Chapter 19 Until You're Old and Wrinkly

The room was thick with tension, the only sound the relentless ticking of the clock, each second dragging out painfully.

~Tick Tock... Tick Tock~~

Harry's heart pounded in his chest, a deafening counter-rhythm. He felt sick.

This was his dirty little secret.

No. That wasn't right. This wasn't his shame to bear—it was the Dursleys' dirty little secret.

He didn't even realize he was trembling until Sirius gently turned him around and knelt before him, his grip steady and warm. Ignoring the audience, Sirius spoke softly, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.

"Harry. Look at me."

It took Harry a long moment to comply, but Sirius waited. He always waited. Slowly, Harry raised his eyes, meeting the fierce, unwavering gaze of his godfather.

"This…" Sirius pointed first to the cupboard, then to the now-cowering Dursleys. "This is not your fault, Pup." His voice hardened as he glanced at them. "What Voldemort did to your parents was unforgivable. What the Dursleys did to you? Just as cruel."

He exhaled, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "There's good and bad in all of us, Harry. But one thing I can promise you—the Dursleys will never touch your life again. And you're staying with me until you're old and wrinkly. Got it?"

Before Harry could answer, Sirius pulled him into a hug. Harry froze. Affection wasn't something he was used to. But after a heartbeat, he gave in, gripping Sirius as tightly as if he feared letting go.

Sirius let him hold on as long as he needed.

Then, after a moment, he pulled back just enough to meet Harry's eyes. "Now, do you want to stay and watch us punish them, or would you rather not?"

Harry's breath hitched. No one had ever given him a choice before.

His voice was quiet, uncertain. "You're not going to… hurt them, are you?"

Amelia had been keeping a close eye on the Dursleys, and though her expression remained professionally neutral, she couldn't help but overhear Sirius and Harry's conversation with hidden compassion. With a firm but reassuring tone, she assured Harry, "They will be Obliviated, Harry. That means they'll forget you and everything related to the magical world."

She continued, "It's clear they were unfit guardians and should be prosecuted for their treatment of you. However, because of the Statute of Secrecy, we're limited in what we can legally do to them. They are subjects of the Queen, not under our jurisdiction, even though you are. If you wish, you could seek redress through the Muggle government."

Harry shook his head emphatically, making it clear that he wanted no part of that.

Sirius nodded. "They won't be physically harmed. Though, I wouldn't mind seeing them chucked into Azkaban, but unfortunately, Muggles aren't sent there."

Moody, who had been shamelessly observing the conversation, let out a low grunt. "Depends on your definition of 'hurt.'" With a flick of his wand, his magical disguise melted away, revealing his true, battle-hardened self. He stepped forward into the living room, his magical eye fixed on the now-terrified Dursleys. He sneered.

"So, are you going to explain the bloody cupboard, or am I going to have to turn your insides outside?"

Petunia took one look at Moody's scarred face and his whirling, unnatural eye, let out a piercing scream, and fainted on the spot, flopping onto the ground like a fish out of water. A dark stain spread down Vernon's pant leg.

Harry gulped. "I think I'll, uh… wait in the kitchen." He quickly extracted himself from Sirius's grip and bolted, wishing he could cast a Silencing Charm on himself.

Harry didn't like his relatives, but he didn't want to see them hurt, either. His stomach churned, and as soon as he reached the sink, he lost whatever little he had eaten that day. He never even heard Sirius follow him in.

Back in the living room, Moody and Amelia would 'handle' the Dursleys. But Sirius knew his responsibility lay elsewhere—with Harry. He paused in the doorway, feeling lost and helpless.

Bloody hell, James. Is this how you felt? This overwhelming fear that you were going to screw everything up? How do I help him? What do I say?

A distant memory surfaced—Charlus Potter, James's father. The night Sirius had run away, bloody and brokenhearted, it had been Charlus who forced a Calming Draught down his throat and held him while he sobbed into his shoulder. That memory anchored him now.

Sirius cast a Silencing Charm over the kitchen and simply stayed with Harry, waiting together as his godson's past was finally being dealt with.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius decided that what they both needed was tea. He turned his attention to Petunia's immaculate kitchen and began raiding her cabinets and fridge.

"Hungry, Harry?" he asked, pulling out an alarming amount of food.

Harry shook his head. "No," he murmured, still feeling queasy.

That didn't deter Sirius in the slightest. Harry watched as his godfather proceeded to assemble what had to be the largest sandwich he had ever seen. Every kind of cheese, all the meats, and an entire French loaf—slathered generously with mustard, mayonnaise, and what seemed like an inhuman amount of butter. He chopped up onions and garlic and threw them into a pan, humming as he sautéed them.

Harry couldn't help but smile as Sirius made an absolute mess of Aunt Petunia's spotless kitchen. The thought of how horrified she would be brought a spark of amusement to his tired mind.

Then Sirius spied the microwave. He squinted at the buttons. "What does this thing do?"

Harry smirked. "It heats water really fast. There are a few ways to do it—press the buttons for minutes and seconds, pick high heat and press start, or just use the button with the cup on it."

Sirius frowned. "That's three ways."

He glanced over the buttons and spotted one that looked familiar—a tiny pizza slice. Next to it was a teacup with three wavy lines over it. That must be the one. He pressed it and immediately stepped back as the machine lit up and the cup inside began spinning. The low hum of the microwave sent him stepping back farther, wand at the ready.

When he saw the timer ticking down from 1:30, he grinned triumphantly at Harry. "Still not as fast as a spell," he said, frowning slightly. "But definitely faster than fire. Muggles must always be in a hurry."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, but his eyes flicked toward the closed door. His stomach twisted with unease. "Are you sure they won't hurt them?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think they deserve it after what they did to you?"

Harry hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe? But I don't want them hurt." He swallowed, glancing down at his hands. "They weren't… nice to me. But I think—I think they were scared. Of me. Of magic."

Sirius sighed. "Of course they were scared, Harry. They had every right to be. Think about it—Petunia lost both her parents and her sister to Death Eater attacks. She had no magic of her own and was given no choice in raising you. She was told that her sister was murdered by a Dark wizard, and then one day, a magical baby just shows up on her doorstep. And to top it off…" Sirius smirked, "you were already very powerful. You turned your dad's hair pink before you could even talk."

For the first time that night, a ghost of a smile flickered across Harry's face as he remembered how he had freaked his aunt and uncle and cousin a few times with bouts of accidental magic, floating a toy to his hand, shrinking an ugly sweater so it wouldn't fit a doll much less his body. He also remembered the fear in his aunt's eyes whenever something like that happened.

Sirius frowned. "But if they wouldn't treat their own son the way they treated you, then you should never think it was okay for them to treat you differently. They let their fear overcome their common decency. And make no mistake, there will be a reckoning, Harry."

Harry shuddered. "I wouldn't want to be treated like Dudley. They spoil him and give him everything he ever wanted. I wouldn't want to be like that," he admitted.

Sirius snorted. "Trust me, there was never any danger of that happening."

Harry sipped at his aunt's tea while Sirius demolished his monstrous sandwich, even managing to convince Harry to take a very messy bite. Sirius just waved his wand, cleaning them both up but deliberately leaving the kitchen in shambles.

As they sat together, Sirius launched into the story of the first time he met James on the Hogwarts Express. Harry had heard parts of it before from his father's portrait, but he relished hearing it again from Sirius's perspective.

"We were instant best friends," Sirius said, smiling at the memory. "Your dad was a brilliant wizard, Harry. And he would have done far worse to your aunt and uncle than just taking their memories. He would've hexed Vernon bald and ball-less, and Petunia—well, she might have spent the rest of her life as a man. Or a horse. His nickname for her was 'Horseface,' if I recall correctly."

Harry let out a startled laugh, remembering his father's portrait using the same insult. The idea of Petunia as an actual horse was absurd and strangely satisfying.

Sirius leaned back, watching Harry with a wistful smile. The sound of his laughter echoed something deep in his memory—a sound he hadn't heard in over a decade. It warmed him from the inside out.

melia and Moody entered the kitchen, their expressions unreadable. "All finished," Amelia announced, handing Sirius an official-looking document.

Sirius took it and scanned the contents with a keen eye for detail that caught Amelia by surprise. Most people, she had learned, never bothered to read the fine print. Satisfied, he took the quill she offered and signed his name with a firm stroke.

Amelia then turned to Harry. "This document officially transfers guardianship from your aunt to Sirius. You don't have to sign anything, but if you choose to witness it and confirm that this is what you want, it could prevent any future disputes."

Without hesitation, Harry took the document, signed it, and added a statement in his own hand:

I don't want to live with the Dursleys ever again. They do not understand my magic and are afraid of it. I want to live with my godfather, Sirius Black.

He signed it Lord Harry Potter, recalling Remus' lessons on his status in the wizarding world.

Amelia raised an eyebrow as she read over Harry's words. That he knew his title was an interesting detail—one she briefly considered before deciding to let it go. There were more pressing matters at hand.

With a wave of her wand, she duplicated the document, handing one copy to Sirius while keeping the original for official records at the Ministry, various solicitors, and Gringotts.

Later, Harry would learn that the Dursleys would remember only that Lily, James, and their infant son had died in a home invasion on October 31, 1981. Few would recall the quiet, dark-haired boy who had once lived at Number 4 Privet Drive.

As they prepared to leave, Amelia glanced at Sirius. "Shall we meet at Gringotts in an hour?"

Sirius nodded. "We'll be there." He shook her hand. "Thank you, Amelia. I can't imagine how that would have gone without you. And you as well, Mad-Eye."

Moody gave a gruff nod. "It was fun. Not often I get to engage in a bit of Muggle-baiting."

Sirius stared at him, suddenly reminded why the old Auror had always unsettled him. But he shook Moody's hand regardless, remembering the mentorship of the most infamous Dark wizard catcher of their time.

"When you're ready to get back to work, let me know," Moody said. "Might take some time to get you back in shape, but there's nothing wrong with your instincts." He cast a knowing look at Harry.

Sirius blinked, caught off guard.

Amelia smirked. "He's not wrong, Sirius."

Sirius let out a breath and glanced at Harry. "I think I have other priorities right now. But… thanks for the vote of confidence."

Harry mustered a small smile. "Thank you for your help, Madam Bones, Mr. Moody."

With that, Amelia and Moody Disapparated, leaving Sirius and Harry alone in the now-quiet kitchen.

Sirius studied Harry, noting the exhaustion written across his young face. He ruffled his godson's hair. "Almost done, Harry. We just have to hear your parents' will, and then we can go home with your Uncle Moony."

"Until I'm old and wrinkly?" Harry asked, chuckling softly.

Sirius grinned as he summoned the Knight Bus. "As long as you'll have me, Harry."

Author's Note:

I know this chapter touches on difficult themes. Child abuse is never an easy subject to write about, and I wanted to show Sirius making a mature choice—choosing to stay with Harry rather than seeking revenge. What do you think? Did I let the Dursleys off too lightly?

I deliberately left Dudley out of this confrontation. As satisfying as it might be to see him get his comeuppance, he's only eleven. Any "scared straight" moment would have been temporary at best. And terrifying the Dursleys for revenge would make them no better than Voldypants.

I appreciate all reviews!

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