A/N: Hey guys! Just a timeline clarification: it's been four weeks since Harri left the Dursley's, and at the end of the chapter, it will be two weeks that she spent at Grimmauld place. Enjoy!

The rest of July passes in a haze of cleaning and reading with Harri. She can't get enough of it, gobbling up volume after volume. Sirius loves it, settling after a real dinner—now that Kreacher's actually cooking again, and fetching supplies for them—with her on the sofa, listening to her read out loud.

Her seventh birthday is coming up and he'd love to get her a present, but he thinks he'll just have to settle for cake and see if he can dig up his stack of Which Broomstick. While they can't order anything, it'll make for a good read. She'd particularly taken to reading about quidditch.

Currently, they're getting through Sirius's copy of Beetle and the Bard, and she loves it. So far, Babbity Rabbity is her favorite. She's in the middle of convincing Sirius to read it to her again when suddenly, the decrepit fireplace roars to life and both of them start. He holds his breath and clenches his fists, ready for whatever may come out of it.

To their surprise, Remus's head pop out, and he sputters a little at the soot.

"Moony!" Harri cries. The book is abandoned as she runs over, plopping down in front of the fireplace. "How are you doing that?"

"It's the floo network," Sirius explains hurriedly. "Alright, Remus?"

"Yeah, fine," he says.

"Does it hurt?" Harri asks. "The fire, I mean."

"Not at all," Remus says. "The floo network is—"

"Never mind that!" Sirius says hurriedly. "What's going on?"

"Just checking in," he says. "On the plan for Saturday."

"Right," Sirius mutters. He'll have to leave Harri to go get Remus, which will definitely tip her off about the surprise. "Do you remember the old flat?"

When they'd all just gotten out of school, before Prongs had proposed to Lils, the four of them lived in this cramped little flat just outside the muggle entrance of Diagon Alley. It was a bit far from Grimmauld Place, but they couldn't chance anything else. The less magic they used, the better.

"Yeah," Remus says, a thin, sad smile pulling at his lips. "Around noonish."

"What's at noon? What old flat?" Harri interjects, tugging at Sirius's sleeve. He winks down at her, not bothering to answer. She huffs in annoyance and Moony laughs.

"Alright, Harri?" he asks. At the questions, she perks up, regaling him with tales of their time at Grimmauld Place. She chatters on about how they've cleaned, how Sirius still won't let her into his old bedroom—the only way to get rid of, ah, certain posters is to burn them entirely—and all the books they've read.

"You sound like a real quidditch expert!" Remus says, a real smile taking over his face. "Prongs would've loved to hear this."

"That's my dad, isn't it?" she asks. They haven't told her much about the Marauders, just that they were all mates, Peter died—no point in telling her the truth until she's old enough to understand—and that they called James 'Prongs'.

"That's right," Remus says. He clears his throat, looking a little sheepish. "Well, I have to be off. Early morning tomorrow. Stay safe."

Harri and Sirius echo back the sentiment, watching Remus disappear and the flames die.

"What's floo?" Sirius explains easily. One of his favorite things about her is her curiosity and her hunger for more. It's such a Lily-esque trait.

They're still camping out in the parlor, because one, Sirius can't use magic to make his old room appropriate for a seven year old, and two, because he can't bring himself to check out any of the other rooms, even the ones reserved for extended family and guests.

Still, the next day, he and Harri tackle some of the unused guest rooms. He can't expect Remus to spend the night on the floor. They fix up a few on the third floor, one for each of them. Harri's utterly gob smacked and thrilled to be getting a room to herself. Sirius forces himself not to think about the implications of that.

Saturday rolls around much quicker than either of them anticipated. Sirius makes himself wake earlier than Harri, which is a feat in and of itself, because she's firmly a morning person. He trudges to the kitchen, where Kreacher is already lumbering around, making the tea. Sirius pours himself a cup, gulping it down despite the scorch.

"Harri's birthday today," he says once he has all of his mental facilities back. "You'll need to make a cake." Then, with gritted teeth. "Please."

"Treat for the little brat," Kreacher grumbles, but he's already moving, ingredients floating lazily down.

"Brat likes treacle tart more than cakes," he says. Sirius rolls his eyes, blushing a touch that he hadn't thought of that. The warm smell of treacle fills the kitchen, making it almost seem homey. Kreacher begins cooking other things as well, chopping onions for French onion soup, letting a dough combine in midair to make fresh bread. "No doubt Brat will badger poor Kreacher all day long for treats."

Before long, Harri makes her way downstairs, bleary eyed. She gives Sirius a sleep-sweet smile before climbing onto a chair. He waits, grinning, for her to realize what's happened. Perhaps the smell hits her, or the soft clink of dishware as Kreacher sets the plate down for her with a soft mutter of "ungrateful Brat."

"What's going on?" she asks uncertainly, eyeing the treacle tart. There's a single, worn candle sitting on top of it, wane candlelight flickering.

"I know it's not much, but happy birthday, Hazza," he says. Harri looks at the candle for a long moment, then up to him. To his horror, there are tears in her eyes.

"Thank you," she manages to croak out. "I've never—I mean, thank you so much." At once, she launches herself into his arms, clinging tight. A flurry of emotions run through him. Grief, anger, shame, but mostly, happiness. None of the other things matter anymore.

"Just wait till you see your surprise," he says, perhaps a little gruff himself.

"There's more?" she asks, astonished. Sirius winks at her.

"Blow out the candle." Harri shuts her eyes tight, then blows. Sirius loops an arm around her, pressing a kiss into her hair.

They dig into the tart, and unsurprisingly, she puts most of it away. She's always eaten like that, for the four weeks he's none her, like every meal might be her last. She needs it too, as thin as she is. Any attempts to muck about always end in Harri jabbing her boney elbows into all his soft bits, accidental or not.

Since it's her birthday, they kill a few hours perusing through the library. Harri calls out titles that interest her and Sirius tells her if they're okay for her to read. Unfortunately, the Black Family Library is full of books on dark magic, so by lunchtime, Harri only has three books in her stack.

They're treated to a lunch of French onion soup and fresh bread, and to Sirius's great mortification, Harri invites Kreacher to sit with them. Of course, this starts up the moaning and groaning about his "poor mistress, what would she think?" She does not ask twice.

After, Sirius leaves her in the parlor with his wand and Hogwarts, A History. Hopefully, she won't get frustrated with its lack of excitement and start wandering, something she's prone to do. He's found her a fair few times, lingering outside some of the older rooms further upstairs.

He shifts on the stoop, still hidden by the wards, then makes his way down. The fresh air is wonderful, and Padfoot has to resist the urge to chase the fat pigeons around the park. He makes his way through town easily, sticking close to the alleys where less people are.

It takes him about half an hour to get there, and he lingers in an alley across the way, waiting for Moony to recognize him. He's sitting on a bench, absorbed in a book. He barks once, which gets his attention. Moony hurries over, stowing the book in his rucksack.

"You're late," Moony says reproachfully. Padfoot nudges his hip, urging him to follow. They move fast, considering Moony is fresh off a change. He smells familiar, the most like pack since that first day they reunited.

It's just starting to rain when they make it back to the house. Moony pulls the hood of his jacket up, letting the dark fabric obscure his face. Padfoot remains for a moment, watching. The rain is sending the muggles scurrying for cover, and those who don't cover themselves with umbrella. He sprints forward, a sleek, black blur. Moony follows.

On the stoop, Padfoot transforms and Sirius stands there, disoriented. Rainwater drips down his hair and floods the collar of the ancient sweater he has on.

"Alright?" he asks Remus breathlessly. He nods, looking around warily. "Kreacher will let us in. I told him to wait for us."

"Right," Remus says, swiping off some of the water. A few uncomfortable minutes pass and he decide that Kreacher clearly isn't going to open the door. Fuck, she should have framed it as an order. Resigned, Sirius cuts his hand on the jagged stone that juts out from the wall, waiting for the blood to take. Remus watches with a grimace. The looks begin to click one by one and the door swings open.

There's a scream and a jet of purple light that sends Sirius and Remus diving. Swearing, Sirius lurches to his feet, hurrying in. They've scared Harri with the bloody door.

"It's me!" he says. For a seven-year-old, she's pretty deadly with a wand, but the sooner they stop the magic, the less time the Trace will have to alert anyone. Harri peeks out from behind the umbrella stand.

"Padfoot!" she gasps, rushing over to give his wand back. "I'm sorry! Kreacher was saying that there was someone bad there—"

"I suppose he meant me," Moony says with a wry grin. He crouches down and opens his arms. Harri lights up, rushing towards him and barreling into his chest. He pulls her into his arms and straightens up, keeping her perched on his hip.

"Happy birthday, pet," he says. Grinning wide, Harri nearly strangles him in another hug, then leads them into the kitchen where she gets him the singular leftover slice of tart. When she asks if Kreacher will make some tea for them, he sets off one another of his stupid little rants, raving about how he's forced to serves traitors, brats, and beasts.

Sirius ends up making a pot of tea.

They sit for a spell, while Harri fills Remus in on everything he missed. He's an attentive listener, but eventually, Harri runs out of steam.

"I'm reading about Hogwarts," she says. "But it's a bit…"

"Bathilda Bagshot might've been a lovely woman and an excellent researcher, but she does not have a way with words," Remus agrees. "Try again when you're a little older." He summons his rucksack, digging through to find a wrapped parcel.

"I have something for in the meantime," he says. Reverent, Harri carefully pulls the paper off, revealing the next installment in the children's book they'd read at Remus's, as well as his old Gobstones set. "Admittedly, the set is about twenty years old, but it still works."

"Thank you," she says breathlessly. "Thank you so much!"

Harri is having the absolute best day of her entire life. For the first time in seven years, she gets to have an actual birthday party. Moony magics some parchment into streamers, sticking them up around the kitchen. Kreacher makes a delicious cake, chocolate with caramel sauce.

They eat a delicious dinner of shepherds pie and cake, and she even gets to make a second wish. There's nothing left in the world to wish for, but she makes her first wish again.

Please keep Padfoot, Moony, and I safe and together

After dinner, Moony shows her how to use the Gobstones. It's fairly similar to marbles, but the stones douse you in something truly awful every time you lose a point. Moony's the best and only gets squirted once. Padfoot's the worst, and by the sixth time he's squirted, he declared the game over, stalking upstairs to wash.

That night, both Moony and Padfoot tuck her into her new bed and tell her goodnight, sweeping the hair off her forehead. She falls asleep quickly, dreamless but satisfying.

Yes, Harri Potter is having the best day of her life

August 1st, 1987, Molly Weasley goes outside bleary eyed and still dressed in her nightgown. She gathers the paper, tucking it under one arm, then summons the eggs, sending the chickens flying. She knows she shouldn't, but something about it reminds her of her brothers. Mischief for mischief's sake was their signature.

She sends the eggs to fly, starts cutting the bread, and finishes off some of the washing from last night. She would start the knitting to go on it's own, but her knitting spells never quite work when she's trying to do patterns.

Once breakfast is ready, she sets the table, calling down for the children and Arthur. One by one, they troop downstairs, still in pajamas. Percy is the first once down, his hair a veritable rat's nest. Still sleepy, he gives her an absentminded hug and slumps into his seat. Bill and Charlie are next, arguing about something.

"I can't believe she sent you dragonhide gloves!" Charlie fumes. "How can you be sure they've come from a dragon who's died of natural causes?"

"If you don't shut up, Charlie—"

"Enough!" Molly interjects, eyes flashing. Both boys go quiet, taking their seats. "They were a lovely present, the gloves, and I'm sure they dragon the came from lived a long happy life." Neither boy says anything, too caught up in his own sulking. These boys, she thought, what could she do with them?

Of course, Fred, George, and Ron choose that moment to come thundering down the stairs, far too bright and energetic for this early. Molly corrals them into their seat and begins passing out the bread and jam.

Arthur comes down finally, arms laden with a still sleepy Ginny. She's nearly six, and will take any opportunity to do things her own way, so Molly can understand Arthur wanting to relish these little moments with her.

"Got the paper, darling?" he asks, handing Ginny over. Molly settles her down with a nice slice of toast slathered in jam, then summons the paper. She passes it over, enchanting the eggs to dole themselves out in everyone's plates.

Arthur unfurls the paper with Molly reading over his shoulder, and the two of them stare at the headline, gob smacked and a little fearful for their own children.

HARRIET POTTER MISSING, SUSPECTED TO HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY NOTORIOUS DEATHEATER SIRIUS BLACK

A/N: So, now everyone knows! Let me know what you thought!