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Sirius could admit that he wasn’t entirely… put together, as it were. A run-in with a dementor could floor even the strongest of wizen, let alone spending 12 years surrounded by them. It had taken him over a month to manage to shift back to his human form after he escaped, and that had ended in a debilitating panic attack before he was forcibly returned to the safety of his dog form. Sirius probably would be dead if it weren’t for the Mauraders' successful attempt at becoming Animagi back at school.
The Mauraders. Sirius remembered the good old days when it was just them against the world. Sure, the year before the attack had him realizing that they hadn’t been great (well, if he were honest, they had been the worst kind of brats), but once they’d all matured a little, he was happy he could still call James and Remus friends. They were like brothers to him. And now…
Sirius snarled, deep in thought as he bounded through the woods of Little Whinging. Everything had gone so wrong. Peter had betrayed them. Sirius shouldn’t have made the rat secret keeper. Shouldn’t have been so stupid to leave it up to chance. He had trusted Peter, but looking back now, it was clear Peter was more a follower of the Mauraders than an active participant. Who knew when Peter changed sides, but the blame laid heavily on Sirius’s shoulders too. And the results of his foolish choice…
Now James and Lily were dead, murdered. Now Harry didn’t get to spend birthdays and holidays with his Mom and Dad. And because Sirius had lost his head when he had discovered what Peter had done, the poor boy didn’t have his godfather either. And Remus. The wolf probably thought Sirius was a monster.
He’d be right , Sirius thought gruffly as he approached Privot Drive. Sirius had spent the first month of his freedom wrestling between hunting down Peter and going to find and protect Harry. In reality, it was mostly spent wandering since he couldn’t maintain a human form for very long without damaging his sanity further.
In the past two weeks, however, he’d been able to figure out where Lily’s sister lived, and that had set his priorities straight. If he knew Professor Dumbledore, he’d guess that the old man would have offered Petunia a chance to raise Harry. That way he could grow up with someone who had known his Mom and live away from the watchful eye of the wizarding world. Taking down a dark lord was bound to attract some unwanted attention, no matter the age. Sirius couldn’t fault the decision. It seemed reasonable, even if it meant Harry wouldn’t get to see as many family friends as he might have otherwise.
Sirius found the house he was looking for. It was already pretty dark out, but the lights in the cookie-cutter house were still on. A shame, Sirius would have liked to try and sneak in to see Harry, but he’d have to live with observing from afar for now. He padded through a well-kept garden and into a dimly lit backyard. Staying close to the building so as to not freak out the inhabitants, Sirius approached the glass door that he presumed led into some kind of shared room (a dining room or sitting room, perhaps). His keen senses picked up a discussion, but he couldn’t hear Harry’s voice in the mix. An older man and two women were chatting, but none sounded like a child.
Sirius lay down in the grass, letting himself focus on the conversation inside. If Harry did arrive, Sirius would be here to see him. At the moment they were talking about the man’s work. Vernon, his name was. He figured the animated woman (Marge) was a relative of Vernon. Petunia made occasional comments but seemed less interested.
The way they spoke annoyed Sirius. Marge started talking about dogs, and while Sirius knew he wasn’t actually an animal, it still bothered him when others mistreated ‘his kind’ so to speak. Marge seemed all too happy about drowning a runt of her pitbull’s litter, and Sirius felt a growl he had to push back down. It wouldn’t due to get spotted by them, regardless of the situation. He’d probably get some form of Muggle creature control called on him, and then he would have a much tougher time seeing Harry.
He successfully calmed himself for a minute before he finally heard his godson, and then he didn’t even try to hide his fury.
"Still here, are you?" the woman barked.
"Yes," a small, evenly toned voice replied.
"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep."
Excuse me, Sirius thought as he rose up on his four paws, claws digging into the cool dirt. How dare she insult my godson like that! How dare she-- Sirius felt the rumble in his chest and had to resist the urge to bark in discontent. Surely Vernon or Petunia would set her straight.
But the next person to speak after a long silence was her .
"Don't you smirk at me! I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you."
Knock some manners into him? What kind of school did this mad woman think Hogwarts was? Unless the Dursleys hadn’t bothered to tell her. And why were they not intervening in the slightest?
"Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?"
"St. Brutus's," said Vernon, much to Sirius’s surprise and displeasure. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."
"I see," said the woman snidely. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" she barked.
"Er -" Harry’s voice wavered for a moment before he continued. “Yes, all the time.”
"Excellent," she said. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"
"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "loads of times."
"I still don't like your tone, boy," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case."
Sirius was getting ready to break through the closest window, because the audacity these people had to treat his godson this way was unacceptable, when Petunia finally spoke up.
"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"
Sirius snarled but settled himself back down so he could think. Not what he’d hoped would happen, but better than forcing her nephew to listen to such a rancid pack of degrading rubbish. Ironically the conversation was about him, but he could honestly care less.
What was going on here? Marge had gone to town on Harry, and Vernon seemed more than pleased to let it happen. Petunia, he couldn’t be sure. He remembered some of Lily’s comments about her sister’s ill-opposed views on magic, so maybe that’s why she let the story stand, but surely she could dish out a better excuse. Harry’s reaction was peculiar too. He had just, taken it. James would have sooner punched someone than take that level of abuse, Lily probably would too, but his godson had just taken it without so much as a comment. Almost as if…
Almost as if this has happened before.
But, surely not. Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t have allowed it. Right? Dumbledore would never…
Sirius’s ears perked up at a shift in the conversation. Marge was at it again.
"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."
When neither Petunia nor Vernon intervened, Sirius saw red. How dare she? How dare they talk about Lily and James that way? And in front of Harry no less? Sirius was back on his feet again, this time walking right up to the door. Now he could see the scene in all its disgusting glory.
Vernon, a roundish, brutish-looking man, sat at a round dining table next to Petunia. Sirius recognized her at once, having seen a few photos of Lily when the two had been younger. She had remained pencil-thin, though certainly not from malnourishment given her full complexion. The same couldn’t be said for Harry, who was leaning against a wall in the corner. He looked far too thin, the baggy old clothes hanging off him doing nothing to help the image. He didn’t even have a plate despite the rest of the family digging into a meatloaf.
The other two chairs were filled by two pudgy people. One seemed like a boy around Harry’s age. He was stuffing his face, smirking at Harry occasionally as he did like the brat he probably was. The other was Marge, a muscular woman who looked a tad tipsy, given the way her hand was swaying holding a wine glass.
"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, causing Sirius to jump, "you never told me what he did?"
The Dursleys looked amongst themselves for a second, as if considering whether to answer or not, but Harry’s eyes had drifted to the window and had stayed, staring, at him. Sirius schooled his features (as much as a dog could, which was mostly just lowering himself a little and ceasing his low growling) as he watched the boy. Harry held his gaze for a while before the conversation caught up with them both and they looked at Marge in unison.
"...Unemployed," Vernon had just finished his answer.
"As I expected!" said Marge, downing the wine glass and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who -"
"He was not," said Harry suddenly. Sirius barked in agreement, but it went unnoticed as the rest of the table stared at Harry. Sirius could see the wetness building in his eyes when he glance back at him.
"You, boy," Vernon snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, now! Go on -"
"No, Vernon," hiccuped Marge, holding up a hand. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) -"
"They didn't die in a car crash!" shouted Harry, pushing himself off the wall and glaring at Marge, his whole body trembling now. Tears were starting to form, and that was the last straw for Sirius. He pushed himself up on his hind legs and grabbed the glass door handle with his mouth, hoping it was unlocked. To his relief, it was, and he dragged it back as he continued to listen to the attack.
"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little --"
Wham! Sirius lunged forward over the table, knocking the woman to the floor with a deafening crash. He snarled at her viciously as the Dursleys all shouted and screamed in terror. Sirius didn’t have a chance to bite her as a chair hit him in the side. He rolled over, almost knocking into Harry. He righted himself and was about to turn towards the others when he froze, eyes caught on Harry.
The kid looked startled, but not scared. His green eyes were watching him with a mix of curiosity, wonder, and shock. But that wasn’t what had caused Sirius to falter. No, it was something far more vile. Now that he was this close, and at a lower angle, he could see up Harry’s sleeves. There were bruises on his arms, bruises that looked like they had come from punches or being grasped too tight.
Sirius forgot the others in the room for a moment as he began nosing at Harry’s arm, trying his best to assess the situation. When he nuzzled Harry’s chest, the boy gasped. It sounded pained. Sirius had barely touched him, and he’d heard enough sounds from the prisoners in Azkaban to differentiate shock and pain.
Thank Merlin he had come here instead of going after Peter. Sirius hated Peter, but suddenly his obsessed rage had broken in favor of a new threat. Sirius turned away from Harry, arching his back and raising himself to his full height as he growled at the Dursleys, who were all frozen, staring at the large shaggy-haired black dog who had just invaded their home.
Sirius wasn’t sure how he was going to get Harry out, but luckily he didn’t have to think about it long. Before he could make any moves, Marge rose to her feet, shaking her fist wildly. “Now there’s a mutt if I ever--” she began, before abruptly stopping to stare at her hand. It was swelling. Her body inflated like she was a balloon, and in only a few moments she was floating off the ground. The Dursley’s attention shifted to the woman as she squealed, bobbing along at the ceiling. Well, Sirius thought grimly, now’s as good a time as any to escape. He was mildly impressed by his godson’s accidental magic. A part of him hoped it’d bring the ministry if only to have Wizard Child Services take a look. It was a tiny part, as the rest screamed at how awful the ministry must be if this had been going on for so long.
Sirius lowered his back and turned to Harry, who was still staring at the scene. Carefully (he didn’t want to hurt his godson any further), he took hold of Harry’s sleeve in his mouth and began pulling him into the hall and toward the front door. Harry didn’t resist at first, till suddenly he stopped by a stair cupboard. That seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he had been in, as he drew his wand from his pocket.
“I think you have the same idea as me, but I need to get my stuff first. Won’t take long.”
Sirius didn’t think it a good idea for Harry to use magic intentionally (the accidental stuff would be fine, but anything more might get him in trouble). Seeing no other option, Sirius threw himself at the cupboard door, breaking it down.
Harry whispered a quick thanks as he pushed the door aside and pulled out his trunk. “Ok, I just need something from upstairs, but then I’m, well, I guess we’re leaving.”
Sirius nodded as Harry stumbled up the stairs. While waiting, Sirius took another look at the cupboard. At first, Sirius thought this was just where Harry’s magic stuff was put (Petunia must really hate the stuff), but then he started noticing more. There was a weathered mattress on the floor. Child-sized. And a thin, threadbare blanket that looked like it hadn’t been repaired for decades. A few broken toys were wedged in a corner, along with a drawing of a motorcycle that sort of looked like his old motorbike. Most heartbreaking of all, on the inner wall by the mattress was a series of scratched letters that read “Harry’s Room.”
If he could cry in his dog form, he’d be bawling. He couldn’t understand. How, how could anyone do this to a child? To his child? Why hadn’t Dumbledore taken Harry away the second he learned of this? Did Dumbledore even know? Surely, the Dursleys couldn’t have pulled one over on the Headmaster. But then, why had he let this happen?
A hand brushing his fur caused him to let out a startled yelp. He turned to see Harry, now with an owl cage and a cloak ( Jame’s old invisibility cloak ). His hands were up, open-palmed.
“It’s ok.” Harry looked over Sirius’s shoulder, his eyes going dim for a few seconds. “I don’t like it here either.”
Sirius rubbed up against Harry and was pleased to see the kid smile shyly. Harry picked up his trunk and began rolling it out the door. He seemed to be struggling, so Sirius gently nosed the owl cage until Harry got the hint and set it down. Sirius picked it up in his mouth, allowing his godson to get a better handle on the trunk.
They walked for a while, out into the night and away from Privet Drive. Harry kept looking down at Sirius, and every time Sirius rubbed up against Harry to try and communicate that he was here to stay. At some point, they stopped on a bench, a good mile or two away from where they had started.
The boy collapsed onto the bench, laying down and pressing a hand to his face. His other hand wandered idly until it was in Sirius’s fur, petting him gently. In return, Sirius set the cage down and licked Harry’s hand. He wanted to investigate further, see if Harry was hurt anywhere else, but he knew that without being able to stay human, he’d have to hope that Harry could manage until they got to Hogwarts. Then he could get the kid to Madame Pomfry. (Even if I have to drag him there, Sirius thought. If the kid had been hiding this abuse, then Sirius doubted Harry would go willingly). Until then, Sirius would just have to protect him from any more harm.
“What am I going to do now?” Harry mumbled, and Sirius could see the exhaustion in his features. Here wouldn’t be a great place for Harry to sleep, but if he needed to, then Sirius would keep watch. Harry was his responsibility, now. He only hoped he could be the godfather Harry deserved.