I apologize for the wait; I meant to upload it further but I was travelling and only had my crappy old laptop with me which can't really do anything but crash these days.

Thanks to all those that read and reviewed, I am humbled by your support! :)

hornet07 suggested I change the format so that only one person speaks per paragraph, so I tried it with this one. I'm not sure it really makes it easier, as the format of is generally different from an actual book, but I'll leave it up to you to tell me what you like best :)

kk: Not to a large extend, no. I don't intend to send Harry back to live with them or have any Dursley-related flashbacks, so it'll only ever be mentioned, and I'll be sticking to what Rowling wrote and not add anything extreme. Although I guess making a child live in a cupboard is pretty extreme in itself...

CedricDiggory01: She'll certainly be making an appearance, but I always viewed her as pretty loyal to Dumbledore, so she won't be going against him. I'm quite fond of her character, though, so she'll probably have some more guest appearances as the story continues.

alix33: I did not mean to say that sleeping on a couch itself is bad but rather the circumstances, as Remus was pondering in that sentences. The reason he feels guilty is that Harry didn't choose to sleep there but had to because there was no bed for him, and Remus has always been a bit touchy when it comes to making others share his poverty. If I had written that part from Harry's or Sirius' POV, they wouldn't have minded at all.


Coming Home

When Harry woke up, it took him a moment to remember the fantastic dream he had had. Very strange people had appeared in it, and a magic godfather who had taken him away. He had flown on a broomstick and landed in a dark, gloomy house full of magic. And then the magic godfathers – no, wizards, as they had explained – had told him that his parents had also been wizards, and that he, Harry, was a wizard, too, who had sent that letter to them by magic. That here was a whole world full of magic, and that he would never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again.

He sighed, keeping his eyes closed to linger a little longer. It had all felt so real. But it was a dream, it was always a dream, and soon he would have to open his eyes and find himself back in his cupboard.

Sirius, he remembered. His godfather's name had been Sirius. A strange name, just as the other man's...Remus, that had been it. Remus Lupin. He'd made Harry invisible with his magical stick. His wand, Harry remembered. He'd also made him hot chocolate, the first time in his life that Harry had drunk it.

They had been strange, but very nice. Sirius had shown him some more magic, making the tea pot dance across the table with short stumpy legs before transforming it into a little bird that fluttered through the kitchen; until Remus told him that they'd probably need it at one point and Sirius had made the teapot reappear.

But it was a dream. There were no magic godfathers, or flying brooms, or portraits that moved. He wasn't a wizard, but Harry, a scrawny boy in a dark cupboard that would probably be late to school if he didn't get up soon. Forcing himself not to cry at the idea of leaving behind the enticing dream world, he opened his eyes.

And stared up at a dark grey ceiling that was far too high to be his cupboard. It was also too bright, sunlight filtering through the heavy green curtains...Curtains? Since when did his cupboard have windows, let alone curtains?

And the thing he was lying on didn't feel like his bed. It was dark green satin, and there was a heavy woollen blanket draped around him. His heart hammering in his chest, he slowly turned his head. It was the same room he remembered from his dream, wood panelled walls, tall, dark book shelves and a very old looking fireplace.

He slowly extracted an arm from the blanket that covered him – that somebody must've placed over him, actually, as he did not remember how it had gotten there – and pinched his cheek. It hurt, but the room stayed.

It's real.

The realization hit him with the force of a thunder bolt.

It's really real.

His chest felt like it was about to explode with joy, and he had to fight the impulse to jump up and dance and sing with joy.

No more Dursleys.

Sirius is real, you've got a magical godfather and you're going to live with him.

He managed to supress the urge to shout out, mainly so that said godfather wouldn't just send him home again. Aunt Petunia had always been terribly angry if Harry was too noisy. Instead, he just stared at the ceiling, grinning until his face hurt.

When the euphoria had died down a little, he slowly sat up, looking around once more. Neither Sirius nor Remus were to be seen. There was an old mattress on the floor next to the fireplace, a blanket draped neatly over it. Next to it sat another mattress, an on it, partially covered, lay...

...an enormous black dog, snoring peacefully.

Harry stared.

He didn't have much experience with dogs – Aunt Petunia had trouble tolerating Dudley's pet turtle; she'd never dream of letting anything with so much potential for dirt into her house – apart from the terrifying visits of Aunt Marge and her bulldog, Ripper, who'd chased Harry up a tree last year.

But this dog, while much larger than Ripper, seemed rather harmless. It had scruffy black fur and looked a bit skinny, its large paws twitching slightly while it slept. Harry guessed that were it to stand up, its shoulders would be almost level with Harry's head, and yet he didn't feel any sort of fear, just fascinated curiosity.

What sort of dog slept in a bed?

And why hadn't he seen it last night? Sirius hadn't said anything about owning a dog; in fact, he had told Harry that they'd only just moved in here themselves. Maybe the dog had lived here before?

He wondered if he should get up and look for his godfather. He had been warned not to wander around the house on his own, as the previous owners had been rather nasty people who might have left behind something dangerous, but he thought that he could probably remember the way to the kitchen.

Before he could come to any sort of conclusion, a violent tremor went through the dog's body, and its eyes snapped open. Harry froze, his breath catching in his throat. The dog was staring directly at him, and Harry stared back. Then he remembered that one shouldn't look dogs in the eyes because it would make them attack you, and he quickly looked down at the dog's paws.

Should he call for help? The dog didn't seem very aggressive right now.

The dog shifted, and changed into a man.

Harry gave a shocked little squeak, nearly tumbling off the sofa in the process. Sirius said up, shaking a little as if to get rid of the fur that had clung to him mere moments before. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Harry simply stared at him. "You- you were a dog," he said, rather unnecessarily. But he couldn't help himself. Even after all the magic he'd witnessed last night, being hit my something this mad and impossible without warning made his head spin a little.

Sirius smiled slightly, slowly getting to his feet. "Yes. I do that sometimes. But if you don't like dogs, I'll stop."

Harry quickly shook his head. "No! I just... Can Remus do that, too? Can I do it?" He had been told he was a wizard, after all.

Sirius paused for a moment, and Harry felt like he was debating whether to tell him something. Then his godfather shook his head. "No, Remus can't turn into a dog. You can't either, yet. It's quite difficult to learn, actually. I can teach you once you're older, if you'd like to. Although your animal might not be a dog."

"My animal?" Harry repeated.

Sirius nodded, slipping the robes that were laying next to his mattress over his shoulders. "Every wizard has a different Animagus form. Animagus, that's what I am. I can change into my animal," he explained, seeing the question on Harry's face. "Your Dad, he...he was a stag." At the last words, his smile faltered somewhat, and his voice changed. Harry barely noticed.

"My father could do that, too?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Sirius nodded once more, the smile returning as he walked over to Harry and sat next to him on the couch, ruffling his hair. "He sure did, Prongslet. We used to sneak out at night and go on adventures together."

Under different circumstances he might have jumped at the chance of listening to the adventures of his magical dog-godfather and his stag-real -father, but now all he could think of was how little he knew about his parents. If the Dursleys hadn't told him about magic, what else had they left out?

"Were you there?" he asked quietly, looking down at his bare feet. "When they had the accident."

"Accid...?" Sirius started, before Harry felt him tense next to him. "What exactly did your Aunt and Uncle tell you about your parents' deaths?" he asked, and Harry flinched at the anger that laced his voice.

But he could sense that it wasn't directed at him. "Just...just that they had a car accident," he mumbled, looking down at his bare feet. "And they died." There was a moment of silence, and as Sirius wrapped one arm around him, he could feel his godfather tremble.

"That's...that's not was happened," Sirius finally said, his voice sounding rather choked again. "They didn't even own a car..." He stared off into the distance before turning to Harry once more. "Maybe we should wait till Remus is back...I shouldn't tell you like this."

But Harry shook his head vigorously. Yesterday he had been so caught up in his excitement and wonder that the notion that Sirius and Remus had actually known his parents – even more, had apparently been their closest friends – had completely slipped his mind. But now that he knew the Dursleys had lied to him in this, too, he just wanted answers.

"Please tell me," he said pleadingly. "I want to know how they died."

Sirius heaved a sigh, rubbing his free hand over his face. "Alright, kid. You deserve to know, I guess."


"There was a bad wizard once," Sirius began, wondering how on earth he should explain the concept of Voldemort to a seven-year-old. If he should explain it, really, as it wasn't exactly a topic suited for such a small child. But then it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Harry had been lied to for most of his life; he deserved some honesty for a change.

Even if it might result in nightmares and Remus shouting at him for being an irresponsible guardian.

"His name was Voldemort, and he was very evil; he hated people that weren't magic – muggles, like your aunt and uncle – or whose parents had been muggles, like your mother. He had a lot of followers who thought the same, and he quickly got powerful." Harry stared at him with wide green eyes, eyes that looked so much like Lily that it hurt. Sirius forced himself to go on. "But there were people fighting against him. Not just the ministry – that's our government – but also a secret organization, led by Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard that Voldemort was ever afraid of. It was called the Order or the Phoenix; and your parents were part of it.

Harry's eyes grew big. "My parents fought Voldemort?"

Sirius nodded, clearing his throat when his voice started to choke. "They did," he said, "And they were da-very good at it. But Voldemort wanted to kill them for it, and they had to hide." Guilt and grief started to overcome him, but he forced himself to look at the frightened boy in front of him, the boy who was a perfect copy of James.

He deserves to know.

"There's a spell," he croaked on, clutching Harry more firmly. "It hides a house, so that nobody can find it, even if they know where it is. Only one person can reveal it, the Secret Keeper."

You killed them. It's your fault they're dead. If only you'd...

Harry. He could cry later, for now he had to be strong.

"I was going to do it," he said, quieter now. Harry seemed to sense the tension, for he ducked into the couch, closer to Sirius. "Be their Secret Keeper. But at the last moment, we changed our mind. Everyone knew it would be me, and Voldemort would hunt me. So another friend of your parents' did it...Peter Pettigrew." Even just speaking the name made him want to crush something. "He was the fourth in our group; he was also an Animagus. A rat. I thought it was very clever, because nobody would ever suspect him."

How witty he had felt, blinded by his own arrogance. Not seeing that the vile traitor was right in front of him.

"What happened?" Harry asked timidly when he didn't go on.

Sirius closed his eyes. "He betrayed them to Voldemort," he said finally. Speaking it out aloud was a thousand times worse than just thinking about it. It made it so much more real. "He had been spying for him for quite a while, and we...I...we didn't know it was him. I suspected Remus, and he suspected me...and we didn't notice."

He felt tears prick at his eyes, and blinked them away. The story wasn't yet through.

"So...so Voldemort found them and...killed them?" Harry asked quietly.

Sirius hugged the boy closer, and nodded. "Yeah. They fought him, but he was too strong. And he wanted to kill you too, but somehow...they died to protect you, and that meant he couldn't kill you, even though he tried. That's how you got that scar." He lifted his free hand, tracing the mark on Harry's forehead. "You were the only one to ever survive that."

Harry swallowed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Sirius turned around so he could face him fully. "It's okay to cry, Prongslet," he said softly. "I do, too. I miss them so much." He drew Harry towards him and as the boy buried his face in his robes, he felt tears run down his own face. He hadn't brought himself to cry in front of Remus, but somehow, with Harry it was alright.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, drawing comfort from each other's company. The ancient clock on the mantelpiece was broken, but judging by the sunbeams filtering through the curtains it had to be at least eleven. He wondered were Remus was, and what was taking him so long.

It's alright. He'd have sent a Patronus if there was trouble.

Except he wouldn't have, because he was Remus and he wouldn't want Sirius to risk his life for him, the self-sacrificing git.

Before his worry could solidify, Harry lifted his head, rubbing his red eyes surreptitiously. "What...what happened to Voldemort?" he asked. "And...Peter Pettigrew?"

"Voldemort vanished," Sirius said slowly, wondering how much to tell Harry. He'd only learned most of the story during the last few days, from Remus. "Your parents' sacrifice meant he couldn't touch you, and it almost destroyed him when he tried. He's not dead – I'm not sure he even can die – but he lost all of his power. He's just a shadow now, barely existing. He can't harm anyone anymore."

For now. Some day, he would return, and some day rather sooner than later, he'd have to tell Harry about the prophecy. But not today.

"And Peter..." he paused. "I tried to hunt him down," he said slowly. "But he tricked me. We were in a street full of muggles when I finally caught him, and suddenly he shouted about how I had betrayed Lily and James. And then he blew up the street, and-" He paused. Are you honestly about to tell a seven-year-old about thirteen people being ripped apart and a man cutting off his own finger?, a voice in his head that sounded rather like Remus said.

But now that he had started, he could hardly back out. "He cut off his finger and transformed into a rat to escape, so it would look like he had died as well," he finished quieter, relieved when Harry grew paler but did not break out in horrified sobs. "Everybody thought I had done it," he continued quickly. "Because we had told everybody that I'd be secret keeper, and so it looked like I had betrayed your parents. I was put in prison."

Harry swallowed. "But...but you were innocent!" he said.

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "Was I? It was me who suggested using Peter. It basically is my fault..." He couldn't help the tears that came into his eyes, but Harry surprised him.

"It's not," he said, voice much firmer than would be expected of a seven-year-old. "You didn't know he was evil."

Despite his grief, Sirius felt a smile creep onto his face at this fierce defence. "How did you escape?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius forced himself to let go of the guilt for now. "I transformed into a dog," he said. "The guards at the wizard prison don't have eyes; they only sense feelings, and so they didn't know. I managed to squeeze through the bars."

Harry frowned. "If it was that easy, why didn't you escape sooner? Why did you-" he lowered his head and didn't continue, but Sirius could guess the last words. Why did you let me stay with those terrible people?

He winced. "I...I felt like I deserved it," he said honestly. "And I thought you were happy; I didn't know you were living with them. I thought that maybe Remus had taken you in, or that Dumbledore had found someone else..."

"Oh," Harry made, looking marginally happier but still not meeting his eyes. "I thought that maybe...that maybe you didn't want to live with me."

Sirius felt his throat constrict. "Don't you ever think that, Prongslet," he said, putting a hand under Harry's chin to look him in the eyes. "You're the most important person in the whole wide world to me, understand?" Harry still looked a bit doubtful, but nodded slowly, and Sirius smiled at him encouragingly. "I came as soon as I got your letter, didn't I?" he said, hugging Harry once more. "I'm your magic godfather, and I'm not letting you down ever again."


When Remus returned, he found Sirius and Harry still sitting on the sofa, crouched over a book of sorts. As he got closer, Remus recognized his old photo album. "...and that's why your Dad had blue hair for the rest of the week." Sirius was finishing some story, much to Harry's amusement, when he looked up and noticed Remus.

"Moony!" he jumped to his feet, almost sending the book flying. "What in Merlin's name took you so long? It's..." he craned his neck, before realizing that he didn't actually have a clue what time it was since the only clock in the room was broken (although at least it no longer shot bolts at them as it had done when they had first arrived, which was some sort of comfort).

"Quarter past twelve," Remus supplied, calmly setting down the box he was carrying next to the ones with his own things that they had taken from his cottage the morning before. "And it went fine, don't worry. They looked at me a bit funny, and I had to bribe them, but I got in." He fished in his coat pocket, extracting Sirius' wand. "Here you go."

There was a short hesitation before Sirius gingerly took it, and Remus quickly turned to Harry when he saw the emotion flickering over his face. Deciding to give his friend a moment to compose himself, he said: "What do you say to breakfast, Harry? Or lunch, I suppose – you must be starving. Toast and eggs sound good?"

Harry, throwing Sirius a short look, nodded, and followed him into the kitchen. "So what did you two get up to?" Remus asked pleasantly as he set about resizing the bags of groceries that he had bought and searched the cupboards for a pan that didn't look like it had last been used in the Middle Ages or harboured a host of illegal spells that would make the Restricted Section at Hogwarts look like a collection of children's stories.

Harry didn't answer at once, watching in fascination as the pan began to scrub itself in the sink. "Sirius told me about Voldemort," he said finally, and Remus nearly dropped the eggs he'd been holding as he fought for the smile to stay on his face.

"Oh," he said, wondering exactly how much Sirius had told him.

"And about Peter, and how he got sent into prison," Harry continued.

So pretty much everything, then. Merlin's beard...

"Ah," Remus said. "Yes." He hesitated. "So you know we're hiding from the government then, don't you?" he finally asked, just as Sirius reappeared, his wand now safely tucked away in his pocket.

Harry glanced at his godfather, then nodded. "Yeah. 'Cos they think he killed those people and betrayed my parents."

The smile on Sirius face got somewhat strained when he walked over to them. "That's right," he said. "And it means that we can't just wander about on the street. We can only go out in disguise, and we have to be very careful."

Harry frowned. "But...can't you just tell them? You're not evil. Won't people see that? You didn't try to kill me, after all."

Sirius' gaze flickered to Remus, and he nodded slightly. "The thing is...I don't have any proof," Sirius explained. "Nobody knows that Peter can change into a rat; they all think he's dead. And they might believe me, but that's quite a risk to take. Because if they don't, they'll send me back to prison." Or worse, but Remus was glad Sirius didn't mention that to Harry.

"I can try, if you want to," Sirius said quickly, when Harry didn't say anything. "I'd understand if you don't want to be locked up in here with us all the time. It won't be an easy life." His face was rather pale at the thought of facing the Dementors once more, but Remus knew that should Harry ask, he would hand himself over without a second of hesitation.

Harry frowned again. "But...but if they send you back to prison, won't I have to go back to the Dursleys?"

Sirius shared another uncomfortable look with Remus, before nodding. "I suppose so...that's what Dumbledore thinks is best."

Harry didn't hesitate any further. "Then I don't want you to," he said at once, a look of panic coming onto his face. "I don't mind being in here. It's a very big house, isn't it?"

Sirius smiled, sincerely for the first time since he had entered the kitchen. "That it is, Prongslet," he said, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "And as soon as we've had breakfast, we'll go and find a room for you, what do you say?"