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For the first time, Harry is excited to leave Hogwarts. He’s excited to go home, because home actually means something now. Still, a part of him can’t help but be terrified that it’s all a dream. That he’ll arrive in London to find Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon waiting for him.
Hermione and Ron both tell him he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t help it. Things never go Harry’s way — not like this. He half-expected something to happen to stop Sirius from getting pardoned, but at least that seems to have gone according to plan. Hermione saw it in the paper just before Hedwig dropped off the letter from Sirius confirming the same.
Just because he knows it on a rational level doesn’t mean that he’s accepted it on an emotional level. Hermione insists that’s normal, and he’ll be fine once he sees Sirius on the platform — and when he does see Sirius on the platform, looking rather better in just about every way than he had when Harry had last seen him, he rushes over to hug him before he can even think about what it all means.
He’s half afraid that Sirius will vanish into thin air like some sort of illusion, but he doesn’t. He’s solid and warm and he laughs and wraps his arms around Harry and hugs him tightly.
“Harry!” Sirius says. “It’s so good to see you. And Ron and Hermione, too, of course. I hope your trip back was good.”
Harry suddenly finds that he can’t speak. He wants to cry — how embarrassing! — so he clears his throat and blinks back tears. Sirius is here. This is real. He never has to go back to the Dursleys ever again, right?
Unless… unless Sirius is here to break the news.
“It was very good, Mr. Black,” Hermione says.
Sirius waves a hand. “Please, call me Sirius. I really don’t want to be called ‘Mr. Black.’”
Hermione hesitates, her desire to appease any and all adults clearly fighting with her need to show appropriate respect, but then she says. “All right. Sirius.”
“You haven’t got to act like that,” Ron says. “He’s not exactly anyone’s parent, is he?”
“He’s my godfather,” Harry says. And yeah, maybe that’s different to being a parent, but so far, Sirius is the closest thing Harry has ever had, and he really wants this to last. Maybe that’s a stupid thing to think, but Harry really can’t help but to worry that Sirius will leave him. That Sirius, for whatever reason, can’t stay.
Ron has the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “It’s just, you know, he’s not stuffy.”
Sirius laughs. “Much to my mother’s dismay, yeah, I’ve never been stuffy. At least… I haven’t been for a long time.” He looks a bit far away for a moment — just a moment — and then he turns back to Harry. “I thought we’d go out for dinner first? Unless you’d rather just go home.”
Home.
Harry doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where home is, much less how it’ll feel to actually have one; a real one.
Sirius watches him for a moment before asking, “Would it make you feel better to have your friends come with us for dinner?”
Before Harry can protest that that’s not it, Ron jumps in. “We’d love to. Wouldn’t we, Hermione?”
“Ron!” Hermione hisses, shooting him a sharp look before turning back to Sirius. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you want to spend time alone with Harry.”
“It’s Harry’s choice,” Sirius says, like it’s perfectly normal for Harry to have a say in, well, anything. Is this going to be his new normal? Harry isn’t entirely sure he can adjust to it.
Harry’s almost reluctant to ask, but… Sirius has been nice so far. “Can they… maybe come to visit?”
“Of course,” Sirius says with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever. “Whenever you want. And you can visit them — though I suppose I should tell you not to go out and about without an adult to keep an eye on you, not that I expect you’ll listen.” He grins at them, and Harry has to remind himself that this is real.
Somehow, he’s allowed to have this.
“Can we… maybe take Hedwig home before dinner?” Harry asks, because he needs proof that this is actually happening; that he’s actually going to live with Sirius, and not with the Dursleys. Proof that he’s never going back to Privet Drive again.
“If that’s what you want,” Sirius says, like Harry actually gets a say.
And maybe he does. Maybe he’s actually going to be able to — what? Be happy? At home as well as at school? It seems far too good to be true.
“Okay,” Harry says. “I mean, it is what I want.” He wants to see this place Sirius lives; the place he’s going to call home. He hopes it actually feels like home, whatever that’s supposed to mean.
“Okay,” Sirius says back. He smiles at Harry’s friends. “It was nice to see you two again. I hope I see you again before too long. I mean it: you’re both welcome to visit whenever you want.”
“We will!” Ron says. He turns to Harry. “We have to call tonight. On the Floo, not the tellyphone,” he clarifies, as if Harry would think Ron would try calling on the phone again.
“Telephone,” Hermione corrects absently. She then turns and gives Harry a bone crushing hug. “I’m so happy for you. Write to me when you get a chance.”
“I will,” Harry promises. He hugs her back, and when he lets go, he smiles at both of them, then looks up to Sirius. “I think I’m ready. Or as ready as I’ll ever be.”
He doesn’t mean to say that last bit out loud, but Sirius squeezes his shoulder. “I’m excited, too. We’ll see you later, Ron, Hermione.”
Harry says his final goodbyes, and then he follows Sirius out into King’s Cross, which is bustling as always. “Where are we going?” he asks.
“Home,” Sirius says.
“I know that,” Harry says. “But where is home?”
Sirius stills, just a bit. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken the liberty of picking a place for both of us.”
“‘Course I don’t,” Harry says. “What, was I meant to see houses with you while I was in school?” He supposes Sirius could have stayed at the Leaky Cauldron, or something, but that hardly sounds as nice as going home to an actual home.
Sirius grins, visibly relaxing. Was he really that worried about that? “Good,” he says. “Then I should tell you there’s a whole community of people like us in North London.”
“Really?” Harry asks. “I thought it was just Diagon Alley. Well, and Knockturn Alley.”
“In this area, yeah, but — there are villages that are half and half, and loads of people live in the countryside, but that’s not what everyone wants. I know you said you liked staying in Diagon this summer, but I also thought you might fancy somewhere with a garden so you can practise.”
Oh. He can’t believe Sirius thought of that — now that he thinks about it, yeah, it might be a bit difficult to find somewhere to practise in Diagon. And while he’s always happy to be surrounded by magic, he has to admit the idea of living in a magical part of the city is more appealing than living in some small village or a remote part of the countryside.
“That sounds brilliant,” Harry says, unable to stop himself from grinning — but why should he care about that now? Sirius probably wants him to smile. It’s just… weird.
But he’s sure he’ll get used to it.
Sirius returns his grin with one of his own. “I’m glad. Now, why don’t we get a cab? I don’t think we want to take Hedwig on the Tube.”
He’s not really sure Hedwig will like a cab much better, but they have to get her there somehow, and since Harry can’t apparate yet… a cab makes sense, really. So he nods and says, “Okay,” and follows Sirius out of the train station to the cab stand.
Sirius arranges for a cab and gives the cabbie the address. Harry was never allowed to go into London enough for it to mean much of anything to him, but he watches the city go by with wide eyes. He doesn’t even mind as the hustle and bustle gives way to quieter, more residential areas.
He’s going home.
He gets to live with Sirius for — for as long as he wants. The reality still hasn’t sunk in, and whenever he thinks about it, it gives him a rush. It feels too good to be true; he keeps sneaking glances to make sure Sirius is really there — that he hasn’t gone anywhere.
Eventually, after what feels like forever and no time at all, they arrive in front of an unassuming terraced house. He can’t explain it, but the entire neighbourhood feels alive. It must be the magic. He steps out of the cab and looks around with wide eyes.
Sirius pays the cabbie. Then he grabs Hedwig as well as Harry’s trunk and brings them both to the door. “Ready?”
Harry takes a deep breath. “Ready.”
Sirius grins and opens the door. “It’s a bit basic right now; I thought we could decorate it together. We have all summer, after all.”
And yeah, it is a bit basic, but there’s something about it… Harry doesn’t know if it’s the magic or just the knowledge that he’s here with Sirius, but it’s nearly overwhelming. He’s glad he wasn’t carrying Hedwig, because he’d have dropped her to rush to hug Sirius.
“I hope that’s good,” Sirius says.
Harry can’t believe this is real. This is a real house, and… when he turns his head, he sees it: that picture of his parents on their wedding day, Sirius standing next to his dad as best man, laughing.
“I don’t want to be a replacement for them,” Sirius says softly. “I know I could never. But I want to be someone you can trust.”
Harry’s throat feels tight; he doesn’t trust himself to talk. Instead he clings to Sirius for longer than he probably should, and only pulls away when he can clear his throat and say, “Where’s my room?”
“Upstairs,” Sirius says with a grin.
He leads Harry up the staircase to a bedroom that looks… well, a bit dull. Sirius catches his eye and says, “I thought we could go to the shops and decorate it together,” which is enough to make Harry’s eyes sting, just a bit.
He can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve this. But he has it. He has Sirius, and Sirius really does seem to love him — to want to be some sort of family. And yes, Sirius is right when he says he can’t replace Harry’s parents, but Harry has never in his life had… any sort of parental figure who actually likes him, much less loves him.
(Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are lovely, but that’s not the same thing, and he’s sure they know it, too.)
“Thanks,” Harry manages to say. He looks around the room. It’s easily twice the size of his room at the Dursleys’, maybe even three times as big, and there’s even a perch for Hedwig.
“Let’s get Hedwig set up and bring your trunk in here, and then we can check out the back garden — and then get dinner? I’m starved, and I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Yeah,” Harry says with a smile. “That sounds great.”
The restaurant is a short walk from the house; Sirius tells him it’s still in the wizarding quarter. Harry wonders if he’ll ever learn everything about the wizarding world. Is this how Hermione feels? He doesn’t know.
He just can’t help but keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It’s not that he doesn’t trust Sirius. He does. He knows Sirius wouldn’t have done all of this just to abandon him; he trusts that Sirius really does love him. But he doesn’t trust the universe not to take Sirius away from him. Maybe there’s some loophole that means he’ll have to live with the Dursleys forever.
“What’s wrong?” Sirius asks.
Harry hesitates, but… if he can’t tell Sirius, who can he tell? Ron and Hermione don’t know what it’s like to escape someplace awful. Sirius does. (Though, really, Harry’s sure he’d prefer Privet Drive to Azkaban — as much as he hopes to never have to encounter either the Dursleys or a dementor ever again.)
“It feels too good to be true,” Harry says.
To his surprise, Sirius says, “I know. I feel the same way.”
After twelve years of false imprisonment, Harry supposes it makes sense. He can’t even imagine what that must have been like. It’s oddly reassuring to know that he and Sirius are in similar situations — leaving a horrible place for somewhere new — and that neither of them are taking this for granted.
“But,” Sirius continues, “It is true, and the best thing we can do is try our best to accept it.” He’s quiet for a moment, before he says, “I think you’re probably feeling something like how I felt when I ran away to live with your dad.”
Harry’s heart pounds. “You ran away from home? To live with my dad?” Can he tell him that he’s wanted to do the very same — except he knows he could never let himself be a burden for the Weasleys? That he did run away last summer?
“I did,” Sirius says. “My family… they weren’t good people.” He hesitates, clearly unsure how much to tell Harry. “I couldn’t take it anymore. When I was sixteen, I packed my trunk and left for your dad’s house. His parents were kind enough to take me in and provide for me until my uncle passed away when I was seventeen and left me enough money to get my own place. I’ll be forever grateful to them.”
“I ran away, too,” Harry says. “Last summer. I — I never want to go back.”
“I know, and you never will have to go back. I promise you that.” The look on Sirius’s face can only be described as fierce. “If your aunt and uncle are anything like my parents… I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Harry. I only hope I can make up for it.”
“You are making up for it,” Harry says. He’s a bit confused. “It’s not your fault, anyway. It’s Wormtail’s. You didn’t betray my parents. You never would have. You — you tried to take me, that night, didn’t you?”
Sirius’s eyes widen, just a bit. “I did, yeah.”
“And if you had, if they’d let you, you never would have gone after Wormtail like that.”
“I wouldn’t have abandoned you,” Sirius says softly.
“So it’s not your fault. You just said you wouldn’t have abandoned me, and you didn’t. Yeah, it’s awful that I was stuck with them and you were put in Azkaban, but it’s not your fault. I don’t think you should blame yourself.”
Sirius doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Harry’s worried he might have spoiled it, but then Sirius smiles at him. “I’ll probably always blame myself a bit, but thank you, Harry.”
“I don’t blame you,” Harry says. It’s important to him that Sirius knows that; that Sirius believes him in this much at least. Even if Sirius does blame himself, he has to know that Harry doesn’t.
“I know,” Sirius says. And then he changes the subject. “Did I ever tell you about the time your dad and I used the Invisibility Cloak to break into the Slytherin common room?”
Harry leans forward in his seat. “No! Did you know we broke into the Slytherin common room, too?”
“You did? With the cloak?”
Harry shakes his head. “Hermione brewed polyjuice for us to transform into two of the Slytherin students. Well, there were meant to be three of us, but Hermione accidentally got a cat hair instead of a human hair.”
Sirius raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Hermione brewed polyjuice potion? She’s fourteen.”
“She was thirteen then. It was last year. Second year, I mean.”
“It’s a pity Sluggy isn’t still the Potions master. He’d adore her just like he adored your mum. She was an ace at potions, too.”
“She was?”
Sirius nods. “Best in our year, hands down. I hated her for it at first. I was — my family raised me to believe that I had to be better than everyone at everything, and for someone without a magical background to be so effortlessly better than me at something… it became something of a rivalry, really.”
Harry isn’t sure what to say; he wants to hear more about his mum, because he can probably count the things he knows about her on one hand. “You and my mum were rivals?”
“Didn’t help that she hated me.” Sirius grins. “At first, anyway. My charm eventually won her over.”
Harry can almost picture it — but it’s hard, because he really doesn’t know much about his mum. “What was she like?” The words escape before he can think better of them.
“You remind me a lot of her, actually,” Sirius says after a moment. “She was kind, stubborn, and very brave. She had a temper. She couldn’t stand injustice. She was a very loyal friend, even to people who didn’t necessarily deserve it.”
“My friends deserve it,” Harry says firmly. He doesn’t know who his mum’s friends might have been who didn’t deserve loyalty, but Harry is sure that his friends are all excellent, even when they’re being annoying.
“Oh, Ron and Hermione definitely do,” Sirius agrees. “I’ll have to meet the others to have a real opinion. Your birthday is on a Sunday this year, I think. Would you rather have your party then, or on the day before?”
“Party?” Harry repeats blankly. The concept isn’t totally foreign — Dudley’s had birthday parties before, of course — but he’s certainly never had one himself.
“If you want,” Sirius says. “If you’d rather do something small, we can. It’s up to you.”
“Of course I want it. I’ve never had a birthday party before. At least, not that I can remember.” Before Sirius can say anything, Harry asks, “Did my parents have a party for my first birthday?”
“They did,” Sirius says. “Your dad went all out. He was convinced you’d be a Gryffindor. Your mum said it wasn’t fair to foist a House on you as a child — and, really, I agreed with her, but…” He shrugs. “You were adorable in your little red and gold jumper. Quidditch,” he adds.
“Quidditch?”
“Your dad played Quidditch.”
“Oh, I know that,” Harry says, relieved to actually know something about his dad. “But he got me a Quidditch jumper?”
“To match the broom I got you, though I said he should’ve gotten you a Puddlemere jumper instead.”
“Broom?” Harry asks before realising what else Sirius said. “I’m a Cannons supporter.”
Sirius huffs out a laugh. “James would have a field day with that. Of course you are. And yes, I got you a broom. For your birthday; your mum said it was your favourite by far.” Sirius grins. “It was a toy, obviously. Only rose a few feet off the ground, but your mum said you nearly killed the cat.”
“We had a cat?”
“You did.”
Harry doesn’t ask what happened to it. He doesn’t think he wants to know the answer — if Sirius even knows himself. “Could we get another pet? I mean, I dunno if you like cats, but you probably want your own owl, and…” He trails off, suddenly embarrassed.
“I like cats all right,” Sirius says. “That’s just an old stereotype. Crookshanks and I became good friends, you know.”
“I know,” Harry says with a laugh. “But I wasn’t sure if he was special.”
“Oh, he’s definitely special, but… I like cats, yeah. I like all animals, really. I always wanted a pet growing up, but I was never allowed. My mother would have drowned the thing before my brother or I even got a chance to name it. I had to stop him bringing strays home more than once.”
Sirius stills, then, like he’s just said something wrong.
Harry decides to salvage the situation. “I don’t think Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon would have killed an animal I tried to bring home, but they definitely wouldn’t have let me keep it.” He does, however, wonder what sort of person Sirius’s mother was if she’d kill an innocent animal. “Anyway, you have a brother?”
“Had,” Sirius says. His tone is pretty clear — he wants to end the conversation, but Harry wants to know more.
“What happened to him?”
Sirius looks around and sighs. He fully puts down his fork. “My family were not good people. I’m glad they’re dead.” He stops himself. “Maybe not my brother. I don’t know. He was an idiot. Bought into what they told him and only stopped when he got in too deep. Voldemort killed him.”
Harry isn’t sure what to say to that, beyond, “Voldemort killed your brother?”
“He’d signed up to serve him, then he got cold feet. You didn’t get cold feet with Voldemort. It was a lifetime of service or death. Regulus — my brother — tried to get out.”
“Did you help him?”
A shadow passes over Sirius’s face. “No,” he says. Harry can’t quite sort out his tone. “He didn’t ask me. Not that I would have if he had done. It was — the war was awful, Harry. Looking back… I shouldn’t have left him in that house with them, but at the same time… he never would have gone with me. And I couldn’t have stayed.”
“I don’t know what it’s like, having a brother or sister,” Harry says after a moment. “But I don’t think you can force anyone to do what they don’t want to do.”
“You really are a lot like your mum,” Sirius says. Then he picks up his fork and starts to eat again. Harry does the same. He hopes he didn’t cross any lines, but Sirius doesn’t seem that bothered. He certainly doesn’t seem about to send him back to Privet Drive.
And from what he says about his family, Sirius seems to know what it’s like to finally get away from them. Harry just wishes he’d been able to be there all along. For a moment, he feels a rush of anger at Hagrid for not handing him over to Sirius all those years ago. He could have had this for years, if Hagrid had just handed him over.
But Hagrid had been working on Dumbledore’s orders, so it’s really Dumbledore’s fault, isn’t it? Or is it? It all comes back to Voldemort, after all. Dumbledore never would have got involved without him.
“All right, Harry?”
“I just wish things had been different,” he says.
Sirius reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “I know. I do, too. But we’ve got each other now, and that’s nothing to take for granted.”
“Yeah,” Harry agrees, trying to push those thoughts from his head. He’s free now. He can be happy. Sirius can be happy. They can be happy together.
He just needs to focus on that.
Sirius promised to take Harry out to the shops in the morning, but when Harry wakes up in his new room, he still feels overwhelmed. Yes, it’s a bit dull and empty (though Sirius helped him charm the walls to be Gryffindor red and gold after dinner), but it’s home.
He has somewhere he feels safe; somewhere that isn’t Hogwarts.
He gets out of bed and feeds Hedwig before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Sirius is in his pyjamas, overseeing what looks like the start of a full English.
“Harry!” he says. “You’re up.”
Before he can think better of it, Harry rushes to hug him. After just a second, Sirius hugs him back.
“How are you?” Sirius asks as he lets go. “Did you sleep well? We can get you another mattress if you don’t like that one.”
“The bed’s great,” Harry says truthfully, taking a slice of toast and biting into it. “Everything’s great. It’s just… I still can’t believe this is real.”
“It’s real,” Sirius says.
“You said you felt the same way when you ran away to live with my dad,” Harry says. “We sort of got off topic.”
“Yeah,” Sirius says. “Do you want the whole story?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t want to upset him, after all, especially after everything the night before.
“I don’t.” Sirius still focuses his attention on their breakfast. “I was sixteen. My parents… they didn’t take it well when I was Sorted into Gryffindor. They wanted me to be a Slytherin, like the whole family had been. The Sorting Hat had a different idea.”
Harry doesn’t know why he says it, but he does: “The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin. I argued with it to put me in Gryffindor.”
“It wouldn’t have put you in Gryffindor if you weren’t a good fit,” Sirius assures him. “You’re not a bad person just because the Hat said you might do well in a different House. It said I’d do well in Slytherin, too, if I’d wanted. Or Ravenclaw, if you can believe it. But ultimately, it put me in Gryffindor, with your parents.”
“And your parents didn’t like that?”
“To put it lightly. Things changed after that. They got worse every time I was home, and eventually… I couldn’t take it anymore. I stuffed as much as I could in my trunk and ran out the front door. I was halfway to the Leaky Cauldron before I realised I could call the Knight Bus. So I did, and… it wasn’t the first time I’d snuck off, but it was the first time I’d brought my trunk. Your dad greeted me with a hug and told me I could stay as long as I wanted.
“Your grandparents had the final say, obviously, but they didn’t want me to go back, either. So I stayed with them during school holidays until my uncle died and left me enough money to set myself up with a place of my own. But your dad was great, and your grandparents, too… they said I didn’t have to leave if I didn’t want to.” He shrugs. “It was time for me to break out on my own.”
“I blew up my aunt,” Harry says.
“Blew up your aunt?”
“Well, Uncle Vernon’s sister, so I s’pose she isn’t really my aunt. But she just kept saying such awful things about my parents and… I couldn’t take it. It was an accident, but I don’t regret it.” At Sirius’s expression, he says, “Blew her up like a balloon, not like an explosion.”
“Oh,” Sirius says. “The reversible sort of blowing up.”
Harry huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, if you want to put it that way.”
“Harry, just know that you don’t have to put up with any sort of mistreatment. If anyone tries anything with you, I know you can stand up for yourself — and if that doesn’t work, even when you’re at Hogwarts, I’ll be just a letter away, all right?”
Harry isn’t used to this — to someone (particularly an adult) caring about him and wanting to protect him — so he hugs Sirius again. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Sirius says. “We’re family. I mean that. Your dad was like a brother to me, and…” He trails off.
“And you would’ve been my family, anyway, if they’d lived,” Harry finishes for him. It’s easy enough to sort out what he was going to say, really.
“Yeah,” Sirius says. His voice is a bit choked. Harry can’t blame him. He’s used to not having parents, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want them. He does. Desperately. And he doesn’t know what he’d do in Sirius’s position, if it were Ron or Hermione’s kid in his.
He just knows he’s really lucky to have Sirius now. That they’re lucky to have each other. And Harry is never ever going to take this for granted.
“So,” he says. “You said we’d go to the shops today?” he asks.
“After breakfast. I have a list of things we need, but if there’s anything at all that catches your fancy — I’ll show you the family vault, at some point. I have more money than you or I could ever spend in our lives. There’s no need to worry about anything.”
Harry can hardly believe his ears, but he knows Sirius wouldn’t lie to him like that. “Thanks, Sirius, but I have my own money.”
“I know you have, but I want to spend my money on your room things. And your school things. And anything for the house. Trust me; we’ll go to the vault sometime today and you’ll see.”
“If you’re sure,” Harry says. He doesn’t want to be a burden, but he also doesn’t want Sirius to be upset with him. One day, he’ll probably learn how to strike that balance, but for now, this is all still new to him, and he isn’t sure what to do with it.
“I am,” Sirius says. He finishes cooking breakfast and summons a couple of plates from the cupboard and sets breakfast up on the table.
Harry digs in the moment Sirius sits down across from him. It’s delicious, and it’s a bit weird to be getting a good meal after leaving Hogwarts, but this is his new normal. He reminds himself of that. This is going to be his life for the next few years, maybe even longer. Sirius won’t kick him out when he turns seventeen. Sirius is going to be here for him forever. No matter what.
“I’m really happy,” Harry says, washing his breakfast down with a few gulps of orange juice.
“Me, too,” Sirius says.
Maybe they’re both lucky. There’s no use dwelling on what might have been. Here and now, they have each other.
Maybe that’s enough.