into the Gryffindor-red armchair. A large wicked grin overtook his face as he looked at him. His red Auror robes were draped over the side, and his undershirt and trousers were a crinkled mess. His dorky glassy were half-slipped off his face and his messy dark chocolate hair was plastered to the side of his face by a trail of drool. Stormy grey eyes twinkled in amusement and joy and happiness as he took in the scene. It took everything in him to walk over and lightly shake James's shoulder to wake him.
“Hey, hey James. Hey James. Wake up.”
His voice was quiet and full of a lot more care than most thought him capable of. But as he saw sleepy hazel eyes slowly blink open, he couldn't care. James let out a wide yawn and whine before closing his eyes in annoyance, obviously wanting to continue sleeping. He finally opened his eyes again with a fake glare and groaned, “Sirius, what is so important that it couldn't wait for morning.”
At the question, Sirius palms grew sweaty and his grip on the potion vial tightened to not drop it. His wide grin fell and he chuckled nervously before asking, “Where's Lily and Harry?”
James straightened up on the chair and took off his glasses to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Once he had finished he put them back on before answering.
“Lily's at St. Mungo's on night shift and Harry's asleep,” he began before frowning tiredly, “Probably only for another hour before he decides it's time to wake the house up though. So don't worry about waking me up, Siri. Infants are tough, Padfoot, take it from me.”
Sirius smiled at the comment before taking another deep breath, deciding the best way to do this was to just do it.
“James, can you hear me out?”
At the question, James's eyebrows furrowed before he straightened up further, looking more awake and alert than he had seen him since he walked in. James leveled a worried look at him before giving a sincere nod.
“Of course, Sirius, you can tell me anything, you know that.”
Sirius smiled again at James words before shaking his head.
“It's less me telling you something, and more me asking you something.”
At his words, James leaned forward before saying, “Well, go ahead. I'm listening.”
Sirius reflexively swallowed, his breaths going slightly more shallow in his anxiety before he finally said it all in a rush.
“I want to blood adopt Harry.”
James leaned back, stunned. His mouth opened to respond before he closed it again, mouth down-turning and eyebrows furrowing. He took a breath before opening his mouth again.
“You want… to blood adopt Harry.”
Sirius let out a sigh of relief, comforted by the lack of hostility or downright denial in James's voice. He smiled weakly at his best friend before nodding, raising his hand holding the vial. James's eyes widened at the sight of the bottle.
“Yes. I've wanted to ask for this since I held him in my arms for the first time. I immediately started looking up one of the versions that were legal and began brewing it. I want… I want Harry as my blood son. I want no one to be able to try to keep him from me if something happens to you or Lils. Please, Prongs.”
James's eyes gazed into Sirius's searchingly. It was obvious he hadn't even entertained the idea before. He looked completely flabberghasted before his gaze drifted to vial and his eyes grew resolute. A sort nod before he looked back up into Sirius's eyes. Sirius could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Was this really happening? Was James really agreeing to this?
“You can do it, Sirius. But I want you to run it by me before you do.”
Sirius's face felt like it was split in two, his grin was so wide. He couldn't believe it. James had agreed. James's son was going to be his as well. Harry would be a Black heir.
Over the next hour Sirius had explained the intricacies of the Ritual and what he had needed to brew the potion. James had sat and listened, asking questions here and there to better understand what he was allowing his son to undertake. Around midnight, Harry had woke up hungry, so after James had fed him, Sirius watching them from his spot on the vacated armchair, the two adults began preparing a space for the ritual. Sirius had brought some black chalk and was currently using it on the basement floor. He carefully drew out every line and curve perfectly, because even the slightest miscalculation could hurt Harry. Sirius was suddenly glad he had let Lily talk him into sticking with NEWTS Runes and Arithmancy. James stood hovering over him holding Harry, a comforting presence to the last Black son.
When Sirius finally finished drawing out the runes, he gestured for James to place Harry in the center of the circle. The baby was quiet, blue only just starting to turn green eyes looking up at the adults. Sirius gave Harry a smile before he turned his attention to the potion. It was clear at the moment, the only needed ingredient fresh blood. Sirius took out a Black family ritual knife and pricked his finger before slowly letting seven drops, the need amount, fall in. As the seventh drop fell, Sirius rubbed his bleeding finger on the infant's cheek, Harry instinctively turning his head sideways in preparation for food, and a bloody smear left on his cheek. Sirius took in a breath as he cupped the baby's face and fed him the potion. Harry's face scrunched up in disgust but Sirius made him keep drinking, cooing at and praising him for drinking it.
After the vial was empty, Sirius brought out his wand and touch the tip of it to the bloody smear left on the baby's cheek. Sirius looked straight down into Harry's eyes beginning to string the long phrase of latin that went along with the ritual into the air. His wand tip gained light and the room slowly began to get heavier and heavier with magic as the spell went on, but Sirius kept on. He had spent days memorizing these words in preparation for the chance to have the boy as his son.
When Sirius was finally done, the amount of magic in the room felt almost overwhelming, but after a second, like a snapped band, it disappeared. In it's absence, Harry immediately fell asleep. At the quiet breaths from the baby, Sirius finally let out a tired smile. The magic it had took from him was incredible, but it was worth it. Harry was now his son. James and Lily's son was now his too. Sirius took the infant in his arms and cradled him to his chest as he looked up at James. The man was breathing hard from the heaviness of the air moments ago but he didn't seem any more tired than he was before.
Sirius stroked Harry's now black hair lovingly as he looked at James beseechingly.
“Can I be the one to put him to bed?”
James's eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. With a small nod he said quietly, “I'll clean up the mess. Put Harry to bed and then get yourself to bed, too. Your dead on your feet, Pads.”
Sirius smiled sheepishly at his best friend before slowly making his way upstairs. He stopped by the kitchen to delicately clean of the blood from Harry's face before finally turning up the stairs and going to the nursery everyone helped set up. Sirius sent a longing glance to the rocking chair. He would, but James was right, he could feel the claim of unconsciousness growing ever stronger so he reluctantly set the infant down into his crib. Sirius placed a hand on his head and stared down at the boy. He was his son. It was still hard to believe. As Sirius turned to leave, he saw a pile of stuffed animals in the corner, and when he saw two he couldn't help but pick up two and place them in the crib beside Harry.
With one last glance, Sirius left the room and then quietly padded out the house, once reaching out of the wards' reach, apparating away.
In the nursery, Harry cuddles close to the stuffed stag and dog in his crib
Sirius was filled with utter rage. Peter had betrayed them. His short blonde friend had always possessed more self-preservation than the average Gryffindor, but to sell out Lily and James! Sirius could feel his blood boiling in his veins and his mind was racing with curses and spells he hadn't thought of in a long time. He wanted nothing more than to go after the rat and make him pay , but he had more important things to do.
As Sirius had been the original secret keeper, he was still connected to the wards, so when he had felt a breach of the wards by a magical signature he was not aware of, he immediately knew what had happened. He had apparated right outside the wards and now as he looked up at Potter Cottage, he felt his heart sinking into his stomach. The door was blasted off and smoke rose from the hole in the side of the cottage, originating from the nursery.
Sirius could feel his eyes stinging as he quickly ran through the front doorway and had to physically stop himself from falling to the floor in anguish. There, lying broken like an old, forgotten rag-doll at the bottom of the stairs was James. James whose hazel eyes would always sparkle mischievously when he had thought of something particularly wicked, James who always knew the exact thing to say to Sirius to make him feel better, James who loved Quidditch and butterbeer but especially Lily and Harry most of all, James whose face always lit up when he was happy, and James who had always known exactly how Sirius felt about him but never looked down on him for it or used it against him. Sirius felt his heart and soul breaking and cracking in ways he knew could never be healed and it took everything in him and the memory of bright emerald eyes and black, Potter-messy hair to stop him from breaking down right then and there.
Harry could still be alive, Harry and Lily could both still be alive. Harry, James's and Sirius's son and heir, and Lily, the woman James had loved more than anyone in the world. Sirius had to do anything he could to protect them if they were still alive, and this was the only reason he could step over the cooling body of his best friend, his brother, his soulmate, to hurry up the stairs, running towards the nursery. By the time he had reached the open nursery door, he was panting and he hastily took in the sight in front of him, heart sinking ever further. A dark cloak and a yew wand lay in a heap on the ground, right in front of a body that was unmistakably Lily, bright fire red hair spread out around her. Sirius took in a slow and shaky heavy breath and couldn't stop himself from letting out a low, long whine. They were gone. They were all gone and it was all his fault.
His self-pitying and anguished thoughts were immediately put to a halt as he picked up a quiet sniffle. His head quickly swiveled towards the sound, and his heart started pumping fast when he saw it was coming from the crib. He walked over the robes and the body of his best friend's wife, and looked down into the crib. There, looking up at him and clutching a plush snitch, was Harry, large emerald eyes overflowing with tears that had left stains on the baby's red and puffy cheeks. James's son had survived. Harry had lived.
Shaky hands lowered into the crib and brought the baby to his chest. He took in the quiet sniffling and the grabby, chubby hands. A cut shaped like a lightning bolt was bleeding on his forehead. Sirius knew the shape was the wand-movement of the Killing Curse. His mind refused to make sense of what this meant. All that matters is that his son was alive and in his arms. Even though James and Lily were both dead and Harry would never know them.
And with that thought he finally let his knees hit the ground, sobs shaking his entire body as he repeatedly mumbled Harry's name. He felt real in his arms, he felt like the only thing that was real in this entire world. He had lost everything tonight, everything except the crying baby in his arms. The last Potter and James's legacy.
He sat there for what felt like hours. He barely noticed another dark figure rushing into the nursery and collapsing in hysterics, and only vaguely remembered that he hated the other man. But who was he to judge the man who was crying like his life had ended when he was doing the same. It wasn't until after the other had left, sweeping out of the room after throwing a sneer in his and Harry's direction, that Sirius began to pull himself together enough to stand. He brought a piece of his robe to his face and wiped off the tear and snot before finding a clean spot of his robes to do the same with Harry's face, gently wiping the now sleeping baby.
Sirius forced himself to not look at the ground as he left the house, only stepping out of the way of the bodies from the memories that were now permanently etched in his head. He walked out the house before casting one last glance up at it. He could apparate. But where would he go? The rundown apartment he was currently residing in was nowhere to bring a baby. And Harry was asleep, apparation would surely wake him up, and after the night he had lived through, that was one of the last things Sirius wanted to put him through.
Two sets of footsteps went off behind him, one heavy and one light. Sirius whirled around, wand at the ready. Now that he wasn't overcome with grief, his protective instincts were going haywire at the slightest hint of a threat. His wand quickly lowered in his confusion, however, for the two people in front of him were two he wouldn't have dreamed of appearing in Godric's Hollow directly after a tragedy had occurred.
Albus Dumbledore, his former school Headmaster, and current leader of the vigilante army, the Order of the Phoenix, was dwarfed by the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid who stood beside him. Hagrid had always been fond of the Marauders and their mischief making, but that still didn't equate to him visiting the Potter residence when their bodies were still cooling and smoke was still billowing. Sirius looked from the half-giant's warm beady black eyes to the Headmaster's light blue. Dumbledore stepped forward, approaching Sirius as if he was a wounded animal.
“Sirius, my boy, I'm deeply sorry you had to see this first hand.”
Sirius slowly shook his head. He'd rather have seen it first hand than to have to hear of the death of his best friend from others. And besides, Harry needed someone who he knew to take him from the wreckage of the cottage.
Dumbledore's eyes just dimmed further behind his half-moon glasses in reply. Sirius knew he thought he was in shock. Maybe he was. But it didn't matter because his son was relying on him.
“You've had a tough night. Why don't you hand Harry over and go home, Sirius?”
At the question, Sirius's grip on his son strengthened and dark grey eyes gained a slightly crazed glaze on them in his panic. Sirius trusted the Headmaster, but there was nothing in this world that could make him willingly hand over his son at this moment. So he merely shook his head again and took a few steps back.
Dumbledore's white eyebrows furrowed as he looked concernedly at the young man.
“Voldemort is gone now, Sirius, you can relax now. The war has been ended by young Harry in your arms. You have your life ahead of you. I will take Harry so he can live with family far away from leftover Dark supporters after his life.”
The words had been said slowly and lowly, as if speaking to a small, scared child, and Sirius could feel indignation and anger boiling in him once more at the thought of them taking his son from him. But then something from what the Headmaster had said echoed in his mind.
The war has ended.
Words long ago said to him when he was much younger played in his head. “ This will only lasts as long as the war. Once the war has ended, you will still be a Black.”
Suddenly, he knew of a place he could bring his son.
Completely ignoring the two men in front of him, Sirius spun around and walked as quickly as he could without waking Harry over to the side of the cottage, where he often left his motorcycle. Sending a quick silencing charm around the infant, Sirius started up the Harley, grinning widely when the engine purred. He could hear both Dumbledore and Hagrid trying to get his attention, but he didn't pay any mind as he gently settled the baby into the sidecar after summoning a blanket. After a quick sticking charm to make sure he was safe, Sirius got onto the bike and took off into the sky, ignoring the shouting from the furious and bewildered wizards on the ground.
A few hours of flying through the skies later, Sirius stopped his motorcycle in front of a row of townhouses. It had been so long since he had stood on this street. He had grown up looking out over this street through the second drawing room's window. It was almost surreal to stand in front of the house after all these years of banishment. But the war was over, the terms of his banishment null. It was finally time to come home.
Sirius stooped over the sidecar and brought the sleeping child to his breast, looking lovingly over the messy black hair. He was still in pain, his heart still hurt so, so, so much, but he had to stay strong for the infant in his arms. His son.
With determined steps, Sirius walked up the front steps of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the house he had grown up in and hadn't seen since he was fourteen. He took a quick breath and steeled himself before taking the knocker in his hand and knocking precisely three times.
He only had to wait a few seconds before the front door was opened to reveal and gnarled and ugly old house elf who looked upon Sirius with wide eyes.
“Master Sirius is home,” Kreacher croaked out quietly after a few seconds of shocked silence. He stared up at Sirius as if he was a ghost before popping away. Sirius looked behind him before walking through the still opened front door, closing it quietly behind him. He looked around the entrance hall in nostalgic wonder. It had been so long since he had stepped foot in this house, and it seemed darker and gloomier than ever now that most of its former residents were dead.
A sharp tapping of heels took his attention and he looked up to see the old and withered face of his mother. Eight years, it had only been eight years since he had seen her face to face, and yet it seemed as if she had aged decades. He suddenly wondered how much it had hurt his mother to watch her youngest son and husband die within months of each other, and to have her other son be estranged due to her own actions.
“You're finally home,” she finally said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if anything louder would shatter the illusion.
Sirius gave his mother a broken smile. “Yeah, I am.”
Her dark eyes looked carefully over every inch of his face before eventually landing on Harry's form in his arms. She looked up into his eyes again in question.
Sirius took a shaky step towards his mother, broken smile growing wider in pride.
“Mother, meet my son, Harry.”
Old dark eyes widened in stunned surprise, before a tired delight washed over his mother's face. She took a step closer to her son to see her grandson in the flesh.
She did it. The Black line survived the war.
Everything didn't happen smoothly. It started out quite rocky, in fact, and Sirius would often find himself in heated arguments with his mother, as he was right now. It wasn't that he didn't understand her point of view, but he hadn't been faking being on the Light's side. He had embraced the ideas after being forced to take them. Now that the war was over, he wasn't going to revert his opinions.
But convincing his mother that he was right to believe in some things was often very hard, or downright impossible. Like now, for example.
Remus Lupin stood very uneasily in the entrance hallway, a scuffed up duffel bag at his feet. His clothes gave him the appearance of homelessness, which was rather apt as that was why he was currently in the Black ancestral home.
“Absolutely not, Sirius! I am not allowing filth to live in my house! A half-blood werewolf, really,” she screamed at him, looking utterly murderous, grey streaked black hair as wild as her eyes.
Sirius stomped his foot in anger, uncaring that it was 'unbecoming of a Black' or even an adult. He had betrayed Remus enough already by believing him to be the traitor, there was no way he was going to let the man live on the streets now that he had an estate to offer him to live on.
“If you recall, this is my house, mother. I am Lord Black now and if I say he stays, then he stays.”
Remus looked warily from Black to Black, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His face was pinched in worry and the bags under his amber eyes were darker than ever. He stepped forward a little and tried to say his piece, “I don't have to stay if-”
“Stay out of this!”
Twin shouts of anger and annoyed dark eyes settled on him, and the werewolf immediately stepped back, quailing under the angry grey eyes.
A few hours later Remus was in the Black nursery, holding the green eyed baby he views as his cub and watching him drink warm milk from a bottle, as Sirius was setting up his room down the hall.
“This is going to be an interesting house to live in, isn't it, Harry?”