"My son hates me."
The long days of summer were beginning to shorten, the golden evenings giving way to cooler nights as September crept closer. The Potter household, once a sanctuary of quiet routine, had been thrown into chaos over the past few months.
It wasn’t just the presence of Sirius—though that alone was enough to rattle the Potter’s household. The Unspeakables had taken to dropping by with alarming frequency, often unannounced, and always with cryptic demands or updates that left everyone on edge. Their visits were brief but tense, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere that lingered long after they were gone.
Ginny had taken to cleaning obsessively whenever they left, muttering about how the house didn’t feel like their own anymore. Harry had thrown himself into work during the day, often returning home late, only to spend his evenings reinforcing the protective wards around their neighborhood. The children, while curious about all the changes at first, had grown quiet and watchful, sensing the tension in their parents.
And Sirius—Sirius had spent most of his time pacing the house, restless and uneasy. He couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness as he thought of not knowing how Harry—the one from his home dimension—was doing.
Sirius was sitting on the back porch one evening, a cup of tea cooling in his hands as he watched the last traces of sunlight fade over the horizon. Ginny joined him a moment later, setting down a tray of sandwiches and sitting beside him.
“You don’t eat enough,” she said simply, nudging the tray toward him.
Sirius gave her a weak smile. “Neither do you, from what I’ve seen.”
Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through the warm summer air.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Sirius admitted finally, his voice low.
Ginny didn’t need to ask who he meant. “Your Harry.”
What with the constant danger that comes from being Harry Potter? Sirius was understandably worried about his godson’s fate considering the prophecy and what he had learned over the summer about his brother’s true fate.
“Once we find a way to send me back, I will do everything in my power to guarantee your son’s safety, but what about my godson? What will happen to him?” Sirius had been beyond anxious considering the limited knowledge he had learned happened to Harry when he was other Harry’s age. “I don’t want my Harry to be subjected the same way your husband had. I don’t want for that damned prophecy to force him into facing Voldemort on his own.” He started down at his tea. “He’s not much younger than your Albus, you know. He’s probably gearing up for his sixth year at Hogwarts—assuming everything’s the same in my world as it is here.”
Ginny glanced at him sideways. “You think the prophecy will find him too?”
Sirius’s hand tightened around the cup. “How could it not? Voldemort’s still out there. He’s still hunting for power. And Harry—my Harry—is apparently the only one who has a chance of stopping him. Just like yours had to.”
Ginny frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We don’t know for sure that your world is exactly like ours. There might be small differences that can have bigger impacts.”
“Maybe,” Sirius said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “But the prophecy makes it all feel too inevitable. No matter which version of Harry we’re talking about.”
It was later that evening, when the children were in bed and Ginny had gone to her study, that Sirius had gotten answers to some of the questions that had been lingering in his mind lately.
Harry joined him in the living room, looking exhausted but resolute, a stack of parchment tucked under one arm. He set it down on the table between them and sat heavily in the chair opposite Sirius.
“These,” Harry began, gesturing to the papers, “are records of everything that happened after you. . . after my Sirius died.”
Sirius stared at the pile, his throat tightening.
“If your world is like mine, then your godson needs you to understand what’s coming, what he might face, and how you might help him.”
Sirius hesitated, then reached for the first page. The words blurred together at first, his mind struggling to process the cold, clinical language of the Ministry’s reports. But as he read, the weight of what Harry had endured began to sink in.
The events of the Second Wizarding War were laid bare: Dumbledore’s death, the Horcrux hunt, the Battle of Hogwarts. The losses were staggering. There were names he recognized, people he cared about. But it wasn’t just the battles that haunted Sirius as he read. It was the smaller details, the ones that revealed the personal toll the war had taken on Harry. The isolation, the nightmares, the constant danger.
“I didn’t know,” Sirius said hoarsely, setting the page down and staring at Harry. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”
Harry’s expression was unreadable, his green eyes fixed on Sirius. “You weren’t there to know. That’s not your fault.”
“But it’s going to happen to him,” Sirius said, his voice rising. “To my Harry. If the prophecy finds him the way it found you—”
Harry leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Then you’ll be there for him. You’ll fight for him.” The way mine didn’t was left unsaid. But Sirius knew it was there.
Sirius shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. “I don’t want him to face that. I don’t want him to undergo insane challenges the way you did. To carry the weight you’ve carried. I can’t let that happen.”
Harry nodded. “Then I’ll do it.”
Sirius froze, staring at Harry as though he hadn’t heard him correctly. “What are you talking about?”
“If your Harry has to face Voldemort,” Harry said evenly, “then I’ll take his place. I’ll defeat Voldemort. I’ve done it before. It should be easier this time around.”
Sirius’s stomach dropped. For a brief moment, relief flickered in his chest—but it was quickly overshadowed by dread. “You can’t mean that,” he said.
“I do,” Harry said firmly.
“I can’t possibly ask that of you,” Sirius said, his tone came out harsher than he intended.
“You don’t have to, I volunteer.” Harry replied. “Once the Unspeakables figure out a way to send you back, I’ll go with you, and once we’ve destroyed all the horcruxes, I’ll fight him off so your godson doesn’t have to. Then I’ll take Albus back home.”
The conviction in his voice left no room for argument. Sirius stared at him, his chest tight, the enormity of what Harry was offering crashing over him like a wave.
“You say that like it’s your job to do alone,” Sirius said quietly after some time.
“What?”
“You said you’ll go to my dimension to stop Voldemort. You plan on doing that by your own?”
Harry sighed, “I’ve faced him off on my own plenty of times before, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He smiled slightly. “Besides, it’ll be nice to think that a version of me out there wouldn’t have to lose as much as I had.”
Sirius didn’t know what to say. For the first time in weeks, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosened, just a fraction.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with contradicting emotions. Why did it have to be either Harrys that had to face off Voldemort, though?
The winter holidays had arrived, bringing with them the usual flurry of activity in the Potter household. The first term of Lily’s fourth year at Hogwarts had flown by, and her return home was marked by a whirlwind of chatter about classes, Quidditch matches, and her friends. James, fresh from his first term at university, came back with tales of his adventures with Fred, his cousin and roommate.
Sirius sat in the Potter family’s cozy living room, watching as Lily Luna regaled him with yet another tale about her father. The girl was animated, her warm hazel eyes alight with excitement as she gestured wildly with her hands.
“. . . and then he went straight after the other Dark wizard—this big, scary guy—and took him down like it was nothing!” Lily Luna said, practically bouncing in her seat. “He was Jimmy’s age when it happened, too. Maybe even younger!”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, though he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Really? Your dad never mentioned that story.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Lily Luna replied matter-of-factly. “He never brags about anything. But Mum told me, and I looked it up. I’ll bet da’s the best duelist that ever lived.”
Sirius chuckled softly, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen where Harry was cleaning up after dinner. “He’s certainly one of the bravest I’ve known,” he admitted.
“He is,” Lily said confidently, folding her arms. “Nothing scares him.”
Sirius’s smile faltered slightly as her words sank in. He told himself it was good for her to think that. All children should feel safest in their parents’ care after all, the way he and Regulus didn’t in theirs. But the convection of which she believed in her father’s durability was a little jarring for Sirius. Not because he didn’t believe in Harry’s capabilities. On the contrary, the man never ceased to amaze him. It was simply in the way she, and even her brother, would phrase their descriptions of their father. It made Sirius wonder how much Harry was holding back from his own family.
Did they know the full extent of what he had endured? Or had Harry carefully shielded them from the darker truths of his past?
Half an hour had passed before Jimmy joined them, lounging casually in an armchair when Sirius asked him what he thought of his father.
“He’s unstoppable,” Jimmy said, his tone full of admiration. “Nothing phases him. You should see the way he takes down criminals at work—it’s like second nature to him. He doesn’t even break a sweat.”
Sirius nodded, but his mind lingered on their words long after they’d left to prepare for the celebration. Unstoppable. Unshakable. Unbreakable. The way Harry’s children spoke of him painted a picture of invincibility, a man who knew no fear and carried no burdens.
But Sirius knew better.
Harry’s strength was undeniable, yes, but it came at a cost. Sirius had seen the cracks in the façade. The moments when Harry’s exhaustion showed, when his haunted eyes revealed just how much he carried. It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t strong; it was that his strength was so often born of necessity, forged in the fires of a life filled with hardship.
While Lily Luna, Jimmy, and probably even Albus thought of their father as an unstoppable force, were they also aware of just how vulnerable of a man he was?
Later that day, the entire Potter family had gone to the Burrow, which had been the centerpiece of their holiday celebrations. This year’s gathering was particularly lively, with everyone eager to hear Jimmy and Freddy’s stories of university life and Lily’s recounting of Hogwarts gossip. Harry, however, had only stayed for part of the festivities. By the time dessert was served, he had excused himself, citing work, though Ginny’s knowing look suggested she understood the real reason for his early departure.
Back at home, Sirius was waiting. The Unspeakables had delivered their final instructions just days before, confirming that they had found a way to send Sirius back to his world—and giving him the vial that would stabilize Albus for the return journey.
With the plan nearly set, Harry had returned early to finalize the details with Sirius. But the weight of what lay ahead hung heavily between them, casting a shadow over their discussions.
“Alright,” Sirius said, leaning over the map spread out on the kitchen table. The Unspeakables had provided detailed notes on the veil and its mechanics, but Sirius’s sharp eyes remained fixed on Harry. “We’ve got the route figured out. The potion that will guarantee Albus a safe passage on the way back. Oh, and you’ll be sneaking through the veil with me.”
Harry, who had been pacing near the window, stopped and turned to face him. His posture was tense, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “It’s the only way. I need to see this through, for both of us.”
Sirius nodded, though his focus lingered on Harry’s face. There was a restlessness about him tonight, a nervous energy that Sirius hadn’t seen before. “You alright?”
Harry blinked, his expression guarded. “What do you mean?”
“You seem. . . off,” Sirius said, watching him closely.
“Just thinking.”
“About Voldemort?” Sirius asked.
“No.” Harry blinked again, his expression unreadable. “What makes you think that?”
“Figured it’s normal to be nervous about facing him again.” Sirius shrugged. “But if that’s not what’s been bugging you, then what is?”
Harry let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Well, it’s certainly not Voldemort.”
Sirius tilted his head, his brow furrowing, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. “Then what is it?”
Harry hesitated, dragging a hand through his messy black hair. Finally, he sighed and leaned against the window frame, his green eyes distant. “It’s Albus.”
Sirius’s frown deepened. “Your kid? What about him?”
“I’ve spent months preparing for this,” Harry said, his voice low. “Months convincing myself that I’ll be ready when we find him. That I’ll know exactly what to say to him. But the truth is. . . I’m dreading it.”
“Why?” Sirius asked, genuinely puzzled.
“My son hates me.” Harry answered simply.
“What?” Sirius said in disbelieve. “Whatever on earth makes you think that? Harry, he’s your son. Did you forget that his bloody Patroni is a stag exactly like yours? He’ll want to see you.”
Harry laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand, Sirius. Things between Albus and I—they weren’t good before he disappeared. And it’s my fault.”
Sirius straightened, his confusion turning to concern. “What happened?”
Harry hesitated, the muscles in his jaw tightening. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with guilt. “There were times I said things to him—things I shouldn’t have said. Things I didn’t mean. But they came out anyway.” He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like for example, my most recent failing was the time I. . . I told him I wished he wasn’t my son.”
The confession hit Sirius like an unexpected blow. In truth, it shouldn’t be this shocking to hear about a parent saying such things to their own child—hell, that was probably one of the least awful things Sirius’ parents had ever said to him—but to think someone as well-meaning as Harry could ever reduce himself to that level was downright surreal.
Considering what Sirius saw and heard from Harry’s other children, he could not imagine for a second that Harry would ever say something so horrid to any of them.
For a moment, Sirius could only stare at Harry, stunned. “You didn’t mean that,” he said firmly.
“Of course I didn’t!” Harry snapped, his voice rising. “But I said it. And I’ve apologized about it repeatedly because I think he believed it, and I think he still does.” His voice broke, and he turned away, sighing heavily. “Things had always been complicated between the two of us. No matter how much I try to be a good father to him, all I manage to do is to drive him further away. He says things that pisses me off so much that I, the bloody idiot that I am, always seem to fall for the bait—always get carried off with my own temper. I don’t have this problem with either of his siblings, and I don’t know why I always manage to screw up with him.”
Sirius felt a pang of sympathy and frustration twist in his chest. Watching Harry pace the room, shoulders hunched under the weight of his guilt, reminded him of James. Oh, how his best friend used to wrestle with problems far simpler than this. But this wasn’t a situation James would’ve faced, Sirius knew. This was Harry, battling demons far more personal and intricate.
“You’re not the first parent to mess up, Harry,” Sirius said quietly, his voice more measured now. “And you won’t be the last. My own parents were disasters, but you—you’re worlds apart from them. You care. You care so much it’s tearing you up inside.”
Harry paused mid-step. “But what does that matter if I keep screwing it all up? Caring doesn’t erase the damage I’ve done.”
Sirius stood, crossing the room to face him. “No, it doesn’t. But it’s the foundation for fixing it.” He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You’ve apologized. That’s a start. But if Albus still believes you meant those words, then it’s not enough. You have to show him.”
Harry looked up, his green eyes filled with doubt. “Show him what?”
“That you’re his dad,” Sirius said exasperatedly. “Not just some famous war hero or the Head Auror or the guy who’s always right. Your kids need to see that you’re human, that you make mistakes, and that you’re trying to fix them because they matter to you. Show Albus that he’s enough just as he is, even if you don’t always see eye to eye.”
Harry let out a bitter laugh. “You make it sound so simple.” He sank into the nearest chair, his hands rubbing at his temples. “It’s just. . . so much with Albus. He pushes me away every time I try to get close. And sometimes, it’s like he’s not even trying to be cruel, but he says things that cut deeper than he probably realizes.”
Sirius sat opposite him, his gaze steady. “What kind of things?”
Harry hesitated before answering. “I don’t know, things like accusing me of caring more about James and Lily than I do about him. That I only pay attention to him when he’s messing up. And I hate that I couldn’t immediately prove him wrong because maybe that’s how it feels to him. I’m always correcting him, always on edge with him.”
Sirius frowned. “Why do you think that is? Why is it so different with Albus?”
Harry shook his head, his hands gripping his knees. “I don’t know. Maybe. . . maybe it’s because he reminds me of me.”
Sirius’s eyebrows shot up but didn’t say anything.
Harry’s gaze became distant. “He doesn’t fit the mold, doesn’t want to. He’s got this chip on his shoulder, like he’s carrying the weight of the world but doesn’t want anyone to see it. And I recognize that, because that was me. That is me, even now. I look at him and see all the things I hated about myself at his age, and it scares me.”
Sirius let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “So you’re scared for him. Because you know how hard it is to carry that weight.”
Harry nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. And I don’t know how to help him without making things worse.”
Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “Harry, have you ever told him that? That you see yourself in him?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “No. I. . . I wouldn’t even know how to start.”
Sirius gave him a pointed look. “Start by being honest. From what I gathered about Albus, he doesn’t need you to be perfect. He needs you to be real. He needs to know that you see him—not just as your son, but as his own person. And if you’re scared for him, then just tell him that.”
Harry stared at Sirius, the words sinking in. He ran a hand through his hair again, letting out a shaky breath. “You really think one conversation can fix everything?”
Sirius smirked faintly. “Hardly. But it’s a start. And from what I’ve seen, when you decide to fight for something, you don’t stop until it’s done.”
Harry smiled weakly, a glimmer of hope breaking through his doubt. “You sound like Hermione.”
Sirius chuckled softly. “She’s usually right, isn’t she?”
Harry nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. She is.”
“Well, someone has to knock some sense into you,” Sirius teased, his tone lighter now. Then he sobered, his expression growing serious, well, he was always Sirius. He crossed the room, standing in front of Harry. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone steady but gentle. “You’ve carried the weight of the world on your shoulders since you were a kid. You’ve fought battles most people can’t even imagine. You’ve faced Voldemort, the ministry at its worst, and every bloody thing the world has thrown at you. But this—being a father? It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do. And yeah, maybe you said things you regret. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost him.” I believe in you.
Harry looked at him, his green eyes glistening. “What if it’s too late?”
“It’s not,” Sirius said with conviction. “It’s never too late to make things right. Not with people that matter.”
For a moment, the two of them allowed the silence to settle, the weight of the conversation hanging between them.
“We’ll find him,” Harry said finally, his voice steadying. “And I’ll make it right. I have to.”
Sirius gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That’s the Harry I know.”