Monday May 6th, 1991

12 Grimmauld Place is exactly as Sirius remembered it. A grim, old place.

Even as he opened his eyes after a fretful night's sleep, the dreary aura of his family's home permeated into his core. A grim reminder of the family he loved, hated, and ultimately lost. Yet there was not a second Sirius felt wholly ungrateful to be in this place. After ten years of hell on earth, this place is a sanctuary in comparison.

He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes as he allowed a moment to catch his bearings. His dreams had been dark and cold. Creeping shadows staring him down, ghostly hands reaching through the barred windows of Azkaban. He shivered at the memory.

They're just dreams. He reminded himself. The words of Mrs. Marshhaven, his hired mind-healer, echoed in his head. Nothing can hurt you here. There are no dementors beyond Azkaban.

It didn't keep the shivering away, but it was enough to calm his nerves a little.

"Kreacher." He gruffed under his breath. In a pop the house elf was in the room.

"Master asked for Kreacher?" Kreacher droned in a graveled tone.

"Have coffee and breakfast set for me in the kitchen." He didn't bother looking at the elf, though he was sure the loathsome beast was glaring at him as it had been since he arrived a few days ago. Kreacher did manage to mutter a snide protest before popping off, but still went on to perform his given task.

In the coming silence Sirius looked about his old room. It had been barely touched from when he was a boy. Dusty and damp from lack of use, with the odd trinket or clothing having gone moldy and moth-ridden over time. He supposed he would need Kreacher to clean the place up. Healer Marshhaven had said something about the importance of cleanliness affecting the mind. Though that had been more about personal hygiene than anything else. Still, he was sure the old witch would extend that thought to his home come tomorrow's appointment.

Once his thoughts were gathered, he got about his morning ablutions and dressed for the day. It was a slow thing, compared to most wizards, to prepare himself; but his movements were notably faster than when he had first been released from Azkaban. Further, still, once his trial had concluded and he was allowed to stay at St. Mungo's. That had been its own whirlwind of Heaven and Hell. Being able to talk to people, being believed and free. Taking painful potions to heal his body, the monotony of being confined to a bed or going through arduous physiotherapy sessions to improve his muscles. It was exhausting and exciting and boring and freeing all at once. The only glimmer of true happiness he felt during that month had been from a visit from his cousin Andromeda and her family. Seeing her after all of this time was somewhat painful, but to see family (at least, family who cared,) had been a small blessing in itself.

He also asked about Remus and Harry while at the hospital. Unfortunately, Harry was off being trained by some fancy wizards, and no one had heard from Remus in years. His life had taken a turn for the worst when friends were killed, imprisoned, or-

Peter. He thought bitterly as he walked down the stairway. He didn't know if it was possible to hate the traitor more than he did now. At the trial Sirius practically lunged at him when the two-faced rat came into the room. The aurors had to bind him to keep him from causing trouble. So he sat there, bound and seething, as Peter whimpered and was forced to recount his actions during the war. The little beast had the gall to claim he was sorry for what he had done. But his Mark, not to mention that he's spent the past ten years hiding among children, was more than enough to prove his lying, two-faced, ratty ass for what it is. At least now the damn rat was getting the punishment he deserves, the one he was forced to serve for ten years!

"Coffee is ready, master." Kreacher proclaimed, breaking the freed man from his thoughts.

Sirius nodded without a word and slumped into his chair. He sipped slowly at his coffee and nibbled at the biscuit. There was a copy of today's Prophet on the table, along with a handful of letters. He skimmed the paper briefly. There was so much he had missed in this past decade, but trying to learn it all was something of a chore. Marshhaven had told him to expect that. His body is healing, and healing takes time and energy and, most importantly, priority. No point struggling over things your body doesn't need. The old woman's voice tutted in his head. The damnable woman was really getting on his nerves with her fretting, even if it was imaginary.

After the paper, he looked over the four letters. One had been from his family's former law wizard hoping to curry favour with him. Not a chance. He thought disdainfully. The other two had been from other wizards, distant relations looking to lick his boots with the same level of slime you'd expect from an underbelly Slytherin. They wrote asking after him for a chance to visit. He huffed at the thought, flicking them aside. He didn't see a point in responding to any of those three letters. After all, Marshhaven did say not to bother with things I don't need. The irony of it encouraged a ghost of a smile on his face.

He picked up the last letter and read the envelope.

Marcello Salvatore, Comdt., Prof.,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Scotland, United Kingdom

This letter piqued his interest. He recalled seeing this Salvatore bloke at the hearing. The Mediterranean man had given an account similar to the aurors, with the addition of his accidental exposure and capture of the traitor from his animagus disguise. He hadn't had a chance to thank the man in person. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity? That thought was enough to get him to open the letter and give it a read-through.

To Mr. Sirius Black,

Salutations and congratulations on your exoneration. I am pleased to hear that your case has at last made its way through court, as it should have been ten years ago after the unfortunate death of your friends, and that your time at St. Mungo's has been successful. I know from experience that healing is a process which takes much time, and wish you good fortune on a full recovery.

As you already know, it was by my wand that Peter Pettigrew was found to have survived the events following the Potters' death. I confess that, at the time, I was not aware of the full circumstances involved in Britain's war; and merely acted as one should during an unusual circumstance with a strange and dangerous wizard. Now that your circumstance has become known to me, I wish to extend my services to you and your family. Should you be interested in my personal services, please respond at your convenience.

Should you wish for services pertaining to your young family's safety, in particular, I would recommend that you take a stroll along your London neighbourhood. I have been advised you will understand the call when it appears.

Best regards,

Professor Marcello Salvatore,

Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Comandante per Los Caballeros de la Espada y la Cadena

Sirius read the letter twice over. Dissecting the letter in pieces. He had expected help from Dumbledore, certainly, after everything he'd been through (though that letter has yet to come in); but to read that this man was not only writing to him, but offering to help him more... More, after already being the one to give him his freedom. The unexpected generosity of it had Sirius overwhelmed with grateful and confused emotions. He had to put down the letter for a moment. His head went into his shaking hands as the feelings washed over him. His body shuddered during the episode. He had to remember to breathe. Take things slow. It took another minute to compose himself and re-read the message.

He was grateful for the generous offer, certainly. Though the only part that truly lost him was the last bit of the letter. The instructions were odd, and its use didn't make sense. He has no family left. James and Lily are dead. Reg and his parents are dead. There was nobody left in his life but Harry and Remus, wherever they were.

'Your young family'.

Did that mean Harry? Sirius certainly doubted he had any young illegitimate children running about.

That thought gave him pause.

He looked back on the letter for clues. What would a stroll in his neighbourhood prove? He certainly never bothered exploring it in his youth. There would be no women he knew here. So what would it prove? Another concerning thought emerged that it could be a trap. Though it didn't make sense for him to fear the man who saved him. Then again, this Marcello Salvatore doesn't know what this 'call' will be. It very well could be a trap.

Sirius pondered the dilemma over his cup of coffee. His fingers twitching over his wand. The wand he was deprived of for years. It was a risky move. Then again, being stuck in this dreary house was making him a little stir-crazy. Eventually, he steeled his resolve. If this was about little Harry, then it was a risk he had to take.

Sirius emerged from his London home, eyes darting and attentive, hand hovering over his wand holster. From the porch he could spot a handful of muggles on the street going about their own business. Still, he kept himself guarded as he walked down the steps and onto the street. His eyes roamed to each person, each potential hiding place, anything that could be harbouring a suspicious wizard. His paranoia kept him alert as he moved down the street.

You're stressing yourself, Black. The voice of Marshhaven chastised.

Maybe, he mentally argued, but better to be cautious now than get killed after finally being free.

After one circuit around the block, he found no 'call' or suspicious person. It only calmed his alertness by a small amount, but he had to keep his wits about him as he retreated back towards 12 Grimmauld Place. As he neared his home a flash of a word crossed his periphery. He paused, then took a step back to look over a muggle page attached to a tree.

MISSING DOG

PADFOOT

At once he stepped to the tree and tore off the page. Drinking the words in.

MISSING DOG

PADFOOT

Large black dog. Ran away on the 31st to chase a rat and hasn't returned home.

He read over the rest of the message in a slam of disbelief. This was the call he was looking for, no question about that! What shocked him most was the use of the name. There was only one person left alive who knew that name! He read over the address meant to return the 'lost dog', memorizing it and mapping it in his mind, then raced off to find his old friend.


*Ding Dong*

Padfoot sat on the porch of the muggle-made home with his tail wagging in anticipation. The second Remus opened the door, his plan was to leap on him and absolutely slobber the man. He wasn't entirely sure if Remus would laugh or push him off in protest, either way it was going to be the happiest reunion he could ask for.

The door unlocked, and a shaggy-haired man in muggle clothes appeared on the other side of the door. Padfoot paused, tail and all, as he looked up at the unknown man. The man looked at him, about as surprised as Padfoot was.

"Well, I'll be damned." He breathed. "Padfoot, is it?"

That had Padfoot wagging again. He let out a bark of joy and jumped up to his feet. The man looked amused at the excitement and moved to the side. "Alright, boy, come on in, then. Mary! You won't believe who's here!"

Padfoot raced through the door, not quite paying mind to who this Mary is, nor to the man at the door. He lept through the hallway, sniffing for any trace of Remus. He ran through the house. He found all of the smells of a regular home. Home-cooked meals, carpet dust, old flowers, books, even a couple guitars, but no Remus. He looked around, confused. He then heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was a woman with light brown hair and flecked-blue eyes, with a smile as warm as her flower-printed dress.

"Hello, darling. You must be Padfoot!" She got to the bottom step and knelt in front of him with an extended hand. "My name's Mary. Mary Bennett, and this is my husband, Jake. How do you do?"

The man, Jake, chuckled. "You're really going to shake his paw?" Padfoot himself was amused by the gesture.

Mary flicked her eyes at her husband. "She did say to treat him as if he were a man. He must be a magical dog, if Mister Black sent him here."

Padfoot looked between the couple, confused. It hadn't been Remus that asked for him, then, but someone else? A small whine escaped him.

"Now, now, dear. Don't mind him. You must be hungry. We'll put out a third plate for you."

"Unless you'd prefer the three of us all share a dog bowl?"

"Jake!"

"I'm joking, Mary!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Honestly, darling, I'm trying to be serious here. This is important."

"I know, I know. Though it's hard to picture how a magic dog is supposed to help Harry. It'd be better if this Black fellow was here, himself."

At once Padfoot's mood changed to a frantic excitement.

Harry! They're here to help Harry!

Without warning, Padfoot un-transfigured himself, clothing and all. Growing from dog into man. The two muggles jumped back in surprise, but Sirius could only meet their shock with a warm smile.

"Some lunch would be lovely, Mrs. Bennett!"


While Jake Bennett busied himself with a phone call to confirm Sirius' arrival, Sirius settled himself in the dining room with Mary. They introduced themselves properly, this time with his humanity revealed and with Mary explaining her family's connection to Harry. The more they talked, however, the more Sirius' joy grew into despair. Harry was in a rough position. Lily's sister was as magic-hating as ever, it seems. In some ways, the stories she told him were not dissimilar to the experiences Sirius himself faced growing up in the Black household. Harsh parents with harsh ideologies is stifilling enough; but to hear he was going hungry, living in a cupboard, that was something no child should experience.

Later during the meal, when they got to the topic of last Autumn, Sirius rose in a fury.

"If they ever lay a hand on my godson again, I swear I'll make them regret it!"

"Mister Black, Sirius, please." Jake tried to placate him. "I get that you're angry. Believe me, I do. That's why we asked you to come here." He explained. "My brother's been looking into adoption rules, but there isn't anything we can do to help Harry.

"You, on the other hand, are his godfather. His magical one, at that." His fingers drummed along the table. "John thinks we can make a case for you to adopt Harry from his aunt. Magic seems to be a stronger factor to family affairs than blood. Especially if they weren't in the will in the first place."

That thought tamed some of Sirius' righteous anger, and he sank back down into his chair. "Adopt Harry?" The idea overwhelmed him. "I'd like that. More than anything." He looked down at his trembling hands in concern. "I can't say I'm in a right state right now, but he's all I got; and he'd be better off with me than that bitch, Petunia."

"I figured."

"Prison isn't an easy thing to recover from, Sirius." Mary consoled him. "But if you prove to the wizard government that you're getting help and are decently recovered, we can show that you're the best guardian for Harry."

Sirius nodded at the suggestion. "That could work. I have a cousin. Her husband is a law wizard, I think. I could hire him to represent me."

"Perfect. My brother's been building a case for a while now. They can compare notes and get everything sorted."

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

They talked about the plan for the rest of the meal. Afterwards, they went to the den for drinks and more casual conversation. Mary had brought down a photo album that included pictures of Harry playing with the Bennett children. His likeness to James struck him. It was like he was transported back to that first day on the train to Hogwarts. That young, bright smile warming his soul in the form of his first real friendship. It was pure joy. Their main differences were external. Lily's eyes, of course. Oversized clothes and a thinner frame were obvious. Yet that smile. That was the same.

As he reminisced, the telephone rang from another part of the house. Mary left to take it as the two men continued to chat.

"Sirius?" Mary called from the doorway. "Could you come with me, please?"

"Certainly, Mary." He placed the album tenderly onto the table and followed after her.

"My brother-in-law is on the phone. He thinks it's best if you two get started on getting the court case ready."

"Right, right." He agreed. He flipped up the receiving device and placed it on his ear. "Hello. This is Sirius Black speaking."

"Hello, Uncle Sirius. This is Harry."