Twenty-nine: Begin Again
August 29th, 1982
It’s a cool morning, clear, fresh. The breeze tastes of autumn. The two men move with focused intent, stepping side by side in their mutual purpose, past the neatly trimmed lawns and ordered flowerbeds of Privet Drive. One of the two is clean and pressed, as neat and tidy as the lawns, if a bit…dusty, faded around the edges. The other is wilder, a fierce look in his eyes and the corners of his face, clothing more mismatched and more rumpled. Both look haunted, lurking darkness in their wake. Both are too determined and too stubborn to let that darkness catch them up.
It is a perfect morning for this, the wilder one thinks. It feels like spring, but that’s only the deceptive freshness of a sun-filled morning after a rainy night. It’s morning. It’s a new day. Things will be different. That’s all that matters.
“Here goes,” Remus Lupin mutters to Sirius Black, and they turn down the path of Number Four. Sirius knocks at the door, clenching his fingers together behind his back and biting his lower lip.
It’s a woman who answers, and Remus thinks with a jolt that this is Lily’s sister, and the difference between them is so strange. “Mrs. Dursley? I’m Remus Lupin, this is Sirius Black. We’d like to see Harry, if you don’t mind.”
Her eyes narrow. “I remember you.” She flicks her chin at Sirius, who looks sort of disreputable, and Oh, God, Remus thinks. I should have made him put a different shirt on. “You were at my sister’s wedding. You’re one of her lot.”
Oh dear. This is not a good beginning. “Yes, we were at her wedding,” Remus answers. “Sirius is Harry’s godfather. May we come in? This is better not discussed on the doorstep.” She steps aside to let them in, but doesn’t usher them into the living room, or close the door.
Remus looks around at the front hall. It looks clean-a bit too clean. He thinks they should discuss this sitting down, really, but he’ll take what he can get. “As Harry’s godfather, Sirius has the right to take care of Harry in the absence of his parents. He has been…unable to do so, until now, but if Harry has no objection, he would like to bring Harry to live with him.”
Suddenly, there is a squeal, and the door to the cupboard under the stairs bursts open. A little boy tumbles out, head over heels, and then pulls himself upright, wobbling slightly. “Harry…” Sirius breathes, gazing at the boy, who looks so familiar he almost makes Sirius forget the year since he last saw him.
“D’you mean it?” Harry asks. He has hair like James and eyes like Lily, and his eyebrows are James’ too, which is unfortunate. The three adults stand there staring at him. Sirius’ mouth works soundlessly, and Remus has an expression of awe on his face, and Petunia looks both confused and slightly murderous.
Remus recovers first. “Yes, Harry. Sirius and I were friends of your mum and dad.” Harry shuffles closer, trying to decide which of the men he should go to. The one with the most command of speech looks more approachable, but the other one looks cool. And two-year-old boys are very susceptible to cool. Especially a cool godfather he didn’t know he had.
“You won’t make me sleep in a cupboard?” Harry asks solemnly, eyes wide as he stares up at Sirius.
“A cu-” Sirius’ eyes flick towards the open door of the cupboard under the stairs, and he crouches to face Harry, frowning. “No, of course not. You can have your own room, and any toys you like. I promise, Harry.”
Over their heads, Remus turns to Petunia, some of his practised calm fading. “You make him sleep in a cupboard? He’s two. He’s your nephew. I know Dumbledore asked you to treat him as your own son, but you’ve obviously not done that. Your sister was a good friend of mine, Mrs. Dursley. If she had been asked to take care of her nephew and treat him as her own son, I know she would have done it.”
Mrs. Dursley looks taken-aback, though not entirely penitent. “You’re welcome to take the boy,” she says coldly, and Sirius scoops him up in his arms, body remembering the many afternoons he spent babysitting during Harry’s first year of life.
“Is there anything you want to bring with you, Harry?” Remus says over Sirius’ shoulder. Harry shakes his head and puts his thumb in his mouth, gazing at Sirius with the beginnings of worshipful adoration.
“Come on, Harry,” Sirius says, completely ignoring Petunia, who is tapping her fingers impatiently against the doorknob. “We’re going to buy you a birthday present.”
It’s taken a long time. Years of war, another year of horrible incarceration for Sirius, lonely cold for Remus, and quiet bullying for Harry. Disappointment, distrust, the search for Peter. But they’ve reached a quiet moment, now. It’s morning, the sun is shining, the world begins again. All will be well.
Day Thirty