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English
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Published:
2023-04-24
Updated:
2024-10-17
Words:
152,001
Chapters:
21/?
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17
Kudos:
22
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The Greater Dog

Summary:

1971 - 1990s

Not so long ago, the Wizarding World dethroned the Monarchy in favor of a (slightly) kinder government. But no one told the Noble House of Black. As the world reels from Grindewald's tyranny, wizards integrate with muggles, and pure blood runs muddier, the Blacks hold fast to their supremacy. The throne has changed to Wizengamot shares but their ruling remains the same.

And Sirius Orion Black is the heir apparent.

 

. . .

This is a LONG Sirius (and Regulus but a lot less) pov detailing the night before Hogwarts to after the war.
Thank you for your engagement on my fic! This has been a long time passion project that and I still heavily debate keeping it public. I do keep is mostly canon compliant, but it's slightly inspired by ATYD (mostly just Remus's character), and I have fixed some of the world building, adjusted ages of a few characters etc but it's pretty minor changes. If you're looking for a happier story, it ain't. If you have any input, it's usually appreciated. And if you're expecting regular updates, then I'm sorry but I hope you stick around anyway. Thank you and I hope you enjoy :)

Notes:

Here's a playlist INSPIRED by Sirius Black/the fic:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/75OAoXmvO0AI3ik3pyW4PB?si=fM84zmVaQvufe_wtcE6CQg

Here's my version of (but still 98% canon compliant aside from some birthdays and death dates) the Black Family Tree which includes a few of the big families and will one day include all the major families:
https://www.canva.com/design/DAFtFSeAqmc/bn1EHIF8FgTPDYPRsQzh_Q/edit?utm_content=DAFtFSeAqmc&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=sharebutton

Chapter 1: Petunia

Summary:

Petunia POV October 31, 1981

A quick little jaunt to the future, then we'll be back to the Sirius stuff.

Notes:

DISCLAIMER: THIS FIC IS UNDER HEAVY EDITING. I AM WORKING MY WAY THROUGH THE EARLIER CHAPTERS ONWARD SO THEY DON'T SUCK SO MUCH (to me anyway). UNTIL I'VE WORKED THROUGH IT ALL, PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A NEW CHAPTER

Hello and thank you for reading my silly little fanfiction!
Although I'm not proud of Joanna or her choices, I do love maladaptive day dreaming about Harry's dead dad and his friends. This will eventually be a very long fic (I say as I have written almost 150,000 words and I'm not even close to finished). I do my darndest to update chapters, but listen I'm a bit of a perfectionist. In fact, this is the third something draft of this chapter. Yep. I posted it, took it apart and put it back together because if there's one thing a bitch gonna do is loathe everything they create lol. Also, I have two jobs and school. And even though my sole audience is myself, I am a tough critic. If you would like for me to get my ass in gear, please bully me (nicely). Lord knows I need it. Please don't be afraid to leave critiscm. As long as it's constructive, I'll respond. If you're chill like that, I'd love a homie to obsess over the Marauders with me especially not a single real life person knows I'm writing this and boy I need an outlet.
Thank you again! I hope you enjoy my take on the Marauders Era!

P.S. send me your fic recs. I finished A Cadence of Part Time Poets and I WEPT. Then read it again tee hee
P.P.S. I'm in the market for (era compliant) song headers so if you have any recs, send them. My current method is the listen to every album put out between the 1960s to 1980s in order and making a detailed spreadsheet of what would work. Lord help me because I'm gay but also bc I'm dumb as a box of rocks and AWARE of it

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Well no one told me about her, what could I do?

Well no one told me about her, though they all knew

But it’s too late to say you’re sorry

How would I know, why should I care?

Please don’t bother tryin’ to find her

She’s not there

“She’s Not There”, The Zombies, 1965

 

 

Saturday, October 31st, 1981

Petunia Dursley’s first Halloween as a married woman was nothing to write home about. Even though she had, in fact, written home about it. Using her new, wedding-gifted stationary, she’d written about the upscale dinner party she’d attended with friends, making sure to include Veron’s highly funny joke he’d told and mention the beautiful quiche she’d brought, as well as how the other wives had raved for her recipe. When really, she’d spent the evening on an under-stuffed couch in her Mary Poppins costume, making small talk with the wives. All the while, her husband ignored her and talked shop. Petunia’s second Halloween as a married woman was looking to be made of the same caliber. Only this time, as the day seemed to remind her a little too much of the last, she blamed her sister, Lily.

Normally, Petunia loved her telephone. She loved where it hung in the kitchen, perfectly centered in a little nook just opposite the utility room. The pale blue color complimented the linoleum countertops, matching appliances, and even the dove-shaped salt and pepper shakers. The cord was a lengthy thirty feet (twice as long as her parents’ telephone cord), long enough to sit at the bar and keep the conversation. On a regular day, it was one of the many items in her home that she loved to brag about. But on this day, it was causing her deep offense.

The problem was Lily, had told her she’d call at 2:00 pm with “big news.” However, as Petunia watched the big hand of her chrome kitchen clock tick further past the twelve, the more irritated she became. It wasn’t difficult to annoy Petunia. Truth be told, she’d been annoyed at the start when Lily had told her she had news, as Petunia loathed to be overshadowed by her sister. It was too much to assume that her “big news” was something terrible. She sounded far too happy on the phone.

“Why can’t you just tell me now?” She’d asked when Lily had mentioned it a week before.

“Oh, I would, but I haven’t even told James . . . and I need to be sure first. You understand Tunie?” Then she’d changed the subject to talk of their parents’ twenty-fifth-anniversary party.

She should have just wrenched the information from her sister then and gotten it over with. That was another thing she loathed: Surprises.

Petunia tapped her manicure against the linoleum.

The clock said 2:04.

Her fingertip detected a granule of sugar, likely left over from breakfast. As her lips merged into a thinning line, she procured a fresh rag and a bottle of disinfectant and wiped down the countertop for the fifth time that day.

2:07

She pet a palm across the counter, feeling for phantom crumbs. Nothing. She wiped it again just to be sure.

2:09

From the bouncer, a baby in the ninety-ninth percentile of weight made a sudden wailing sound. The baby, her baby, was the spitting image of Vernon with none of her sharp angles. But she was sure the eyes were hers. Though currently the eyes in question were squeezed shut as the baby wailed loud enough to drown out the soap opera playing on the television.

“Hush, Duddy darling,” she chided. The usual sternness in her voice was gone, replaced with a high-pitched warbling she reserved only for her son. To the casual onlooker, Petunia’s bird-like frame lifting the baby hippo from its carrier would cause concern for her structural integrity. But she did it anyway, hefting Dudley from the bouncer and holding him outstretched at eye level. “How big is this news if she can’t even remember to tell me?” She sang.

Dudley didn’t answer.

Petunia answered her own question with another. “Is it because she’s a silly little lunatic?” She sat the pink, bowling ball-sized infant on her hip. “Yes she iz. Yes, she izz”.

2:14

She narrowed her eyes at the clock. She decided if Lily hadn’t called by 2:30, she’d treat herself with an early glass of sherry before the trick-or-treaters arrived and let the phone ring if she called after.

“Should we put on your costume? Does Duddy Wuddy want to put on his costume early for mummy?”

As “Duddy Wuddy” had just passed the developmental stage of realizing he and his mother weren’t the same being, he said nothing. A spit bubble formed at his tiny lips, which Petunia took as an enthusiastic yes.

Petunia was slightly sweaty and wholly irked after wrestling a jello-bellied infant into a fitting pumpkin costume. The phone still hadn’t rang. Even worse, as the big hand pointed to the eight, and she was opening the bar cart, she realized she was all out of sherry.

“Doesn’t she know I have better things to do today?” She asked the baby affably as she smoothed her hair in the hallway mirror, and Dudley kept making grabs for her pearl earrings.

“It’s not like I can just wait around all day for her call.” She continued while pouring herself a glass of the vodka she’d forgotten at the back of the freezer.

“Trick-or-treaters are meant to come by any minute, and you know how to cross Papa gets when Lily’s hogging the line. How inconsiderate.” Petunia complained, running a cloth over her baby’s face to rinse it of the spit up. The sickly-sweet quality to her voice was turning more stern by the minute.

2:49

She heaved a sigh heavy enough to shift the air pressure. Vernon would be home in less than an hour.

She took a tiny sip of her vodka, rebalanced Dudley on her bony hips, and started investigating. Lifting the receiver to her ear, she heard the regular drone that let her know it was in operable condition. She located the checkbook and saw that the phone bill had been paid. Dudley kicked out his sausage-like legs as she checked that the telephone cords were plugged and in working order. She even phoned a random neighbor, feigning a finger slip, “Sorry Lynette, meant to dial three, not six”, just to be certain. Just as she’d known from the start. The phone was perfect, as always. The sister, on the other hand . . .

“This is why you’ll always be an only child Duddy-kins”

Frustrated (and a little buzzed), she dialed the number herself. A full ring cycle later, she heard her sister’s voice. “Hi you’ve reached the Potter’s! We are currently unavailable to take your call, but– “ Lily’s voice sang over the speaker, sounding friendly. As she spoke, a man’s voice interrupted in the background. No doubt her husband, John or Jack or something.

Lily I don’t understand. We’re not busy right now. Why can’t you take their call?”

It’s for an answering machine, I’ll explain later – Sorry. Leave your name and number at the–” A long beeping sound followed, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Petunia rolled her eyes at the ridiculous message. She hung up, not bothering to say anything. She fiddled with the cord, more annoyed than before. Her fingers held the smooth plastic a half a second longer than usual, but not before Dudley grabbed the new “toy”. She sighed again. Despite her foul mood over the whole thing, she’d been looking forward to bragging about the Ford Sierra they’d just bought. The car was fresh from the dealership, with leather seats and plenty of space for Dudley’s car seat. Petunia was even going to add that with Veron’s job at the bank, they were able to finance it for three years instead of the usual five or seven. She loved to slip in Vernon’s job in conversations. It was a sense of pride for her. Especially as Lily’s husband was unemployed.

She paced the living room, trying to burn off some restless energy. She fluffed the couch pillows again, putting Dudley down on his play mat, then picked him up almost immediately when he wailed.

“Shhhh. Shhhh” She shushed, swaying over to the window. Vernon hadn’t returned yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. “If your silly aunt keeps this up, I’ll forget her number,” she sang to the baby.

2:53

In total, she rang nine more times.

Each time, the phone rang through to the answering machine. The words, “Hi! You’ve reached the Potters’” being the only way she heard her sisters voice. By the ninth time, her glass of vodka had been nearly emptied and Petunia was getting desperate.

“Just because Vernon will be home soon,” she told herself and her baby. Certainly not for any other reason. “You know he hates it when I mention her.” She soothed as she retreated to her rolodex. She flipped to “P,” double-checking that every number had been dialed properly. Of course, it had been. An additional note and phone number were at the bottom of Lily’s contact sheet, depicted in her neat handwriting.

In case of emergency, ring Sirius Black.

“What kind of name is a name like ‘Sirius?” She muttered, her words slurring slightly around her “s” sounds. Of course, she already knew what kind of name—one of her people.

She bit her cheek, frowning at the note. Dudley fussed and tugged at her pearl necklace. She switched him to her other hip.

Was she that desperate?

3:26

She was.

“Hello?” She said impatiently to the voice box a few moments later. There was a sound of scuffling on the other end, letting her know it wasn’t another answering machine. She scoffed. “Hello?? Excuse me??”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Keep your arse on,” a man’s voice answered. He sounded like he was from Kensington. His accent was eloquent enough; every consonant and vowel were accounted for, but she bristled at his language. “How can I help you?”

Petunia straightened even though she knew the man couldn’t see her. “Is this Sirius Black?” She glanced at the Rolodex, wondering if she had pronounced it correctly.

“Yes, this is him. Who’s this?”

“Petunia Dursley?”

A beat. Then, “Sorry, Miss. I don’t know a Petunia Dursley.”

She glared at the clock since she couldn’t at Sirius Black. Her lungs heaved a third sigh. “My maiden name’s Evans.”

There were some shuffling sounds on the other end once again, as the man must have shifted the receiver to his other ear. “Oh, right. Petunia. Aren’t you Lily’s sister? I think we met at the wedding. I was James’s best man.”

The memory surfaced like a piece of seaweed on a wave. The entire affair had been so absurd, so ridiculous, she hadn’t dared to bring Vernon. She spent the entire night as a third wheel to her parents’ marriage for fear of coming in contact with one of them. Even though she was a bridesmaid, she left before the cake was cut. Only not before watching the man on the phone, this Sirius Black in question, with dark hair far too long to be respectful, wearing beat-up motorcycle boots under his dress pants, and dancing like a man gone mad the entire night. Petunia felt embarrassed for Lily just remembering it.

“Yes.” She answered stiffly. Dudley gave a hard yank at her pearls, and she suddenly became even more eager to get off the phone. “Listen, do you know where Lily might be? She said she’d ring this number if I couldn’t reach her.”

There was another scuffle on the other end. “Oh uh, does she usually ring?”

“She told me she would,” Petunia answered. A glint of motion caught her eye. The new Ford Sierra was edging its way up the drive. As the car drove into the garage, Petunia caught a glimpse of her husband at the wheel, hands perfectly at ten and two.

“Oh, I don’t see why she wouldn’t then . . .” The man trailed off, distracted with a thought, but Petunia was also distracted.

3:34

Petunia loved her phone even more when she could scoop up the vodka and glass and put them away with barely a tug on the lengthy phone cord.

“Um, yes, if you can, just let her know I’m trying to reach her.” She hurried, closing the dishwasher. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone more forcefully than she’d meant to. In her buzzed state, she thought she ought to apologize to it as it had been more than loving to her.

Not a moment too soon. Vernon opened the garage door, Tesco bag in hand and a sweet greeting on his lips. She smiled pleasantly hoping he didn’t see the worry in her eyes.

Notes:

BRAIN DUMP
Okay I don't typically like doing these because as a fan fic reader I skip over these almost every time, but again I need an outlet and I have no one to talk to about this but myself so let's feed the spiral into insanity shall we? MMkay so Petunia is so hard to love and I don't in fact try to love her. I hope this chapter doesn't sway you to her side because after how she treated Harry for seventeen years bitch don't deserve a redemption arc. But I looove the idea of the perspective of this night from her's. I think she would keep her nose clean of how the wizarding world works mostly bc she hates her sister and everything she stands for. like be real if she had magic, she would be all up on that shit. She would become the next Walburga black if she fucken could. But also I think she keeps her nose clean bc she's a self centered twat who need a man (derogatory). Even if Lily wasn't a witch, Petunia wouldn't give a shit about her life. She would still act like an uppity piece of shit. but "HER SISTER WAS A WITCH BRO." and she wasn't? So? She gonna be a self proclaimed ass hat because her sister has magic coming out her bewbs and she don't? Yeah sibling rivalry is a thing (I have five sisters and one brother. he's fine) I get it. But there's no reason to TRAUMATIZE YOUR NEPHEW FOR IT. If a bitch wanted a redemption arc, she shoulda loved Harry in the way that she was supposed to. And if Vernon wasn't on board? Eat. him. THAT BEING SAID. Just because you hate your sister, doesn't mean you want anything to happen to them. I don't think she was as sad as she should've been when Lily died. But I do think she would show concern if she was in danger.