DISCLAIMER! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! DISCLAIMER!
It was a heart warming sight. Sirius and Harry sat crossed legged in the center of Harry's new bedroom. Nearly a hundred pictures were laid out in front of them, a long with a small dinner that had been readily devoured. Both boys sharing the same ravenous appetites.
Harry swept away a strand of black hair from his face, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening.
'You need a haircut.' Sirius observed, not trying to hide his amusement.
'Yeah, well, back at you' Harry huffed icily, grooming had never been one of his top priority's.
'Harry.' Sirius rebuffed, catching the young boys attention. Never in his life, had someone used that tone with him. 'It wasn't an insult', his Godfather continued, in a kinder voice. 'I just meant that tomorrow we should go to Diagon Alley, get haircuts, some new clothes. Does that sound okay?'
Harry was taken totally of guard, but looking down at himself he couldn't help but notice that Sirius was right. As the heir to a noble family, Harry should dress the part. The thought of splurging with some of his trust fund gave him an excitedly wicked feeling. 'Yeah, that sounds great', he smirked.
'Good, we'll head out tomorrow morning. Before it gets too busy.' Sirius paused slightly, watching his godson as the boy trifled through the pictures on the carpet. 'Perhaps, we could look for something for your birthday, its a week away.'
Harry's hand froze for a second before clutching a random square of paper in his hand. 'Oh, Yeah, sure.'
'Thats a good one' Sirius murmured, nodding his head at the picture his Godson held.
'I look like him' the boy whispered, staring intently at the picture of his father. James Potter, looked to be about a year older then Harry in this picture. He was dressed in his school robes, and proudly displaying his broomstick beside him.
'You do. You're the double. He loved you.'
'I know, its just not fair...' Harry trailed off, the silence becoming almost deafening.
In hopes to lighten the mood Sirius, attempted another avenue of conversation. 'You know, your dad's the reason I was a Gryffindor'.
'What do you mean? What's a Gryffindor?' Harry asked, when living on the streets, learning about a school you probably weren't going to attend wasn't really important.
Sirius was taken back by the question, but of course how would Harry had known. 'Erm, Hogwarts was founded by four wizards. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Huffelpuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. These founders, erm, created houses to split their students into. Each house was based on a specific trait that the founder admired above all others. So, Gryffindor liked the brave, Hufflepuff liked the loyal, Ravenclaw liked the smart, and Slytherin liked the cunning. '
'Whats that got to do with my dad?'
'Well, in my family, it's pretty much predestined that you end up in Slytherin. Where all the cunning, underhanded bastards go. My family was for lack of a better word, evil. I hated the lot of them.' A deep frown carved itself onto Sirius's face, only for it to be swept away moments later, like turning the page of a book. 'But when I met your dad on the Hogwarts Express, my world changed. He changed me. For the first time ever, I saw a way out of from under the shadow of my family. James painted such a an amazing picture of Gryffindor, that I knew that's where I belonged. Your Grandma, Emmeline Potter, used to say that he could charm the birds from the trees.'
A long moment stretched out between the two, after Sirius's explanation. They both looked down in silence at the various pictures littering the floor. 'Do you think I'll be a Gryffindor?' Harry asked, his eyes still focused on the picture of his dad, held firmly in his grasp.
'You're James Potters son, you couldn't be anything less' Sirius assured, beaming with pride at his Godson. Harry felt bolstered up by his Godfathers assumptions of him, never had anyone ever shown this kind of faith in him before; he liked it.
'It's getting late, Harry. Got to be up early tomorrow, try and get some sleep.' Harry had to fight hard to keep his face neutral. His natural instinct had been to raise an eyebrow defiantly at his Godfather. It was only due to the fact that Sirius's suggestion hadn't sounded like an order that he managed to bite back his smart reply.
'Sure thing, Old Man' Harry smirked, gathering up the many pictures around him. A raucous barking laugh rumbled from the man opposite him, his eyes gleaming with a faint foreign lightness.
Harry had never felt so comfortable in his entire life, he felt like he was floating on clouds. He had never felt so rested, there was no way this was the same lumpy mattress he'd been sleeping on for the past few years.
Then it hit him. This wasn't his bed. Harry shot up and whipped around to a kneeling position on the mattress, staring wildly for any sign of danger. His eyes landed on the paper strewn desk in the corner and everything just came tumbling back. He was Harry Potter.
The tension in the boys body fell out of him like a lead weight in the ocean. His body sagged, and he let his head drop to his chest, his hair falling across his face like a curtain. Breathing heavily he let his realization flash through his mind, overwhelming everything in its power. He was Harry-freaking-James Potter, the heir to an immense fortune, he had a Godfather, he had a home.
A rush of excitement settled in the boys body, he jumped out of bed and raced over to his closest window, tearing open the curtains and taking in the sight. In the morning light the Potter estate looked breath taking, a lush expanse of wide fields and dense forest, it was like nothing Harry had ever seen, and it all belonged to him.
A quiet knock and a slight cough had Harry spinning around to face his intruder. There stood his Godfather Sirius, he was standing in finely tailored wizards robes, his hair tied back from his face, and his facial hair freshly shaved.
Sirius was the first to break the quiet. 'I thought you'd be awake, if you get ready quickly Merry will have time to make you some breakfast before we head out', the man said, referring to their trip to Diagon Alley.
Harry found himself nodding, 'Er yeah, I'll be right down'.
'The bathroom is just through that door', Sirius pointed to a simple white wooden door on the opposite side of the room. 'The other door is into your wardrobe, whatever is in there is probably too big for you, but just pick whatever you like and call for Merry, she'll transfigure it to fit', his Godfather smiled comfortingly at him. 'Oh, and before I forget, If you find anything labeled Marauders, fair warning, don't touch it.'
Harry watched, mystified, as the man closed his door chuckling to himself. 'Marauders?' Harry questioned out loud, what the hell? The boy shrugged off the warning, choosing to contemplate when and if he came across such an object.
He walked over to the white wooden door and strode into the bathroom, what he saw made him stop short. Everything was either white or a cream colored marble. The toilet was immediately to his left, the sink was just down from that, with a mirror that took up almost the entire wall. An enormous bath ate up much of the right hand corner of the room, taps of gleaming gold neatly perching on its edge. But Harry gravitated towards the large walk in shower, he had never been that fond of bathing.
Harry quickly scrubbed away all the grime and dirt coating his skin, using a minty smelling soap to wash his hair, it made his scalp tingle. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a large fluffy white towel to wrap around his midsection. He caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and smirked at his appearance, his green eyes gleaming.
The boy dried off, and walked into his wardrobe and pulled out a simple looking shirt and trousers with a matching black cloak. Harry glanced around his room once before hesitantly calling out Merry's name.
Half a second later the Potter House elf popped into existence at the foot of Harry's king sized bed, where his fathers clothes were set out neatly. 'Master Harry has chosen some clothes?' Merry asked needlessly, glancing briefly at his towel clad form.
Harry simply nodded, watching as the house elf placed a long bony finger on the clothes, and watched as they steadily shrunk to fit at ten year old, rather than a grown man. 'Thank you Merry'
'Master is welcome, breakfast is ready. Merry can take Master Harry to his Godfather, once Master Harry is dressed' Merry suggested happily whilst handing the newly shrunken clothes to Harry.
Harry hurriedly changed into his clothes and allowed Merry to lead him to Sirius, who was seated comfortably at a breakfast counter in the kitchen. As with everything Harry had seen so far in his new home, the kitchen was no different. Everything looked extremely expensive and top of the line quality.
'Hello Harry' Sirius greeted, setting down the daily prophet, that he had previously been reading. Harry happily sat down in the chair next to his Godfather, a steaming plate of bacon and eggs calling his name.
'Hey Sirius' he replied off handily, already digging into his breakfast with gusto. Harry heard his Godfather mumble something about being his fathers son before the older man picked back up his paper.
It was only once Harry had pushed away his plate, his stomach bloated, that he really acknowledged his Godfather's presence. He glanced at Sirius, then at the paper he was reading, the front page held a big picture of his Godfather sitting in the center of a court room. The title read 'Black FREED', he tried to sneakily read some of the article but he was having trouble with a few of the words.
'What do you think?' Sirius asked suddenly, making Harry jump. The boy hadn't noticed his Godfather watching him scan the paper.
'Um, its good' Harry offered noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders and pushing his plate further away. 'I didn't really read it'.
'Oh, well, here you go'-Sirius handed the Daily prophet to his Godson-'we still have some time'. Sirius picked up his mug of coffee and took a long swig.
Harry held the paper in his hands like it was a wild animal waiting to pounce. His heart was beating like crazy, shame rose up his throat like bile, and his cheeks flamed red. 'I can't', he whispered.
'Sure you can, we have little time', Sirius replied, not looking at the boy.
Harry gulped and turned to face his Godfather, the Daily Prophet still held at arms length. 'I can't', he repeated again, hanging his head, his eyes downcast.
Sirius looked at his Godson, extremely confused, what did he mean he couldn't? Then it suddenly dawned on him, and fresh wave of guilt washed over Sirius like tidal wave. It took him a moment to reply. 'Harry, can you read?'
'A little' Harry replied in a small voice, his face still down turned.
'Well we'll have to fix that, won't we?' Sirius said, laying a calming hand on the young boys shoulder. Trying desperately not to show how deeply his emotions where effecting him, it would only embarrass the boy further. 'How are you with numbers?'
'About the same' Harry supplied, lifting his head slightly, and allowing his hair to fall away from his face. 'Will you teach me?' He had never been that interested in learning, because he'd never been that interested in his future.
'Of course, you'll learn reading, writing, numbers, anything you want. I'll even teach you to fly'.
Harry's eyes lit up at the last statement, it was like the sun had risen in his eyes. He had always wanted to learn, and ever since he had received his mothers letter, mentioning his training broom, the want had only grown. 'You'll teach me to fly?'
'We'll have to get you a broom first, but yeah, I'll teach you. Your dad would murder me if I didn't' Sirius smirked, glad to have changed the somber conversation, glad to see happiness on his Godson's face. 'Well we have our work cut out for us today, Diagon Alley awaits'.
It was 10am when Sirius and Harry had walked through an empty Leaky Cauldron, and through to the entrance of Diagon Alley. The pubs owner had nearly fainted at the sight of Sirius, Harry smiled at the memory. The two where currently walking down the cobbled street, the place starting to fitter with early morning customers.
'Alright, first to Beardsley's Barber Shop, and then to Madam Malkin's for some new clothes. Then we can just wonder'
'I know, I'm new to this being rich thing. But don't we actually need to have the money in order to pay for things?' Harry questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
'Got it covered Potter' Sirius grinned, leading the two to a little shop not far down the street. A huge pair of scissors hung outside the door, and a small sign hung from them, declaring the shop to be Beardsley's Barber Shop. Sirius pushed Harry inside, the soft tinkling of a little bell alerting the owner to there entrance.
An elderly man appeared out of the back door, wrapping a white apron around his waist. 'Welcome..' The man stopped short, his mouth gaping like an angry goldfish.
'Hullo Beardsley' Sirius greeted, hoping to ease the man's suffering, but it didn't really seem to help.
'Sirius, I-I-I, er, I heard you were free' the man stuttered, his face very pale.
'Yes, well Ministry finally did something right', Sirius said, making the old man chuckle nervously.
'What can I help you with?'
'I need a haircut, as does my Godson' Sirius clapped his hand down on Harry's shoulder.
Harry took this as his Que, 'Harry Potter sir, nice to meet you' he held his hand out for the man to shake. It took Beardsley two seconds to register what was happening before clutching at the boys hand and shaking rigorously.
'Merlin, Harry Potter, in my shop. Its an honor' the old mans face lit up, like christmas had come early. Harry grinned at the recognition, never again would he see that look of disgust all too familiar to him. He was the boy who lived, know one would ever look at him like that again.
It was half an hour later when Sirius and Harry stepped out of the Barber shop, both sporting new haircuts. Sirius's hair had been trimmed to his shoulders, claiming that he couldn't bear to part with all of it. While Harry had chosen to cut his hair short, no longer worrying about people noticing his scar. Why should he hide a symbol of what his parents had died for?
Harry ran his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair, loving how light his head now felt. 'You look so like your dad when you do that' Sirius smiled down at him, a shadow of grief in his eyes flickered momentarily before quickly dissolving into happiness. 'Come on, Madam Malkin's awaits.'
An hour later, Harry was still standing on a stool in Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions. Sirius had been sorted rather quickly, but Harry had been poked prodded and nipped from every angle since standing on the stool, his Godfather simply sitting in a comfortable chair watching the commotion.
Madam Malkin had enlisted two helpers to sort his clothes, a 30 something which called Hilda, and a 50 something witch called Martha. Although Sirius was constantly distracting Hilda, which led to a lot of accidental wand jabs that Harry didn't find particularly helpful.