Chapter 1
A Promise Given
Authors Note - Enjoy
……
Chapter One
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 them. 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.
…
The following morning, Sirius sat at the breakfast table, with Remus seated to his right, quietly reading the morning paper. The kitchen was unusually still, filled only with the soft rustling of pages and the occasional clink of a fork against Sirius’s plate as he half-heartedly picked at his eggs and toast. His mind wasn’t on the food—it was on Harry, who would be joining them soon. He had kindly asked everyone else to give them some space this morning. Molly had half-heartedly protested, fussing as she tended to do, but thankfully Arthur had intervened, steering her away with a knowing glance. Sirius was grateful for Molly’s care over the years, but he couldn’t help but feel this moment needed to be between him, Harry, and Remus.
“Well, it looks like Fudge will be out by tomorrow,” Remus remarked, not glancing up from the paper, his tone dry.
Sirius snorted. “No surprise there. You don't get to smear someone, deny clear evidence, and then let Death Eaters walk into the Ministry without facing consequences.”
“A shame, though,” Remus added, folding the paper and setting it down. “Would have been nice to watch him squirm a bit longer.”
Sirius smirked at that, but his attention soon drifted back to the parchment in front of him—Harry’s O.W.L. results. He had half-expected something dismal, especially after Dumbledore’s warning about the Ministry’s meddling. But as he skimmed through them, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Harry’s results were solid, impressive even, aside from a few minor slips in subjects that Sirius suspected had less to do with Harry’s abilities and more to do with… well, everything else the boy had been through.
Just then, the door creaked, and Sirius looked up as Harry entered the kitchen, his hair as wild as ever, sleep still clinging to his eyes. He blinked at the sight of Sirius and Remus waiting for him.
“Morning,” Harry mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he stepped inside.
“Morning, Harry,” Sirius replied with a warm smile, gesturing for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”
Harry shrugged, looking a bit unsure. “Better, I think. Just… a bit tired.”
“That’s understandable,” Remus said, his voice calm and reassuring. “A lot’s happened.”
Sirius pushed the plate of toast toward Harry, trying to keep things light for now. “You should eat. We’ve got something to talk about after.”
Harry hesitated for a moment but sat down at the table, reaching for a piece of toast. His eyes flicked curiously to the parchment in front of Sirius.
“Those are your O.W.L. results,” Sirius said, sliding them over to Harry with a small smile. “You did well. Better than I would’ve done with everything you’ve been through.”
Harry’s face flushed a little as he took the parchment and scanned it. Relief flashed across his features, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Not too bad,” he muttered, almost to himself.
“More than not too bad ,” Sirius said, his tone proud. “You should be proud of yourself, your parents would be especially so.”
Harry gave a small, grateful nod, but there was something else in his eyes—something heavy, lingering just below the surface.
Sirius took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them. He glanced at Remus, who nodded encouragingly, then turned back to Harry, whose curiosity was piqued by the serious tone.
“Before we talk about your results and next steps, I do have some news to share with you,” Sirius began, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.
Harry looked up, his brow furrowing slightly as he braced himself for whatever was to come. “What is it?”
Sirius swallowed hard, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. “I’m free, Harry. Officially. The Aurors got a confession from Peter Pettigrew last night.”
The moment hung in the air, the implications of Sirius's words settling slowly. Harry blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “You’re… free? Really?”
Sirius nodded, a smile breaking through the tension. “Yes! I’ve been pardoned. It’s all documented.” He reached for the parchment Dumbledore had given him, the proof of his freedom. “I’ll show you.”
As he handed over the paper, Harry’s fingers trembled slightly as he grasped it. His eyes darted over the words, searching for affirmation, and then flicked back to Sirius, wide with astonishment.
“And there’s more.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, and Sirius could see the mix of hope and apprehension in them. “More?”
“Yes.” Sirius leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re staying here, Harry. I’m your guardian now, well officially later today but that's a formality. You don’t have to go back to the Dursleys or anywhere else. You can stay here, with me and Remus.”
The relief that washed over Harry’s face was palpable. He looked stunned, as if he couldn’t quite process the weight of the news. “Are you serious?” he whispered, the disbelief clear in his tone.
“Absolutely. I want to be here for you. I want to train you and make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next. No more side-lines, Harry. You deserve better than that,” Sirius affirmed, determination threading through his words.
Harry’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as a wide smile spread across his face, illuminating the shadows that had lingered there for far too long. “I can stay with you? Really?”
“Really,” Sirius said, grinning back at him though a small piece of him broke inside that despite all the evidence before the young boy he still didn’t quite believe it and had to reassure himself. What a life this boy could have had early on! “We’ll figure it all out together. You and me against the world. You’ll finally have a place to call home.”
A wave of emotion crashed over Harry, and for a moment, he was speechless. The weight he had carried for so long—of loss, isolation, and the crushing reality of being alone—began to lift in front of him and Remus.
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Harry stammered, his voice thick with emotion.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Sirius replied, his own heart swelling with relief and joy. “Just know that you’re not alone anymore. You’re family, and I’m not going anywhere.”
The three of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the weight of the news fully settle in. Sirius beamed, his spirits lifted, and tucked into his breakfast with newfound vigor. Remus chuckled softly, sipping his tea, while Harry still sat stunned, absorbing the monumental shift in his life.
After a few hearty mouthfuls, Sirius straightened, clearing his throat to regain Harry's attention. “All right, let’s talk about your next steps. I’ve had a chat with McGonagall about your O.W.L. results.” Harry's eyes sharpened with curiosity as Sirius continued. “You’ll be dropping Divination, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Instead, I’ve suggested you take up Ancient Runes. If Professor Vector agrees, you’ll have some remedial work this summer.”
At first, Harry looked relieved at the prospect of dropping his worst-performing subjects, but then his brow furrowed at the mention of Ancient Runes. “Ancient Runes? But isn’t it a bit boring compared to Charms or Defense?”
Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “It might not sound as exciting, but trust me, it’s important. Many a wizard has met an unfortunate fate due to a rune structure breaking. Plus, it could be quite useful for your future career.”
Remus chimed in with a teasing grin, “Says the wizard who failed it spectacularly.”
Sirius shot him a mock glare and kicked him playfully under the table. “We are going to get you a new set of clothes, your a growing lad and need something thats your own so we are going out later this week to address that area. Next on the agenda: you’ll be training with Remus, Dumbledore, and me this summer.”
Harry’s eyes lit up with eager anticipation. “Really? What kind of training?”
“Defensive spells with Remus, the finer points of duelling and countering with Dumbledore, and conditioning with yours truly,” Sirius replied, a hint of mischief dancing in his gaze.
“Conditioning?” Harry echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“Fitness, Harry. Endurance, strength—be prepared to vomit a few times,” Sirius said, unable to hide his grin at Harry’s growing concern.
“Vomit?” Harry's face paled at the thought.
Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll thank me when witches start wanting to pull you into broom closets after these six weeks.”
Remus chuckled, adding, “Somehow, I think he will have that issue now he is the Chosen One, as per the newspapers.”
“Ah yes, in that case, I think some lessons on how to handle the fairer sex are in order,” Sirius replied, laughter bubbling up. He was determined to train Harry hard, but he didn't want to completely torture the poor boy.
“I do not need lessons on that!” Harry protested, his cheeks flushing.
“How is Miss Chang, by the way?” Sirius asked, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face.
“Really? You’re going there?” Harry replied, deadpan, his annoyance barely concealed.
Sirius laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You weren’t exactly being subtle about it.”
“Yeah, says the man who hasn’t spoken to a woman’ in what, fifteen years?” Harry shot back, causing Remus to spit out his tea in a roar of laughter, leaving Sirius momentarily speechless.
“You know, sometimes I wish you were a bit more like your mother,” he said with a hint of nostalgia before shoving another mouthful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Some time passed when the three discussed the finer details of the next few weeks when Harry eventually excused himself leaving the two older wizards.
“He’ll be alright, Sirius,” Remus said gently, collecting his plate from the table. His voice carried a quiet assurance, the kind that came from having taught Harry firsthand. “In his third year, he showed just how fast he can learn when he applies himself.”
Sirius sighed, his gaze lingering on the doorway where Harry had exited moments before. “I know, Remus. But learning quickly isn’t enough. He’s going to face Voldemort. A duel with him.... Many wizards, far more experienced than Harry, have tried and failed. Most are dead.” His voice grew heavier as he spoke, the weight of his godfatherly worries settling deep in his chest.
Remus placed the plate in the sink and turned to face Sirius, his expression soft but serious. “Harry has survived more than most already, you know that. The king of serpents, a hundred dementors, a dragon and a Veela at the Yule Ball”
“Surviving and winning aren’t the same thing,” Sirius muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. His mind raced back to the memory of the duel in the Ministry — Dumbledore standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort, a battle of equals, or as close as anyone could come. “Albus held his own, but even he... I think his age might be slowing him down. And Voldemort... Voldemort’s more powerful than ever.”
He trailed off, a shadow of fear creeping into his voice. Harry was brave, undeniably so. But bravery alone wouldn’t be enough against the Dark Lord’s skill and experience. Voldemort wasn’t just older — he was far more practiced, more ruthless, and, most concerning of all, utterly relentless.
Remus stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “The training we put him through will make a difference. Harry will rise to the occasion, just as he always has. But he doesn’t need to match Voldemort’s power, Sirius. He has something far more important — something Voldemort doesn’t understand.”
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.”
……