By OncerPotterhead1123

September 1984

Sirius sucked in a breath of fresh air, and as the cool autumn air entered his lungs, he couldn't help but smile. It had been so long since he had breathed in anything other than stale air and body odor, and he wanted to savor every second. As he looked up at the stars above, he found himself mesmerized by the twinkling light. After spending nearly three years of his life inside a dark prison cell, he had forgotten the beauty nature had to offer. It was something he had once taken for granted. But not anymore. Once this was all over and everything was cleared up, he would live his life to the fullest. Perhaps he would buy a home in the country with plenty of fresh air, not yet polluted by muggles. Just the thought of a fresh start filled his heart with joy.

Of course, there was one thing standing in his way, and until he took care of it, there was no hope of being free. Peter Pettigrew, the man responsible for the deaths of two of his closest friends, was currently on the loose. Thought to be dead by the entire wizarding world, he was basking in the freedom that Sirius desired. And until Sirius caught him, the tiny taste of freedom he felt now would be all he got. If he didn't find Peter, this would all be for nothing. No! He was going to find Peter. He was going to prove his innocence. He was going to make sure the rat paid. But first, he needed to see Harry.

Sirius's heart ached with guilt at the thought of his godson. He had promised James and Lily that he would look out for the boy if anything happened to them. It was the only thing they had ever asked of him, and he had managed to let them down. He had let his thirst for revenge overpower his desire to hold onto the last piece of family he had, and not a day went by that he didn't regret it. He had failed his responsibilities as a godfather that night, but he'd be damned if he didn't check in on him now, if even just for a moment.

It didn't take long for Sirius to figure out where his godson was. Hagrid had told him he was taking Harry to his aunt and uncle's house, and James was an only child. This left Lily's sister and brother-in-law—Petunia and Vernon Dursley. And although Sirius had never had the displeasure of visiting Number 4 Privet Drive, he had heard Lily repeat the address so many times that it had stuck with him.

Sirius focused on where he wanted to be before turning on the spot, twisting his left ankle as he did so. It had been years since he had last apparated. He supposed he was lucky he didn't splinch himself. He could live with a twisted ankle. Missing limbs, however, were not something he wanted to mess with.

When Sirius appeared again, he was in the middle of a dark and empty street. He looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching before turning into his animagus form. A big black dog now stood where he did, just moments before. He limped down the street, reading the numbers as he went.

Number 10...number 11...number 12... He was going the wrong way. He turned around and headed in the other direction, checking each house as he went along. Number 9... number 8... number 7—a frail old woman stood on the lawn, waiting for her dog, a small chihuahua, to go to the bathroom. The moment the woman's eyes landed on the big black dog limping down the street, she snatched her own small dog up and ran inside.

Number 6... number 5... number 4—a loud cry pierced Padfoot's sensitive ears. He limped towards the front of the house and peered inside the window. A big, beefy man towered over something on the floor.

"I... I'm sorry." Wailed a small voice. "I didn't mean to."

"DIDN'T MEAN TO?" The man roared. "THAT COUCH IS NEW."

"I'm s...sorry!"

The man took off his belt. "Not yet, you aren't."

Padfoot watched as the man raised the belt high in the air before slamming it down. A loud scream pierced his ears, and when the man moved slightly, Padfoot was horrified to see the small child cowering in the corner. He could just make out a mop of messy black hair, and his stomach twisted. Harry!

Turning back into himself, Sirius rushed over to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. Another loud scream tore at his heart, and he did the only thing he could think to do. With a loud bang, he kicked down the door.

The large man jumped back, eyes wide, while a woman, whom Sirius recognized as Petunia, clutched a large child close to her chest.

"WHAT IN THE BLAZES?" roared the man. Spit flew from his mouth with every word he shouted. "You are breaking and entering. I demand you leave at once, or I will call the police."

Sirius stepped forward and snatched the belt out of the man's hand. "Go ahead," he said, his voice raspy from lack of use. "I'm sure the police would love to hear about how you treat your nephew."

The man, whom Sirius could only assume was Vernon Dursley, went from an angry red to a chalky white. "You're one of them, aren't you? You're one of those...those...those freaks!" He took a step back. "We don't want any of your funny business. We swore when we took the boy in that we'd put a stop to it all. I demand you leave at once!"

"Oh, don't worry," Sirius snapped. "We will." He tossed the belt to the side and turned towards Harry, who looked on with wide and fearful eyes. He was wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, and Sirius could see the angry welt marks up and down his front and back. Sirius reached out to pick him up, but the boy flinched away, as if expecting to be struck.

"It's okay, Harry." Sirius said, his voice like chalk on a chalkboard. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He watched with great sadness as the little boy he used to dote on scampered backwards, burying himself against the wall. The little boy who used to throw himself at Sirius every time the man visited—the little boy who used to cling to his neck and press sloppy wet kisses to his cheek—the little boy who used to trust him—was now terrified. Sirius couldn't help but feel hurt at the rejection.

"It's okay, Harry." He repeated, squatting down so that he was on eye level with the boy. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I'm here to help you."

The mistrust in his godson's eyes broke Sirius's heart, and he wanted nothing more than to make the people responsible for his pain and suffering pay. But he forced himself to stay where he was. His rash decisions the night he was arrested were the reason they were in this situation in the first place. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"My name is Sirius," he said softly, "and I knew your mum and dad."

Harry looked up at him with curious eyes, but remained silent. Realizing he had gotten the child's attention, Sirius continued. "Your parents made me your godfather. They wanted me to take care of you if they couldn't."

"GODFATHER!" Vernon shouted. "You mean to tell me that he was YOUR responsibility this whole entire time, and we've been the ones caring for him?"

"Caring for him?" Sirius gave a humorless laugh. "You call this caring for him?"

Vernon's face returned to the same shade of red it had been when Sirius arrived. "Now listen here," he said, pointing his finger in Sirius's face. "We never wanted the boy. We could have easily dumped him at the nearest orphanage or left him in the cold to freeze, but we took him in out of the goodness of our hearts, fed him the food off our table, and gave him our son's old clothes. And where were you? Off having the time of your life, I assume?"

"Oh, yeah," Sirius replied sarcastically. "Off having a blast in prison. It was a real party."

Vernon's eyes widened in horror, and Petunia looked as if she were about to faint as she clutched her son closer to her chest.

"I spent nearly three years in Azkaban for murders I didn't commit." Sirius growled. "I'm not afraid to go back. So I'd watch it if I were you."

"Take him," Petunia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just go ahead and take him."

Sirius shook his head in disgust at the fact that someone would so willingly give up the child they were supposed to care for, and not only that, but to a complete stranger who was thought to be a murderer. But then again, these were the same people who found it okay to beat a child. He really shouldn't be surprised.

Sirius looked from Petunia, who had flattened herself against the wall, to Vernon, and finally at Harry, who was still cowering in the corner. "Come on, Harry," he said gently. "Let's get out of here."

Sirius picked his godson up, trying his best to be careful of any injuries, but it seemed as if every small movement caused his godson pain. Harry was thin—far too thin—and Sirius could practically see his ribs. He was far from the chubby baby he had last seen.

Pulling Harry closer to his chest, Sirius noticed that he was unnaturally warm and clammy. When he looked down at him, he couldn't help but feel like he was also far too pale.

"He's sick," Sirius gasped. "He's burning up."

Vernon grunted. "Threw up all over our new couch, too. But he's your problem now."

Sirius resisted the urge to punch Vernon in the face and instead turned to leave. On the way to the door, his eyes landed on a tiny cupboard. The door was wide open, and Sirius could just make out a tiny cot. The strong and putrid smell coming from inside caused Sirius to recoil in disgust. It was a mixture of urine and vomit. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the cupboard had been where Harry slept.

Sirius grabbed a blanket from the couch, and ignoring the shouts of protest from Vernon, he draped it around Harry.

"You know, Petunia," he said as he made it to the doorway. "Lily loved you so much, and despite all the nasty things you said to her, despite all the times you made her cry, despite all the pain you caused her, she never once stopped. Lily was the kindest and most forgiving woman I ever met, and there is no doubt in my mind that if it were the other way around, she would have loved your son like her own. Lily forgave you so many times, even when you didn't deserve it. But Harry was her entire world. She loved him more than life itself. She was a forgiving woman, but she wouldn't forgive you for this. Of that, I'm sure."

Sirius stepped over the broken door and into the cool night, his godson nestled close to his chest. As he walked down the driveway, he could hear Petunia shouting from the doorway.

"I loved my sister," she said, "but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't love Harry. I don't hate him, but I couldn't love him either. He was forced upon us—we never wanted him to begin with. You have to understand..."

"No!" Sirius snapped, turning around and fixing her with a glare. "I don't have to understand shit. He's a child, Petunia. A CHILD! He didn't deserve any of this, and you know it."

Petunia looked down at her feet in shame. "I know," she sighed. "It was never supposed to go this far. You have to believe me. It's just that, growing up, everything was always about Lily. My parents were so proud of her—far more proud than they were of me. Magic destroyed my family. It destroyed the close relationship I once had with my sister. I didn't want the same for my son, so I distanced myself from Harry and gave Dudley more attention."

"And let your husband beat him." Sirius snapped. "I don't care about your sob story, Petunia. What I care about is the well-being of my godson."

The porch light flipped on from the house next door, and a woman peeked her head out the window. Sirius knew it was only a matter of time before somebody called the police. There was no time to waste. He gave one last glance at Petunia, who was standing on the front porch with her arms crossed over her chest, and at Vernon, who stood behind her with the phone, before heading down the street.

Sirius tried to ignore the intense throbbing in his left ankle as he half-ran and half-limped down the dark streets. Harry shivered in his arms, despite the fact that he was wrapped in a blanket. Every once in a while, Harry would whimper in pain, but for the most part, he was still and quiet.

A loud clasp of thunder and a flash of lightning lit up the sky, causing Harry to flinch. Rain soon began to drizzle down at a steady pace before turning into a downpour. Sirius wrapped his arms more securely around his godson, doing his best to keep him dry, but it was no use. He was stuck outside, late at night, in a storm. He had no place to go, and to make matters worse, he had his four-year-old godson.

"Damnit," he hissed as a sharp pain shot through his ankle.

Sirius caught sight of a park bench and quickly made his way over. Sitting down, he held his now-sobbing godson close as he tried to think of what to do and where to go. He couldn't go to Grimmauld Place; his mother was there. He had no home; his flat no longer belonged to him. Everyone he knew was either dead or believed him to be a traitor. There was no way he could walk through the doors of St. Mungo's without being arrested, and if that happened, he had no idea what would happen to Harry.

A big lump made its way into Sirius's throat, and he tried desperately to swallow down the emotions that were sure to flow, but it was no use. Looking down at his godson, he felt completely hopeless, and before he knew it, warm tears, different than the cool drops of rain falling from the sky, were trickling down his cheeks and onto Harry. Sirius couldn't remember the last time he had cried; he was sure it had been years, but once the tears started, he found that he couldn't stop them.

"Oh, Merlin," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Harry." He looked up at the sky above. "Tell me what to do, James. Tell me what I need to do."

The moment the words left Sirius's mouth, the rain stopped and the clouds moved away, revealing the moon. It was a sign from James, Sirius was sure. And that's when it became obvious to Sirius. If there was anyone who might listen to him, it was Remus. And even if he didn't, Sirius knew there was no way Remus would turn Harry away. It didn't matter to Sirius if Remus chose to listen to him, turned him in, or even killed him on sight. As long as Harry was okay.

He stood up and held Harry close to his chest. Closing his eyes, Sirius focused on the little cottage where Remus lived, and then he turned on the spot. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in front of the cozy little cottage where he had many fond memories of visiting his friend.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of retching, and before he knew it, he was covered in vomit, and Harry was sobbing.

"Hey, it's okay," Sirius softly whispered. "Most people throw up their first time apparating."

Sirius knew he shouldn't have apparated with Harry. First of all, Harry was only a child. Second of all, he himself had gone years without apparating, until tonight, and apparating with another person increased the risk of splinching. Lily would kill him if she knew he had done something so reckless with her son. Sirius half expected her ghost to show up at any moment to lecture him and was almost disappointed when she didn't. Oh, how he missed those lectures.

Sirius made his way to the door of the cottage. He raised his fist and was just about to knock when the door swung open, and he found himself at wand point.

"Don't move." Remus growled. "Don't take another step, or it will be the last thing you ever do."