Chapter Text
The street was ordinary, the sort of street where nothing interesting ever happened. Privet Drive sat in neat rows of identical houses with polished windows, trimmed hedges, and spotless driveways. But Harry stood at his bedroom window watching it with fierce anticipation, tapping excitedly against the glass and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
So far, the most exciting thing to happen all morning was a bird landing in the neighbor’s tree.
The Dursleys were leaving for a long weekend at the seaside with the family of one of Uncle Vernon’s colleagues, and as always, Harry had been informed he was not invited on the family holiday.
Which were Harry’s favorite words in the world to hear. Because whenever the Dursleys went away on their wonderful trips and weekends, Harry got to leave Privet Drive, too.
Harry pressed closer to the clean windowpane. Outside, Uncle Vernon was stuffing suitcases into the car while Dudley wailed about wanting to bring more toys and complained that there wasn’t enough room for another suitcase.
Then Harry heard it.
A crack echoed down the street.
Harry spun around and bolted downstairs.
“He’s here!” he shouted, skidding into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was watering her houseplants.
“Don’t run in the house!” she snapped. “You’ll break something!”
Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen behind her. “The car’s all packed. I told you, Petunia, the boot is perfectly suited for all our luggage. High-quality engineering.”
“Uncle Vernon, Sirius is here! You don’t have to worry about traffic anymore, he’s right on time!”
Uncle Vernon checked his watch with a grunt. “Did he? Of course. Unemployed layabout.”
Harry frowned. “Sirius has a job. He works for the bank.”
“Of course he’s unemployed,” Vernon said loudly. “That’s why you live here eating my food and living off my hard-earned salary, you ungrateful—”
“Really, Vernon?”
The kitchen fell silent.
Harry turned and saw Sirius leaning casually in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, dark hair falling into his eyes.
“Well then,” Sirius continued lightly, “I’d love to know what happens to the monthly stipend I send for Harry’s care.”
“Sirius!” Harry shouted.
He ran straight at his godfather, and Sirius knelt to hug him tightly.
“You packed?” Sirius asked.
Harry nodded eagerly.
“Brilliant.”
With an easy flick of his wand, Sirius summoned Harry’s backpack from upstairs. It shot down the staircase and into his waiting hand.
“I told you,” Uncle Vernon sputtered, his face turning purple, “not to do that dangerous, ridiculous nonsense in my house!”
Sirius straightened slowly. He was much taller than Vernon, and Vernon instinctively took a step backward as Sirius approached.
“My apologies, Vernon,” Sirius said smoothly, slipping his wand into his pocket. “I’ll try not to terrify you with magic an eleven-year-old can manage.”
Vernon opened and closed his mouth a few times before muttering, “Right. Well. No time to waste. We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”
Sirius turned to Aunt Petunia. “I’ll bring Harry back Sunday evening.”
Petunia gave a stiff nod and a sharp sniff but didn’t say a word.
Then Sirius took Harry’s hand, and together they walked down Privet Drive. Somehow the street already seemed brighter, more alive, simply because Harry was leaving it behind.
“Do I have to come back?” Harry asked quietly after a moment. “I want to live with you.”
Sirius squeezed his hand gently and smiled down at him.
“Just wait until you’re seventeen.”
“That’s ages away!”
“Only ten years,” Sirius said lightly. “And you’ll spend most of them at Hogwarts. Trust me, once you get there, you’ll barely think about Privet Drive at all.”
Harry sighed. There was no point in arguing. Sirius always gave the same answer. Harry had to stay with the Dursleys, and Sirius would always be there whenever he needed him.
“Can we fly our brooms this weekend?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Of course. And we’ll go to the bookshop and get ice cream in Diagon Alley too.”
Harry’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost hurt, which was interrupted as the Knight Bus arrived with a violent bang, making Harry jump.
The doors folded open, and Ernie, the driver, greeted Sirius cheerfully while Harry hurried aboard behind him. The bus lurched forward the second they sat down, sending beds sliding across the floor and passengers swaying dangerously.
Halfway to London, a loud croak erupted from beneath someone’s cloak. Then another. And another.
Soon a dozen frogs suddenly burst free and began hopping wildly around the bus.
One landed on Harry’s knee. Another smacked into the window.
A witch shrieked as two bounced through her knitting.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Dung,” Sirius groaned, standing to help gather the escaping frogs. “Couldn’t you keep them in the crate?”
A short, scruffy wizard with missing teeth shrugged apologetically as he crawled under a bed after a frog.
“Sorry, Sirius. Business is business, innit? Bloke asks for a dozen frogs, I get him a dozen frogs. Ain’t my concern what he wants with ‘em.”
“That philosophy is exactly why you’re banned from half the shops in Diagon Alley.”
“Unfair rumors,” Dung said solemnly while stuffing three frogs back beneath his cloak.
Harry snorted with laughter as Sirius handed over another escaping frog.
As the bus neared London, Sirius rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“Stay close to me once we get off,” he said. “City’s busy.”
“I know,” Harry replied automatically.
“We’ll get lunch at the pub first, then head into the Alley.”
Sirius grabbed Harry’s backpack and took his hand as they stepped into the crowded warmth of the Leaky Cauldron. Wizards chatted over drinks while smoke curled from pipes and the smell of stew filled the room.
“Table there,” Sirius said, steering Harry toward an empty corner. “Don’t wander off.”
Harry nodded while Sirius went to order food.
He returned with balancing plates and two large pumpkin juices.
Harry immediately launched into an excited retelling of the end of the school year while Sirius listened with genuine interest, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile.
“And then I had to do a report in front of the whole class,” Harry explained proudly.
“Oh?” Sirius said. “What on?”
“Cows.”
Sirius tilted his head in question. “Cows.”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “I wanted to do it on hippogriffs. But I remembered what you said about sticking to Muggle topics in Muggle school.”
A look of unmistakable pride crossed Sirius’s face. “Very good, well remembered, Harry.”
“I know loads about hippogriffs, though,” Harry added quickly.
“I’m sure you do,” Sirius said seriously. “In fact, I think you should do a full report on them for me. Educational purposes.”
Harry laughed. “No thanks. It’s summer. I’d rather fly my broom than write another report.”
“I promise, Harry,” Sirius declared, raising his pumpkin juice as an oath, “I will not give you any educational assignments until the summer is over.”
After lunch, they walked into Diagon Alley, where Harry immediately felt happier. Everything sparkled with life and magic. Cauldrons clanged in shop windows, owls hooted overhead, and witches hurried past carrying armfuls of parchment and potion ingredients.
Sirius always took Harry to the bookshop whenever he visited. They liked reading the same books together so they could talk about them later.
Sirius also let Harry pick comics to take back to Privet Drive.
Once, Dudley had stolen Harry’s comics from his room, and Uncle Vernon had thrown them away the moment he realized they were wizard comics instead of normal Muggle ones. Harry had cried into the two-way mirror Sirius had given him while explaining what happened.
After that, Sirius had quietly charmed all of Harry’s belongings so the Dursleys received a painful little shock whenever they touched them.
Harry had thought this was brilliant.
For nearly a week, he deliberately left his things scattered around the house just to hear the Dursleys yelp in outrage.
Unfortunately, Sirius eventually discovered what he was doing.
The Howler that arrived the next morning remained the single most terrifying moment of Harry’s life.
“HARRY JAMES POTTER!” Sirius’s voice had thundered through the entire house. “DO NOT USE MAGIC AGAINST MUGGLES FOR YOUR OWN AMUSEMENT!”
The memory of Sirius’s furious voice echoing off his bedroom walls still made Harry shiver a little. He had never deliberately used magic against the Dursleys again after that.
Together they picked out the newest comics Harry liked, along with a book about the first wizard to fly around the world on a broomstick. Then Sirius disappeared into another aisle with the bookshop owner to discuss a thick leather-bound book filled with words Harry couldn’t even pronounce.
As promised, they stopped for ice cream afterward.
Fortescue’s was better than any Muggle ice cream shop in existence. Harry sat happily outside with chocolate ice cream covered in dragon-shaped sprinkles while he and Sirius watched the crowds moving through Diagon Alley.
Later, they stopped at Gringotts to use the Floo Network from Sirius’s office at the bank. It was enormous compared to the cramped offices Uncle Vernon always complained about at work. Tall windows overlooked the winding streets of wizarding London, while shelves overflowed with cursed objects sealed carefully behind enchanted glass. Strange golden artifacts hummed softly in locked cabinets, and maps covered in notes and symbols were pinned across one wall.
Sirius worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Whenever witches or wizards discovered dangerous objects hidden away in old vaults, Sirius was often called in to dismantle whatever curses or hexes protected them. Sometimes he traveled overseas for work, though Harry secretly hated it when he left England.
Sirius also helped train younger curse-breakers before they were sent around the world, and occasionally worked with the Ministry alongside a gruff wizard named Alastor Moody, who had a magical eye that spun around independently and could apparently see through walls.
Harry thought Moody was both fascinating and deeply alarming.
Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing lightly and brushing soot from his clothes before looking around with immediate happiness.
He loved Sirius’s flat.
It sat at the top of a tall building overlooking the Thames, with access to the roof where Sirius took him stargazing at night.
The flat felt alive.
Wallpaper covered in moving forests and animals stretched across the walls. Books floated from shelf to shelf, rearranging themselves. Strange magical objects hummed, squeaked, or whirred softly in corners. Plants with snapping teeth sat beside plants that floated lazily near the ceiling. Frogs and newts rested in enchanted terrariums. An enormous ginger cat slept in a patch of sunlight while a grey owl perched high atop a bookcase, blinking down at them regally.
It was Harry’s favorite place in the world.
And the very best part was his room. At Privet Drive, Harry’s bedroom was plain and colorless, with bare white walls and furniture that never really felt like his. But at Sirius’s place, the walls were covered in photographs, drawings, and Quidditch posters Harry had cut from magazines. His books and toys filled crowded shelves. Tiny players zoomed across his Quidditch bedspread, scoring goals over and over again. The ginger cat usually slept curled at the foot of the bed whenever Harry stayed over.
The room looked loved.
Like someone had imagined exactly what would make Harry happy and built the space around that idea.
“Go put your books away,” Sirius called from the kitchen. “Then come help me make dinner.”
The next morning, Sirius woke Harry with the announcement that the weather was perfect flying weather. Harry nearly fell out of bed in his rush to get dressed.
By the time he stumbled into the kitchen, Sirius was already making breakfast while humming along to the wireless. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glinting off floating teaspoons and the enchanted kettle that kept whistling at random intervals.
“Eat first,” Sirius said firmly as Harry reached immediately for his broom by the door.
“But—”
“Food before flying. I’m not explaining to a Healer that my godson fainted because he was too excited to eat toast.”
Harry groaned dramatically but sat down anyway.
Twenty minutes later, they Apparated to a remote clearing deep in the countryside, protected by enough enchantments that no Muggle could possibly stumble across it.
The moment Harry’s feet hit the grass, he lit up.
The clearing stretched wide beneath the summer sky, crowded with witches and wizards flying overhead on broomsticks. Some practiced dives and sharp turns while others played loud, chaotic pick-up Quidditch matches with mismatched goalposts hastily hammered into the ground. Children zipped low over the grass while parents shouted instructions from picnic blankets below.
Harry clutched the broom Sirius had bought him for Christmas like it was the greatest treasure he owned.
The second Harry kicked off the ground, every miserable thing about Privet Drive vanished from his mind.
The wind rushed through his hair as he soared higher and higher into the open blue sky. Below him, the field shrank away while laughter and shouting echoed through the air.
Harry loved flying more than anything. Up here, he felt light. Free.
Sirius shot past him in a blur, dark hair whipping behind him.
“You call that fast?” Sirius shouted over his shoulder.
Harry gasped indignantly and immediately shot after him.
For the next hour, Sirius played Keeper while Harry practiced scoring goals. Sirius floated effortlessly between the hoops, blocking shots one-handed.
“That one wasn’t even close!”
“It went through the hoop!”
“The wrong hoop!”
“You moved!”
“I’m the Keeper, Harry! That’s the point!”
Eventually, they joined a loose pick-up game with another family who had several boys around Harry’s age.
The older boys clearly assumed Harry would be easy to beat. That lasted approximately three minutes.
Harry stole the Quaffle cleanly from one boy during a dive and scored before anyone could react.
A few minutes later, he did it again.
“Oi!” the older boy shouted as Harry sped past him. “How are you doing that?”
Harry laughed breathlessly over his shoulder. “You’re slow!”
Sirius nearly fell off his broom laughing.
By the end of the match, the older boys looked both annoyed and grudgingly impressed.
One of them pointed at Harry suspiciously. “How old are you anyway?”
“Seven,” Harry answered proudly.
“Seven?” the boy repeated in disbelief.
Sirius drifted down beside Harry with an unbearably smug expression.
“Natural talent,” he said. “Runs in the family.”
Harry beamed so hard his cheeks hurt.
Around midday, Sirius unpacked sandwiches from his bag while they sat high in the branches of a tree overlooking the clearing.
Then they flew again until Harry’s arms ached pleasantly and his hair was windswept beyond repair.
That evening, after his bath, Harry curled up beside Sirius on the sofa while the ginger cat stretched lazily across both their laps. Sirius opened the book about the wizard who had flown around the world on a broomstick and began to read aloud.
Sirius was brilliant at reading stories.
He did different voices for every character, becoming loud and dramatic during exciting parts and lowering his voice to a whisper during tense moments. Sometimes he waved his hands so enthusiastically that the book nearly flew out of his grip.
Harry laughed so hard at one of the voices that his evening hot chocolate that Sirius had made for them nearly came out of his nose.
By the time Harry began yawning repeatedly, Sirius closed the book with a smile.
“Bed,” he ordered gently.
Too soon, they were standing outside number four.
Harry’s backpack was stuffed with new comics, sweets from Honeydukes that couldn’t be bought in any Muggle corner shop, and the book about the wizard who flew around the world on a broomstick.
Harry hugged Sirius tightly around the middle and refused to let go for several long seconds.
“What if you just lived in the backyard as Padfoot?” Harry suggested hopefully against Sirius’s jacket. “Then technically I could still see you every day.”
Sirius huffed out a quiet laugh, but when Harry finally looked up, the smile on his face had faded a little.
Sirius knelt down so they were eye level and rested his hands gently on Harry’s shoulders.
“Harry,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t make much sense. And I know it isn’t fair.”
Harry looked down at the pavement.
“But you have to stay with your aunt,” Sirius continued. “She’s your family, and it keeps you safe.”
Harry nodded slowly. Sirius had explained it before, though Harry still didn’t entirely understand why safety had to mean Privet Drive.
“We had a good weekend though, didn’t we?” Sirius asked, nudging him lightly.
Harry looked back up. “The best.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Sirius smiled again, gentler this time. “And you’ve got the mirror whenever you want to talk. Doesn’t matter what time it is, alright?”
Harry nodded. “Alright.”
“And I’ll see you soon.”
“You’ll come back for my birthday?” Harry asked immediately.
“Of course I will,” Sirius said. “Only a couple of weeks away. I’m planning something big.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Would I lie about birthdays?”
“Yes,” Harry said instantly. “Last year you told me you’d bought me a dragon.”
Sirius looked offended. “And I maintain that the dragon exists, but it was an invisible dragon.”
“You said it was sleeping on the roof!”
“It could’ve been.” Sirius said with his classic grin that Harry knew meant he wasn’t being serious, “Then it flew away. You just couldn’t see because it was invisible.”
Harry laughed despite himself.
Then he hugged Sirius one more time, hard enough that Sirius nearly lost his balance. When Sirius finally pulled away, he ruffled Harry’s messy hair before walking him up to the front door.
“It’s not forever,” Sirius reminded him quietly.
Harry nodded as he watched Sirius knock on the door, and although the familiar dread of Privet Drive was already creeping back into his chest, it felt smaller now somehow.
Because this wasn’t goodbye for long.
And Harry had already started counting down the days until his birthday and whatever Sirius had planned for them.