Harry Potter would not know the story of how Sirius Black had been able to adopt him until he was a few years older. On the day that Sirius came to take him away from the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon had told Dudley to take him into his second bedroom and let him play.

"But it's my bedroom!" Harry's newly turned five-year-old cousin had wailed. "He'll mess up my things!"

Uncle Vernon had sat down next to Dudley and put an arm around his shoulder.

"Someone wants to take the boy far away from us, but he needs to stay out of sight. The man can't see Harry's cupboard, you see. If you let Harry borrow your room, Dudley, I will give you fifty pounds," Uncle Vernon promised.

Dudley, whose pocket money was five pounds a week, squealed. "Fifty!"

"Twenty-five now, and twenty-five after he's gone," his uncle promised. He tousled Dudley's hair. "And we will get pizza for dinner and your mummy will take you to your favorite sweet shop and get you whatever you like!"

Dudley bounced on top of his bed. "Whatever I like?"

"I promise. But only if you let your cousin borrow your room while the man visits," Vernon added, grinning.

Dudley glanced at Harry, who was standing across the room. "If you mess up my stuff, I will pound you," he threatened.

Harry didn't think his cousin would be able to catch him, even with his leg still hurting, but he didn't say so.

"I won't," he answered, quietly.

Dudley glared at him. "Well, all right."

So, Harry was allowed to look at picture books, although he couldn't read the words yet, for what felt like ages. He was in the middle of one with a caterpillar and lots of food when his uncle came in.

There was another man with him, much thinner than his uncle, with curly hair that reached his shoulders. He also looked like he was wearing a dress. Well, not the kind that his aunt wore. This one was a very dark blue in color, and reached to below his feet. It had long sleeves that were wide without sticking out. Harry stared at him before looking down, remembering belatedly that it was rude to stare.

The man took a seat in front of Harry. "Hello, there. You must be Harry Potter."

"Hello, sir," Harry answered back, chancing a look at the man's face.

He was smiling at him, and looked gentle. Harry wasn't sure how he knew this. Perhaps, it was his eyes.

Harry looked down at the book once more. The green caterpillar looked back up at him. Harry felt the man put a hand on his shoulder, briefly, and he looked up, startled.

"You don't remember me, I'm sure, but I was one of your favorite people when you were a baby," the man explained, still smiling. "Sometimes, you liked me even more than your parents."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

He was not supposed to ask questions. He lowered his head again.

"I did," the man replied, and he laughed, although Harry thought it was a sad laugh. "I was your dad--your daddy's best friend."

"Oh," Harry answered, softly. "They died."

"Yes, they did," the man agreed. "I was supposed to take care of you afterwards, but I couldn't."

"It's okay," Harry said, quickly.

"Do you like living here?"

Harry was about to say no, but Uncle Vernon was standing in the doorway. He would yell, and so would Aunt Petunia. And the man might decide not to take Harry back with him. Or, worse, he would be even meaner to him than the Dursleys.

Aunt Marge was certainly meaner than both of them put together.

Harry knew it would be rude not to answer, but he couldn't bring himself to say yes. He stared down at the book.

"What are you reading?" asked the nice man, gently.

"I can't read. I am only four. Well, five next month. But I haven't been to school, and that's where they teach you," Harry explained. "I am just looking at the pictures."

The man nodded a bit, then smiled at the boy. "Would you like me to read the story to you?"

He did, so he nodded. The man moved a little so he was sitting next to Harry, and carefully took the book, then closed it.

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" He gave Harry a rather sad smile. "'The Very Hungry Caterpillar.'"

Harry risked edging a bit closer to the man, and was rewarded with an arm around the shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly, it felt so nice. Aunt Petunia hugged Dudley all the time, and kissed him, but she never hugged Harry. Uncle Vernon was rather less of a hugger around Dudley, but still handed them out. Especially when Dudley ran (well, ran for Dudley) to him when he returned from work.

The man read in a gentle, yet clear, voice. There were no conversations between characters, because it was just about a caterpillar who ate everything in sight, but the man still managed to use funny voices to make it interesting. Harry sat there, enthralled, as this stranger read Dudley's discarded book to him.

Harry was oddly sad when the book was over. He was glad that the caterpillar was no longer hungry, and that he had wings and was a butterfly, but he wished the story could have continued. The man would probably leave, now.

He closed the book with care, and smiled at Harry. "Did you like that story?"

Harry nodded, shyly. "I was glad the caterpillar didn't stay hungry."

"Me too. Hunger is a terrible thing." He glanced over at Uncle Vernon, but only for a second. "And there are many kinds of hunger."

Harry wasn't sure what the man meant, so he kept quiet.

The man looked again at the top of the book, as though it might talk to him.

"Harry?" he asked, after a moment.

"Yes, sir?"

The man studied Harry for a moment before speaking. "I am your godfather, and it was what your parents wanted. It was also what I wanted, and still do. But," he added, quickly, "if you would rather stay here, I understand."

"No!"

The word came out before Harry could hold it back. Then, he added, "I want to live with you."

The man frowned, just a bit. "You don't have to decide now. We can have visits, first. See how we get on..."

The man didn't want Harry. He felt his vision blur.

Then, arms were around him, and he realized the man was hugging him.

Harry could not remember ever having been hugged before.

It was very, very nice.

"I do want you to live with me, Harry," the man said, softly, rocking Harry back and forth. "I want it very much."

"I do, too," Harry whispered.

It was decided, then. Uncle Vernon put Harry's clothes in a plastic bag, and Aunt Petunia practically shoved them out of the house. The man kept Harry in his arms, holding the bag of clothes around an arm.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Would you like something to eat before we go to my house?"

Harry nodded, then shook his head.

The man laughed. "Well, I am hungry, especially for pancakes, and there's a diner a few minutes away. Why don't you see if you change your mind after you see the pancakes?"

It was not really a question, but Harry nodded. He felt the man walk as he held onto his shoulders. He didn't think the man would drop him, but he didn't know this for sure.

"Sir?" Harry asked, after a minute.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What do I call you?"

He might prefer to be called "sir." Or, maybe not. Adults were odd that way. Mrs. Figg wanted to be called Mrs. Figg. Harry had been told to call Aunt Marge that, even though she told him she was glad she was no relation of his.

Adults were strange.

"Well, my name is Sirius Black, so why don't you call me Sirius? At least, for now. We can try different names and see what feels comfortable for you," the man suggested.

"Okay, Sirius," Harry answered, trying out the name carefully.

Then, Sirius took them into the restaurant.