Sirius Black slumped into the old, worn armchair in Grimmauld Place's grim and cold living room. The fire had long since burned out, leaving him with nothing but dying embers and an oppressive silence. In his left hand, he loosely held a whisky glass, its contents barely touched. His gaze lingered on the flickering embers, and almost instinctively, he lifted the glass to his lips.
But then, a faint whisper rose from the back of his mind. His heart froze. His eyes clenched shut as he tried to push back the wave of grief that followed.
"Protect him, won't you, Sirius? Should the worst ever happen?"
"Always. I promise you that."
But he hadn't, had he? Reckless. Selfish. Stupid. He had broken his promise to his best friends. Instead of comforting the most precious thing they had left behind—their son—he had run off, consumed by vengeance. And for what? Thirteen long years gone. Thirteen years Harry had spent without him, subjected to the cruelty of the Dursleys.
He wasn't blind. He had seen the signs—the neglect, the subtle clues of something far worse. The memory of seeing Harry for the first time in years haunted him still: a too-thin boy, standing alone in the dark, waiting for the Knight Bus. Guilt swelled as Sirius recalled how he'd wanted to storm into Privet Drive and tear the Dursleys apart, to let his rage consume them for what they'd done.
But in the end, he hadn't. Murder would only have added more to his sins.
He had wanted to rage at Dumbledore for allowing Harry to stay in that house. Surely the old man had seen the signs? Surely someone had noticed? And yet, every time Sirius's anger flared, it inevitably turned inward.
Because the first failure had been his own.
"Protect him, won't you, Sirius?"
He hadn't.
Even when he had finally returned to Harry's life, he could never fully be a part of it. Branded a criminal, he was forced to stay in the shadows, watching helplessly as his godson faced trials he should never have had to face. The Triwizard Tournament had nearly taken Harry's life in his fourth year, and now the Ministry's smear campaign had vilified him during this most recent school year. Sirius could only observe, powerless, from a distance. If only he had stopped that night—if only he had held his godson instead of chasing after Peter. He could have let the Aurors, or Dumbledore, handle it. Perhaps Harry's life might have turned out differently. Perhaps he wouldn't have spent thirteen years grieving in Azkaban, consumed by guilt and anger.
At the thought of Lily, his throat tightened, and his eyes misted over. She had been radiant with joy when Harry was born, a beacon of light in the darkness of the war. He couldn't imagine a child more loved by a mother than Harry had been.
"Do not let me catch you letting Harry ride your back as a dog, Sirius," Lily had scolded him once, her voice half-serious, half-laughing. She had returned to the living room to find a baby Harry shrieking with joy as his godfather's Animagus form pretended to pounce at him, stopping short every time. That memory, so warm and distant, tugged painfully at Sirius now.
What would James and Lily think of him now? Wherever their souls rested, he wouldn't blame them if they regretted making him Harry's godparent. He had failed them in every way that mattered.
He set the whisky glass down with a clink, suddenly disgusted by it. There was no room in his life for it anymore. He had promises to keep—promises he needed to make up for. As he braced himself to stand, a voice broke through the silence.
"It's done, Sirius."
He turned, startled, to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. The elder wizard wore a tired but warm smile that seemed to bring a flicker of hope to Sirius's heavy heart.
"You're sure?" Sirius asked, his voice thick with disbelief, as he took two tentative steps forward.
Dumbledore nodded and stepped into the room, offering him a folded piece of parchment. Sirius took it gingerly, his hands trembling. He almost didn't dare open it, afraid that somehow this moment might vanish, like a dream fading in the morning light.
"You are a free man, Sirius Black," Dumbledore said softly. "The Aurors got Pettigrew's confession a little over an hour ago. The Wizengamot was called immediately… missing a few notable members." He paused, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he glanced over his spectacles. Several Death Eaters had been exposed after the recent battle, many of them fleeing—including those who had seats on the Wizengamot. "But it was unanimous. You have a full pardon. It's all in that document."
Sirius sank to his knees, the weight of it all crashing down on him. Tears, long suppressed by grief and guilt, finally broke free. He was innocent. Truly, officially innocent. He had never betrayed Never betrayed Harry. As he wept silently, he felt Dumbledore kneel beside him, placing a steady, comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I am truly sorry," Dumbledore began, his voice heavy with regret. "I should have believed you, back when it happened."
Sirius shook his head, wiping his face. "You didn't know about the switch."
"I know," Dumbledore said gently. "But I should have fought harder for a trial. Even with the evidence against you, the idea that you could have betrayed James and Lily… it was unthinkable."
"I failed him, Albus. If I hadn't run off that night… if I hadn't given him to Hagrid…"
"Perhaps, but you were also grieving, you had just lost two important people in your life, one of them like a brother to you, we rarely act rationally in times of pain" Dumbledore agreed softly. "But it does no good to dwell too long on the past, Sirius. Learn from it, yes—but do not let it consume you. You are not the only one who has failed Harry. I, too, must reckon with my mistakes. There is much I need to set right with him."
Sirius didn't respond, but the weight of Dumbledore's words settled in his heart. He was grateful for the older man's acknowledgment of his own failings, though Sirius knew the guilt was his to bear, first and foremost. Blaming others would only make it easier to absolve himself—and he would never allow that.
"I'm going to train him, Albus," Sirius said firmly, his voice steady as he looked up at the elderly wizard, who maintained a calm, even expression. "He wasn't ready tonight. If Voldemort hadn't been the one trying to kill him, any one of those Death Eaters could have finished the job."
Harry was gifted, no doubt—quick with a wand, full of raw magical strength. But it wasn't enough. His talent was unpolished, his skills unrefined. He had overcome challenges that many seasoned wizards might have faltered at, but tonight… if one of Voldemort's inner circle had truly intended to kill him, they would have succeeded. The thought chilled Sirius.
"I understand," Dumbledore said, nodding slightly. "I assume now that you have your freedom, you'll want Harry to stay here with you?"
"Not even you could stop me from keeping him, Albus," Sirius replied, a defiant edge to his voice. But it softened as he earned a chuckle from the older wizard. Despite his confidence, Sirius knew that if Dumbledore truly wanted to take Harry elsewhere, there was little chance he could stop him—especially after witnessing the duel between the headmaster and Voldemort earlier that evening. It had been brief, but it was a display of unmatched magical prowess.
"I have no intention of preventing Harry from staying here," Dumbledore assured him. His expression was kind, but his tone shifted, becoming more solemn. "At least I can correct the grievous mistake of placing him with his blood family. I had hoped—perhaps too optimistically—that his aunt might overlook her envy of Lily and show him love. But I was wrong."
Dumbledore's regret hung in the air for a moment, before he added with a smile, "If I could make one request, Sirius… try not to teach young Harry any of your more extracurricular spells. I'd rather not have too much chaos at Hogwarts next year."
Sirius smiled back, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I'd swear it, but I think you know better by now."
Dumbledore chuckled again, but before the conversation could fully lighten, something more practical crossed Sirius's mind. "Can I have his O.W.L. results? And some of his recent class reports? I may not be his parent, but I am his guardian—or will be, officially, soon."
"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "Though I would ask you to keep in mind that the Ministry's influence may have affected some of this year's results. That said, Harry has the potential to be a great student. Unfortunately, the pressures he faces each year… well, they've undoubtedly impacted his performance. I hope you'll be mindful of that?"
"I will," Sirius said quietly, his heart heavy with the reminder of everything Harry had been through.
"Very well, I'll have them sent over in the morning. Good night, Sirius."
"Good night, Headmaster."
Sirius watched as Dumbledore stepped toward the fireplace, called out his office's name, and disappeared in a whirl of green flames. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sirius was alone again. But this time, the silence didn't feel so heavy.
There was hope.
Sirius looked up, meeting Remus' eyes. He knew what his friend meant, but it did little to ease the tight knot of worry in his chest. "A true reason to fight, I know," he murmured quietly, almost bitterly. " But I can't send him out there with that alone, Remus. That's why we have to push him. That's why this training has to be grueling. It's the only way he'll stand a chance."
Remus sighed softly, understanding his friend's turmoil. "We'll push him, Sirius. But we have to let him be a young boy at the same time.. Harry's stronger than you think. He'll be ready."
Sirius didn't respond immediately. He simply stared down at the table, his mind turning over the looming challenge Harry would face, he didn't doubt his strength at all. His heart ached with the responsibility, the desperate need to protect the boy who meant everything to him. Finally, he nodded, though the worry didn't entirely leave his eyes.
"I hope so, Remus. I really do."
"Will he train here?" Remus asked, glancing around the dreary kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
Sirius shook his head. "No, we need to get out of this place, at least during the day. I've got an idea of where we can train privately, somewhere much better."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
Sirius grinned. "Remember that Slytherin beater? Nearly took that Hufflepuff's head off in the stands during our fourth year? I deflected the Bludger just in time."
Remus snorted. "I remember you trying to impress a certain Hufflepuff with that stunt — didn't quite work, if I recall."
Sirius waved him off. "Not the point! Anyway, she did say if I ever needed anything, she'd help out."
"Still not following, Padfoot."
Sirius leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess who she married? And who happens to own a lot of private, heavily warded land?"
Remus' curiosity deepened. "Who? And do you really think they'll just let you use their land because you deflected a Bludger once?"
Sirius grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Thomas Greengrass. And yes… that, and maybe a bit of gold. Perhaps a lot of gold.