There are bars on Harry's window. They had already been put in place when he arrived, sitting sullen in the back seat of Uncle Vernon's car during the ride to Privet Drive from King's Cross. He'd seen them out of the car window, and had not given it much thought at the time, but now, two weeks into his time in solitary confinement he's not sure he's ever resented any piece of metal more in his life. He can open his window still, at least, but Hedwig can't fly out and feed herself, which means that the measly amount of food the Dursleys push through the cat flap on Harry's door and the water he's able to carry back in his mouth from his trips to the loo have to be shared with her. He doesn't resent her, of course; she's his only companion, locked up as he is. A few other owls have come to his window bearing letters, but unable to land they've been forced to return with their mail undelivered. Harry hopes that two weeks with letters coming back unopened will have convinced his friends and Sirius and Remus and whoever else might be writing to him that he's been murdered and that they should come investigate sooner rather than later. Then again, if the first one hadn't done the trick he's not sure what will.
He just wants to know what's happening. The last word he'd had from the magical world was Sirius's letter, delivered on the last day of term, and he doesn't even have the ability to confirm his suspicion that Voldemort's escape with the Philosopher's Stone was the cause of his return to the Dursleys. He has no way to ask why they thought this would be any better for him than going to stay in Sirius and Remus's warded London flat. He has no idea what anyone is doing, if they're chasing the Stone, if they're hunting Voldemort, if his friends are safe. Maybe the reason no one is coming for him is that Voldemort has returned in a blaze of glory and burned the magical world to the ground, and everyone he loves is dead. He wakes from nightmares of that exact thing often enough Dudley has already stopped teasing him about crying out in his sleep "like a baby". Now the Dursleys just glare at him when they let him out to do his chores (inside tasks only; no working in the garden lest he try to run, or something). Harry knows he has terrible bags under his eyes. He's not sleeping much, and he's lost a lot of the weight he'd gained at Hogwarts, even just in a few weeks.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters if something terrible is happening and he's stuck here. At the beginning, when the Dursleys first started keeping him inside like some sort of prisoner, he thought it was insane; he didn't see the point. He had had no plans to run away. Where would he have gone? Even if he'd been able to get to London, he doesn't actually know the address of Sirius and Remus's flat, and in any case they'd abandoned him back here with the Dursleys, so there's little chance they'd welcome him. He has no idea where Hermione or Neville live, or Ron, Blaise, or Theo for that matter; Blaise probably lives in Italy and Harry definitely can't get there. He might have been able to catch the Knight Bus, which Professor Sprout had taught him how to hail last summer, but his wand is locked up in his trunk along with his remaining magical currency, and that's locked in the cupboard under the stairs. All he has is Hedwig, the single set of good clothing he'd been wearing when Uncle Vernon had picked him up from the train, and a whole pile of broken toys and torn shirts that he'd roughly shoved into the closet of the second bedroom.
But now Harry thinks that if the Dursleys let him out, if they even left him alone in the house by himself, he'd run for it. Even without all of his things, even knowing that he'd be trapped on the streets with nothing. He's too desperate for news, for fresh air, for anything to save him from the looming restlessness that's been growing inside him. He hates the Dursleys for making his life so miserable. He'd never felt this way before: he'd never known that he could hate them. He'd never known that there was anything better out there for him, but he knows it now and he knows that if only they were just slightly less horrible, he could get away once more.
No chance of that, though. If anything, they've only grown more horrible with time, not less. Harry sighs and rolls over in his bed, where he'd been staring at the ceiling for lack of anything better to do. It's late afternoon and he's already finished doing the laundry and washing the dishes from breakfast and lunch, his chores for the day. Uncle Vernon should be arriving home shortly, Dudley is out with his gang, and Aunt Petunia is out in the garden weeding. That used to be his job, not because Aunt Petunia is bad at it or anything, just because she'd avoid it if she could because it was dirty.
There's a murmur of voices outside, audible through his open window: a man's, then another man's. They sound vaguely familiar, but Harry reckons it's just the neighbours. Too quiet for him to tell what they're saying, so he ignores it.
Then he hears Aunt Petunia say loudly, "Excuse me, please don't tread on the grass, sir!"
"So sorry," someone replies, sounding deeply insincere. Harry bolts upright. That's Sirius's voice. "Petunia Dursley, yes? I'm here to collect my godson."
"Wh—oh, no," Aunt Petunia says. "You're one of that sort."
Harry flings himself out of bed and races over to the window. It's already open as wide as it goes, and he leans out of it to press himself against the bars so that he can see what's going on. Sirius and another man who Harry doesn't recognize are standing on the lawn. The other man, a broad, dark-skinned fellow with a bald head and a colourful African-style overcoat, has a wand held subtly in his hand, tucked against his wrist so that if a neighbour were to peer over the hedge they wouldn't be able to see it easily. Aunt Petunia can clearly see it, though, and though Harry's looking at the back of her head, he can imagine the glare on her face.
"Sirius!" Harry shouts, and Sirius looks up at him.
Even from this distance, Sirius looks tense, but his face brightens when he sees Harry—then darkens again when he realizes that Harry is waving at him through bars. He looks back at Aunt Petunia and says something too quietly for Harry to say, though obviously through gritted teeth. She flinches.
"I think we had best take this inside," the other man says, gesturing toward the house. His voice is deep and resonant. "Come along, Mrs. Dursley, we're not here to make trouble."
Sirius mutters something that causes the other man to give him a severe look, and then the three adults go inside, out of Harry's line of sight. He goes over to the door of his room and presses his ear against it, waiting until he hears the sound of someone coming up the stairs to back up.
A moment later, he hears the tremendous rattle of all of the locks on his door coming undone at once. It swings open to reveal Sirius, who looks furious. But he opens his arms without hesitation, and Harry flings himself at him, letting Sirius gather him into a close hug. They stand there for what feels like a long time before Sirius speaks.
"Oh, Harry," Sirius says into Harry's hair. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I could—those bars must be why my letters weren't getting to you."
"Yeah," Harry says, his voice muffled in Sirius's chest. "The owls kept having to fly away. I'm so glad you're here. I thought something awful had happened when no one came."
"I'm so, so sorry," Sirius says again and clutches Harry tighter. "I can only imagine. Listen, I promise there's an explanation but I can't give it to you right now; this isn't the place. Come downstairs with me, we'll get your things, then Kingsley and I will take you back to London—you're done here. You're never coming back to this damned place, okay?"
"Okay," Harry says, relieved. He glances around the room, then grabs his bundle of clothes and Hedwig's cage. She's sleeping, but wakes when she's jostled and looks as thrilled as an owl can look to be taken out of the room. Sirius leads the way back down the stairs, and when Harry points at the cupboard under the stairs, Sirius unlocks that too with a wave of his wand and helps Harry haul his trunk and his rucksack out.
The fury returns to his face when he sees the stained mattress on the floor, and Harry's old childish drawings on the walls.
"Harry…" he says, looking over at Harry, but when Harry looks away he leaves it. For the moment, anyway; Harry's sure he's in for an interrogation later.
Sirius leaves Harry's trunk in the hall for the moment and goes into the living room. He motions for Harry to stay put, but Harry creeps to the edge of the hall so that he can listen.
"Alright, Kingsley," Sirius says as he walks into the room. "I've got him and his things. You'll want to take a look into the cupboard yourself before we go, for Pensieve testimony."
"Well, Mrs. Dursley," Kingsley says. He sounds very calm. Sirius had not. "I'm sorry to say that you have not seen the last of me. I appreciate your… cooperation, but I do believe I will have some follow-up questions."
Harry hears someone get up off the couch. "You're not welcome here," Aunt Petunia says a moment later, so it was probably her who'd been sitting. "Get out. And take the boy with you; good riddance."
"I'll be happy to," Sirius says. "And I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you have seen the last of me. Because if I ever have to look at you again, you hateful bitch, I'm going to kill you for what you've done to my godson."
"Sirius," Kingsley says in a warning tone. "We're leaving now, Mrs. Dursley. I'll be back in a week or so, I expect."
"Get out," Aunt Petunia says. Harry steps back from the door, enough so that it looks like he probably wasn't eavesdropping, and a moment later Sirius and Kingsley come through the doorway. Sirius gives him a knowing look, but doesn't say anything.
"Let's go, pup," Sirius says, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "I'm sure you're well ready to be quit of this place."
"Yeah," Harry says, burrowing close to Sirius's side. Sirius grabs the handle of Harry's trunk as they walk past. Behind them, Harry hears Kingsley pause at the open door of the cupboard, then a rattle as a soft hoot as he picks up Hedwig's cage and comes along after them.
"We'll be Apparating back to London," Sirius tells Harry once they're outside. "We just need to walk to the park down the road; there's a corner there hidden by a hedge where we won't be seen vanishing."
"Okay," Harry says, and a moment later realizes the problem with that plan.
Before he has time to tell Sirius, however, a voice shouts from up the block, "Oi, freak! Where're you going?"
Sure enough, Dudley and his small gang of friends are walking toward them from the direction of the park. Dudley has a sneer on his face.
Sirius seems about to say something, but Harry steps out from under his arm and calls back, "I'm leaving, Dudders. Isn't that obvious? Or do you need me to put it into smaller words?"
"Hey!" Dudley shouts, and rushes forward. Harry steps back into Sirius's space, and sure enough, the sight of the tall adult looming over Harry's shoulder is enough to bring his cousin up short. "You can't leave, my dad says so."
"Your dad doesn't get to tell me what to do any more," Harry says. "And you can tell him that. So long, Dudley. Have fun at Smeltings. I hope someone uses their Smeltings Stick to smack some sense into you one of these days; you need it."
Then Harry turns to look up at Sirius and says, "Can we go?"
"Yes, Harry," Sirius says, sounding amused. "Come on."
His posh accent makes Dudley look a little dumbfounded, especially alongside the tidy muggle suit he's wearing and his aristocratic features. He looks like someone who's better than anyone in this neighbourhood, better than Dudley had probably ever imagined Harry could associate with. He wraps his arm around Harry once more and sweeps him away down the block, leaving Dudley and his friends behind. Kingsley catches up with them and smiles down at Harry.
"I take it your relationship with your cousin was less than amicable?" Kingsley asks.
"Yeah, I guess," Harry says. "He and his friends used to play 'Harry Hunting' when we were in primary together. They'd chase me and beat me up if I got caught."
Sirius is tense against Harry's side, but Kingsley looks relaxed, and his voice is still calm when he asks, "And he called you names?"
Harry shrugs. "Yeah." There's no point in hiding it now, even though he doesn't want Sirius to hear this.
"Did your aunt and uncle ever call you names?"
Harry narrows his eyes at Kingsley. "Why are you asking me these questions?"
"I'm an Auror," Kingsley says. "A magical policeman, in case you didn't know. I don't usually work child abuse cases, but I'm a friend of your godfather's and he asked me to come along and see what I thought of your situation. I'll admit, neither of us expected it to be so… obvious."
"Does it matter?" Harry asks.
Kingsley gives him a surprised look. "Of course it matters, Mr. Potter."
"But it's not like they're going to stop being my guardians," Harry says. "Knowing that they're not nice to me doesn't mean that I have anywhere else to go all of a sudden."
"You'll come live with me and Remus," Sirius says, his voice rough. They've arrived in the park by now, and Sirius pulls him over into the secluded corner he was talking about and then stops, kneeling down so that he can look into Harry's eyes. "All the reasons I had before, they don't matter enough to be worth you needing to come back here ever again. I'll do what I need to do make sure you can stay with me from now on—even if I have to duel Dumbledore for the right."
"That's probably more than is necessary," Kingsley says, sounding amused. "Come, Sirius. We should get back to London."
"Right," Sirius says. "We'll talk about this more once we're home, Harry. Now, come on, hold tight."
"Okay," Harry says quietly, his head spinning. Then it's spinning more literally as Sirius Apparates away from Privet Drive. An intense few seconds later, Harry is stumbling, out of breath, as their feet touch down on concrete. They've reappeared in an alleyway, slightly dingy, and a second later Kingsley appears with a loud crack beside them, holding Hedwig's cage. It's empty, and Harry panics for a moment, but Kingsley sees his expression and reassures him that he'd released her and told her their destination; she'd catch up with them on the wing.
Sirius leads them out of the alleyway, and Harry realizes they've come out a few blocks away from the flat. As they walk, Sirius explains quietly that they'd expanded their wards to include their balcony as a security measure, so it no longer functioned as an Apparition Point and they had to use a nearby one, one of the engineered CCTV blindspots, carefully warded from muggle attention, that exist in London thanks to the Ministry of Magic. Fortunately there is one in Sirius and Remus's neighbourhood, and they'll just have to put up with the walk from now on.
Other than that brief explanation, they're silent until they reach the flat. Sirius unlocks the door and ushers Harry through, and he comes into the den to find Remus sitting on the couch, perched on the edge of the cushions. He jumps up when Harry walks in and immediately sweeps him into a hug, then lets him go and holds him at arm's length to inspect him, drawing in a deep breath.
"Welcome home," he says to Harry, once he's given him a long look.
"Thanks," Harry says, and is embarrassed to hear that his voice his choked up. He clears his throat, trying to duck his head, and Remus spares him by pulling him in close once more. Harry can hear Sirius and Kingsley moving his things down the hall into the guest room—maybe his room now—but he takes a moment just to enjoy Remus's strong hug. When they return, Remus lets him go and they sit down on the couch together. Sirius flops into his ugly floral armchair, and Kingsley remains standing.
"I should get back to the Ministry," Kingsley says, looking down at them all. "And I suspect you three have some things to discuss. Mr. Potter, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again soon."
"Nice to meet you too," Harry murmurs, and Sirius and Remus bid Kingsley goodbye before he lets himself out.
The moment the door clicks shut behind the Auror, Sirius lets out an explosive breath and slumps backward into the armchair.
"That was much worse than I was expecting," he says, and then sits up again to look at Harry. "Harry, I am so sorry. I can't say it enough."
"It's alright," Harry says, shrinking back into the couch a little under the look Remus levels on him. "It wasn't so bad."
"There were bars on your window," Sirius says flatly. "And a cat flap on your door. Not the mention the dozen locks, the fact that your things were being kept from you in a locked cupboard, and that it looked not a little like you used to sleep in that cupboard. Would you care to explain any of that?"
Harry looks away, uncomfortable. "It was fine," he tries to say, but Sirius interrupts before he can get any further.
"It was not fine!" he shouts, and when Harry flinches he immediately says, "Sorry, sorry. It's not you I'm angry at, Harry."
"I know," Harry mutters.
Sirius sighs. "Harry… why didn't you tell us earlier? Things were messy at the end of term, but we thought you'd be safe there. Safer, anyway. If we'd had any idea, we'd have made sure you never went back."
"I thought Dumbledore was in charge of where I stayed," Harry says. "And it really wasn't that bad. They don't hit me or anything; I'm not abused."
"I'm not so sure you aren't," Remus says quietly. "You needn't be slapped around to be abused. Verbal and emotional abuse, and neglect, are forms of child abuse as well, Harry."
"I'm not stupid," Harry says. "I know that. I just… it really wasn't so bad. I didn't want anyone to worry."
Remus and Sirius exchange a look. "We worried anyway," Sirius says bluntly. "I'm sorry I came even as late as I did. When the first owl returned unanswered… I started getting nervous then, but I thought you might just be angry at me for breaking my promise. I gave it a few days and sent another—when Ajax came back again, with the letter even unopened, I knew something was wrong. That was only yesterday, Harry, I swear."
"I'll need to send Hedwig to my friends with letters," Harry says, looking at his knees. "You weren't the only one whose mail I couldn't answer."
"Okay," Sirius says. "Okay, Harry. Listen, I… I know you probably don't want to talk about this, and we don't have to, not right now. There's a lot going on, and I'm sure you'd like to get settled in."
"Yeah," Harry says. He looks up to see that Sirius has a frown on his face, but he can't tell if it's hurt or sadness or anger or what it is that his godfather is feeling, just that he's upset. "Can I go to my room?"
"Of course," Sirius says, and when Harry gets up off the couch and walks past the armchair on his way toward he catches Harry's wrist and tugs him briefly into a hug. "I'll call you for dinner if you haven't come out yet, okay?"
"Sure," says Harry, and hugs Sirius back, then makes his way to his room to flop on the bed and try not to think about anything at all.
As soon as he hears the sound of Harry's door clicking shut, Sirius scrubs his hands vigorously over his face and groans. "Was I ever like that about my mum?" he asks into his hands.
"Yes," Remus says, apologetic. "Worse, really. You were never in denial that you hated her but you'd just call her a bitch and then act like the fact that you didn't like her was enough justice in return for her abuse."
"Ugh," Sirius says. "Moony, they kept him in a fucking cupboard."
"I know," Remus says softly, and gets up from the couch. He comes over to sit on the arm of Sirius's armchair and pulls his hands away, then looks down into his face with compassionate eyes. "It'll be alright, Sirius. He's safe now, and he's happy to be here."
"Of course he is. Compared to that… that room they had him locked in, I'm sure he'd be happy just about anywhere. We could live in a dirty cave and eat rats and he'd still want to come live with us."
"Because he trusts you to provide a good life for him." Remus reaches out to smooth down Sirius's hair and cups the back of his skull, soothing. "Harry loves you, and he needs you to be there for him right now. I remember when Charlus and Dorea first got you out of Grimmauld. You struggled too; a lot changed very quickly. None of us begrudged your needing support then, in whatever form you needed it. And none of us begrudged the fact that at first you just weren't ready for the comfort that we wanted to give you."
"I don't begrudge him," Sirius says quickly. "I know he needs me. I'm going to be there for him, however he wants."
"I know," Remus says. "And I'm sure you remember that sometimes what you needed was for us to wait. We had to let you come to us. You spoke up when you were ready, and then we could heal the wounds she left on your spirit. It'll be the same with Harry, I imagine."
"He's more… contained than I was."
"He'll open up eventually," Remus says, and strokes Sirius's hair again. "And if not, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
"Okay," Sirius says, and cranes his face up. Remus gives him the soft kiss he's asking for and then gets up and heads for the kitchen.
"I'm going to make tea," Remus says. "If he comes out and wants some, all the better; if not, just for us."
Sirius makes an agreeable noise and slumps down into his armchair. He's not sure what he was expecting from today's excursion to collect his godson from the Dursleys, but it was not what he found. He'd worried when the letters returned unopened that Harry might be injured or sick, in a muggle hospital somewhere. He'd had some suspicion, too, that it might have been Harry's aunt or uncle that put him there. Harry had always been cagey in talking about his home life, but the details he'd let slip… well, at first Sirius hadn't entirely noticed, because Harry hadn't spoken out openly about disliking his family. But Harry is not like Sirius; he holds things close to his chest, doesn't entirely trust enough to be open, not just yet. No matter what Remus says, Sirius knows that if Harry trusted him fully, he'd have told them about the Dursleys.
Now it's all a muddle. Certainly Sirius had always been planning to take Harry for the summer, but having seen what he did today, there's absolutely no way in any hell that might exist that he is ever letting Harry go back to that house. Tidy and uniform on the outside, Number 4 Privet Drive had hidden a deep rot, and he refuses to allow his godson to be exposed any further to the hatred that was festering there. Forcing a magical child, especially one with Harry's power and pride, to live in a place like that was asking for him to turn to black magic and cruelty. Sirius would know: he'd probably have done it himself, from desperation if nothing else, if he hadn't had the safe haven offered by James's parents and later, his Uncle Alphard. All he wants is to offer Harry that same safe haven, but…
It's going to be a fucking mess. He knows that already. But he also already knows that he's going to do anything he can to keep Harry safe, to give him the best life he can. That's all he can do.
Remus comes back into the living room with a tea tray and sits down on the couch, leaning over to press a mug into Sirius's hands, fixed black with one sugar, just the way he likes it.
"Alright there?" Remus asks.
Sirius sips the tea, wincing when it burns his mouth, then says, "Yes, I'm fine. Just worried about the pup."
"He'll be okay, Sirius. Give him time."
Sirius nods. He can do that. They have all summer now. In the next few days, he and Harry are definitely going to have to have a talk about what's going to happen now, but it doesn't have to happen this afternoon and they'll have most of the next two months to work out what all of the consequences of their decisions are going to be and deal with them. So he sips his tea again and waits.
Harry emerges that evening for dinner, subdued but not upset at least as far as Sirius can tell. He doesn't talk much over the meal, but he smiles when Sirius mentions maybe going to the park tomorrow and he tells Remus in a quiet voice about what his homework assignments are for the summer when he's asked. He has two helpings of the curry that Sirius has made, helps with the dishes, and then asks politely to be excused so that he can write to his friends and let them know that he's okay. Sirius lets him go, and some time later sees out the glass balcony door the white shape of Hedwig winging away into the night, bearing a set of letters clutched in her talons.
The next day Sirius and Harry go to the park as promised; Remus goes to work. They have a quiet evening. Before bedtime, Sirius tells Harry that they need to have a conversation tomorrow about what the summer is going to look like, and Harry gives him a serious look and a nod, then slips off silently to his room to crawl in bed with a novel that he'd borrowed from Remus.
In the morning, Harry shows up at breakfast with a grim expression on his face. Remus is already gone, working the early shift, and Sirius sighs and sets the plate of toast and eggs that he's holding on the table in front of Harry.
"Eat first," he says. "It'll be alright, Harry."
"'Kay," Harry says, and tucks into his breakfast. He scarfs the food and puts his plate away in the sink, then comes to Sirius with an expectant look.
Sirius waves him into the living room and sits down with him on the couch. "Harry," he begins, but is almost immediately cut off.
"Are we going to talk about Voldemort?" Harry asks bluntly.
"Uh," Sirius says, caught off guard. "How did you—yes, that's definitely on the list. How did you know?"
"Me and Neville and Ron and Hermione knew he was after the Stone last year," Harry says. "And we knew something had happened when all the teachers were looking so grim in the last few days of term, and Quirrell vanished. Hermione didn't think it was because he'd gotten away with it, but I did, and when you sent that letter I was pretty sure. He's coming back, isn't he?"
Sirius takes a long, slow breath. This isn't how he'd hoped to broach the subject, but if Harry already knows, there's no point in keeping things from him. Not that he'd really be planning on keeping secrets, but he'd wanted to be slightly less blunt. "We think so," Sirius says. "We don't entirely know what his plans are or how he's going to go about it—there's a lot of Dark magic that could potentially bring Voldemort back, especially with the Philosopher's Stone available to him, and we're not sure which route he's going to choose or how long it will take."
"Okay," Harry says. "So… what are you going to do about it?"
"Right now we have to wait," Sirius says, scowling. "Dumbledore has been reaching out to old friends from the war, bringing people together again. We're going to start hunting for information, especially on the Death Eaters that got away without being caught. Some of them have been sighted here and there over the years; others not, but we're looking into it to see if anything has been missed."
"Why did you have to send me back to the Dursleys?"
"Security," Sirius says. "It sounds callous, I know, and I'm so sorry. We thought though that you'd be safer in the muggle world, since no one knows exactly who your family is, and it was safer for both you and us if no one knew that you were staying with us."
Harry's quiet for a moment, thinking that over, then says, "That makes sense, I s'pose."
"It won't happen again," Sirius promises. "We'll find some other way to keep your location secret so that you're safe, without sending you back there."
"Okay."
"In any case: you're here now. You'll probably see me coming and going, and I'm going to be digging into my family's library to see if there's anything there to help us figure out what Voldemort's plan might be so that we can try to stop him. You'll meet other members of the Order of the Phoenix—that's the group Dumbledore ran in the last war, sort of the resistance—too, as people start getting together again. And…" Sirius hesitates a moment, then he sighs. "This is a lot to put on you, Harry, because you're young and I'm going to do my very best to keep you out of danger, but if you'd like I want to start teaching you some ways to defend yourself, better than what you'd get at Hogwarts."
"Oh," Harry says, blinking at him. "Like… spells?"
"Some spells. Some other things, too. As I said: I'm going to keep you safe as best I can. However, it's always possible that something might happen to me or you might end up in a situation where I'm unable to help you, and I want you to be as prepared as possible."
Sirius watches as Harry frowns, looking down at his hands. It is a lot to put on an almost-twelve-year-old boy, but he refuses to let Harry go into the world unready for whatever the coming days will throw at him. There's a faint hope that if they can figure out what Voldemort is planning for his resurrection, they'll be able to stop him, but they have to do a lot of research and then find the bastard first, and that'll take some doing. Meanwhile, Voldemort is sure to begin rallying his followers as he prepares for his return, and Sirius wouldn't put it past them to target kids like Harry, who are likely to grow up to be threats, while they're still vulnerable.
"Okay," Harry says. "I'll learn. I want to be able to look after myself."
"Figured you would," Sirius says. "We'll figure out lesson plans and… whatnot with Remus when he's home this evening—he's much better at that sort of thing than me. I'm hoping of course that you won't need it. Maybe we'll stop the snakey bastard before he can get ahead, and it'll all be unnecessary, but—"
"I want to be ready," Harry says, resolute. "Just in case."
"You're very brave," Sirius says, and reaches out to ruffle Harry's hair. "Maybe you should've been in Gryffindor after all."
"I'll do whatever it takes to protect myself and my friends, and I don't want to depend on anyone else for that," Harry says. "I think that's still pretty Slytherin."
"True enough," Sirius says. "Alright. Speaking of Slytherin, there was another thing."
Harry gives him a tired look, weary beyond his years. It's both funny and sad, to see an old man looking at him out of this child's eyes already. "Is it going to be politics?"
"How did you guess?" Sirius says, and laughs when Harry groans dramatically. "I know, I know, you hate it. You mentioned that enough times in your letters last year."
"At least now there's a reason for it," Harry mutters. "Alright, tell me."
"Slytherin is going to be… a minefield for you next year," Sirius says. "I don't know the names of all of the kids in the House, of course, but even just of those you've mentioned there are a lot with Death Eater parents, and some of those parents might know that Voldemort is returning and tell their kids. You'll have to decide for yourself how you want to play it with them, because you'll be the one to have to keep it up, but I can help you strategize and if you give me names I can let you know whether or not they're probably… safe, I guess."
"I can't really avoid them," Harry says.
Sirius shakes his head immediately. "That's not what I mean. It's more… some of those kids, you won't be able to tell them anything. You'll have to be twice as careful. Three times as careful. Others might be valuable allies. One of the things I want to help you learn this summer is how to judge that, at least a little; another is how to do things like ward your bed and your things, just in case."
"Do you want me to tell you what they're up to?"
"Only if you want," Sirius says. "I'm not going to make you a spy, and Hogwarts is safe with Dumbledore there; Voldemort won't be able to reach within the walls of the school. It's more for your own safety, because as time goes on, some of your Housemates—and, don't get me wrong here, some kids in other Houses too—will become your opposition. I hope to all the small gods that this war will end well before any of you need become involved, but as I've said already, I want to be sure."
"Alright," Harry says, nodding firmly. "I'll play it safe. I've got some idea already of who's going to be, uh, a problem."
"I'm sure you do," Sirius says. "The other thing is… I'd like you to give some thought this summer as to whether or not you want to take up the seat of Black Heir."
Harry looks surprised. "I thought you wanted me to wait to decide."
"I do," Sirius says, "but I suspect I'm not going to get what I want in a lot of things for the next while. Having that status would grant you some advantages among your peers, at least the purebloods and halfbloods who care about that sort of thing. It'll also have disadvantages, namely that you'll be blatantly declaring that you're my heir and therefore almost certainly aligned with my politics, which are… not those of Voldemort and his supporters, to say the least. So it'll come with a shield and a target on you. We can talk about it more, I just wanted you to know that I hope you'll consider it."
Harry nods and takes a deep breath. "I'll think about it."
"Good. Now, c'mere." Sirius grabs Harry close in a hug, and when Harry's arms wrap tightly around him in return he bends his face to sigh into his pup's dark, messy hair. "We're going to be okay. I promise."
"… I love you, Sirius."
Sirius squeezes Harry tighter. He's said that before, but to hear it now of all times, with this dark conversation looming over them, the shadow of war cast over their future… it's a nightmare and a reassurance. "I love you too, Harry."