I do not own Harry Potter. I am not JK Rowling. Normal people can't be gods.
"I very well should care for Harry! I am his Godfather."
Albus Dumbledore gave Sirius Black a sympathetic look. "He needs two parents."
Sirius smiled, softly, so not to appear too sly.
"I'm not that foolish."
Harry Black lived in a perfectly calm, kind neighborhood in a perfectly calm, kind environment. Well, disregarding the owls that filled the night air once a month and the half-hidden fact that he was, in fact, a wizard. Life seemed to be just fine. It always does when in a few moments childhood bliss would evaporate and be replaced by strange paradoxes and anomalies, like hiccoughs in time.
The first enigma slid through the door one fine morning, followed shortly by an owl hooting. At that time Sirius Black was home, sitting in the living room just beyond the doorway. He saw the note slip in, fluttering to the ground and making a soft rustling noise. He stood and approached it. He didn't bother picking it up. The seal was all he needed to see.
"Harry, get over here." He called.
A brief rustling came from the upstairs, followed by a child's excited footsteps.
"Has it come?" Harry's voice flew down the hallway.
"Yes, it has."
Harry rushed up to the note, still in flannel pajamas. He bent over the note and excitedly picked it up, running his fingers over the thick parchment. His glasses reflected warm sunlight and his hair, a mass of black, barely covered his thin, icy scar.
"When can we go buy supplies?" Harry asked excitedly.
Sirius glanced at him, seeing a bit of him mixed into the boy's light green eyes. Harry smiled broadly, ripping the paper open and rifling through its contents. He read the letter, pacing around the room, his slippers making soft hissing sounds against the wood.
"Whenever you want," Sirius said, wanting desperately to go now. But he had to remind himself that he was a capable, patient adult.
"What will dad say?"
"Probably for you to wait, so you aren't tempted to use your wand."
"I know it's forbidden, of course," Harry said, reading the note for a third time. "But if dad says to wait I'll wait."
And Sirius saw some of Remus in the boy, too, glittering. His patience, his understand, and his willing to be prepared. Remus' calm hadn't influenced the boy much, however.
"I read your copy of Hogwarts: A History at least twice this summer, I'm on my third run-through. Is it anything like the book said? Do ghosts really fly? What does the magic look like there? Why don't you use it? Could you have taught me or is the school really something…"
Sirius waved him silent, his eyes wide with excitement. He grinned. "Excited as always. When I went, the first thing I thought of was how to cause mischief."
And a little Sirius appeared in his grin, too, not falling short in his will to stir up just a little trouble: just to make one or two people laugh. Harry set the note aside, his gentler nature appearing.
"How was it?"
"You'll see for yourself."
"Should I wake dad up?" Harry said, knowing he wouldn't get an answer and deciding to drop the subject for the time being. He would snatch up any answers he wanted along the way. For an eleven year old boy, he had some cunning to use. Nothing for Ravenclaw material, but maybe something Slytherin would admire in its walls.
Sirius shook his head.
"You better not. Last night he didn't sleep."
Harry frowned.
"Oh."
Sirius felt guilt for not explaining the details fully to Harry. Soon, when he was older, Sirius said, reminding himself of the excuse he loathed to hear when he was a child Harry's age. Then again, he came from a dark, Noble family. He tried not to connect to it much. It was gone, save for the five-letter name still lingering, even in Harry's name.
"He'll wake up eventually." Sirius said.
Harry waited to be excused. Sirius lifted his eyebrows. It never stopped surprising him how, well, mature the boy could be.
"You're excused?" Sirius said uncertainly. "Or are there more questions you want to pester me with?" He barely stifled a yawn.
"You didn't sleep much last night, either, did you?" Harry asked.
Hufflepuff, yes, the care and kindness was there. Sirius shook his head. He should have been forming plans on how to blow up the neighboring cat, or something. He shouldn't have stood there, half-dead, and watching Harry's happiness with only an ehh response. There should have been more to it. He should have been celebrating, giving Harry a rare run on his broomstick (the boy had little love for Quidditch, oddly enough), and maybe he should have gone to Diagon Alley right then and there, to celebrate.
But exhaustion had become a trademark of the family. Remus didn't believe in raising a boy in a high-tension situation.
("He'll feel as though he was trapped in a small space, like a cupboard or something." Remus had insisted.)
That was not the life Sirius had wanted as a child. He wanted explosions, big bangs, volcanoes, and mischief, oh so much mischief. He still had his map, tucked away somewhere by Remus for sure. Who ddi he ever fall for that man?
"Do you think, then, that we could go next week? There isn't that much time left until the school year starts." Harry said, trying to negotiate.
"You'll have to create a better argument than that."
Harry grinned. "Don't you want me to start reading the textbooks before the year starts, so I can be prepared?"
"I don't want that. I want you to go at your own pace."
Harry gave him a pleading look, like a puppy wanting a treat desperately. Sirius had the creeping fear that Harry would start whimpering soon.
"Fine, we'll make a deal." Sirius said complacently. "You agree to wait and I, in the meanwhile, will teach you all the shortcuts and hidden places in Hogwarts, at least most of them. How does that sound?"
Harry's pleading look became a look of flattery. Sirius didn't like it one bit. It was the face James often pulled to get out of trouble, or to woo a girl or two. "No." He stated explicitly.
"No what?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "I know what you wanted."
"I wanted something?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Yes, and my own methods don't work against me. You've learned well, but you know better than to reproach a teacher."
"But these teachers here…"
"They may not have magic, Harry. They may not be able to stop you from sitting on top of a roof—"
"That was an accident!" Harry said. "I really don't know how I got up there! At least I didn't until you told me that there is a such thing as magic."
Sirius frowned. "That's besides the point, Harry. Now, if we yell anymore we'll wake Remus. And you've seen him when he's in an unpleasant mood."
"Not as bad as you are."
Sirius restrained a smile.
"The teachers at Hogwarts will have a laugh with you."
"And if you dare disrespect them, boy, we'll send you back to muggle school." A new voice chimed in. Harry turned to see Remus in the doorway, clean shaven, and with his tawny hair pulled away from his gentle face. His arms were crossed and his look stern.
"You're awake?" Sirius asked.
Oh he was in trouble now.
"You're surprised? With the noise you raised I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called in complaints of wraiths storming around the house."
"I doubt they know what wraiths are."
"You assume there are no wizards or witches here? I saw the neighbor's daughter, just the other day, accidentally turn her cat purple when she sneezed." Remus was irritable. Harry heard the canary's song and started to sneak out of the room. Remus shot him a wolfish look and he froze. "Young man, what news did you get?" He asked in a immensely gentler tone.
Harry showed Remus the letter. He read it through with a kind look, his eyes crinkling in pride. He rumpled Harry's hair.
"Have you read any of the books we have?"
"He's read the entire library." Sirius said.
"You know, maybe I should teach there…" Remus pondered.
Harry flushed with the ever inevitable preemptive embarrassment children face with the dire prospect of their parents becoming teachers. What horrors lie waiting!
"And risk your life? You know the only job opening there is the most dangerous one."
Remus grinned.
"You aren't the only glutton for danger, Sirius."
Sirius bit his lip.
"You should sleep, however. You're dog tired."
"Very funny." Sirius said, stalking past them.
Harry and Remus exchanged a look.
"There's a witch next door?" He asked.
Remus nodded. "Yes, he's a muggleborn, however. I think her parents are dentists, though I'm not sure. I don't make it my priority to examine everyone's lives."
Harry went outdoors, wanting to find the witch and exchange letters. After all, for most of his life, he had seen only a handful of magic spells and had never met a witch or wizard outside of his parents.
"Ah, this changes everything."
Minerva McGonagall watched the Headmaster bow over his desk, his long white beard trickling over the ledge. His quill rested over the parchment. A child had written to him directly and he was taking some time to create a response.
But that couldn't be all. Minerva knew it. She hadn't been called there to watch as Dumbledore poured over a piece of paper. He looked up, directly at her.
"Yes?" She asked tensely.
"Yes, I've come to a realization."
"And that would be?"
"I overheard a muggle study recently that suggested having something in one's mouth, such as, oh, a lemon-flavored sweet of sorts, can help one focus. I think that's marvelously clever for them. I was wondering if I should invest in a test of it myself. Don't you think?" He dug around his drawers for a bag of said lemon-flavored sweets.
Minerva watched the mostly insane wizard pop a sweet into his mouth and pensively roll it around in his mouth for some time before applying his hand to the parchment. He scribbled for some moments, the sound of a quill scratching paper giving her a sense of calm familiarity.
What did he want?
She knew better than to ask. That would only postpone the answer. If she hinted at it subtly, however, oh that may work—she would only have to wait for the tectonic plates to smother Asia and South America together for a reply.
"One other thing, Minerva." Dumbledore said.
"Yes?" She perked up, but attempted at hiding it.
"Would you like one?" He asked.
Dismayed, she shook her head and declined politely.
He wrote another line down.
"Ah, yes, I remember. I said 'one other thing', correct?"
"That you did, sir."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"You know about that boy, Harry Potter?"
"Of course."
"Well, he's not actually Harry Potter anymore. He's Harry Black and he had remarkably good living conditions these past years."
"He what? How?"
"Yes, that changes things now, doesn't it?"
"It—It certainly does. Wasn't it part of your plan?"
"Sometimes the initial plan is by far the worst. And, speaking of plans, I believe that you should plan on calling Hagrid to come up to my office very soon. Also, one other last thing—I have a terrible habit of lying when it comes to these things—could you keep an eye on the Dursley residency?"
Minerva frowned.
"If Pot—Black does not live there, I don't see any real reason for this."
"You may not see a reason, but does that mean it isn't there?"
"No. I shall do as you have ordered."
"And bring me something a little more tangy, would you, Minerva?"
"Ah, yes, yes of course." She said, already vanishing down the stairs.
Dumbledore sat in the quiet room, a smile playing on his lips.
"Now who will find the stone?" He asked the room. Not even the paintings muttered a reply.