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Harry sits in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, fiddling with the Marauders’ Map. Ron, Hermione and most of the other Gryffindor students have already retreated to their dorms for the night, but Harry lingers. So much has happened in the past few weeks since Harry told Sirius about Umbridge and her seven-hour long blood quill detentions. It’s quite literally been life changing. Umbridge had been fired, gone to trial and sentenced to Azkaban, Fudge had been forced to resign, and Sirius had gotten his trial and was declared innocent.
Harry has been watching the fallout from the outside – Daily Prophet and Witches Weekly articles with interviews and speculation alike, owl letters from various order of the phoenix members and rumors – but nothing concrete.
Nothing explained how venting about horrible detentions led to turning Wizarding Britain turning upside down.
But that’s supposed to change tonight because Sirius had promised to talk to him. He hadn’t specified how or what time in his owl – hence Harry staying up by the fire with Marauders’ Map in one hand and his father’s invisibility cloak in the other.
The fire crackles, sending a few sparks towards the map. Harry quickly bats them away, and resumes studying it. This late, there’s barely anyone in the castle hallways. Mrs. Norris the Sixth is patrolling the second floor – and judging by her speed, it’s a rat she’s chasing. Filch is patrolling the third floor. Professor Trelawney is pacing back and forth in the astronomy tower. Professor McGonagall is leaving the kitchens with Professor Sprout. Snape is heading towards the staircases from the dungeons and –
Harry freezes. He rubs his eyes, wondering if he’s hallucinating, but no it’s still there.
Sirius O. Black is on the fourth floor. In Hogwarts.
Sirius is here.
Harry throws on his invisibility cloak and rushes out the door, wand lit with lumos in one hand and the marauders’ map in the other. He rushes down the hallway in a half run and takes the staircase two at a time, glancing at the map every few minutes to see where Sirius is going.
He’s clearly got a destination in mind because he’s steadily moving towards the southern part of the fourth floor.
Finally, Harry J. Potter and Sirius O. Black finally appear on the same hallway on the map. Harry gives his lumos a bit more power, lighting up the ground and walls around him. A few portraits grumble, but Harry doesn’t pay them any attention.
“Sirius!”
The darkened figure holding a suitcase at the other end of the hallway freezes and turns around. Soundlessly, a dimmer light appears at the end of his wand – a yellow light, less harsh than Harry’s bright white lumos. It illuminates Sirius’s features. The past few weeks have gone well for him – he looks even more handsome and lively than the last time Harry saw him at Grimmauld Place.
“Harry?”
Harry pulls off the hood of his cloak. Sirius’s face splits into a warm smile and Harry crashes into him, cheeks already aching from smiling. He buries his hands and face in Sirius new robes – ridiculously soft, with a touch of cologne – unlike his old dusty robes he’d worn at Grimmauld Place. Sirius returns the hug, one arm around his mid-back, the other hand petting the fine hairs at the back of his head. Sirius’s chin is a soft weight on top of his head, heartbeat strong and steady against Harry’s ear.
Harry has so many questions, each bubbling up and fighting to escape first but now that Sirius is actually here, he can’t quite seem to get any of them out.
The scruff of a boot against the floor has both of them tensing. Sirius’s wand light goes out, and he tugs Harry to the side underneath the alcove of a classroom doorway. A flick of Sirius’s wand has the suitcase silently flying towards them. Another flick and the suitcase and Sirius turn invisible.
Harry tugs his hood back up and mutters Nox.
Sirius pulls him closer, against his chest. Harry can feel his godfather’s warmth on his back, which is kind of nice. Sirius wraps a hand over Harry’s mouth which is less welcomed.
Mere seconds later, another light starts filling the hallway along with approaching footsteps. Harry and Sirius watch silently as Snape of all people strides down the hallway, robes billowing dramatically. Sirius’s arm around him tenses ever so slightly, and Harry would bet half his Gringotts vault that if Sirius were Padfoot right now he’d be growling, teeth bared.
Snape completely misses them. Sirius waits a moment and then lets him go, stepping back.
“Sirius-”
“Not here.” Sirius hushes him. “Come on, I have a place we can talk. Keep the cloak on.”
Sirius takes a moment to pick up the suitcase, glance at the Marauders’ Map – his map – before leading Harry across the fourth floor, up a staircase to the fifth and to a portrait that opens after a short conversation and the password ‘halcyon days.’ He holds it wide open for several seconds, so Harry takes the cue to slip in first.
Inside are living quarters. There’s a furnished sitting room, living room, small kitchen and what Harry assumes to be doors leading to bedrooms and a washroom. It’s completely bare – not a single personalized item or portrait.
The portrait closes behind them. Sirius flicks his wand and warm light land on the torches on the wall, lighting the rooms up. Harry takes off the invisibility cloak and sets it and the map on the sitting room chair.
“Come in, come in and sit, Harry.” Sirius says, steering him to the couch. Harry sits sideways on one end, and Sirius on the other.
“What is this place?”
“It’s an old professor’s living quarters. There’s a lot of empty ones around the school – Hogwarts was designed to host a thousand students and about sixty professors. Less than a third of that is being used. Your father, Remus, Peter and I spent the better part of our sixth year finding all of them to add to the map.”
It’s been over a year since Harry found out that Sirius, Remus, Peter and his dad made the Marauders’ map, and he still hasn’t gotten over the brilliance of it. The map is never wrong. The map is never fooled. It adapts to the castle’s moving staircases and resizing classrooms in real time. It even has a shadow of his father’s personality – Harry has spent many sleepless nights talking to the map in an attempt to get to know his dad.
The thought of Pettigrew is not a good one, but it does remind Harry why Sirius is here.
“Did you catch him? Pettigrew?” Harry asks. “I know you had your trial and everyone knows Pettigrew is the traitor but none of the papers mentioned arresting him.”
Sirius shakes his head. “We haven’t caught him yet, but now that the aurors are actually looking into it… well, if he’s on his own it won’t be long.”
“I thought we needed Pettigrew to clear your name?”
“Well, it would’ve definitely helped to have Pettigrew in person.” Sirius muses, smiling slightly. “But really it depends on the current Wizengamot Chair and the current Minister for Magic.”
“Fudge resigned.” Harry says, remembering the storm of owls, newspapers and feathers that announced it.
“Yes. Mostly thanks to you.” Sirius says.
That throws Harry off, for a moment. This entire time, for all that Sirius, Kingsley and Tonks owled him, he’s felt like he’s on the outside, barely seeing what’s happening through a dirty stained glass.
“What?”
Sirius gently takes Harry’s right arm, rubbing over the scars caused by Umbridge’s blood quill. It doesn’t hurt anymore – not since Sirius magically closed the cuts and healed his arm. Harry looks away – but doesn’t pull his arm back.
“It was brave of you to speak up, Harry. I’m so proud of you. I know it wasn’t easy.” Sirius says, and Harry’s ears and cheeks burn. “And I’m so sorry that it happened – it never should have. I don’t know how Dumbledore or McGonagall tolerated this.”
“They didn’t know. I mean, I didn’t tell them.” Harry stammers.
Sirius shakes his head. “There’s very little that gets past Dumbledore’s attention – not here, in Hogwarts where every foot of every wall is covered in portraits. Anyway. After you told me, I brought the issue to Kingsley, Tonks and Moody. They looked into it. You weren’t the only one Umbridge was hurting with her blood quills, and Umbridge had erected a highly illegal owl ward that censored any letter sent by students comparing about her or her curriculum. After the incidents in your second year the Basilisk and Remus being a werewolf – well, parents aren’t so quick to believe that Dumbledore can keep their children safe – and the idea that their kids couldn’t even ask for help was horrifying.”
“It was just a matter of bringing it to the court of public opinion. You saw the articles in the Daily Prophet and the response columns, right Harry? Well, it was a million times worse in the ministry. I got Kingsley to show me a memory – the article made it clear that Umbridge was Fudge’s lackey so he was getting pelted by owls left right and center.” Sirius grins, looking far too satisfied. Or perhaps, just satisfied enough, considering what the minister of magic put him to.
“Some of the pureblood families use larger birds – eagles, vultures. One of them nearly out Fudge’s eye. He resigned that day and cut a deal to give up information on Umbridge to stay out of Azkaban. Amelia Bones became the interim minister of magic. One of Kingsley’s aurors found evidence in the hag’s apartment that this isn’t the first time she’s tried doing something like this, and all of her crimes were enough for a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.”
All that because Harry spoke up about the blood quills. Harry closes his eyes and breathes. It’s a strange feeling – being vulnerable and trusting enough to ask an adult for help, and actually have them live up to it. Sirius is the only adult that’s ever done that – certainly not the Dursleys, not Dumbledore, not even Mrs. and Mr. Weasley.
He’ll have to thank Hermione for pushing him to talk to Sirius – Harry would’ve never done it on his own. He had been too worried that Sirius would’ve done something reckless or dramatic and gotten the dementors on his trail again.
“So… the only reason why you didn’t get a fair trial was because Fudge was minister of magic?”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that, pup.” Sirius says. “But that’s part of it. Fudge was corrupt. He was obsessed in keeping the status quo, and as a result he covered up a lot of… events that people should’ve been aware of. Like Pettigrew’s betrayal, and Voldemort returning. But it’s not just Fudge – it’s Lucius Malfoy, who was bribing Fudge and blackmailing others to keep certain things quiet–”
“–Like in second year, when he blackmailed the Hogwarts governors to fire Dumbledore?”
“Yeah, but on a much larger scale. It’s not just Fudge’s administration, but also Bagnold’s administration – they’re the ones that sent me to Azkaban without a trial in the first place – and everyone in the Wizengamot has their own agenda. Most of them are purebloods, and some of them want someone like Voldemort to come back so they intentionally look the other way without bribes or blackmail. They didn’t want me coming back because I’m head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and that carries a lot of power in the Wizengamot and they know I’d be working against their agendas.”
“But that’s… that’s wrong.” Harry says. He feels a little sick. This was the British wizarding government that was in charge of everything? Harry knew that they weren’t… good per say, especially after he had nearly been expelled from Hogwarts with his wand snapped, but he hadn’t realized how widespread or severe the issue was.
“That’s politics for you.” Sirius says, not unkindly. “Fortunately for us, Amelia Bones is more than fair. She might not like Dumbledore but she hates Voldemort and pureblood ideals even more. She put together a trial for me, reviewed the evidence that was initially collected: priori incantatem on my wand, the memories of the muggles that watched Peter frame me and my memories of Peter’s Animagus form, discovering the truth in the shrieking shack and some character witnesses from my days at Hogwarts and as a Hit wizard during the war.”
“And that was enough to free you?”
“Well, there was a lot more in the background; like countering Malfoy’s bribes, convincing Wizengamot members of my innocence beforehand, giving out I-owe-you’s and making political compromises so forth but that and – as much as I don’t like it, my family’s reputation as a black and the size of the black family vault was enough in the end. And now I’m free.”
Sirius smiles warmly, and Harry feels himself truly relax in a way that he hasn’t since the dementors tried to kiss Sirius outside the Shrieking Shack over a year ago. Sirius is free; he’s no longer a fugitive on the run. Harry doesn’t have to worry the ministry finding and killing him every hour of every day.
It feels like a huge weight has fallen off his shoulders, and Harry is almost dizzy with relief.
“What happens now? I mean. I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in Grimmauld Place?” Harry questions. He thinks back to that glorious half hour at the end of third year when he thought he’d get to move out from the Dursleys and live with Sirius. “Can I live with you?”
“I’m working on it.” Sirius says, and Harry’s heart falls. “No – no, I mean it, pup. I am working on it. I got Dumbledore to give me the specifics of Lily’s protection and I’m working on finding a loophole or getting it transferred to me.”
“The specifics?” Harry asks. “Dumbledore’s never explained it.”
He’d only said that it was his mother’s love through Petunia that was keeping him safe. It was a bitter fact to swallow; Petunia didn’t love him, and what kind of love from his mom would force him to live with Petunia, Vernon and Dudley Dursley?
“I’m not surprised,” Sirius says dryly. “I had to corner him to find out. The protection extends from anyone who shares Lily’s blood – so just Petunia and Dudley, unless Lily had other family I don’t know about. The house they live in must be under their name or shared under the name of their spouse. You need to sleep under their roof at least once a year and call it home for the protection to continue.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Harry explodes. “I’ve been calling Hogwarts home since I got here. That month when I lived in Diagon Alley and everyone thought you were coming after me, I called my room in the Leaky Cauldron home!”
“That… actually makes it easier.” Sirius says slowly. “I have a few ideas, and I’ll go over them with you as soon as I finish the spell theory research, alright? But Harry, I need you to know this. Your safety is my number one priority. That means safety from Voldemort and his death eaters, but also safety from more mundane evils like Umbridge-”
Harry’s mouth goes dry, a hot chill makes its way up his spine, and he feels a little dizzy because it sounds like – like Sirius knows. Not just that Harry hates living with the Dursleys (he’s pretty sure that the entire wizarding world knows that), but about cupboard, the bars on his windows, the ant sized food portions that don’t always come, the way Petunia used to like to swing pots and pans at his head when he cooked them meals, whenever Vernon gets angry his hands go straight for Harry’s neck and Harry Hunting.
Harry hasn’t spoken about any of it – aside from the lack of food. Sure, Ron, Fred and George knew about the bars on his windows, and whoever saw his Hogwarts letter knew about the cupboard, but no one really knew how bad it was.
“-Even if we somehow don’t find a solution for you to move out from the Dursleys,” Sirius continues, “I promise I will stay with you for the one day that you need to be in that house, and then I’ll bring you with me to Grimmauld Place or somewhere else that’s safe for the rest of the summer. You’ll never be alone with them again. Okay?”
Soundlessly, wordlessly, Harry nods. He avoids Sirius’s eyes, and picks at the fraying edges of his sleeves.
Harry can’t make himself speak – his voice is trapped somewhere in his throat and his eyes burn. He’s so tired of Dumbledore stopping his every chance to be free of the Dursleys – Mrs. Weasley had tried first but immediately caved once Dumbledore told her it wasn’t a good idea – but he’s never been this close to being free and he’s terrified that it won’t work out again.
“And if you ever want to talk or vent about them, or anything else that’s going on with you or bothering you – I’m here for you.” Sirius says.
“I know.” Harry manages to croak out – because he does know. When he was losing his mind last year because everyone beside Hermione didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t enter himself into the Triwizarding Tournament, Sirius had listened to him rant for a whole hour about how angry it made him, how unfair it was and how terrified Harry had been. He hadn’t used it against Harry either – hadn’t called him weak or cowardly – Sirius had picked out whatever he could help with and carefully gone over each time with Harry. Harry had mentioned that getting letters from Sirius had made him feel better, so Sirius had started sending them daily before the tournament tasks.
No one, no adult has ever done that for him. No one but Sirius, the closest thing to a dad that Harry’s ever had.
“Alright.” Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Sirius stands up, and before Harry realizes what he’s doing, Sirius has a hand on Harry’s shoulder and presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.
Harry can barely feel it through his hair, but the act is so… parental, so loving it warms Harry to the bottom of his toes. It’s everything he’s ever wanted – everything he saw in the Mirror of Erised five years ago.
“Merlin, it’s after twelve. Let’s get you to bed, pup.”
“But it’s Friday! I don’t have class tomorrow.” Harry groans. “Can’t I stay up and sleep in?”
“And miss breakfast? I don’t think so.” Sirius says, but his voice is audibly fond. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to go.” Harry says, petulant. It’s strange how Sirius brings out this side of him; he never complains or asks for anything unnecessary with the Dursleys or Weasleys. “Can’t you stay a bit longer?”
“Ah,” Sirius says with a mildly guilty tone. “I might have forgotten to mention something.”
“What?”
“After Umbridge was fired, Dumbledore started looking for another professor. Usually the Defense profs don’t leave until the end of the year, and by that point the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examination staff can take over, but this year – it’s not even Christmas. Malfoy recommended someone from the ministry –”
“No!” Harry says springing up, horror filling his veins. Umbridge was bad enough, and she was from Fudge – a corrupt official, but not an actual Voldemort supporter. How much worse would Malfoy’s prof be? Harry hasn’t forgotten that it was Malfoy who unleashed the diary onto Hogwarts to kill muggleborn students.
“–So I volunteered, as a guest lecturer for the rest of the semester.”
Harry stares. Sirius is going to be his defense against the dark arts professor. Which means that he doesn’t have to suffer another Malfoy appointed Umbridge or worse. Which also means that if Sirius is a Hogwarts prof… he’s going to be at Hogwarts for the full semester!
“You’re staying?!” Harry exclaims.
“Yes.” Sirius says. “I was hoping you’d like that.”
“It’s the best.” Harry says grinning widely. “You’re going to be living here!”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to have your own room in my quarters.” Sirius says, and holds out his hand to pull Harry up. “You’d still have to sleep in your dorm sometimes, I don’t think Minerva will tolerate me stealing you everyday, but if you still want to live with me…”
“Yes!” Harry grabs Sirius hand and pulls himself up straight into a hug. “Merlin, yes.”
“Good.” Sirius says, laughing happily. He wraps both arms around Harry and rests his cheek on the top of Harry’s head. “We can finally be a proper family.”
Harry buries his face against Sirius. He’s so happy that his face aches from smiling. He’s pretty sure that the next time he casts a patronus, he won’t need to think of the daydream of living and talking to his parents – he’ll just have to remember this moment with Sirius.
The End