They reappeared inside the biggest living room Harry had ever seen. One look at the place and you could easily say that the owner was loaded.
"Why don't you go and sit down over there? I'll see what I can find in the kitchen."
Harry complied and sunk into the sofa, relishing its softness. He kicked off his shoes and tucked his feet up. It was soft enough to reduce the discomfort of his injuries.
Whilst Harry settled down, Sirius searched the kitchen cupboards to see if there was any food. His house elf had told him that she'd restocked the kitchen and he wasn't disappointed.
Dinner would be taken care of.
With a swish of his wand, he set the water boiling.
He went back outside to find that Harry had made himself comfortable on the sofa.
He knew that Harry wasn't looking forward to the conversation they would have to have and neither was he. But it was unavoidable.
"Want to come inside the kitchen? I'm just making dinner."
Harry got off the sofa and followed Sirius to the kitchen. He hadn't said a word since they'd got here and it worried him.
Harry leaned against the counter and watched the man chop the vegetables in quick, precise movements. He didn't know that Sirius knew how to cook.
"I didn't know you cooked."
Sirius looked up and grinned. "My mother claimed it was unbecoming for an heir to resort to such household jobs. So I learned how to cook just to annoy her."
"Oh. Do you um... do you want me to help?" Harry felt the need to make himself useful. He was always the one who did the serving.
"Well, if you can take out the cutlery from that cabinet, that'd be great."
Glad to have something to do, Harry took out two bowls, plates, forks and spoons and set it on the table.
The aroma made his mouth water. It was amazing how magic could speed things up. Tomato soup and chicken ravioli, his favourite combination. Sirius remembered.
His stomach rumbled loud enough for him to be embarrassed.
Once Sirius was done cooking, he brought the bowls to the table. He cast a cushioning charm on Harry's chair, recalling how the boy had flinched.
He served the soup and pasta for the two of them and gestured for Harry to dig in.
"This is brilliant," Harry commented, clearly in love with the food.
"Thanks, pup." They ate in silence. Harry was hungrier than he'd imagined.
Sirius deliberately avoided the topic of Harry's injuries as he didn't want the boy to lose his appetite. The Dursleys probably never fed him enough.
He intended to change that.
Once the plates had been cleared away, Sirius knew that he couldn't put it off any further.
"I need to take a look at your injuries, Harry," he began carefully, waiting for the his godson's reaction.
Harry's fingers curled into the sofa and he tensed up. "I'm fine, Sirius." His voice was small and his eyes were glued to the carpet.
The man covered his godson's hand with his own. "Maybe you're right. But I'll sleep better if I know that you're okay. Please, kiddo. It won't take more than a minute."
He didn't assert or demand that Harry let him treat his wounds.
When the boy finally looked up Sirius saw the fear and uneasiness in his eyes. He didn't ask again but waited for Harry to answer.
Harry weighed his options: embarrassment or a night of discomfort. Finally, his desire to sleep peacefully won out. "Okay."
"Thank you."
Harry pulled his shirt over his head and turned sideways on the sofa, allowing Sirius to inspect his uncle's handiwork.
Raw welts ran across and down the length of his back. Sirius suppressed a wave of fury and quietly worked.
"All done."
"Come on, I'll show you to your room," he said and just like that, Harry's expression brightened.
Harry was tired. The day's events had worn him out and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and curl up. His back felt much better now, thanks to Sirius.
On his way up the stairs, he decided to explore the house the next morning if Sirius was alright with it.
His room was everything he'd imagined and ten times better. It was as large as the living room at Privet Drive but still managed to feel cozy.
The walls were beige and the thick carpet was warm and fuzzy underneath his bare feet. A closet stood in the far corner of the room next to which was a large desk, complete with a table lamp. There was a door which led to the bathroom on the left.
The bed was big enough for three. It was just like his four poster at Hogwarts, only twice as large. There was a lamp on either side on a nightstand.
"We can do the walls up tomorrow, however you like."
"What? No! It's perfect, Sirius, I swear. This is... this is better than anything I had in mind. This is wonderful. I love it. Thank you."
Sirius ruffled his hair and Harry was starting to like the gesture. "I'm glad you like it."
Sirius pulled out Harry's things from his pocket and placed them on the floor. They grew to their normal dimensions.
"I'll be back in a minute. I just need to write to my healer and tell her that I'm not in my room anymore. Don't want the woman to have a heart attack when she comes in to find an empty bed tomorrow."
Sirius' healer, Linda Giovino, while a determined woman, wasn't immune to the irresistible charm of Sirius Black.
He sent her a letter, explaining that he had to leave because of an emergency. He left out the details about the emergency but promised to explain it to her in person the next day.
When he went back to Harry's room, said boy had changed into his pyjamas and gotten into bed and was sitting up, nestled into the pillows with the comforter drawn up to his waist.
"Comfy?"
Harry nodded. He caught the flicker of indecision on his godson's face.
"What is it?"
"How did you know I was... in trouble?"
Sirius sat down on the bed, over the blanket, when the boy shifted to make room for him.
"Firstly, you are a terrible liar, pup, just like James," Sirius began. "Whenever James lied, he always ended up pulling his left ear."
"He did?"
"Yeah and that's something you seemed to have picked up from him," Sirius commented, gently tweaking Harry's ear. "When you came to visit me this morning, you seemed rather low."
Harry didn't realise that he was so easy to read.
"Every time I asked about your time at Privet Drive, you dodged the question. He last straw was when it was time to leave. Your face was utterly miserable, kiddo. And honestly, you looked worried. I don't know why I did it, maybe instinct; but I cast a protection spell on you. I'm glad I did."
Harry grinned sheepishly and gave up fighting the urge and rested his head on his godfather's shoulder.
"I'm glad too."
Sirius didn't comment when Harry's head came to rest on his shoulder. He swung his legs onto the bed and got into a more comfortable position.
"Do you want to talk about it?" The question was casual, almost offhanded.
Harry stiffened against him and when Sirius had thought he wasn't going to say anything, the boy spoke. Two words that broke his heart.
"It hurt."
"They hated me. I tried to make them like me but it never worked. Vernon always got mad at me no matter what I did. Petunia called me a freak and Dudley and his friends beat me."
Harry found that once he has started, he wasn't able to stop.
All the years of pain and hurt came out. He didn't know what made him want to spill his guts Sirius. Maybe it was the casualness in the man's voice or the revelation that someone finally cared about him after all these years. Either way, here he was, pouring his heart out.
He spoke about the continuous beatings, the endless chores, even the time Vernon had burned his hand for turning his muggle teacher's hair blue. He talked about how he had always felt like he was abnormal and lonely.
Somewhere along the way, he had started crying and he just didn't care anymore. He had already embarrassed himself in front of the man so he felt like he had nothing left to lose.
Almost a half hour later, he was done. He was bloody exhausted and glad to be out of that hell hole. He allowed Sirius to take off his glasses and closed his eyes.
The words I'm sorry weren't enough in this case. There was nothing he could do to take away Harry's pain.
He looked down at the child leaning against him and a fierce protectiveness welled up in his chest.
With his free hand, he ruffled Harry's hair. "It's not your fault, pup. You did nothing wrong. What your relatives did, that was unforgivable. You never deserved any of it."
He thought about telling Harry of his own relationship with his parents but chucked the idea. That was a story for another day.
Harry gave his godfather a slight smile.
"Why don't you lie down? Catch up on some sleep, kiddo. I'll wake you for breakfast tomorrow. Any preferences, young sir?"
Harry removed his head from Sirius' shoulder to look at the man. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Pancakes?"
Sirius smiled indulgently. "Pancakes it is. Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream."
Harry couldn't quite explain the warmth that blossomed in him. This whole concept of being taken care of was totally foreign to him.
Harry wiggled down into a reclining position and snuggled underneath the comforter.
He closed his eyes and after a minute or so, he felt cool, long and slightly calloused fingers running through his hair. He smiled drowsily, relishing this new but welcoming feeling.
"Your mum used to do this when you were a baby. You were out like a light within minutes."
No answer.
"Still works I see."
It was well past midnight by the time Sirius could go to his own room. He had waited for Harry to slip into a deep sleep in order to avoid the risk of waking the boy.
He settled in his own bed but couldn't sleep. His mind was still working at an alarming pace. There were so many people to blame for Harry's sorrows.
While the Dursleys had played a major part in the abuse, they weren't alone in this. Albus Dumbledore was the one who had placed Harry in the Dursleys' care in the first place.
The old man had a lot to answer for.
He simply dumped Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep and forgot about him for the next decade or so.
How was that even remotely responsible behaviour?
His mind wandered back to the Dursleys. Somehow, imprisonment just wasn't satisfying enough. He intended to make good on his promise to ruin them utterly.
Just as they had ruined Harry's early childhood.
He recalled Harry's expression when he'd opened the door to his room that evening. No child should ever look so terrified or stricken.
Hell, his own parents were cruel people. But they had given him the basic comforts and luxuries fit for a Black.
Of course, there were those rare instances where Walburga would lose her temper and the Cruciatus would find its way to Sirius. But, at least he hadn't spent every second of his childhood hungry, beaten and afraid.
No, the Blacks firmly believed they were above such mediocrity. So after a certain point, Sirius' family had simply resorted to ignoring his existence.
Because that was so much more sophisticated.
He dragged himself back to the present.
The Dursleys would regret every single abuse they ever inflicted on someone as pure as Harry Potter.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Sirius also blamed himself for his godson's mistreatment. Had he not been so reckless and gone after that bloody rat, he would've been able to raise Harry and give his pup the childhood he deserved.
It's no use dwelling on the past, Black. You've got work to do.
He conjured some parchment and ink and scribbled a letter to Dumbledore, informing the old man that he would be paying him a visit the next afternoon. He tied the letter to his owl, Xanon and sent him off.
After that, he wrote another letter to the right authorities regarding the Dursley issue. He obviously left out the details, wanting to convey it to them in person.
Satisfied, he lay down and closed his eyes.
No wrong would go unanswered.
No crime would go unpunished.
The next morning when Harry awoke, he saw that it was nearly ten o' clock.
He'd never woken up this late. Hoping that Sirius wouldn't be too displeased, he quickly brushed his teeth, showered and went downstairs.
His godfather was sitting at the table, reading a letter but he put it down when he saw Harry.
"Morning, pup," he greeted warmly. "Come sit and Becky will get you those pancakes you wanted."
Gracing the man with a smile, Harry took the proffered seat.
"Do you have any plans for the day?"
Harry considered asking. "May I go over to Ron's? He'd invited me over before the term ended."
"That can be arranged."
After breakfast, Sirius wrote to Molly and Arthur Weasley, introducing himself and asking if it would be alright if Harry could visit Ron that afternoon.
He received their reply within an hour, saying that they would be delighted to have him over.
For lunch, Sirius took Harry to the Weasleys' where he received a warm greeting from the Weasley matriarch.
He politely declined her invitation to lunch, stating that he had to go to St. Mungo's which was true.
His healer had agreed to let him stay at home on the proviso that he would show up for his check up for the remainder of the week.
His schedule for the remainder of the day consisted of a meeting with the Headmaster after which he had an appointment with Amelia Bones.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, waiting for his former student to show up. The younger man's letter from last night had been curt and vague.
The floo roared and Sirius gracefully stepped out of the fireplace.
"Good afternoon my dear boy." Dumbledore smiled warmly at Sirius but the twinkle in his eyes dimmed a little when he received no greeting from Sirius.
His face bore no expression at all. When he spoke, his voice was tight with anger:
"About damn time we talked, Albus."
And that's part three darlings! I'm not really sure how many chapters this will be composed of but I'm enjoying writing this.
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