1

"Harry has to stay with his aunt and uncle. He is safe there. I know you want him with you, Sirius, but I think it is the boy's safety that is of the utmost importance in this case."

Dumbledore's words were still ringing in Sirius' ears when he drove his motorcycle down Privet Drive, the street that Harry lived in. What right had Dumbledore to decide about his godson? Lily had told Sirius enough about her sister to make him consider her with caution. She reminded him of Regulus – he and Lily had once laughed about that. They carried the exact same prejudice with the exact same conviction. The only difference was that they would each regard the other as the worst of human kind. It would have been funny had it not been so sad.

He stopped in front of number four. It was a very neat house with a spotless front garden and a polished car. It looked very foreign to him. He had never been inside a house that made it so incredibly clear that muggles lived in it. In fact, he had hardly ever been in any house that muggles lived in. He had been to Lily's parents' once, a long time ago. This one bore little resemblance to it, though. It was a lot bigger and by the looks of it a lot more expensive.

He got off his bike and looked around. A woman was staring at him from across the street. He wondered what she was thinking. He was in muggle clothes, the leather jacket that had been sitting in an evidence room in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement for the previous seven years. He had not chosen to wear it – it was part of the only outfit he owned. Was it unfashionable now? Back when he had bought it, it had gone well with his motorbike. Lily had laughed when she had seen it and told him that it suited him.

He winked at the woman who turned away in embarrassment and went back to trimming her rose bushes. Sirius grinned to himself for a second – he still had it, even after a few years without practice. Nonetheless, his confidence grew considerably thinner as he walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. He had just proven to himself that he could still make forty-year-old women blush. That did not mean that he was in any way up to the task he had come here for. At least he was wearing muggle clothes, and it was pure luck that that was the case. Peter had had nosey muggle neighbours and that was the reason why seven years on, he could see Harry. Was that funny? Or ironic? Probably neither.

Maybe there was not even anybody home, he thought to himself. Maybe he would just have to come back another time. At the moment, that did not seem like that much of a bad thing.

Could he really expect Harry to be happy to see him? He had been so small when they had met the last time. He would not remember it. He was eight now. Was that still small enough to be scared of him? Would he even like him? He had no reason to, of course.

He heard someone approaching the door from the other side. Would his aunt and uncle even let Harry talk to him? They might not actually be that bad – after all, they had been looking after him since he had been a baby. He had to be like a son to them.

The door was opened and Sirius found himself face to face with a wide, moustached face. It squinted as its owner looked Sirius up and down. It could not have been plainer that he did not approve of what he saw.

'Yes?'

Sirius cleared his throat nervously. 'Hello, Sir. My name is Sirius Black. You must be Mr Dursley?'

The man opposite gave a short nod.

'I came to see Harry Potter. I was a friend of his parents'.'

Mr Dursley's expression changed from disapproving to aggressive in an instant. 'You have no business here.'

Sirius' feeling of dislike grew by the second but he was determined to stay polite. 'I would very much like to see him, so if you would…'

'You're one of their lot, aren't you?' Vernon Dursley interrupted.

Sirius was not entirely sure what was meant by that but he certainly did not like the tone. 'I was the best man at Lily and James' wedding,' he tried to explain, pulling a picture from his pocket and holding it out so that the other man could glare at it.

He had bewitched the photograph so that it would not move. It was a good picture, even Lily had agreed. It showed her in her wedding dress, stood between her new husband and the best man. Both James and Sirius had their arms around her, James' around her waist, Sirius' around the back of her neck with his hand resting on James' shoulder. They had all been so happy that day – it had been a break from the war and all the fighting.

While Mr Dursley was still glaring at the picture, a child entered the hallway to stand behind Mr Dursley. Sirius spotted dark hair but it was too dark in the hall compared to the sunlit front yard to make out anything else.

'So what?' snarled Mr Dursley, drawing Sirius' attention away from the boy in the shadows. 'That doesn't give you a right to see him, does it? Now get lost, and take that ruddy machine with you!' He made to slam the door in Sirius' face but he was not quick enough.

Sirius had stepped forward and in the same second, the child had, too. Sirius froze, his left foot and hand still blocking the door. Now that the boy was no longer standing in his uncle's shadow, Sirius could finally see his face. He looked incredibly like James. His hair was standing up in all directions, he had a face shaped just like Prongs' when he had been little, the same mouth. Nevertheless, there were some of Lily's features, too. Harry stared up at him with her eyes.

It took Sirius a few moments to find his voice. Then he stepped past Vernon Dursley and knelt down – trying to ignore the fact that the muggle was now looming above him – so that Harry's and his face were level. He held out a hand and after clearing his throat said, 'Hello. I'm Sirius.'

The boy shook it tentatively. 'I'm Harry.'

Sirius was not sure what to say next. Had he not been over this in his head? He had imagined the conversation they might have, yet nothing came to mind now. 'I… I know. You… you look just like your dad.' It was probably not a particularly helpful or original thing to say, but Harry's eyes lit up nonetheless.

'You knew my dad?' he asked eagerly.

Sirius nodded, letting out a relieved breath. 'Yes, he was my best friend.'

'Was he nice?'

'Now listen here!' interrupted Mr Dursley before Sirius could answer that, yes, of course Prongs had been very nice indeed. He had closed the door as soon as Sirius had stepped out of the way. 'I don't know what you could possibly want with him but so long as you're in my house…'

Sirius erected himself to his full height again, trying to think of what to do. Somehow, he could understand the other man's reaction. He was a stranger, after all, and it was only natural for an uncle to be protective of his nephew. Still, Sirius still felt he had every right to talk to his godson. He was not going to do him any harm or take him away or anything. He only wanted to get to know him…

'I want to talk to him.' He looked back to Harry. 'Only if you want to talk to me, that is.'

Harry determinedly avoided his uncle's gaze as he nodded.

Sirius' heart lifted a little and he grinned at the boy. 'Great! We…'

'You will not!' shouted Mr Dursley, spewing a few drops of spit at Sirius.

'Try to stop me!' Sirius gave back, and instantly regretted the outburst. 'I'm sorry,' he amended, taking a step back. 'I… Look, I can see you don't trust me with him. I understand. Maybe… Maybe I could have just a few minutes with him? Harry could show me his room and we could have a little chat and then I'll be on my way again…'

Somehow, this suggestion did nothing to appease Mr Dursley. Suddenly, he seemed distraught. 'No! No, I won't have you in the house! Petunia and Dudley will be back soon and…'

'I could take Harry for a walk?' Sirius proposed. 'I'd drop him back here…'

Vernon Dursley considered this, clearly struggling to keep on top of what was going on. Then… 'Fine. Take him then.' He yanked open the door again, almost hitting Sirius.

Sirius looked to Harry who had been watching the exchange in stunned silence. Sirius knelt down again. 'Would you like to go get some ice-cream, Harry? You'd tell me where to get it though – I've never been here before…' He had driven past a park on his way here – it could be no more than a few minutes on foot away. 'We could walk to the park and talk about your parents for a bit. Only if you want to, of course.'

Harry stared at him with those green eyes that made Sirius' stomach churn. He looked so much like Lily. Then, he nodded wildly. 'Yes, of course I want to.'

Sirius grinned and he stepped out onto the front yard. 'Alright. Let's go then.'

Harry shot his uncle a calculating glance and then hurried past him, catching up with Sirius. Behind him, the door slammed. Sirius flinched but Harry barely even noticed. He had spotted the motorbike and now only had eyes for that. 'Is that yours?' he asked in awe.

'Yes.'

'Wow.' He walked around it, taking in every angle of the shiny black metal. 'Are we going to go on it?' he asked eagerly.

'No, not today.'

Harry did not answer but cocked his head, watching Sirius' face. Sirius smiled at him nervously, not sure what Harry was expecting or what he had heard in his words.

Together, they started to walk down the road, towards the park.

'So, do you know a good place to have ice-cream?' asked Sirius, breaching a safe topic of conversation.

'There is a café near the playground,' said Harry. 'Aunt Petunia and Dudley have ice-cream there sometimes.'

Sirius frowned a little at this sentence. Why would Harry say that instead of "We have ice-cream there sometimes"? He decided not to pry, however. 'Dudley's your cousin, is he?' he asked instead.

Harry nodded.

'Is he older or younger than you?'

'A month older. He's a lot bigger and stronger than me but he's not as clever.'

Sirius chuckled. It was easy to believe that Lily and James' son would outshine the offspring of the walrus he had just met in terms of intellectual abilities. 'I'm sure,' he said. 'Do you go to school?'

'Yes, I'm in year four now. We…' Harry broke off and Sirius looked over to see why.

He followed Harry's gaze and spotted a group of boys Harry's age by the set of swings on the playground that they were walking past. Was he embarrassed to be seen with someone looking like him? 'Mates of yours?' he asked lightly.

Harry ducked his head at the question, giving off a rather guilty look. 'Dudley's friends,' he muttered just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

'Do you want to go and say hi? I'm in no hurry.'

'No,' said Harry quickly, shaking his head determinedly. He held his head high but Sirius knew James' face well enough to see past Harry's façade. He was scared though of what exactly he could not tell. Surely, if the boys were friends with Dudley, they would also be on civil terms with Harry, right? They did live in the same house after all. Then again, some of Regulus' school friends had tried to kill Sirius so that was not a foolproof line of reasoning.

They passed unnoticed by the kids and found a place at the last empty table in front of the café. The park was crowded on the sunny day in mid-September, maybe one of the last warm days of the year. Sirius opened the menu and laid it on the table so that they could both read it.

'What are you going to have?' he asked Harry who had relaxed again. This seemed like another safe question to him. He had not dared say much up until now. He was afraid to scare Harry even though he seemed quite brave. He would be, of course, with parents like his.

He was still amazed by how much Harry looked like James. There was of course the scar on Harry's forehead that he had heard a lot about. He was a little startled by the clothes Harry was wearing that seemed to be rather threadbare and far too wide for him. Sirius wondered whether this might be a fashion choice but wasn't eight a little too young for that? Still, what did he know about muggle kids and fashion?

'I don't have any money,' Harry let him know.

'You're invited,' Sirius told him. Had he not made that clear? Had that not been obvious?

Harry nodded earnestly and returned his gaze to the menu. 'What am I allowed to have?' he asked

Sirius was puzzled by this question, too. 'Anything. What would you like?'

'Am I allowed that one?' His finger was pointing at a picture of a sundae.

'Sure, whichever one you like best.'

Harry nodded. 'That one then, please,' he told Sirius, his voice petering off into silence. It was almost as if he was expecting Sirius to change his mind.

The waitress came to their table and Sirius ordered two chocolate sundaes. When she had left, Harry said in a small voice, 'Sirius?' He pronounced the name very carefully, making Sirius smile.

'Yes?'

'May I see that picture you showed Uncle Vernon, please?' He cringed a little as he asked, as if afraid of the answer. Sirius immediately jumped at the question, however.

'Yes, of course.' Why had he not thought of this before? He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out the photograph. Harry stared at it.

'Are they my parents?' he asked.

'Yes.' Sirius was once more confused by a question. 'Don't you know what they look like?'

Harry shook his head, cowering a little, expecting to be told off. 'I'm sorry. I can't remember them. I was too small when they died.'

Sirius felt a stab of grief at those words. Even though their death was very present in his mind, especially with Harry sitting in front of him, to hear him say the words was something else entirely.

'I know,' he said as gently as he could. 'But don't you have any pictures of them?'

Harry shook his head again. 'No.'

Sirius did not quite know what to say to that. He could not tell Harry how much this upset him. The thought of Prongs' son not even knowing what he looked like gave him another sharp jab of pain. 'Well,' he said finally, trying to sound as cool as possible. 'You do now. You can keep that one.' It was the only one he owned, the one that had been in his wallet when he had been arrested. It meant a lot to him but Harry deserved it more than he did.

Harry looked up from the picture with glowing eyes. 'Really?'

'Yes, really.'

'Thank you.' Harry stared at the photograph as though it was the greatest treasure he could imagine and every sorrow Sirius had felt at the thought of parting with it instantly disappeared. 'Mum doesn't much look like Aunt Petunia,' he said finally.

'Doesn't she? I've never met your aunt,' said Sirius truthfully. He did however remember the look Lily's face when she had received a letter from her sister that had told her that she would not be coming to her wedding. He had not often seen her that upset.

'No,' said Harry thoughtfully.

'Your mum was one of the nicest and kindest people I've ever met. And, she was the prettiest girl in the whole school,' Sirius remembered and smiled at the thought. How often had James said that sentence? Sirius had not agreed at first but he had learned to see her through Prongs' eyes. There was… had been something about her, something special that made her beautiful in a more solid way than anyone else. 'A lot of boys were in love with her. She was very clever as well.'

Harry kept staring at the picture.

'And your dad was the best mate you could ever imagine. We used to pull pranks on the caretaker and get detention every other week. We would sneak out of the dormitories at night and tiptoe through the castle.'

The waitress came back and set two bowls on the table.

Harry took one more careful look at the picture and then put it in his pocket.

'Which castle?' he asked as he scooped the first spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

'Hogwarts of course.'

'Hogwarts?'

'Yes, of course, Hogwarts.' Sirius smiled but the look on Harry's face was serious. 'You do know Hogwarts, don't you?'

Harry shook his head, looking properly scared now. 'Sorry,' he squeaked.

Sirius smiled at him reassuringly and tried to have his voice sound as calm as possible. 'Well, it's the best school for magic there is. You are going to go there when you turn eleven, just as your parents did.'

Harry stared at him. 'School for what?'

'Magic. Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

The look on Harry's face was apprehensive now. 'Are you pulling my leg?' he asked.

Sirius stared back. If Harry was having him on, he was doing a very good job – but it did not seem like it. This could not be true, though. Had they really not told him? Had those damn muggles never even mentioned it to him? He swallowed all the curses that were quivering on the tip of his tongue and instead said, 'No. You're a wizard, Harry.'

Harry was still staring at him and finally, very sternly said, 'I don't believe in magic anymore. I'm eight.'

Sirius could not help but grin at this even though the thought of Harry not knowing about Hogwarts still felt like a blow to his head. 'I can prove it to you.' He had to think for a second. Doing magic amongst so many muggles was risky. Then he had an idea. 'Would you mind giving me the picture for a moment? Don't worry – I'll give it back to you right away.'

Harry hesitantly took out the photograph and handed it over. Sirius tapped it with his wand under the table and gave it back. It was now moving again. Harry stared at it even more amazed than he had done before. 'But,' he said finally, 'how do you know that I'm a wizard?'

'Because your parents were. Magic parents have magic children.' That was a little oversimplified but it should do for now. He knew that Harry was a wizard because he had seen him summon a cuddly toy towards himself when he had been only a few months old.

Harry did not look convinced.

'Think about it,' said Sirius. 'You must have made something happen. Something you could not explain.'

Harry was silent for a few moments but then a grin crept onto his face. Sirius joined in. 'What does that mean? What does magic really do?'

'Lots of different things. There's not really that much you can do until you go to school and learn to control it. Then there's Transfiguration, for example, turning things into other things, and Potions, learning how to brew all sort of stuff. Witches and wizards can fly on broomsticks.'

'Really? Like in the fairy tales?'

'A little.' Sirius knew what stories Harry was talking about. He had taken muggle studies, if only to annoy his parents. 'Not all of it is true, though. Not all witches have warts and not all wizards have long beards, only some.'

'And… A few months ago, one of my teachers was shouting at me and then his wig turned blue. Was that magic, too?'

'Probably. Magical children can sometimes make things happen unintentionally, mostly when they are upset. It's called accidental magic and it stops happening once you've been properly trained.'

Harry took in that piece of information thoughtfully.

'It's a secret, though. Muggles – that is, non-magic people – aren't supposed to know that wizards and witches are real. That's also why I can't show you any more magic while we're here. Someone might notice and then I'd be in trouble.'

Harry kept pondering this but picked up his spoon again to eat some more ice cream.

Sirius waited for more questions about magic but when none came, he changed the subject. 'So, what did you do for your last birthday?' He could finally remember the questions he had thought of on the way. He had decided that this one was suitable of an eight-year-old whose birthday had been a few weeks earlier.

Harry just shrugged. 'Nothing, really.'

'You must have had a party?'

Harry shook his head. 'No, nobody would come. They're all too scared of Dudley – and Aunt Petunia won't allow that I have one, anyway.'

'How about presents then?' asked Sirius. He was determined to find a positive talking point.

'I got Dudley's trainers,' replied Harry and pointed to his feet. He was wearing shoes that looked as though they might fall apart at the next step.

'And what else?' Sirius kept asking. This had to be one of those times when a child would distort the truth in some way. They did that, right? Tell fibs just for the fun of it or to get attention.

'Nothing. But these shoes are a lot better than my old ones.' He ate another spoonful of his sundae.

Sirius noticed that he was staring at his godson with his mouth open. He could not decide which he disliked more – Harry outright lying to him or his godson being treated as badly as he made out. Neither were cause for celebration but he found himself hoping that Harry was just a little boy prone to fibbing.

'Harry, is that really true?' he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 'Everything you have told me? I would get mad if it wasn't, I'd just like to know the truth.'

'I don't lie,' said Harry. 'Uncle Vernon says I do but I don't.'

Sirius nodded, struggling to keep his face blank. He would be dangling Albus Dumbledore from the Astronomy Tower for this! How dare he put Harry in this family?

Then again, maybe money was just tight for them. It made sense that Harry wore clothes that his cousin had grown out of if he was indeed that much bigger. Maybe they did everything to avoid having to admit that they were broke. Their house did not look it but appearances could deceive. Sirius did not know enough about the muggle world to judge whether the car in front of the house was expensive – it was clean, that was all he could say for sure. The same went for Vernon Dursley's clothes. He looked a lot better groomed than his nephew but he would not be growing out of the things he wore. Still, it was rather odd.

'Tell you what,' he said. 'When we're done here we're going to a toyshop and I'm gonna buy you a proper birthday present.'

'You are?' Harry looked up from his food.

'Yes.'

So, when they had both finished their ice creams, Sirius paid and Harry led the way to his favourite toyshop. It was loud and colourful, filled with plastic dolls and screaming children. He looked around, at a complete loss as to what Harry would enjoy.

'What kind of thing would you like?' he asked therefore.

'A car maybe?' asked Harry tentatively and pointed to a shelf filled with little models.

'Sure. Shall we pick one?' They walked over and looked through the rows of different cars.

Harry ended up picking a little black motorcycle. Sirius could not help but smile – his motor seemed to have made an impression.

On their way back to Privet Drive they came across the little gang of boys Harry had been trying to avoid in the park. Sirius had been walking a few steps behind Harry who was leading the way and had to have made the impression of being out and about on his own.

The boys had spotted him and started pulling faces. 'Oi, Potty!' one of them sneered loudly while they came closer. Harry took an involuntary step back, just into Sirius who laid a hand on his shoulder. So much for civil terms, he thought.

Sirius' height alone was enough to have them stop in their tracks and his expression seemed to do the rest. Harry had flinched at his touch but Sirius did not draw back. 'Harry is under my personal protection,' he said to the boys now staring up at him with big eyes. Children – mean children but just children. 'If you hurt him, I will hurt you. Understood?' He resisted the urge to pick them up by the scruff of their necks and shake them. They already looked as though they were about to wet themselves. 'Now scarper.'

They took off at a run and Sirius sank down on one knee to look at Harry. 'You alright?' he asked.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. 'I'm fine,' he said. Something other than fear or relief shone in his eyes.

'They're cowards,' said Sirius. 'Five against one, I ask you.' He successfully dismissed the twinge of guilt he felt at his own words, remembering his time at school. Snivellus had gotten what he deserved…

'They're still stronger than me,' muttered Harry.

'Not for long. Wait until you have gone to Hogwarts. You'll be able to turn them into toads in a few years.'

The walked the rest of the way back to Privet Drive in near silence. Harry was deep in thought. He only snapped himself out of it when Sirius swung one leg over his motorcycle. The look of awe was back.

'Are you coming to visit me again?' asked Harry.

'If you want me to.'

'I do.'

Sirius grinned broadly at those words. 'How about I come back next Saturday? Maybe if I get here early we can go for a daytrip? You choose wherever you want to go.'

Harry nodded eagerly. 'Wherever I want to go?' he asked.

'Yeah.' Sirius hesitated. 'Well, maybe we should stay in England – but yes, wherever you want to go.'

He kicked the starter and the bike began to roar. He winked at Harry one last time and drove off down the road. In the mirror, he could see Harry waving.

...

It was hard to wait a whole week before returning to Privet Drive. He tried his best to keep himself busy. He went to see Dumbledore that evening but no effect. Dumbledore listened to everything he had to say and remained convinced that Harry should stay with his aunt and uncle.

He bought a house outside a village called Chestnut Hill, near Sevenoaks in Kent, a mere half hour on his bike from Little Whinging. The house had been derelict for more than a year and even before that it had not been in good shape, but it stood alone in the countryside with the nearest neighbours a ten-minute walk away along a mostly deserted road. He could land his bike directly outside the front door and magic would go unnoticed. It was rather too large for him with three bedrooms but now that both of his parents were dead, he had than enough money to buy a dozen houses like this and not make a dent in his savings.

He had looked at the one house on Sunday, decided that it would do and bought it. On Monday, he moved everything he owned – himself and his motorbike – in. Also on Monday, he bought an owl and sent a letter to Remus, with his new address scribbled underneath it.

Moony,

Come see me if you want.

That was it; seven words. There really was nothing else to say until he knew how he and Moony felt about each other these days.

He found out on Tuesday morning when there was a tentative knock on his door. He had been tearing up mouldy floorboards with the aid of magic, suddenly very glad that Prongs had enlisted him to help when he had renovated the cottage in Godric's Hollow for himself and Lily. He had not thought at the time that these skills would come in useful again one day.

Remus looked old, a lot older than Sirius had thought he would. His hair was starting to grey and he seemed very tired, his eyes guarded. Sirius recognised the cloak he wore, which meant that he had not been able to afford a new wardrobe in years. Life had obviously not treated him well.

All the anger that Sirius had been feeling towards him evaporated instantly. He simply could not retain it now that he saw him. When he had imagined what it would be like to see him again, he had sometimes toyed with the idea of shouting at him. Now, though, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Without a word of greeting, they fell into each other's arms. Sirius felt himself beginning to sob and the only word he could gurgle out by means of an explanation was, 'Prongs.'

'I know,' replied Remus. He, too, sounded choked.

When they both regained composure, they stepped back and looked at each other awkwardly.

'I've got firewhiskey,' said Sirius finally.

Remus nodded.

Sirius summoned the bottle he had bought the previous day and led Remus through the house so that they could sit on the steps that connected the sitting room to the back garden. He did not have any glasses but back in their dormitory at Hogwarts, they had never had any, either.

Sirius handed the bottle to Remus who gratefully took a generous first swig. When Sirius copied him, he coughed violently, the alcohol burning his throat. 'Azkaban takes you out of practice,' he noted bitterly.

Ten years ago, he would have been teased mercilessly for this performance. Now, Moony let it pass uncommented. They sat in uncomfortable silence and when Sirius finally worked up the guts to speak, Remus had done the same.

'Listen…'

'Sirius…'

They both lapsed back into silence and chuckled nervously.

'Ladies first,' said Sirius, gesticulating for Remus to speak.

Remus smiled weakly. 'Sirius, I'm… I'm deeply sorry. Can you forgive me?'

He did not need to specify. There had been many days when he had cursed Remus for abandoning him in Azkaban, for believing so readily that he could have betrayed Prongs and Lily, betrayed Harry. On the other hand… 'If you can forgive me, old friend. I distrusted you first. I'm sorry.'

Remus put a hand on his shoulder. 'I have already forgotten, Padfoot.'

Sirius nodded. 'Then so have I.'

They were even, and they had better be. Prongs and the rat were gone, making Moony the only person left of his family from school days.

They sank into another silence, this one less awkward. Moony was the one to break it after a few minutes. 'When did they let you out?'

'Friday afternoon, after the trial – I guess you read about it, huh? I saw the front page of the Daily Prophet yesterday. It was full of it.'

Moony nodded. 'I was surprised they didn't want me to testify in favour of Peter. I suppose they thought associating with a werewolf would not further his cause.'

'Bloody bastards,' Sirius grunted his agreement. 'That kid testified, the Weasley boy, his father, old Minnie and Dumbledore. Then it was just Peter and me, his word against mine. The vote wasn't unanimous but I got about two thirds. I guess most who voted in favour of Peter just didn't want to acknowledge that they'd been wrong about me. I mean, honestly, what reason would he have had for going into hiding if he'd been was innocent? That's a bit of a tough sale.'

Moony chuckled humourlessly and raised the bottle as if for a toast. 'To our justice system!' he declared.

Sirius snorted. Justice was a very wrong word in that context. He was going to receive compensation. Quite a tidy sum, he had been assured. It was a farce – money for seven years of his life, seven years he could have spent in freedom, seven years he could have looked after Harry. Gold made no difference to him – he had inherited more than enough money to never have to work again – and even if it did, it would not bring back the time.

'So how exactly was he found out?' asked Moony, changing the subject and drawing Sirius out of his increasingly bitter thoughts. 'The papers didn't specify.'

'The kid… Percy… He found him near their house some time in November of eighty-one. Apparently, he eventually got curious as to why a rat would live that long. He's twelve now, second year at Hogwarts, and he started reading up in the library. He came up with a few things and asked McGonagall to check if his pet might be an animagus. He said expected McGonagall to laugh, which she did at first, apparently, but she checked anyway. He tried to make a run for it but was no match for her, of course. She took him to Dumbledore who questioned him and then they gave him to the aurors. That was two weeks ago, Wednesday, I think. The same day, Dumbledore came to visit me in Azkaban. They took me to a holding cell in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement to wait for the trial.'

Moony nodded again. 'Clever kid. Did you thank him?'

Sirius laughed loudly. Moony was worrying about his manners, that was a welcome reminder of the past. 'Yeah, after the trial… I told them that I'd invite the whole family to dinner during the Christmas Holidays. He's Gideon and Fabian's nephew, their sister's kid – she's got at least another half dozen. Maybe I can find a way to thank them properly.'

'Sounds good.'

They paused again, each taking another gulp of the whiskey.

'I went to see Harry,' said Sirius into the silence. 'On Saturday.'

'And?' Moony looked at him expectantly.

'He looks like Prongs, Moony, so much like Prongs. He's still got Lily's eyes. He lives with Lily's sister and her family. There's a cousin, Dudley, but I don't think they get along too well. Their house isn't far from here, that's why I bought this place.'

'Is he doing okay?'

Sirius shrugged. 'I'm not sure. He's a good kid. He loved my bike, we had ice cream, and we talked a bit. He didn't know anything about Lily and Prongs. I gave him a picture and he said he'd never seen one before. He didn't know about magic or Hogwarts. I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining things. Dumbledore says it's fine. Harry's probably best off with them. But I can't shake the feeling that something's off.'

Moony watched him silently and was about to ask another question but Sirius cut across him. 'How about you? I hate to tell you, but you look awful, Moony.'

Moony laughed. 'You can talk – you don't look you best, either, Padfoot,' he said. 'But seriously, you know how it is. No job, no money.'

They spent the afternoon talking but mostly drinking. At some point, Sirius had suggested that Moony move in with him, at least for now, and he had agreed. Sirius knew that this probably meant that he had nowhere else to go but he did not pry. Moony would tell him if he wanted to.

They spent the next few days working on the house. They put in new floorboard and painted the walls. They bought furniture and everything else that was needed. Sirius was very glad for Moony's presence – after years of isolation, it was a blessing to have a friendly face around. Despite their long separation, they still got along without any problems. Moony was easy company, had always been.

Even though they were busy, the days dragged on until finally, it was Saturday morning. Moony wished him good luck as he climbed on his motorbike and soared off into the sky. He had attached a sidecar to it so he could take Harry along safely.

He landed outside Little Winging and drove the last bit. When he turned into Privet Drive, Harry was already waiting for him, standing outside Number 4 and literally jumping up and down with excitement.

'What's up?' said Sirius and held up a hand for Harry to high five, which he promptly did.

Harry grinned at him broadly. 'Uncle Vernon said you wouldn't come back but I knew you would.'

'Of course I came back. I said so, didn't I? So, where're we going today?'

Harry stopped fidgeting at those words, instantly deflated. 'I can't decide,' he admitted, looking pensive now, 'I've been thinking about it all week.'

'Okay. So, what are the choices then?'

'Well, Dudley went to Thorpe Park for his last birthday.'

'What's Thorpe Park?' asked Sirius.

'It's a theme park – with loads of rides and stuff, rollercoasters.' Harry explained.

'Ah, okay, that sounds good. Yes, we can do that. Any other ideas?'

Harry hesitated. Sirius was not sure why this would be. Had he done anything wrong?

'Just tell me,' he said. 'Worst thing that could happen is that we can't do it and go to Thorpe Park instead.'

Harry still did not say anything.

'I won't get cross and I won't laugh, either. I said you could pick and I mean that.'

Finally, Harry opened his mouth. He was speaking very quietly. 'I would kind of like to… to go and… go and… see Mum and Dad,' he mumbled.

Sirius stared at him, unsure whether he had heard correctly. 'Mum and Dad?' he repeated back to Harry. Magic or not, last week it had seemed that Harry understood very well that his parents were dead.

Harry was looking determinedly at the ground, nodding. 'Where… Where they're now,' he said in a whisper.

Sirius was not quite sure what he should say to that. He had not been to their grave. He knew that it was in Godric's Hollow. Moony had told him about the funeral but Sirius had not been sure whether he would be able to bear seeing it just yet. 'We can do that, too, if you'd like,' he said nevertheless. Maybe it would actually help to have Harry with him, as a reminder of the traces they had left.

'I just can't decide. Because Dudley said Thorpe Park is a lot of fun but I just don't know which one I want more.' He was visibly unhappy with his dilemma.

'You do know that we can just do the one you don't choose next week, right?' said Sirius.

Harry's eyes lit up at those words. 'You'll come back next week?' he asked eagerly.

Sirius did his best to smile. 'I'll come back every week,' he promised. 'We can go on a day trip every weekend from now on if you want.'

'We can? Really?' His eyes were now gleaming with excitement again.

'Yes, really. So, which one will it be today?'

Harry thought about it for a few moments. 'Mum and Dad,' he decided finally.

'Okay,' Sirius said, determined to sound pleased even though his stomach dropped. He would stay true to his word. 'In you get then.' He pointed at the sidecar. Harry climbed in obediently.

'Are you afraid of heights?' asked Sirius.

Harry shook his head.

'Good – 'cause this is a flying motorbike.'

Harry gave him a sceptical look that Sirius could not help but smile at. He started the engine and off they went. At first, they drove along the streets the muggle way but as soon as they had left the city and the road was clear, Sirius pulled up into the air and they flew over England.

Harry seemed to enjoy the ride, giving Sirius a live commentary of everything he saw below. Sirius had to remind him several times not to lean out too far. However, when they landed on a country road outside Godric's Hollow, Harry had gotten very quiet and by the time they rolled into the village centre, he was not talking at all anymore.

Sirius knew where the graveyard was. He had walked past it from time to time with Lily and James. It felt different to come back here, especially since it looked just the same. He half expected to see James leave the pub across the square, beaming and joking about what Lily would say when they turned up completely pissed in the middle of the afternoon – but of course, he did not.

Just like he would never again turn up at Sirius' in the middle of the night because Lily had kicked him out once more; he would never again curse and swear that this time it was her who was in the wrong; and he would never again return home as soon as he woke up the next morning to grovel, on his knees if necessary, apologising for whatever he had done.

They had reached the kissing gate that marked the entrance to the graveyard. If Harry had not been with him, he would have turned back. He would go to the pub and drink until he forgot that James was not drinking with him – but of course, Harry was there.

'I don't know which row it is,' he said quietly. 'We'll have to look.'

So they walked up and down the rows of tombstones in silence until they finally found it. It was alright, Sirius thought, as graves went. Harry instantly dropped to the ground in front of it, staring at the names and the words that were engraved in the stone. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. Sirius did not understand what they meant and it hurt him to know that Lily would. She always knew things like this.

But Lily, wonderful, clever, beautiful Lily was gone – as was James. He had been his best friend, his brother – much more than his biological brother had ever been. They had been his family, and the wound was still fresh. Azkaban had not let it heal but preserved it, with each waking second making sure that Sirius never forgot that he would never see them again.

He had almost forgotten their faces while with the dementors. They could not make him forget completely, of course, since the last time he had seen them was the greatest source of sorrow within him. James' face had always been there, still and pale, maybe, but never forgotten.

Sirius' breathing was going fast and he tried to control the sobs. He could not break down, not with Harry sitting next to him. The child was still quiet, eerily so – but there he was, proof that Lily and James had lived, that they would never be forgotten.

He sank to his knees next to Harry. He grabbed his shoulder, both seeking comfort and trying to give it. Almost the second he did, Harry began to sob. Sirius was almost relieved to see the tears. They were to be expected, and their absence would be reason to worry a lot more.

Sirius wrecked his brains for words of comfort but even his most positive memories of Prongs and Lily would only stress the fact that Harry had never gotten to meet them. Still, he felt like he needed to say something. 'They loved you so much, Harry. They would be so proud of how grown up you are.' That was true.

Harry looked up at him and more tears rolled over his face. 'I want to have them back so badly,' he sobbed.

Sirius nodded his understanding. 'I know. So do I.' His tears began to fall freely as he spoke those words. He had spent weeks and months crying for them, shouting and screaming in his cell. This was different. This was not alone. This time, he felt a kinship to Harry, not the bitter loneliness he was so used to. This time, there was some light in all the darkness.

They sat on the ground, crying for a long while, Sirius still with one hand on Harry's shoulder. When he finally let go, both of them wiped their eyes and noses.

'They didn't die in a car crash, did they?' asked Harry as Sirius began to feel embarrassed of his tears. He was instantly distracted.

'Did you aunt and uncle tell you that?' As painful as this lie was, he had expected something like it. If they had not told Harry about the magical world, then how could they possibly explain his parents' death?

Harry nodded.

Sirius sighed. 'No, they did not die in a car crash. Somebody murdered them.' The truth was hard but it was better than a lie, and James and Lily's death should not be lied about. It had been brave and honourable. They had deserved more than a fib told by somebody who had never even understood it.

'Why?'

Sirius took a while to answer. The truth was that he did not know why. At least, not in the way Harry meant it. Why had two wonderful young parents died? And why had it had to be them, why not anybody else? 'Because there are some bad people in the world – and when good people stand in their way, very bad things happen.'

Harry pondered this for a while. 'Why did they not just get out of the way?'

Sirius took a moment to think of an answer once more. 'If everybody just lets them, the bad people can just do whatever they want and that would make the world a very sad place.'

Harry did not answer to this.

'They did the right thing, Harry,' Sirius tried to make his point again. 'They were kind and brave, and trying… trying to make the world a little better.'

For one moment, a look of fierce determination crossed Harry's little face but it almost instantly grew soft again, when he asked, 'Do you think that they can see us right now?'

Sirius had to smile a little. He would definitely like to believe it. 'What do you think?'

Harry smiled back. 'I think they can.'

Sirius squeezed his shoulder. Would they be happy to see them here? Or would Prongs be angry with him for talking to his son about things that were so very sad? Maybe they would have thought it kinder to Harry to pretend that the world was a better place than it really was – where horrible accidents happened but nobody was ever killed on purpose. And maybe Lily would have wanted Harry to be left alone at her sister's – safe and warm, maybe not quite honest, but in a child's world still.

He shook off those thoughts. 'I have something to show you,' he said and pulled a book out of his rucksack. He and Moony had spent the previous evening taking all the pictures they could find of Lily and James, making copies and sticking them in this book. Moony had provided all of them. He had always been the one to save things like this, neatly organised in books.

Sirius had had a box of pictures, back at his old flat, but that had gone along with everything else he had owned. Most of his possession had been sold and the things that did not find a buyer had been thrown away. Nobody had saved anything, not even Moony. Sirius could relate to how betrayed he had to have felt. Sirius would not want anything that had once belonged to the rat, either.

He handed it over to Harry who took it and whose eyes began to shine as he flicked through the pages.

'I can tell you about them, if you want me to,' offered Sirius. 'That one, for example.' He pointed at a picture that showed a soaked yet grinning thirteen-year-old James. He had fallen into the Black Lake after betting that he could fly over it standing on his broomstick. He had lost pathetically but it had made all of them laugh so hard that their stomachs hurt.

Harry nodded and Sirius started talking. He had to alter a few stories so that they were suitable for an eight-year-old to hear. He did not think that Lily would approve of him telling her son about the night that had started with them drinking a rather large amount of firewhiskey in their dormitory and had ended with James and him being chased starkers through the castle by Filch.

Moony had reminded him of quite a few incidents of a similar nature. He had a better memory. Those stories had had them crying with laughter but would not yet be shared with Harry. Nonetheless, he found more than enough to tell for his voice to be hoarse by the time they decided to have a break and go to the pub for some lunch. That was in the early afternoon.

They found a table in a quiet corner and Sirius ordered chips, burgers and lemonade for both of them.

'So, I didn't ask, how was your week?'

Harry shrugged. 'It was okay.'

Sirius could tell that there was something off in an instant. His bearing was exactly like James' and Sirius could look through Prongs in a heartbeat. 'What is it?' he asked.

Harry sighed and squirmed uncomfortably.

'You don't have to tell me but I would like to know,' Sirius told him.

Harry shook his head. 'You'll get cross,' he said in a small voice.

'I doubt that very much,' said Sirius truthfully. He could not imagine anything Harry could have done that would make him angry.

Harry put his hand into his pocket and tentatively pulled out the little toy motorcycle that Sirius had given him the week before. It looked thoroughly beat up. The paint had been scratched off in many places, one of the wheels had come loose and the handlebars were askew.

'Wow, what happened to that?' asked Sirius although he believed to know the answer to that question already. It involved Harry's cousin.

'Dudley took it and he broke it. He is stronger than me so I could not do anything about it.' He looked severely downcast. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry. I wasn't your fault. But give it to me, I can fix it,' said Sirius and held out his hand for it. He tapped it with his wand under the table and when he handed it back to Harry, it was as nice and shiny as it had been when they had bought it. 'There you go.'

Harry did not say a word but balanced the little toy on the table in front of him. He still seemed rather depressed.

'What else is the matter?' asked Sirius.

Harry looked up at him and then reached into his pocket again. This time, his hand was full of shreds of paper when he pulled it out. 'Aunt Petunia said she washed it by accident – but I know she hasn't because I put it under my pillow. I know I did. But she said I must have left it in my pockets but I know I didn't.'

Sirius sighed and considered the paper in Harry's hand. It had been Sirius' only picture of Lily and James and that vile woman had destroyed it. Harry had been right – he was getting angry. Still, he kept it off his face. He would not show animosities in front of Harry. He would take care of that later. 'I can't fix that,' he said regretfully. 'But you have a whole book now, haven't you?'

Harry nodded sadly. 'Can you maybe take it with you and keep it safe? I don't want anything to happen to it.'

Sirius felt yet another surge of fury come over him. 'When I take you back tonight, I'll have a word with your aunt and uncle and I promise you that they'll not touch that book.'

Harry did not look convinced.

'Harry, look at me.' He did, his green eyes looking at him in a way that Lily never had. 'I swear that they won't do anything. Okay?'

Harry nodded. 'Okay.'

They resumed their lunch in a more relaxed mood.

'Do you have children?' asked Harry out of the blue.

'No, I don't.'

'Are you married?'

Sirius smiled at the thought. 'No, I'm not.' He got the feeling that Harry was thinking the same thing that he was thinking, that Harry and him would do well together – but he would not suggest it. There were good reasons against it and it would be even harder for Harry if he got his hopes up for nothing.

'Why did you never come and visit me before?'

Sirius sighed. He had of course expected that question but he still had not found a good answer. He chose his words carefully and looked Harry in the eye as he spoke. 'I was in prison. People thought that I did something very bad but they finally found out that it wasn't true and that's why they let me go.' He knew that he might have lost what little trust Harry had in him with these sentences. It would make him realise that he did not know him after all, that he was just a strange man who could have all sorts of bad intentions.

Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to lie. Firstly, he could not think of a valid reason why he would not turn up for seven years and then suddenly show this much interest, and secondly, if Harry ever found out that he had lied to him, he would probably not give him a second chance. Sirius would not blame him.

Harry looked at him with those big eyes that looked so much like Lily's and said, 'What did they think you had done?'

'They thought that I killed someone.' This was the truth. Maybe not all of it, but it was the part that Harry would be able to understand and put up with. What did a child know about friends betraying each other? Twelve muggles blown to pieces just to make an exit? No, he did not need to know that, not yet.

'But you didn't?'

Sirius shook his head. 'No, I didn't. I have never killed anybody.'

Harry considered him carefully. His eyes seemed to be able to look right at Sirius, right down to the truth. 'I believe you.'

Sirius swallowed hard and only managed to nod as an answer. He had not truly realised how important Harry's opinion of him was to him. He did not want to see hate on Prongs' face, in Lily's eyes.

...

Harry fell asleep in the sidecar on the way home. It had been an emotional day for him. He was still dreaming when Sirius turned off the bike in front of Number 4.

Sirius found this to be a good opportunity to talk to his relatives and knocked on the door. This time, Mrs Dursley opened the door. Harry had been right – she bore next to no resemblance to her sister. Her hair was blond, her face bony and her teeth too big. Sirius supposed that she might have been able to look passable in different clothes and without the dirty look on her face.

'What do you want?' she snapped at him but Sirius remained unfazed by her tone. This was nothing compared to being shouted at by Lily.

He turned around and made sure that Harry was still sleeping. Then he pulled his wand. 'Harry told me what happened. When I come back next week and there is so much as a scratch on him or his things, you will regret it. Am I understood?' He let out just a bit of the ample fury in his chest but it was enough to get his point across.

She nodded, terrified, her angry stance dropping away instantly. Her husband appeared behind her in the doorway. Sirius smiled at him and said, 'I assume you heard what I said?'

Mr Dursley put on a sour face of extraordinary quality but Sirius would not be intimidated by a muggle.

'Excellent. Now, Harry's asleep and I don't want to wake him. He's had an exhausting day. Where's his room? I'll carry him in.'

Only silence answered him, followed by a little whimper of Mrs Dursley's.

'Well? It's not actually that difficult a question.'

Mr Dursley erected himself to his full height, which was just about the same as Sirius', even though he was probably at least twice as heavy. Still, without magical abilities the only thing that did was make him a bigger target. 'That's none of your concern. Just give us the boy and we'll take care of it.'

Sirius was watching them carefully, his suspicion high. There was something odd going on. Was it that they simply did not want him in the house? Or was there something else?

'The sooner you do as I ask, the sooner you'll get shot of me again,' he tried to reason.

'You will not enter my house,' bellowed Mr Dursley and Sirius thought he detected a hint of panic in his voice.

'You can try to stop me but I would advise you not to,' he said, once more lowering his polite façade. In the past, people had told him he was scary and he had always rather disliked the fact. It was probably one of the reasons why everyone had so readily believed that he was the traitor, a murderer, a Death Eater. Generally, he did not think of himself as a particularly threatening person but at the moment, it was coming in handy.

Mr Dursley made to answer but another whimper from his wife and her hand on his arm seemed to stop him. She was scared and he was too stupid or too angry to feel the same way – probably both. He did not budge, silently blocking the door.

Sirius was about to make his threat even plainer when he heard someone move behind his back. He turned to see that Harry had woken up and was shuffling towards them tentatively. Sirius noted that the photobook he had been clutching in his sleep seemed to have been left behind in the sidecar. He quickly slipped his wand back into his pocket.

'See, he's awake,' said Mr Dursley loudly, relief practically dripping from his voice. 'You don't need to carry him anywhere. Boy, get in here, now.'

Harry flinched and hurried forwards. Instinctively, Sirius grabbed his shoulder to stop him when Harry made to slip past. Something was wrong and he would not let Harry go back without sorting it out.

'Harry, I'm a little curious. Would you show me your room?' he asked, watching carefully. As he uttered the words, Mr Dursley's face became red again. Sirius looked to Harry who was shaking a little.

'I…' he stammered. His eyes were fixed on his uncle. 'I'm really tired so it's not that good right now,' he said.

Sirius looked up in time to see Mr Dursley nodding him on. He felt his anger well up inside himself and had to fight the urge to draw his wand again. He did not want a fight, not with Harry standing by.

'You forgot you book,' he said instead, talking to Harry and pretending he had not noticed the obvious lie.

Harry shook his head violently. 'I don't want it,' he said. 'You can keep it.'

'It was a present,' Sirius said. 'I can't take it back.'

Harry made to open his mouth but Mr Dursley cut across him. 'Why don't you knock when you're done?' he said loudly and proceeded to slam the door shut, Harry flinching at the loud noise. Then, there were hushed voices and hurried footsteps.

With them gone, Sirius sank down on one knee to talk to Harry. 'You are afraid,' he said, calmer now. 'Tell me what it is and I'll fix it for you.'

Harry shook his head, evidently fighting back tears. 'You'll make it worse,' he said. Inside the house, people ascended the stairs.

Sirius cringed. He knew that sentence, had once said it to James himself after his father had beaten him up. 'Harry, please, look at me,' he implored. Upstairs, a child was shouting, wailing. That had to be Dudley, and Sirius wondered what the hell was going on in there. He deliberated for a moment whether he needed to come to the rescue of Harry's cousin but then recognised the shouts as utterances of fury rather than pain or fear.

Harry raised his head.

'I can protect you,' he tried to reassure him. He could curse the Dursleys – then again, Harry had to stay with them. He was protected by Lily's blood as long as he did. Still, he found himself unable to stand by. The mere thought of letting Harry simply walk back into that house made him feel physically sick.

Harry shook his head. 'He's stronger than me.'

'But I'm stronger than him.'

'But you won't always be here.'

Sirius' chest ached at those words and he reached out, pulling Harry close. Harry remained still, like a limp doll in his arms. 'You should not have to be scared of a man like Vernon Dursley,' Sirius implored. 'He is nothing but angry and scared. Listen, Harry, I give you my word that he will never, ever hurt you again. Do you understand? I will protect you. That's what I swore to your Dad and I know that I haven't been able to do it so far, but I will now.'

Harry shook and slumped into him. Sirius tightened his hold around the child. He had never done this sort of thing before. Harry had been the only kid he had ever spent time with and he was not sure whether he was doing the right thing.

'What does he do to you?' asked Sirius. Harry stiffened at the question and Sirius cursed himself. That had been too demanding, he realised. 'It's okay, you don't have to tell me,' he added quickly.

Harry remained tense, despite the retraction. Sirius stayed quiet, too, only moving a hand up and down Harry's back, trying to get him to relax. It took several minutes until he did and by then, all the shouting inside the house had stopped.

Sirius lifted the boy, amazed at how light he was. Harry let him but made no attempt to hold himself up. When he had been little, his arms had always snaked around Sirius' neck the second he had been lifted. There was none of that now.

Sirius walked the few steps towards the curb where his bike was parked and picked up the book that Harry had left in the sidecar. He handed it to Harry who, after a moment of scepticism, grabbed hold of it and clutched it tightly to his chest.

Like that, Sirius carried him back to the front door and knocked once more. The door was opened almost instantly – as if someone had been waiting on the other side.

Vernon Dursley was pale but furious. Sirius waited for him to argue again but he did not. 'His room's upstairs,' he growled. 'Second door to the right.' He stepped aside and let Sirius enter.

Still at a loss at what the whole fuss about the room was about, Sirius crossed the threshold and immediately turned right to climb the stairs. Harry had hidden his face in his shoulder as soon as the door had been opened and he did not resurface until they stood in the bedroom.

It was not big but not too small to take offence at. The bed was made; the walls were bare, as was the desk under the window; the wooden wardrobe was closed, hiding whatever was inside, but the shelves were cluttered with what Sirius assumed were muggle toys, a rather large portion of which seemed broken. There was a decent collection of books, untidily stacked as if whoever had put them on the shelf had wanted them to take up as little space as possible.

Harry looked around curiously – yet another odd thing. Had his aunt and uncle rearranged his things? Had they hidden something? Was that the reason why he had not been allowed in earlier?

He set Harry down.

'How about you get ready for bed?' he suggested. 'I need to have a word with your cousin about that motorcycle of yours. Where's his room?'

Harry looked at him with big eyes but then pointed at a wall. 'Over there,' he said in a small voice.

Sirius winked at him in a feeble attempt to cheer him up and left, leaving the door ajar. Knowing Prongs, Harry would want to listen and he was going to make it easy for him. He wanted him to hear what he had to say to his cousin.

The next door was closed but he knocked and swiftly opened it. This room looked different. The walls were plastered with posters, the floor was covered in bricks and cars, and a – what had Lily called it? Vellytision? – stood in a corner. It was much more colourful than Harry's, and much more comfortable. Every worry he had had about Mr and Mrs Dursley mistreating their own son, too, vanished instantly, as did the theory that the family was short on money.

The boy was much taller than Harry, half a foot at least, and about twice as fat. Had he just seen the two, he would have guessed him a year or even two older than his cousin, something he knew not to be true. Their difference in age was hardly more than a month.

He had been sitting on the bed but jerked violently when he spotted Sirius at the door, the oblong slab of grey plastic he had been clutching slipping from his hands and landing on the floor with a thud. The high-pitched music it had been emitting ceased as it fell. Sirius had no idea what it was – maybe a radio of some sort. It had buttons, but also a small screen.

He did not close this door either and did not bother stepping closer. Behind him, he heard Harry's door scrape across the carpet, telling him that Harry was listening. He pretended not to have noticed. 'Dudley,' he said instead. 'That's right, isn't it?'

The boy stared at him, his eyes big. He did not seem scary, not like this. He was a kid, a big one, admittedly, but nothing to fear. He looked remarkably like his father and, Sirius thought spitefully, he would have made Peter look skinny.

The boy took a few seconds before showing signs of having heard him and then nodded, his chins wobbling. He, Sirius noted, was dressed neatly. His clothes seemed to be brand new, very much unlike Harry's. He would have to do something about that, too, but one thing at a time.

'I gave Harry a little motorcycle last week. He showed it to me and it was broken. Do you happen to know anything about that?'

The little eyes widened even further. He shook his head vigorously.

'Nothing at all?' enquired Sirius. 'Because I happened to notice that all of the things in Harry's room seem to be broken. Did you do that, too? Do you break all his things?'

'No, those aren't even h-', began Dudley but he broke off.

'Pardon?' he asked, but Dudley remained silent. Sirius frowned, wondering where that sentence had been going. 'Well, anyway,' he continued. 'I am giving you one warning. If I ever hear that you so much as touch anything of Harry's or Harry himself, I will come back to you, Dudley. I will hold you personally responsible.'

Dudley smirked now. 'You can't do anything to me,' he sneered.

Sirius smiled back. 'And why would that be?'

''Cause Daddy will beat you up.'

Sirius shook his head. 'No, he will not. Your Daddy does exactly as I tell him, and if you care to ask his opinion I am sure he will agree with me.'

Dudley's smile faltered somewhat. 'You're just bluffing,' he said.

Sirius grinned, putting on the face he had always used in the past when impersonating his father. James had used to describe it as "freaking eerie". He hoped that that would be enough. 'Are you willing to try me?'

Dudley stared for another few seconds and then jumped off the bed, darting past Sirius who stepped aside. He was running to his parents who would hopefully hammer the message home for him. At least his mother knew not to mess with wizards.

Sirius followed Dudley slowly to the top of the stairs where he sat down to wait for Harry to get changed. He could hear voices downstairs – they were too quiet to make out the words – and movement behind Harry's door. Sirius hoped that he would be reassured by what he had let him overhear.

It only took a minute or so for Harry to poke his head out into the hall. He was still pale. His pyjamas were too small for him, in contrast to the clothes Sirius had so far seen him wear. They made him look tiny, especially compared to the porky kid Sirius had just been talking to.

Sirius got up. 'Do you want me to come in for a bit?' he asked. 'Or shall we say goodbye?'

Harry considered him for a second and finally murmured, 'Stay.'

Harry sat down on the bed, obviously uncomfortable, and Sirius took a seat next to him.

'I don't think you need to be scared of Dudley anymore,' he decided to break the silence.

Harry nodded but avoided his gaze. They both remained silent for a while. 'Are you leaving?' asked Harry finally. Those were the first words he had spoken without prompting since they had gotten back.

Sirius nodded.

Harry bit his lip. 'Are… are you coming back?'

'Yes, if you want me to.'

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

'Last week, I said I'd come back and I did, didn't I?' asked Sirius, trying to appeal to his trust.

Harry nodded again. 'When are you coming back?'

Sirius watched him carefully. 'I… I was thinking that you could stay with me next weekend, if you want. I haven't quite finished work on my house but I should be done by then. Would you like that? You don't have to. If you like, I can just pick you up for the day on Saturday, like I did today. It's up to you.'

Harry bit his lip again. 'I… I don't think Uncle Vernon would take me anywhere.'

'He doesn't have to. I could pick you up.'

Harry nodded.

'When should I pick you up?'

Harry eyed him carefully. 'F-Friday after school?' he suggested tentatively.

Sirius laughed. 'Yes, sure. Shall I pick you up at school or here?'

'At school. We finish at three.'

'I'll be there,' promised Sirius. He knew where the school was, they had driven past it that morning and Harry had pointed it out. 'Now, I think you should sleep, shouldn't you? You have to be tired.'

Harry nodded reluctantly.

'Would you like me to sit with you until you've fallen asleep?' he asked. When James had been little, Euphemia had done that sometimes when he had been upset or ill. Sirius had been rather envious of that at the time.

Harry nodded again and he scrambled up to the top of his bed and slid under the covers. Sirius got up to turn off the lights before returning to his seat on the edge of the mattress. It was not quite dark. The curtains were too flimsy to keep out the yellowy shine of the lampposts. Harry's open eyes were visible as little specs of reflected light. They remained silent.

After a few minutes, there was a commotion downstairs, followed by stomping footsteps on the stairs. Harry flinched as the sound came closer and he grabbed Sirius' hand. Sirius, too, was bracing himself for what was going to come through the door but the footsteps passed and were followed by the crash of a slamming door. It seemed like it had only been Dudley on his way to bed.

The house fell silent again after that but Harry's hand kept clutching Sirius', and he held on to Harry's in turn as he drifted off into his thoughts.

Even though he had argued with Dumbledore, there had always been a part of Sirius that was quite happy that he did not actually have to take responsibility for a child. He knew that James and Lily had wanted Harry to live with him and he wanted to do everything he could to honour their wishes but nevertheless he had been relieved that he would not actually have to have his whole life revolve around Harry.

His twenty-second birthday had been two days after his arrival in Azkaban. His plans concerning his life after the war had not involved a child, at least not for a decade, if at all. When he had first hoped to be released, he had planned to make up for some of the things he had missed. So far, he had not even had the chance to figure out what they were. Harry had first priority. He had always wanted the best for him, of course, and knowing that he lived with his relatives had seemed like a good thing for Harry.

Sirius had assumed that he had a brother and friend in his cousin and an aunt and uncle who cared for him as if he really were their own child. Surely, this would be better for Harry than living with Sirius who did not know the first thing about children. He would not even be able to cook for him, not to mention being a responsible guardian and role model.

He was no longer able to think that. There was something going on in this house that made him very, very uneasy. It was only for Harry's continued presence that he was keeping his patience. Dumbledore had not known, he was sure of that, but that would change as soon as he could get his hands on an owl – or better still, march into Hogwarts directly.

Not only did they stomp on Prong's memory with their dirty feet, they treated his son in a way no child should be treated. Harry was scared of his uncle, for reasons that Sirius dreaded to think of. It was painfully obvious that his cousin was receiving preferential treatment – his clothes, his toys, his whole bearing made that clear. And just like his father, he was a bully.

No, this was not a good place for a child at all. Sirius looked around the bare room. He supposed that there was nothing obviously wrong with it but it was impersonal and uncomfortable. It was not a nice place to be at any rate.

Harry's eyes fluttered open every few seconds, apparently checking that Sirius was still there, and each time they did, Sirius gently squeezed Harry's hand, trying to reassure him. It seemed to work and Harry's eyes remained closed for longer and longer periods of time.

Sirius watched what little he could make out of his face in the dark. While he looked so much like Prongs, Sirius could now see much more to him than that. Last week, that was what he had been, "Prong's kid". But now… He was becoming Harry with every second, and Harry was surprisingly unlike Prongs, no doubt thanks to the bloody muggles.

Just looking at him made Sirius' heart ache in a way it had never done with his best friend. He actually wanted to look after Harry, almost like a physical need to protect him. He had never experienced anything of the sort and had not expected it. This desire was independent of the thought that he was the only thing that remained of Prongs but both put together…

He would protect the child, first of all from his own relatives. He knew that he could scare them but in the end that would never make Harry welcome in this house. It would never be his home.

On the other hand, Dumbledore was sure – and Sirius agreed – that Voldemort would return one day and that he would not leave Harry alone when he did. A house like this, out of his reach, might then just be the key to saving Harry's life. Could he justify taking away that security?

Dumbledore had been adamant. Harry not being "the happiest he could be", as he had put it, was the lesser of two evils. Sirius was not so sure about that. Dumbledore had not seen those eyes – Lily's eyes – look so sad. He had even put aside the fact that Harry had never seen a picture of his parents. "Petunia lost a sister that day, Sirius," he had said, looking graver than Sirius would have expected. "Having pictures of her in her home might simply be too painful for her. I trust you, too, know what it means to lose a sibling?"

Yes, Sirius knew about that – but Lily and her sister had not been closer than him and Regulus. Lily and him had bonded over that, having siblings who despised their chosen way of life, associating with wizards and muggle-borns respectively. Some days, he felt guilty about not protecting Regulus but if his brother had left a child in his care… He would have made sure to pretend that it had had a good father, at least for the first few years. Whatever grudges he might carry, a child's welfare was more important, and Petunia should know that.

"And you think that if she can't bear to look at a picture of her sister, forcing her son on her is kind?' Sirius had asked back.

Dumbledore had sighed. "It is not but if the choice is between Harry's life and Petunia's feelings, I am afraid my mind is made up. I should have thought that we both simply have Harry's best interest at heart in this case."

It was exactly that which kept Sirius' anger at his former headmaster at bay. They both wanted the same thing and Sirius could not be sure that Dumbledore was wrong in his approach. What they were talking about had the potential to influence Harry's life or death. This was not a decision to be made lightly.

Still, the more time he spent with Harry, the more he found that he wanted to be with him. He wanted to play with him, wanted to read to him, even wanted to comfort him when he was sad. This was also new. He had always liked Harry but he had also always been equally happy to hand him back to his parents when he was crying, or smelly, or grumpy.

Harry's breathing had become deeper and more regular now. His eyes had been closed for a while now. Sirius remained perched on the mattress for another few minutes, not wanting to wake Harry as he left. He needed to talk to his aunt and uncle, and this was not a conversation he wanted the child to overhear. As quietly as he could, he got up, left the room, and even managed to close the door noiselessly with the aid of a little magic.

Mr and Mrs Dursley were in the kitchen when he came downstairs; neither of them said a word when he stepped into the room. Sirius swallowed his anger. They were as scared of him as was useful and now he needed to change tactics. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and grabbed what was left of his muggle money. There were several bills, three fifties, two twenties and three tenners. He held them out to Mrs Dursley.

'I want you to buy him clothes, new clothes,' he told her. It was against his instincts to give that vile woman money but he wanted Harry to have proper things to wear and forcing her to use her own money would only make her angrier at Harry. 'Shoes, a school uniform and whatever else you can get. Ask him what he'd like. They're to fit him properly. Say they're from you. Understood?'

She stared at him and nodded.

'Good. I will pick him up from school on Friday and he will spend the weekend with me. I will bring him back on Sunday, sometime in the afternoon. If I so much as suspect that you have threatened him, or touched him, or broken his belongings, you will be sorry. Do you understand?' He addressed this question to Mr Dursley whose face turned crimson. Still, he nodded after a glance at his wife. That man was dangerous, short-tempered. Sirius needed to keep him more scared than angry.

He drew his wand and pointed it at the kitchen table, transfiguring it into a pig and back again a few seconds later. 'I can do the same to you, and worse,' he told the mortified couple. 'But keep Harry happy and I will do nothing of the sort.'

He left the house swiftly after that without waiting for an answer and swung himself onto his motorbike on the now dark and deserted street. When he looked back at the house, he saw the curtains of Harry's room moving. So he had not been asleep for good after all. Sirius waved at the window just in case Harry was still watching before he took off into the night.

His head was buzzing. The cold wind made him both angrier and calmer. He was outraged at what was being done to Harry but he knew that he could not act rashly. He had learned that lesson.