Chapter 2
A Promise Given
Authors Note - Enjoy
……
Chapter Two
“I must say, darling, if you’d offered me a wager on not receiving a letter from Sirius Black today, I’d have taken it without hesitation,” Thomas Greengrass remarked, looking up from the letter his wife, Elizabeth, had handed him. They sat on their garden patio, enjoying the morning light over their vast estate, steaming teacups between them as they picked at a light breakfast. The head of the Greengrass family was, to say the least, surprised—but what intrigued him more was that the letter was addressed to his wife, not him.
“It seems he took my offer from Hogwarts quite literally,” Elizabeth chuckled, her blue eyes glinting with amusement. She was striking in her mid-thirties, her long golden hair flowing down to the small of her back. Despite having borne two daughters, the first of which was practically straight after Hogwarts, her graceful dancer’s frame remained intact. Their eldest, Daphne, had inherited her mother’s icy blue eyes and even brighter blonde hair, while their youngest was more like Thomas, with sandy locks and hazel eyes.
“So it seems,” Thomas mused, setting the letter down and sipping his tea thoughtfully. “I’m surprised he’s asked for this, though. Sirius and I hardly spoke at school, and even less after.”
“Likewise,” Elizabeth agreed. “But what do you think of his proposal?”
Thomas sighed, glancing back at the letter. “We would be compromising our neutrality by letting Harry Potter use our land for training. Surely, they must have other options?”
“Perhaps, but our grounds are heavily warded, especially with the ancient leylines beneath. It’s one of the safest places they could train without fear of being disturbed,” Elizabeth reasoned. “As for our neutrality, you know where I stand. Besides, it’s much like the first war—if the Death Eaters and Voldemort truly come after us they couldn’t get us here, they’d have to strike somewhere as fortified as the Ministry.”
Thomas nodded slowly. “True. And given everything that happened recently, they wouldn’t dare make that move anytime soon.”
A shadow crossed his face as he looked out over the estate. It had been his father who insisted they remain neutral during the first war. After his uncle was killed by Death Eaters early on, he thought it would protect them. A younger Thomas didn’t fully agree. It was fear that held him back then—and it was fear that held him back now, fear for the girls and his wife. The dark lord's followers were known to do cruel things to their victims, something he didn’t want to subject to his family.
Elizabeth’s expression grew more sombre. “To be honest, I’m afraid for our daughters. If the Dark Lord wins… what kind of future would they have? The Malfoys and Notts were bad enough when they had to hide their allegiances. If Potter fails, all of Britain could fall.”
Thomas was silent for a moment, knowing she was right. The first war had claimed the lives of many purebloods, not just half-bloods and Muggle-borns, despite what Voldemort’s supporters liked to pretend. Looking back down at the letter, Thomas weighed his options. It seemed absurd to pin their hopes on a sixteen-year-old boy facing Voldemort, but the alternative—his daughters living under a dark regime—was unthinkable.
“I suppose I have a letter to write, then,” he murmured.
“Only if you think it’s best, love,” Elizabeth replied, her tone soft and fond.
“Should we tell the girls?” Thomas asked, setting his tea down.
“I think it’s wise. I doubt Daphne would appreciate discovering Harry Potter flinging spells with Sirius Black in the meadows without any warning, would you?” Elizabeth chuckled, a lightness returning to her voice.
Thomas smirked. “No, she wouldn’t. Good point.”
…
As the Greengrass family mulled over their decision, across the countryside, a very different conversation was taking place in Diagon Alley.
Inside Madame Malkin’s, Harry Potter stood awkwardly on a fitting stool while a hovering tape measure zipped around him, taking measurements for his new robes. Sirius and Remus sat on a nearby plush bench, watching with quiet amusement as Madame Malkin bustled around Harry, muttering measurements to herself.
“I don't see why I need all this,” Harry mumbled, glancing at Sirius in the mirror's reflection. His old robes were a little worn and frayed at the edges, but they still fit well enough.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What, a godfather can’t spoil his godson a bit?” he replied, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Besides, it’s about time you had something that didn’t look like you wrestled it from a troll.”
Harry grinned faintly, rolling his eyes. “I’m used to it.”
“You’re used to rubbish,” Sirius said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve spent enough time in hand-me-downs that should’ve been burned. It’s time for you to have things that actually fit—and things you want.”
Remus nodded in agreement, sipping from a small cup of tea he had conjured earlier. “You might want to get used to this new life, Harry. Sirius has plans, and part of that involves making sure you don’t go back to the Dursleys or anyone else who’d force you to live in those conditions.”
Madame Malkin cleared her throat as she pinned up the hem of Harry’s new set of robes. “I have to agree, dear. You’ve been looking far too thin over the years. Those Muggle relatives didn’t feed you properly, did they?” she tutted, shaking her head disapprovingly.
Harry blinked, unsure of how to respond, and mumbled, “Er, I’m fine, really.”
“You will be fine,” Sirius interjected, winking at him in the mirror. “New robes, new life, new home. You’re going to get used to being taken care of for once.”
Harry turned slightly, letting the news sink in. His heart warmed at the idea of staying with Sirius permanently. No more Dursleys. No more cold, lifeless Privet Drive. It was still hard to wrap his mind around it all, but it was happening—really happening.
Madame Malkin finished up and stepped back, clapping her hands together. “All done, dear. Let’s get you out of those robes, and we’ll send everything up to the front.”
As Harry hopped down from the stool, Remus chuckled softly. “You’ll need more than just robes. Shoes, shirts, trousers…”
As they walked out of Madame Malkin's, the usual bustle of Diagon Alley seemed to slow. Shoppers, shopkeepers, and passers-by alike glanced curiously in their direction, some whispering behind their hands, others outright staring. Harry could feel the weight of their eyes on them as they made their way down the cobblestone street.
"Sirius Black," someone murmured from the side of the street. "Cleared, just last night, wasn’t he?"
“Look at him,” another voice whispered. “He doesn’t look like a man who spent years in Azkaban…”
Harry tried to ignore the muttering, focusing instead on not tripping over his own feet as they navigated the busy street. He glanced up at Sirius, half-expecting him to be bothered by the attention. But, to Harry's surprise, Sirius looked completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him.
"Let them stare," Sirius said lightly, catching Harry's glance. “Better to give them something to talk about than let them make things up. That and we are three handsome gentlemen …. Well two gentlemen and a ruffian” Sirius turned to smirked at Remus
“Says the mutt” Remus muttered in good nature.
Harry smiled faintly, but his attention was quickly pulled away by yet another whispered comment from a passing group of witches.
“That’s Harry Potter with him, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, I heard Black is his godfather! Where do you think they’re off to?”
Harry resisted the urge to pull his hood up and hide from all the attention. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed entirely in his element and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Well, what next do you think Remus?” Sirius asked brightly, casting a glance toward Remus, who had been trailing along quietly, his hands in his pockets, watching the crowds with mild amusement.
“Shoes?” Remus suggested, pointing toward Twilfitt and Tattings a few shops down the alley. “You’ll need new ones for those robes.”
“Absolutely,” Sirius agreed, not missing a beat. “And after that, I think a proper set of dress robes from the place as well, Harry. Can’t have you going to school next year looking like you just stepped out of a dragon’s cave.”
Harry groaned inwardly. “Do I really need dress robes? I barely wore the ones from fourth year.”
“Those were… functional at best,” Sirius said with a smirk. “No offense, but you looked like you were swimming in that thing. This time, you’ll get something properly fitted. Besides,” he added, nudging Harry playfully, “you might actually want to go to more than just the Yule Ball.”
“That’s what I said last time,” Remus chimed in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t I warn you back then, Harry? You’re bound to need proper dress robes eventually.”
Harry rolled his eyes, though his smile betrayed him. He had never been one for fancy things, but seeing Sirius enjoying himself like this—looking for all the world like a normal godfather on a shopping trip—he couldn't help but go along with it. This was what life should have felt like all along.
They stepped into Twilfitt and Tattings, and immediately, a tall, thin shopkeeper bustled over, eyes wide as she recognised the trio.
“Mister Black, Mister Potter, what a pleasure to have you in our shop today!” she exclaimed, bowing slightly. “And of course, Mister Lupin, welcome.” though the lady seemed a little wary around the latter, something that bothered Harry but Remus seemed not to be bothered.
Harry shifted awkwardly as she gestured them toward a row of polished display cases. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and though he could feel the stares of other customers lingering on them, Sirius seemed completely unruffled. In fact, he was enjoying it more and more each moment.
“Now, what can we help you with today?” the shopkeeper asked.
“Dress robes for my godson, of course,” Sirius announced, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Something practical but stylish.”
“And shoes,” Remus added, eyeing Harry’s rather worn trainers. “Perhaps something a bit more... suitable for the occasion.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes lit up as she began to pull out options, offering fabrics and colors Harry had never imagined for himself—rich greens, deep blues, and a surprisingly nice burgundy that Sirius seemed to particularly like.
“This is way too much,” Harry muttered under his breath, but Sirius caught the words.
“Too much? Nonsense,” Sirius replied, holding up a finely tailored navy set of robes to Harry’s frame. “It’s time you started enjoying things, Harry. There’s no reason to live with the bare minimum anymore. Besides,” he added with a wink, “think of it as an investment in your future.”
Remus snorted from beside him. “You’re spoiling him rotten.”
“And you don’t think he deserves it?” Sirius shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, I spent years stuck in a prison cell thinking about this—taking him out, enjoying life, giving him the things he’s always deserved. It’s about time we make up for lost time.”
Harry, for once, didn’t argue. There was something warm about the way Sirius spoke, something that made him feel like he belonged, not just as the Boy Who Lived but as a part of a family. Even as the shopkeeper piled more options in front of them, he found himself relaxing a bit.
“Alright, alright,” Harry conceded with a grin. “But no more shoes. This is it.”
“We’ll see,” Sirius said with a playful gleam in his eye, though Harry wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
As they continued their fitting, the onlookers outside the shop windows continued to murmur, but the trio paid them no mind.
For the second time that morning Harry stood awkwardly on a raised platform arms outstretched as a tailor measured him, pins in hand. His face flushed slightly as the shopkeeper fussed over the fabrics, but he remained patient, doing his best not to move while the tailor muttered about adjustments.
Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus were standing a little distance away, keeping an eye on Harry as they spoke quietly between themselves. Sirius leaned against a nearby display case, twirling one of the fancier-looking canes that had caught his eye, though it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere.
“So,” Remus began, glancing briefly at Harry before turning his attention back to Sirius. “Any word from Greengrass?”
Sirius smirked, eyes flickering with amusement. “Actually, yes. Got the letter this morning.”
“And?” Remus prompted, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“He's agreed,” Sirius replied, lowering his voice so only Remus could hear. “I suspect Elizabeth pushed him into it, though. The man’s wary, understandably. He’s worried about the safety of his daughters if they align too publicly, but… he didn’t exactly say no.”
“That’s something, at least,” Remus murmured thoughtfully. “The Greengrass estate is heavily warded, and it's secluded enough. It would make an ideal training ground with all that land. But are you sure we can trust them?”
Sirius nodded. “I think so. Thomas might have been neutral during the first war, but he’s no Death Eater sympathiser, and least from what I can tell. Besides, his wife is no bigot, she was very progressive at school, and she's got his ear. Plus, they’ve got too much to lose if Voldemort wins. Their daughters… They don’t want to see them subjected to the likes of Malfoy or worse.”
“I remember. Their eldest, Daphne, is in the same year as Harry.. Can you imagine the pressure? The Malfoys and the Notts will be circling like vultures for her hand if they can get it. But still, it’s not like they’re openly siding with us.” Remus replied “So that addresses that concern”
“No,” Sirius agreed, eyes darkening. “They’re keeping their neutrality for now. But I’ll take what I can get. At least we’ll have a safe, private space to train Harry.”
“Indeed” Remus agreed before looking over to Harry, a fond expression on his face. “How are you getting on Harry? Seems like you're already turning heads,” he teased, nodding towards the window.
Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “Great. Just what I needed,” he muttered.
Sirius, grinning like a Cheshire cat, clapped him on the back. “Enjoy it, Harry. Being the Chosen One has its perks, after all.”
“I’d rather not be famous for nearly dying every year, thanks,” Harry quipped, though his lips tugged into a reluctant smile.
“Ah, but you're surviving, and that's what counts,” Sirius replied. “Besides, you’ll have all those girls fighting over you in no time.”
“Merlin, no thanks,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’ve had enough trouble as it is.”
The tailor, still fussing over the final adjustments to Harry's robes, seemed blissfully unaware of the banter as he inspected his work. “There we are, Mister Potter. You’ll be the talk of Diagon Alley in no time,” he said proudly, stepping back.
“More like the topic of every headline,” Harry muttered under his breath, though he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with how well the robes fit.
Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance, Sirius added a mental note to request a meeting with a solicitor and the Daily Prophet soon, they weren’t getting away with how they treated Harry. “Well, if nothing else, you’ll be looking sharp,” Remus offered kindly.
“And you’ll need to be, considering what’s ahead,” Sirius added, his voice dipping slightly, though he maintained his usual upbeat tone. “However, I am rather hungry. What do you say about lunch?”
“I could eat,” Harry replied, his stomach growling in enthusiastic agreement.
“Indeed,” Remus concurred, smiling at Harry’s eagerness.
They found a cosy little café nearby, the warm aromas of freshly baked bread and simmering soups welcoming them inside. Sirius led the way to a table, and they settled in, looking over the menus. Again ignoring the blatant stares by the patrons.
As they waited for their orders, Sirius leaned in slightly, his expression turning a bit more serious and a flick of his wand indicated a privacy charm. “Harry, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he began, his tone shifting to one of importance. “I spoke to Remus earlier about a plan for your training this summer.”
Harry’s interest piqued, and he leaned forward, eager to hear what Sirius had to say. “What’s the plan?”
“Well, we might have access to a private training ground,” Sirius explained. “The Greengrass family— they have agreed to let us use their land for your training.”
“Really?” Harry asked, surprised. “Why would they do that and why not just train back home?”
“Because I helped his wife out back at Hogwarts, and they’re concerned about the future, just like we are,” Sirius replied. “They want to help but are limited, and using their property means we can train without worrying about anyone interrupting us. It’s safe and well-warded, importantly it's outside in the fresh air, Merlin knows I need it.”
Harry considered this for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought. “But doesn’t that put them at risk? If they’re seen helping me…”
“Only if someone finds out,” Remus interjected gently. “But Thomas Greengrass has his own reasons for wanting to protect his family and their future. They’re just as concerned about the Dark Lord as we all are.”
Sirius nodded, his expression earnest. “As much as Voldemorts wants you Harry this war affects our whole world. It’s about all of us, and if we can prepare you properly, it could make a difference. Plus, I think you’ll enjoy getting out of the house. It will be hard, but I need you to give it your all”
Harry’s expression softened at that. “I promise I will train as hard as I can”
“I know you will Harry,” Sirius said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll discover some hidden talents along the way. I’m looking forward to it, and I think you should be too.”
Their food arrived, momentarily distracting Harry from his thoughts. As the warm plates of steaming soup and fresh bread were placed in front of them, the atmosphere shifted back to light-hearted banter.
“Now,” Sirius said, taking a sip of his soup with a playful grin. “Let’s see if you can keep up with my impeccable table manners.” Harry chuckled, his appetite spurred by the morning’s shopping trip, and began to eat heartily.
“What sort of conditioning training are we doing exactly?” Harry asked between bites.
Sirius leaned forward, his expression serious. “Well, you need to put on a bit of mass, Harry. While magic doesn’t require a lot of physical effort, dodging attacks and fighting will definitely take it out of you. It’s going to be tough, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“Alright, I’m used to a bit of hard work from Quidditch at least,” Harry replied, determination sparking in his eyes.
“And you’re mighty good at it,” Sirius added. “I’m not saying you’re out of shape; I just want you to be at your absolute best with the war coming.”
“I understand,” Harry said, nodding thoughtfully as he returned to his meal. But a thought suddenly flickered in his mind. “Greengrass, as in Daphne Greengrass?”
“Yes, indeed! Do you know her well?” Sirius asked, his interest piqued.
“Er, not really,” Harry admitted. “She’s in Slytherin. We’ve had a few classes together, but I haven’t really spoken to her. The only thing I know is that she doesn’t hang out with Malfoy.”
“Well, I doubt you’ll see much of her at the estate. It’s a big place, and we’ll be training away from the house to avoid disturbing the family,” Remus added, reassuringly.
Sirius chuckled. “If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be quite pretty. So, how does she compare to Cho Chang, Harry?”
“Do you really have to bring her up?” Harry protested, his cheeks flushing slightly as laughter erupted from Remus.
…
“Harry Potter and Sirius Black, here at our home?” Daphne exclaimed, her icy blue eyes wide with disbelief. Her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her sharp features and giving her an air of poised curiosity.
“No, not at home, but they will be training in one of the fields,” Thomas clarified, his tone steady as he glanced around the elegantly furnished living room, where sunlight streamed through the tall Georgian windows, illuminating the rich, warm colors of the decor.
“Why?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“Our estate is heavily protected, as you know. Mister Black thought it would benefit Potter’s training to be away from prying eyes,” he explained, his gaze shifting to Elizabeth, who stood by the fireplace, her expression a mix of concern and resolve.
“Great idea. You might as well tell the Death Eaters you’re siding with Potter,” Daphne shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Well, they don’t know, but yes, I would prefer Potter to win the war. Wouldn’t you?” her father challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“Naturally,” she admitted, though her tone remained contemplative.
“Do you know the boy at all, Daphne?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Daphne shrugged, her confidence wavering. “Not really. I’ve only heard stories. He always seems to find himself in completely unbelievable situations. Plus, some of my housemates can’t stand him because he has a perfect record against them in Quidditch. But the Harry Potter I’ve seen doesn’t match the tales I’ve heard. He seems to shy away from the spotlight whenever he can.”
“A Gryffindor and a Slytherin in the same room usually leads to a wand fight,” she added, shaking her head in disapproval.
“Childish behaviour,” Elizabeth muttered, crossing her arms as she leaned against the mantel. “I can’t believe the school hasn’t cracked down on it.”
“It’s usually Draco to be honest. I used to think he was quite charming... until he kept goading Potter and ended up getting his arse—”
“Language, Astoria!” Thomas interjected, raising an eyebrow.
“Fine! His bottom handed to him,” she corrected, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“You thought Draco was… charming?” Daphne asked, a horrified expression crossing her face.
“Didn’t you?” Astoria shot back, a playful challenge in her tone.
“No! I can’t believe you did!” Daphne replied incredulously, her brows furrowing in disbelief.
“Girls, back on topic,” Elizabeth called out, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand before it spiralled into another sibling spat.
“Needless to say, do not tell anyone about Potter being here, and please refrain from disturbing his training,” Thomas instructed firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“You mean I can’t watch?” Astoria huffed, her disappointment evident.
“Why would you want to?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I heard he can cast a corporeal Patronus! If he can do that, what else do you think he can do? Plus, I heard Mister Black killed Bellatrix at the Ministry! I want to see what their training is like!” Astoria exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.
“Not the point! No, you can’t,” Thomas replied, shaking his head in exasperation.
“You never let me have any fun!” Astoria pouted, crossing her arms defiantly.
“I think I indulge you too much, actually. Anyway, that was the news; I just didn’t want any surprises,” their father finished, rising from his seat. “I’m going to check on the field I’ve allocated to make sure the wards and charms are in working order.”
“Can I come?” Astoria jumped up eagerly.
“If you wish,” Thomas smiled, and both father and daughter exited the room, Astoria’s chatter filling the air as they left.
“Are you sure about this, Mother?” Daphne asked, turning to Elizabeth, who gave her a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I don’t want you both to grow up in a world where the Dark Lord rules, Daphne,” her mother said softly, looking out the large Georgian windows that framed the rolling hills, now bathed in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. “If Potter using our land means he can become stronger and defeat you-know-who, then it’s something I feel we should do.”
“Do you actually think Potter can beat him? I know the stories, Mum. You-know-who killed senior Aurors like it was nothing, yet everyone thinks that a sixteen-year-old boy is going to do it?”
“People cling to hope, Daphne; they have done it since the dawn of time.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“That’s because I don’t have one. I hope he can do it, that’s all I know,” her mother said softly. Daphne felt a knot of worry form in her gut. Some of the Dark families’ children were quietly confident with the return of the Dark Lord bit had to play the game and keep silent in the her fifth year; she dreaded what they might be like now that he was confirmed as alive for the nation to see.
“How does Sirius Black know you?”
“He stopped a Bludger from nearly taking my head off in school; I think he had a fancy for me back then. I turned him down for a date but said I’d owe him a favour. Seems this was it,” she chuckled.
“Bet you wish the Bludger had hit you now.”
“Your father is glad it didn’t.”
……