The study was dark that evening. Candlelight flickered along the walls, casting dancing shadows along portraits and large stone pillars in a strangely relaxing waltz. Perhaps it was the stress of the day, or perhaps it was merely his age, but everything seemed a little duller in Blackwall Manor as the sun began to make its final steps beyond the horizon. Colour did not appear as vibrant; smells were less delicious, and fabric felt that little bit coarser.

He had long since divested himself of his leather, instead desiring a little comfort for his old and beaten body. It had been many, many years since he had worn any kind of armour – even one as light and forgiving as his studded leather. Perhaps it had been the adrenaline of the situation – the last of member his house that meant a damn facing the peril of Azkaban- that had stirred him into such an action. Though, if the trial hadn't gone the way it had, he didn't know if even his own fearsome reputation would have been enough to help Sirius.

Images and thoughts of Azkaban flittered through his mind for a brief moment as he idly brushed a thumb back and forth over his moustache. There were many, many magical prisons throughout the country – Azkaban was held as the most severe punishment. The presence of the Dementors was enough cause for any inmate to wish for death. Not even in his deepest, darkest nightmare could he imagine living in constant, abject despair. Was the Ministry so desperate to provide the illusion of doing something in the wake of all of this that they would leap at the possibility of throwing an innocent man in there? He'd have to think some more on it.

A slight sigh whispered past his thin lips as he leaned back in his chair, the leather contorting and wrapping him in its embrace. He had spent many a day in this room. As his eyes swept across the room, he could spot the various knickknacks that he'd purchased over the years. Ghosts of the past flittered across his vision – his father standing before the fireplace, a weathered pipe in his hand as he glared at the flame; his wife, long since departed, sitting across from him in her favourite chair, knitting a small cardigan and every now and then gently stroking the swell of her stomach. Sirius, upside down on the small settee on the far side of the room, his feet up on the wall and his head hanging in the air as he read a book, idly swiping the pages as he looked at the pictures.

A soft smile crossed his face at the memory. Had it really been so long ago? Everything had gone so wrong in his family these last few years – the betrayal of most of his family, one by one. Where had they all gone so wrong? He hadn't raised Orion to be a manic Pureblood! He'd raised Orion by the same ideals he himself had been taught – magic, in all its forms was sacred. It didn't matter if you were Elf, Centaur, Muggleborn, Half-Blood or Pureblood – magic was magic. It seemed only Sirius had remained true and pure to the family traditions.

The Black family had a dark and sordid history. It wasn't uncommon for members of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black to be called Dark Wizards and Witches. Perhaps, once-upon-a-time, that may have been true. But what truly was dark? Of course, the family library had tomes upon tomes of magic that in the wrong hands could cause untold destruction and death. But had they used it? Not since the days of Camelot. Perhaps it had been hubris to assume that his children, and by extension the rest of his family, would conform to the same ideals and principals that he had. He just wished… What did he wish? For his son to still be alive? That Sirius hadn't been beaten and whipped bloody for years?

Reaching out, he took a piece of parchment in his left hand. He wished a great many things, but they were the regrets of an old man, worn down by time and circumstance. Ah, if only he were young again, how he would do things differently. But was that not the curse of hindsight?

His eyes darted along the neat script on the page, the graceful curves and flicks of the quill forever captured.

The dark oak door to his study opened with a quiet click, the hinges moving silently. He'd have to make a point of thanking the Elves at some point this evening. His eyes slowly moved to gaze upon the young man standing at the precipice. With a slight inclination of his head, he gestured for his grandson to enter.

"Grandfather," Sirius began, bowing just so at the waist and inclining his head in respect. It was incredibly formal for the child that used to sit up on the stairs with a cold bucket of water, waiting for the next helpless victim to walk beneath him. Where had the laughter and the cheeky smiles gone? Where was the boy that he'd sat on his knee and pretended he was a broomstick for?

"Sirius, sit. Please," He croaked, gesturing the chair directly opposite him. As Sirius sat, the candle flame on his desk illuminated his face. His eyes were still haunted, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, but his facial hair was once again neat, his hair falling in thick glossy curls to his shoulders, and his cheeks a bit less sallow.

"Grandfather, I-" Sirius began, his voice catching in his throat, seemingly overcome with emotion. It had only been a handful of hours since Arcturus had literally carried Sirius out of the Ministry, lifting him bodily through the Floo.

"Sirius," He interrupted, holding up a hand. "you have been, and always will be my boy. I'm just sorry it took me so long to bring you home."

Sirius' eyes got noticeably shinier in the warm light, and the young man seemed to be sucking on his cheeks in an attempt to hold it together. "Thank you. Truly."

"How are you coping, son?"

"It's… hard. James and Lily… I just can't believe they're gone," At this, Arcturus gently put the parchment down and laced his fingers together over his stomach.

"It doesn't get any easier, you know," he replied gently after a moment, his voice soft, barely on the edge of hearing. "You learn to manage the pain, to push past it. It's never the same though. James was a wonderful lad, and Lily was such a joy. Wicked sharp tongue, if I recall properly," he added with a wry smirk and a chuckle.

For the first time in a long time, there was laughter in his study – the two men sharing a sweet moment in which they simply remembered. Sirius had many, many more memories of his dear Lily, having gone to school with the late Lady Potter.

She had been a bright witch, the smartest of her generation if the whispers were any indication. Unlike many of the more noteworthy names in the wizarding world, she had no magical ancestry that anyone was aware of. She had been a muggle-born witch and hadn't had any clue as to how truly special she had been until her eleventh birthday. By all accounts, she had attacked the Hogwarts library with a passion in the seven years she had attended the school, soaking up as much knowledge as she possibly could. According to Sirius, she had been brilliant at potions, and was Merlin reborn when it came to charms. Such a tragedy that her life had been cut so short.

James Potter, on the other hand, had been an absolute terror and joy. In James, Sirius had found a kindred spirit – another young boy who simply wanted to make people laugh and smile. News of the pair's exploits throughout the school had reached him on an almost fortnightly basis, informing him of yet another detention for whatever prank they'd pulled this time. Seeing the boys together had been a sight to behold. Practically joined at the hip, the two had ran circles around anyone they could, jumping from one prank to another with an enthusiasm found only in children. It was hard to begrudge them, what with war on the horizon. It was a glimpse of the innocence they would lose all too quickly.

"Did I ever tell you of the time Lily set me on fire?" Sirius asked suddenly, his eyes vacant and unseeing as he lost himself in the memory, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth that bordered on a smirk.

"I don't believe so, no," he smiled.

"It was at Godric's Hollow. Harry must have been, oh, just over a year? Something like that. Anyway, we were all round in the summer, and we'd all picked little things up for his first birthday. Moony had gotten him a copy of Beedle the Bard, Wormtail had bought him a few toys, Prongs had bought a few stuffed toys – all stags, obviously. I bought him one of those baby brooms, y'know the ones, with the straps and all?" he said, his shoulders shaking in a slight chuckle.

"Anyway, James and I end up strapping Harry into the broom while Lily's out the room. Then, before we know it, the pup's off, flying around the room like he was born to it. All the while, he's giggling and clapping, right, but before we could close the door to the rest of the house, he's out. I remember James looking at me, pale as anything and wincing when we heard Lily screeching from the kitchen. 'James Charlus Potter, just what is your son doing on that broom?!'" he laughed, imitating Lily's voice as best he could.

"Then, James goes, 'Has he caught the cat yet?' Well, you can imagine that didn't go down well – in she comes, livid as anything, and all of a sudden, we hear a crash and the cat scream. So, we all rush out and see Harry's taken a nose-dive into Lily's potted plants on her windowsill. He's got herbs on his head, covered in soil, and he's laughing and clapping away still. Meanwhile, the cat was dangling from the light. So, with nobody saying anything, I just asked – quite innocently, mind you, 'So, Seeker, then?'" He was in full belly laughs now, tears forming in both their eyes.

"I remember Lily spinning on me, and everyone took a step back. She started slapping my arms and chest, screaming, 'Don't you dare get any stupid ideas you bloody, bloody dog. I swear, why we let you in the house is beyond me!' So, I start running out into the back garden, everyone's laughing, and at some point, she must have grabbed her wand, because the next thing I know, my jacket's on fire and then my trousers! Everyone's laughing, of course." There were a few quiet moments once the laughter died down.

"That was the last time we were all together," Sirius sniffed quietly, his eyes coming back into focus.

The fireplace crackled and spat a handful of embers into the air as a log collapsed, the air thick with something that even with all his years, Arcturus couldn't quite name or place.

"You know who you could tell these stories to, don't you?" Arcturus said, standing slowly as his grandson watched him. He stepped around his desk gingerly, his knees burning after the day's events. He almost fell into the chair next to Sirius. "Harry."

"I-" Sirius began, before catching himself as Arcturus held a hand up.

"You're the boy's godfather, Sirius. He's all that's left in the world of James and Lily. They trusted you with their boy, and wherever they are now, if there's even a place we go to after all of this," he gestured around himself for a moment. "then you know they would want you to have him. Who else would, or even could?"

"Remus- "

"-is a werewolf. As much as I love the boy, he'd never be granted custody of a Potter."

"Lily had a sister- "

"-who, you yourself told me hated magic."

"I'm not- "

"Sirius, I watched you protect Regulus from everything until you went to Hogwarts. I know you will love that boy as if he were your own, and you'd move Avalon itself for him," Arcturus said, with an air of finality. He gently placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "It would be nice to hear the sound of a child in this house again."

There was a heavy moment where Sirius said nothing, staring at the dark floorboards beneath his feet. A hundred different emotions crossed his face as the candlelight flickered.

"Okay," Sirius whispered, his breath shaky and heavy.

Arcturus nodded and pulled the man up to his feet as he himself rose, the tunics on both of them dark and loose, almost hanging off of their athletic frames. With a force he didn't know he still had in him, Arcturus pulled Sirius into an embrace, threading his liver-spotted fingers through the younger man's hair, while his left hand grabbed a handful of the tunic on his boy's back. He felt Sirius bury his face in the crook of his neck as his shoulder shook gently. They remained like this for a few minutes, until eventually Sirius stood taller, his shoulders squared as only a Black could.

"Where is he? Last I saw, Hagrid was taking him to Dumbledore, but that was at least a week ago?" Sirius asked, a grim determination settled in his eyes, even if his breath was still heavy and his eyes still wet.

"Hogwarts," Arcturus smiled, reaching over and lightly picking the parchment up that he'd looked at earlier. He handed it over silently as Sirius began to read it.

"By all accounts, the faculty and the students love him. Been running McGonagall ragged. If you ask me, I think she's rather enjoyed having him," he chuckled.

"I always knew she was a softie."

"They're expecting you tonight. Do you want me to come with you?" Arcturus said, moving to the large marble fireplace. This, like many fireplaces across the wizarding world, was connected the Floo Network, allowing almost instantaneous travel between two fixed points. Many, such as the ones belonging to homes or families, required passwords or the Wards around them to be de-activated. Albus Dumbledore was taking a large risk tonight, having lowered the Wards at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which he was headmaster, to allow them access.

"If it's not too much trouble…" Sirius whispered, a hint of fear and panic in his words.

Arcturus didn't even hesitate, instead grasping a handful of Floo Powder from a small jar that sat on a small shelf to the side of the fireplace. The mantel legs were so tall, he could step into position without having to lower his head. He turned, his eyes sweeping the room as Sirius stepped up to gather his own powder. The fireplace on the far wall – the practical one, at least, was still burning brightly and would continue to do so for a few hours yet. Throwing the powder down at his feet, he called out, "Hogwarts, Dumbledore's office!" and felt the large green flames swallow him whole.


Stepping into the office of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was like stepping into a room of a thousand and one gadgets and gizmos. All around the multi-tiered room were cabinets upon cabinets of knickknacks and various paraphernalia. The cold moonlight cast the room in a cold blue light that even in his advanced age took his breath away. It had been over half a century since he'd last set foot in this legendary room. Even now, he still felt a child in its presence.

The whoosh of the Floo behind him alerted him to Sirius' arrival as a voice from the far end of the room called out a greeting to the two new arrivals.

"Ah, Arcturus, Sirius! I'll be with you in just a jiffy!" Albus called down, his grandfatherly voice barely needing any effort to carry itself down to them. Within moments, the Headmaster, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the I.C.W stood before them in his deep violet robes. His silver hair fell down to the middle of his back and appeared to be held in place by a small stout cap. In companion to his long hair, the beard of Dumbledore was something to behold indeed. The thick mass of hair was perfectly groomed, falling over the slight swell of his belly and was neatly tied halfway down.

"Arcturus, my friend! Sirius!" the man greeted them jovially, a twinkle like no other dancing in his eyes as he peered at them over half-moon spectacles. The two of them bowed slightly in respect.

"Sirius, allow me be the first to apologise for the grievous error. I allowed myself to form judgements when I should have been impartial and known better. I am afraid nobody is without fault, as much as we may all want to be. Tell me, how can I make this better, my boy?" Dumbledore apologised, looking directly at his grandson.

"It's no issue, Albus. I can understand why everyone thought as much. There's nothing to apologise for," Sirius replied, the corners of his lips lifting ever so slightly.

"As you wish," Dumbledore replied, nodding slightly. There was a pause before he gently clapped his hands together. "Now, I understand that young Mr Potter is off to a new home this evening. Would you like to see him? I fear he may have melted Minerva's heart!"

There was a light chuckle as the three cast their thoughts to the strict Scottish woman in question. Minerva McGonagall was a stern woman on the outside, though once you learned what to look for, she was a delightfully loving woman of 77 years with a wickedly funny husband. While politically the family of Black and McGonagall had rarely agreed, he did so enjoy their company.

Arcturus followed Dumbledore and Sirius down the winding staircase that led from his office into the rest of the school. Despite the hour, it appeared that curfew within the school had yet to be called, as every now and then the trio would pass a stunned student. While both his own and Sirius' clothes were plain and comfortable, the sigil of House Black was still stitched in fine detail quite proudly on their left breasts, and their clothes were in their house colours – black, of course.

As they meandered the brick and stone hallways, his mind wandered back to his own brief tenure as a student, rising through the academic and social tiers of Slytherin – one of the four Hogwarts houses, and typically the one that the cunning, ambitious and determined are placed into. Sirius, he knew had been sorted into the house of Gryffindor, the house of the brave and courageous. When the time came, which would Harry be placed into? Slytherin? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw, the house of the house of the wise and creative, or Hufflepuff – the house of the loyal and dedicated? As much as he liked to think he would be happy to see the tyke grow up into any of these houses, a part of him hoped to see the boy follow in his parent's footsteps.

Not a moment later, the three of them arrived at the hospital wing, the large double doors all that separated them from the domain of the infamous Madame Pomfrey. While young, she had garnered a reputation among recent graduates for a strict no-nonsense attitude towards her charges. On the one hand, he was delighted to know that the young were under the care of someone so dedicated, but he couldn't help a barely contained shiver of fear at having to endure it himself.

It seemed Sirius had spotted his momentary lapse of control and smirked at him.

Arse.

With a gentle push, the doors to the infirmary swung inwards, and the smell of a dozen different healing potions tickled their noses, while the sounds of childish glee bounced off of the walls. This was it.

Striding past the elderly wizard, Sirius burst into the infirmary without a second's hesitation – bloody Gryffindor. Arcturus, in comparison, walked past Dumbledore alongside Sirius in a much more determined fashion – a decidedly Slytherin approach, of course. He'd hex the fist person to dare tell him he was as dunderheaded as a Gryffindor. If his memory of statistics served him correctly, he remembered seeing a note somewhere that Gryffindors were the most common infirmary patients. He would have to find it again and throw it in Sirius' face the next time he decided to act the cheeky git.

"Where is he?" Sirius whispered, his head snapping back and forth as he searched the room. The sound echoed out once more, coming from the far side of the room in a closed-off section.

Without a moment's hesitation, the two were off again, hurrying over to the partition that had been set up. Sirius ripped back the curtain, having seen the silhouettes of two figures playing with a child from the Lumos charm.

Before them, sat on two simple wooden chairs, were Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey. A small boy with wild black hair and emerald eyes waddled back and forth between the two, his tiny teeth set into a childish grin as drool dribbled down his chin. Dressed in simple striped baby pyjamas, he held a little stuffed black dog in his fist and was holding it up at Minerva as if it were the Tri-Wizard Cup. A part of Arcturus' heart melted at the sight.

"Pa'foo!" little Harry giggled, pointing at the dog as Minerva nodded and marvelled at how handsome a dog he was. The boy was being positively spoiled rotten.

"Prongslet…" Sirius breathed, causing the three heads to turn towards them. Minerva's face attempted to contort itself into its usual stern countenance, but Arcturus merely raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, too late, I already saw you. She huffed stubbornly when she realised the game was up. Sirius dropped to his knees as the young boy waddled as fast and animatedly as he could into the waiting arms of his godfather.

"Pa'foo! Pa'foo!" he squealed, barely slowing enough to avoid injury as the boy leapt at Sirius.

"Harry…" Sirius whispered into the boy's hair, pressing half a dozen kisses into the boy's thick, wild hair that seemed to stick in every direction possible. Sirius cleared his throat and looked at the boy.

"Hey kiddo, how've you been? Old McGonagall given you detention yet?"

"If he's anything like his father, I give it a week," Minerva shot in return, raising a challenging eyebrow at the young man on the floor.

"It'll be a day if I have anything to say about it," Sirius replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Minerva, Poppy. Thank you for looking after him," Arcturus said after politely clearing his throat. "The House of Black owes you a debt."

"Oh, it was nothing, really. The boy's a delight," Poppy smiled, her hands clasped over her heart as she mooned over the boy.

"I agree, it was pure pleasure," Minerva agreed, smiling at the group. He sensed Dumbledore shifting behind him slightly.

"Is there anything we should be aware of?" Arcturus asked, moving to the side slightly to allow Dumbledore access.

"Nothing noteworthy besides the scar on his head. It seems to be the result of some dark, dark magic – nothing we have available here would be able to treat it. Besides that, he's a perfectly healthy baby boy," Poppy replied as she stood, dusting off her gown as she did so.

"Dark magic?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing as Harry began climbing over his outstretched legs – at some point, Sirius had sat down on his arse.

"I suspect young Harry here, may be the first and only person here to have survived the Killing Curse, though the how still eludes me. Perhaps the dark magic is a residual energy left behind?" Dumbledore chimed in, his voice low – almost conspiratorial.

"He tried to kill a baby?!" Sirius growled, low and dangerously.

"Ba'bee!" Harry clapped, oblivious to the conversation around him. Sirius' mood instantly brightened as he agreed and ran his hands through the boy's hair.

The adults remained silent for a few minutes, simply basking in the actions of a small child who was completely at ease and carefree. There was a distinctly Minerva sounding sniffle just to his right. With his right arm, he reached around the younger woman's shoulders and affectionately gave her a supporting squeeze, though if anyone asked either of them, the two would deny it vehemently. It was a matter of principle.

"Harry," Arcturus said, getting down on one knee before the child who was now engrossed in showing Sirius all the benefits of his toy dog. The boy looked up at him with intensity in those stunningly emerald eyes. For a moment the old wizard was taken aback slightly.

"Harry, how would you like to come and stay with us for a while?"

The boy looked at Sirius, who was nodding encouragingly.

"Pa'foo?" Harry asked, uncertainly.

"That's right, do you want to come and stay with Padfoot? I know he misses you," Sirius replied, brushing a thumb over one of Harry's baby cheeks.

"M'ma? Pa'pap?"

"Mummy and Da'da have to go away for a little bit, so they've asked me to take care of you. They said we could have lots of fun," Sirius croaked, his eyes once again brimming with tears. "Mummy and Da'da love you very much."

Poppy blew her nose into a handkerchief.

Harry nodded slowly, burying his face into Sirius' tunic while Sirius buried his face in Harry's hair.

"Will you be alright with everything tonight? We managed to recover some of his items from the house," Minerva asked, her Scottish brogue seemingly heavy with her own emotions.

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

Arcturus smiled as he stood – proud of the fact he hadn't winced as he did so. He watched quietly as Sirius scooped the now sleepy Harry up into his arms, his chubby little fingers gripping his tunic tightly.

"We shrank it down and placed it into a case, but the largest thing was his crib. I'll just go and-" Poppy began, pausing when the tears threatened to overcome her once again. "-get it."

The adults watched her hurry from the room, her heels click-clacking on the marble tiles. It would be a simple thing to get one of the Elves to set the crib up in Sirius' room for the night. Then, in the morning they could find Harry a room all his own.

Tomorrow seemed such a long way away, he thought with a sigh. There were so many things to do. Harry's future had to be assured – his happiness nothing less than guaranteed. Arcturus, and Sirius especially, would settle for nothing less.

Perhaps populating the house a little more wouldn't go amiss, after all. Blackwall Manor – the ancestral seat of House Black was a large house, and an even larger estate. But who to bring in? He'd have to think about it some more and speak with his grandson. Though, as he watched Poppy return with a non-descript case, he couldn't help but be excited for the first time in a long time at just what tomorrow could bring.