Oh home, let me come home

On Halloween 1981, Sirius Black dressed up as Freddie Mercury and Remus Lupin as Indiana Jones.

They couldn't join any party or go out to the pub to drink, so they decided to stay home and watch some horror movies while eating a cheap bag of candy. They listen to some tunes on their wireless, then talk some more. Sirius made them some fizzy drinks with pumpkin juice, and Remus poured some Firewhiskey shots.

They were both trying to distract each other from the fact that they were missing James and Regulus.

Under a Fidelius charm, staying away from London, James and Regulus spend their Halloween doing Merlin knows what. Probably, Sirius thought, the same as us. Watching some kid-friendly movies, dressing up in silly costumes despite no trick-or-treater showing up at their door. Coddling Harry, whose bedtime was approaching, and after putting the little gremlin in bed, James would call them to catch up, although there was nothing to catch up with. The next morning, Regulus would call them to keep up with last night's lack of gossip, and then, another day would start.

Sirius missed them both painfully. His only comfort was knowing they were safe, all three of them. Moments like this, where Sirius could picture a different universe where You-Know-Fucking-Who didn't exist, pained him. James and Regulus could be right here, too. James dressed up as David Bowie, singing with Sirius while Remus recorded the performance so he could make fun of them later.

Peter would be here too, pouring deathly alcoholic drinks, and Regulus would dance with Pandora and Lily. Mary, Barty, Dorcas, and Marlene would probably start some drinking game and drag them all into playing.

Everything would be fine.

In this scenario, Harry sleeps in the guest room, unaware of the noise around him and drooling. They are happy. No one is holding death's hand.

But Sirius doesn't live in that universe. He is in this one, where You-Know-Who is wandering the streets at night looking for his next victim, terrorizing both the wizarding and muggle London and leaving behind a scent of death and blood whenever he goes.

"What time is it?" Remus asked once the credits of the movie they're watching start to roll, "James told me they were calling not later than 9:00."

His Tempus charm showed it was almost 10:00. Usually, Sirius wouldn't worry about the time. James wasn't exactly the most punctual person out there, and if you throw Harry into the mix, he rarely calls on time. The reasons are countless: It could be due to Harry refusing to go to sleep and keeping them up all night. Or Harry went to bed early, and James and Regulus hit the sack without letting anyone else know.

"I bet you five galleons James gave Harry too much sugar behind Reg's back, and now he can't put him to bed," Sirius replied, taking a swig of his drink.

"I'm not taking that bet," Remus said, his brow furrowing.

"It's cause you know I'm right."

"Now, Sirius, why are you...?"

In a flash, Sirius's mind filled with only one thought: Potter's Cottage in Godric's Hollow, West Country, England.

The realization hit him as a punch in the stomach, leaving Sirius breathless. It only took one second, but he could picture perfectly the cottage James and Regulus had put under a Fidelius charm. He saw the small gate with well-cut hedges, the four tall windows on the front, and the chimney. If Sirius could remember all of this, it meant only one thing.

Barty Crouch Jr was dead. Or he has betrayed his brothers.

"Moony..." Sirius said in a breathy whisper, "Something has happened."

"I'm fire-calling Moody right now. You need to..."

"I have to go. I need to see both are okay," Sirius interrupted him, "They might need help, Moony. I need to go."

"Sirius, don't. We don't know what happened." Remus insisted, "Let's call reinforcements first. You won't help anyone if you don't clear your mind first."

"Remus, they are my brothers!" Sirius yelled, losing his patience, "If something has truly happened, they don't have time! Harry could be in danger."

Remus stayed quiet.

They were losing time.

He grabbed Sirius in a swift hug, trying to keep him steady for barely a second before letting him go.

"Be careful, love, please," was the only thing he said.

On Halloween 1981, Sirius Black apparated in Godric's Hollow too late. The only life Sirius knew was worth living ended in a flash of green light.

--------------------

It only took him ten minutes for Remus to arrive in the company of Alastor Moody, Rubeus Hagrid, and a team of the best Aurors in the force. But he had feared it was too late, especially when he hadn't received any news from Sirius by then. Not even a quick Patronus telling him everything was alright.

That everything was just a false alarm.

The people in the Ministry were in shambles. Rumors were going around between the employees that Voldemort was missing, and Death Eaters had started fleeing the country. Remus couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing. Maybe something awful has happened to the dark side.

Maybe this bad feeling inside his chest would disappear soon. Once he saw James and Regulus again, he would be fine.

He thought so, but Remus Lupin was wrong.

The bad feeling in his chest kept growing, feeding itself with all the ominous warnings around Godric's Hollow. Empty streets. Silence in every corner. Every post's lights out.

The Potter's cottage door was open.

When Remus walked in, ignoring Moody's warnings, the first thing he saw was James lying on the floor. His eyes were wide open, but he wasn't breathing. James wasn't wearing a costume, despite what Sirius thought early today. Death knocked at his door while he was already in his pajamas, putting Harry to bed.

Remus remembered how hard he cried on his last night at Hogwarts. The uncertainty of his future with the war brewing outside the castle made him believe that life as he knew it was truly over.

He had always tried to be brave. He needed to be. But that night, surrounded by Sirius's arms and hiding in the crook of his neck, Remus allowed himself to cry his heart out. He cried until his fears dried out, and no more tears poured out.

Back then, Remus thought nothing out there in the world would make him cry as much as he did that night.

The sight of James Potter, dead in his own home, proved him wrong.

Remus' throat knot itself. He wasn't able to reply to the Aurors outside Potter's cottage, who were asking over and over if everything was fine.

Remus wanted to scream that nothing was fine. Everything was wrong and awful, and how come something so terrible happened to them? His legs were shaking, and for a moment, it seemed he might pass out.

Then he saw in the corner of the living room the toy broomstick Sirius had gifted Harry last summer. Suddenly, his sorrow and sadness turned into an inherent need to see Harry, like a Lumos charm sparking a faint light in the middle of the darkness of his mind.

He's fine, Remus repeated himself. He's fine, he's fine, he's fine, he's fine.

Remus ran upstairs towards Harry's nursery when he saw what he feared most.

Sirius was holding Harry with one arm, resting his head on his shoulder. Thankfully, Harry seemed physically fine. He wasn't wailing or crying, but the wet marks over his rosy cheeks told Remus he had just calmed down. There was also a soft pink bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead that he had never seen before. It was new, but it seemed to have healed quickly.

What has happened? Remus thought, but he didn't have any time to keep investigating. Not when Sirius's other hand was holding Regulus's.

Regulus, his little brother. Who also wasn't moving or breathing.

This isn't happening.

"He's fine," Sirius said in the coldest voice Remus has ever heard, "Regulus is fine."

"Sirius..."

"He's not dead," Sirius insisted, "He can't be. He's my little brother. He can't be dead. Reggie is just, uhm, he's just...."

Remus wouldn't make him acknowledge what was happening right now. Not when Sirius was in such a state of shock. He did the best next thing: He sat at his side, took Harry from his arms, and held him. He held them both.

"I'm so sorry, love," Remus whispered, "I'm sorry."

Raising Harry wasn't an easy task at first. No matter how much babysitting they had done in the past, it was very different from having the baby all the time. The first nights were the hardest. When Harry cried all the time for both Daddy and Papa, wailing and refusing to settle down for anything. Nor nap time or breakfast. Even cartoon time was a no-no. Despite how much they tried to, there was no simple way for Remus and Sirius to explain to him what happened.

Back then, all the newspapers were filled with news of that night, calling Harry "The Boy Who Lived" and other names. Wizarding London's most respectful newspapers have written several long front-page articles and special op-eds with such detail it scared Remus. Things calmed down for a little while, and then, more articles were written when Barty Crouch Jr, Harry's own godfather, was arrested after killing their friend Peter Pettigrew and 12 muggle bystanders in a blast.

And that wasn't his worst crime. Alongside murder, he went to Azkaban for treason against the Potters, the treason that led them to their death.

After so much loss and war, Remus found some small comfort in raising Harry. In making sure he was fine and healthy, growing up in a loving home, and knowing that, despite what happened, he had two parents who loved him more than anything to the point that they were willing to die for him.

Remus thought they were doing a fine job in caring for Harry. That's it until Harry turned five.

Remus woke up completely sore. His muscles protested at the minimum movement, and despite sleeping the whole day away, he was still feeling dizzy. Over the years, Remus had become somewhat of an expert on dealing with a full moon transformation and still being a functional adult in the morning. However, today, Remus couldn't even get out of bed.

"Daddy Moony," a little voice whispered in his ear, tickling, "Daddy Sirius made pancakes! Hurry up and get up!"

It wasn't the news of a freshly-made batch of Sirius' pancakes that made Remus sit immediately. It was the newly appointed name Harry had given them.

"Hold on a second, Haz," Remus started saying but Harry interrupted him.

"No, Daddy Moony!" Harry said, running towards the door, "We hafta go!"

That was going to be a problem, Remus thought.

He tried not to be unfair to Sirius, but Remus knew exactly how Sirius would react to these new names, and his reaction wouldn't be pretty. Nothing against Harry, of course, but Sirius isn't going to accept the title of Dad any day soon. He was adamant and stubborn that, no matter what, James and Regulus were the only dads Harry had ever had.

Remus agrees, of course. He was the one who made their altar on a shelf, pulling out all of James and Regulus' pictures that Sirius kept. Candles decorated the pictures with freshly picked flowers that Harry chose. Every morning, either Remus or Sirius makes sure that Harry at least says hello or goodbye to his dads before going to school. And, on the hard days when Harry refuses to speak with anyone, they encourage him to at least talk to his dads through their pictures.

Their house is full of James and Regulus' memories. Harry understands that. Well, as much as a five-year-old can. Remus and Sirius had never tried to replace them. Simply, it was a complicated situation.

"Good job, Haz!" Sirius called out, giving Harry a high-five, "You made him get out of bed. I think someone deserves extra syrup on his pancakes for that!"

"Please, don't," Remus pleaded, "He's been so energetic lately. Extra sugar won't help."
Remus gave Sirius a quick peck on the lips before helping himself to a plate of pancakes, sausages, and eggs. The pot of coffee was brewing, and the whole house smelled like strawberries, probably from the pancakes.

The morning was going well. Remus was worrying for nothing.

"Can I have some milk?" Harry asked.

"What do we say?" Sirius prompted.

"Please, Daddy Sirius."

Sirius dropped his spatula.

Ah, it seems Remus spoke too soon.

Maybe, he thought, if we don't make a big deal out of this, everything will be alright. Remus poured some milk into Harry's glass and tried to continue his morning as if nothing was happening.

"Harry, darling, you know I'm not your daddy," Sirius spoke softly, "I'm your uncle, remember? You have your own daddy and papa."

"I know!" Harry said, "Ms. Amy teached us the other day about families and how they are all different."

"Taught us, love," Remus chirped in.

"And some kids had two daddies and two mommies. I told Ms. Amy that I have four!" Harry said, "Cause Daddy and Papa are in Heaven, but they left me with my Daddy Sirius and Daddy Moony."

"That's because we're your uncles, my love," Sirius insisted, but Harry kept shaking his head.

"Ms. Amy says your daddies are the ones that make you breakfast, take care of you, and love you no matter what," he explained, "You and Moony are my daddies."

In Harry's head, it was all logical. A soft pang of pain hit Remus's heart upon admitting it. He could see Harry's way of thought, and it was simply because he couldn't remember James and Regulus.

Harry knew the stories and saw the pictures but doesn't remember living them. He can no longer remember how James made his bath time so fun or how Regulus made cute plates of baby food and played airplane spoon with him. Remus and Sirius' memories had outlived them. That was its very own tragedy.

"Haz, how about we eat breakfast in front of the telly? As a treat for being such a good boy today," Remus said, grabbing his cutlery before Harry could protest, "Let me talk to, uh, Daddy Sirius real quick, okay, love?"

"Is Daddy Sirius alright?"

"He's fine. We need to have a boring, grown-up chat before the food gets cold. In the meantime, you get to enjoy The Moomins."

Once Harry settled with the TV on, Remus grabbed Sirius' hand and dragged him to the hallway, where he could still watch Harry without him listening.

"He called me Dad," Sirius choked out.

"I know, but he doesn't mean it in the way you think he does," Remus tried to explain, "He knows James and Regulus are still his dads. We are just an additional set."

"Then why does it feel like we're replacing them?" Sirius sounded so hurt. Remus engulfs him in a tight embrace, trying to comfort him somehow, "They loved him so, so much. He needs to remember his dads are still here with us."

"He does," Remus insisted, "And one day, he'll understand better. For now, let's not complicate his mind any further."

"I don't... I don't feel deserving of being his dad," Sirius confessed.

Everything around them halted for a moment. Even Remus, with his enhanced senses, couldn't hear anything that wasn't the speed at which Sirius' heart was beating.

"Harry is such a good kid," he said, "I want to give him everything James and Reggie would have."

"And you are, Sirius," Remus said, grabbing his hands, "There is no doubt in my heart that James and Reg are so proud and pleased with you for loving Harry so much."

The way Sirius's shoulder hunched and the sadness returned on his face made Remus want to keep talking and talking to erase it all. Once the words were out, Remus couldn't stop all the praises and sweet nothings from pouring out.

"You are doing an excellent job, sweetheart, and Harry loves you so, so much," Remus added, "There is no one more deserving of being Harry's dad than you. Now let's go out, eat breakfast with our kid, and watch The Moomins with him."

Harry didn't notice anything was amiss. He scooted over so Sirius and Remus could place their plates next to him and turned the volume up, not before reminding his Daddy Sirius about his promise of extra syrup in his pancakes.

Things were going to be okay.

Despite all their worries, the cute names didn't last long.

Over the years, Harry stopped being a toddler who would stumble and call them Daddy Sirius and Daddy Remus. By the time Harry received his Hogwarts letter, Sirius and Remus had become mostly Dad. It was expected, of course. Harry was no longer the chubby little baby he used to be. Now, he was a kid on his way to Hogwarts. A hyperactive, energetic, prone-to-trouble kid.

That doesn't mean Remus loves him any less. Harry is, and will always be, the most important person in Remus' life. He has sworn to protect him against everything and has done his very best to make sure Harry doesn't lack anything.

But Remus would admit that he feels somewhat relieved that now, Harry is going to cause trouble only in Hogwarts. He'll be safer there, Remus thinks. Didn't we all?

"I can do it by myself!" Harry said, pointing at the entrance of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "I'll see you guys after the fitting."

Remus didn't fight him on this. So far, they have already gotten his wand, books, and the rest of the equipment. Sirius had no limits on the expense, getting only the best of each thing for his nephew. The only thing missing right now were robes, something Harry insisted on getting himself. He was probably shy about the fitting, so Remus didn't press on the subject. Also, some time alone would be the perfect excuse to get the owl Harry had been not-so-subtly hinting that he wants.

"Ow, c'mon Sprong," Sirius teased, "Don't you want us to walk you to the store? We can hold your hand and..."

"SEE YOU LATER, DADS!" Harry yelled, cheeks red.

Remus chuckled at Sirius' bewildered face. He then held his hand and walked to the Eeylops Owl Emporium. They had spotted a beautiful, white owl at the entrance that Remus was sure Harry would love.

"We had raised a brat," Sirius wailed, "Did you see how he talked to me? Not wanting to hold my hand, doing things on his own..."

"Oh, now, Padfoot. It's not so bad, is it? He's growing up. Kids do that," Remus replied, "He's a good kid. Besides, it could be worse. Be grateful he hasn't brought home a girlfriend or boyfriend yet."

Harry had plans, alright?

He knew he had to walk alone, with no one else, to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions as soon as he saw a cute blonde boy walking alone too. So he had to ditch his dads so he could have a conversation with that boy.

The only problem was, now that they were standing next to each other, prod by needles and pins, Harry completely froze. He didn't know what to say at all. He knew from his dads' stories that his dad James was quite good-looking and extremely charismatic, like dad Sirius. And his papa Regulus was exceptionally beautiful, with a little harsher personality but charming at the same time.

It seems that, in this very dire moment of need, Harry didn't inherit any of those qualities and didn't bother to learn either from his dad Sirius, so he was forced to watch from the sidelines how the blonde kid was being fit into his robes without saying a word.

"Hello," said the boy. Finally, "Hogwarts, too?"

With that, Harry unfroze.

The sunlight coming from the windows made the boy's platinum hair gleam, contrasting his cold gray eyes. With sharp features and a pale complexion, he didn't seem to have been out much in the sun. That didn't stop Harry from thinking he was so, so pretty.

There was an ongoing joke between his dads that when dad James saw Papa for the first time, he was set in stone on marrying him. Something dad Sirius didn't like, like at all.

"He used to say that all the time," Dad Remus once told him, "That he was going to marry Reg, and they'll be happily ever after. For all his teasing and jesting, he did accomplish it in the end."

Harry was going to marry that boy, too. He just knew it.

"Um," the kid said again, and Harry realized he was just staring at him without replying, creeping him out. Probably.

"Right! Sorry, erm, yes. Hogwarts, too." He finally answered, "I already got most of my supplies, just left the robes for last."

"Oh, same here!" The kid replied, "After this, I'm going to Quality Quidditch Supplies to see the new racing brooms. It's a shame first years can't own one or play at all!"

"I know," Harry agreed, "As soon as we're allowed to, I'm signing up for my house's team!"

"Which house do you think you'll be in?"

"Hard to say... one of my dads was a Gryffindor, and the other was a Slytherin. It could go either way, I guess."

"That's it! You're done, my dear," Madam Malkin said, taking the kid's robes out of his head.

No, please. Not so soon, Harry thought. Not when they were finally talking. The boy hopped down from the footstool and grabbed the brown bag with his new robes with a dashing smile. Harry melted.

"Well, hope to see you at Hogwarts," The boy said, extending his hand for a greeting, "My name is Draco, Draco Malfoy."

Harry jumped at the opportunity, holding Draco's hand a little energetically.

"I'm Harry. I look forward to seeing you soon."

Later, when he reunited with his dads, Harry chose to keep his little encounter a secret. He intended to boast about it when they became boyfriends. For now, he could wait.

When Harry left for Hogwarts as a first year, he made two promises:

One, to dad Sirius. Regardless of which house he ended up in, he promised he would leave a mark as a notorious prankster, just like the rest of his family.

Second, to dad Remus. He will not cause too much trouble. And, if he did, he wouldn't get caught. That's it. He didn't ask for more.

He was already failing one of those promises.

As a Gryffindor, Harry prided himself in being brave and determined, just like his dad James. He and Hermione focused on their homework so Harry wouldn't get another passive-aggressive letter from Dad Remus about the importance of studying and how, no matter the size of his inheritance, he couldn't follow in Dad Sirius's footsteps by pretty much not doing anything.

Fortunately, Ron was there to put a balance on things. Ron and he wandered around Hogwarts after curfew with an invisibility cloak he found that apparently was from Dad James. Harry had already sent a letter asking about it.

Also, there was a personal mission of pursuing Draco Malfoy, who didn't want anything to do with him because their first meeting at Hogwarts was severely blinded by a rivalry between him and Ron.

"Harry! So nice seeing you so soon," Draco had said, all smiles on the steps at the entrance of the castle, "How was the train ride to you? If you asked me, it was terribly dull. Not even the chocolate frogs made it worthwhile."

But before Harry had any chance to answer, Ron beat him to it.

"Malfoy? Have you met him before?" He asked Harry.

"Is there any problem with that?" Malfoy replied, leaving Harry again with an open mouth, trying to answer.

"Isn't your father a Death Eater sympathizer? I heard all sorts of stories about how he claimed to be Imperius during his service to You-Know-Who!"

The chatter around them slowly started to die, and it wasn't because of the newfound presence of a tall, black-haired, stern professor approaching. Now, every single first-year student focused on their conversation.

"Not that I need to explain myself to you, of all people, but I haven't lived with my father for the last ten years." He quietly replied. He sounded so cold despite the pink color on his cheeks, clearly embarrassed about the conversation, "Now, if you excuse me, I'd rather not talk to you again soon. Neither of you."

Harry was stunned. He didn't blame Ron's knee-jerk reaction to Malfoy's presence. From their conversation earlier in the compartment, he knew Ron wasn't very fond of families with dark wizards. But, according to what Draco said, he was no longer related to them. And if there was something Harry knew with certainty, it was that everyone deserves a second chance. People make mistakes all the time.

The only thing he sorely regrets now is that Draco won't even spare a second glance at Harry, clearly offended still at their conversation. Despite that, he was not discouraged, although it made things harder for him. Especially since they weren't in the same house.

Anyway, back to his main problem.

The day before Christmas break, Harry decided to wander around the empty halls of the castle after curfew without telling anyone about it. Ron and Hermione were returning home for the holidays, so their research on Nicholas Flamel would be suspended. Except that Harry was planning on searching more in Dad Sirius's library.

But during his wandering and reflection, Harry lost his path back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Also, he could hear footsteps approaching.

Not waiting around to see if it was Filch or Professor Meadowes coming his way, Harry hid in the closest classroom he could find.

And what he found was probably something out of his darkest, deepest, and most hidden desires in his heart.

Harry saw two people staring at him in the reflection of a gold-framed, tall mirror. A magnificent mirror hidden inside a classroom where anyone could find it. At first, Harry thought he had been caught and bit his tongue as hard as he could, so he wouldn't scream. He was still wearing his cloak, after all. But after getting closer, he realized the two people the mirror was showing were neither Filch nor Professor Meadowes.

The first one was the tallest of both of them. With a head full of messy brown curls like Harry, and was waving excitedly at him. The second one was a little shorter, with dark gray eyes and dark hair, very similar to Sirius.

Harry recognized them immediately. He had seen their pictures every morning on the shelf where Dad Remus made their memorial. Harry used to speak to them, telling them all about his day in muggle school. Sometimes, Harry would say nothing and just stare at the picture, seeing his parents happy and joyful. On other days, harder ones, he would kneel next to Sirius and join him in some silent prayers, hoping with all his heart that his parents were truly listening.

"Papa?" He quietly whispered, "Dad? Are... are you there?"

The reflection didn't respond, but Harry didn't care. He kept staring at them with wide eyes, feeling an ache he thought wasn't possible.

Harry never lacked anything, that's true. Dad Sirius enjoyed spoiling him, giving far too many galleons every time a tooth fell out his mouth, and then making whatever Harry desired for breakfast. He also gave cuddles away, even when Harry didn't need them. Among his favorites were a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls, a big, warm hug, or a quiet embrace.

Even though Dad Remus had a different love language, he made sure Harry always knew how much he was loved, too. Some of his love actions were making him hot cocoa every winter night, checking on him after bedtime to make sure he was still wrapped in his blankets, and giving in to watching telly during dinner.

Harry loves his dads; he truly does. No one out there could say otherwise.

But he couldn't deny a tender sting in his heart every second he looked at his dads, almost as if they were right here with him. Dad Remus and Dad Sirius had never made him doubt their love for him, always with big gestures and proclamations of how important Harry was in their lives. He had never felt unwanted or unhappy.

How could he, when every day he was surrounded by the people who loved him the most?

And despite his apprehensions at first about going to Hogwarts, afraid he would end up alone and friendless, he had discovered new friendships in every corner of the castle. Beyond the fame and his family name, he knew he finally had friends who truly enjoyed his company. He was extremely lucky. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a grief he thought was long buried. Harry couldn't stop the tears from flowing, wanting nothing more than a hug from his parents.

He didn't know what the mirror was for. It could be either an artifact that allows people to see their dead ones or a newer version of magical pictures. The only thought that filled Harry's mind was his enormous desire to have Dad Remus and Dad Sirius with him right here so that, for the first time, his family could be complete.

"Listen, kid, when Dad Remus and I said we wanted you to do pranks and all that, we didn't mean go around chasing a fucking dark wizard inside the castle. Did you hear me?" Sirius said, half-mad and half... proud?

"I've never endorsed pranks, just so you know," Remus replied. Then, he crouched down, "Harry, next time you find yourself in a similar situation, kindly send an owl for help. You are not alone, love."

"He's never ever getting himself involved in any similar situation!" Sirius yelled, "Harry, you'll send me to an early grave if you keep doing that."

After the whole, erm, situation with Professor Quirrell, Harry knew his dads wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. He tried with all his might to understand his worries, but they were pointless! Everything worked out in the end, no one got seriously injured, and best of all, his House won the Cup!

"I didn't mean to!" Harry explained again, "It was one of those situations where you had to act first, think later. I thought Professor Meadowes was on to resurrect the Dark Lord! What was I meant to do?"

"Oh, please. Dorcas would've never done that," Remus said, so sure of it. Well, he wasn't there to see it! Harry was fully convinced that the Professor hated him. "You would've known it too if you had sent an owl at the beginning of the year. How much trouble you've saved."

"As Dad Remus said, you could've sent an owl to explain that!" Sirius cried, "Oh, this is my karma. This is what I get for being a troublemaker in Hogwarts. I'm so sorry to my dear brothers. If they could see Harry right now, what would they think of me?"

While Sirius went on and on, lamenting about Harry's actions, he and Remus shared a playful smile behind Sirius' back. On any other day, both of them would try to make Sirius stop his charade of being the most dramatic person alive, but for today, they would let it slide. Before making their way back to the King's Cross Station, Harry said his goodbyes to his new friends, promising to write tons of letters during the summer. While doing so, he felt a pointed look on him. A pair of gray eyes were looking at him, and as soon as Harry sent a smile towards Draco, he quickly looked away, cheeks red.

Maybe there was some hope left after all.

Harry was so sure of it.

Until the second year started.

Harry wasn't actively looking for trouble, alright? It seems, however, that trouble always finds its way to him. He had promised to both his dads, over and over, that this time, as soon as he got a bad feeling about any dubious thing going around the castle, he'd send an emergency owl to them.

The thing is, he didn't know anymore what counted as dubious. Peculiar house-elf following him around? He could deal with that. Accusations of him being the Heir of Slytherin? He wasn't even a Slytherin, so. Draco acting weirdly jealous every time Harry spoke to Ron's youngest sister? That one was worthy of sending a letter. So Harry wrote a long-length letter asking for dating advice from his Dad Sirius, wondering how he convinced Dad Remus to date him during their Hogwarts days. The reply he received was, for lack of a better word, underwhelming.

Dear Harry,
The fact that I made Remus fall in love with me doesn't mean I know how I did it. My only advice is don't be like your father and make the kid hate you first before liking you.
With love,
Dad Sirius

Ron and Hermione were above his shoulders reading the response, but Harry was the only one who stayed speechless even after re-reading it six more times.

"If you really want Malfoy to like you, maybe send some flowers?" Ron said, shrugging.

"You could also try to get to know him better, find some common ground, and make a friendship first before trying to date him," Hermione also said, sighing in disbelief.

Harry decided to drop the subject for the moment, adjusting his fingerless gloves for the upcoming Quidditch match. He kept the letter in his pocket, promising to himself to study later. Maybe there was a secret code Dad Sirius used to convey his secrets.

Now, the only thought that should be in his head is Quidditch. It was the first game of the season, and of course, they were going against Slytherin. It was also the first time Draco Malfoy was playing as a Seeker. Harry gulped while standing in line on the pitch, refusing to make eye contact with him and making himself more nervous, but it was challenging. Draco looked very good in his green and silver uniform.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. “Three… two… one…"

No more distractions, thought Harry. He will concentrate on the task at hand, search for the snitch before Draco can get his eyes on it, and then win the match. That's it, simple enough.

Simple, before a rogue Bludger decided to attack him and break his arm. What was worse is that Professor Lockhart convinced himself and everyone around that he was able to fix it and left him without bones, spending the night in the infirmary with nothing else to do but overthink the letter he got from Sirius.

Don't be like your father and make the kid hate you first before liking you.

Harry couldn't sleep at all. He wondered briefly what advice his Dad James and Papa Regulus could give him if they were still alive.

Flowers? Chocolate frogs? Helping him out with DADA homework? Play dumb in potions and ask for help?

This was more frustrating than whenever it was going on with the bloody chamber of secrets.

As far as surprises go, at this point, Harry thought he was hard to impress. He had already lived through his fair share of traumatic events, and he was only in his third year at Hogwarts.

Professor Evan Rosier had to be one of the biggest surprises of his young life so far.
The record of professors in Defence Against the Dark Arts on Hogwarts sucks, but Professor Rosier proved himself to be the exception. He was charming and eloquent, clearly knew what he was talking about, and made the classes fun and exciting, something that had never happened to Harry.

There was something weird about him, though. Not the kind of weird that would have Harry sending a letter to his dads, but something was bothering him. Professor Rosier seemed fixated on everything Harry did or didn't. He was courteous and kind, but there was a lingering sadness whenever he looked at Harry. It bothered him.

Before boarding the train, Dad Sirius added more promises that Harry intended to keep.

First, use Hedwig more often to send letters.

Either to let him know if there was a new wallpaper in the Gryffindor Tower or to warn him about a basilisk living inside the castle. Any progress in his relationship with Draco was a worthy subject of a letter, too. With Hogsmeade visits starting for the third-years, Sirius promised he and Remus would come and visit anytime Harry needed it.

He also promised to be extra careful this year, no matter how futile that promise has been before.

Second, he will avoid, at any cost, the presence of Barty Crouch Jr. He was a notorious murderer who had become the first prisoner to escape Azkaban after being there for twelve years. The person to blame for his parent's death.

Ah, he was also his godfather.

"I don't know what Regulus was thinking, making him your godfather," Sirius had said when the news broke out, "He was one of his best friends, sure. But there were better choices out there."

"You're just mad it couldn't be you since you were already the uncle," Remus replied, laughing.

Sirius was convinced that Barty was insane after all his time in Azkaban, so the best thing Harry could do if he crossed paths with him was to ask for help and run away.

"That doesn't sound very Gryffindor-ish if you ask me," Harry teased.

"I couldn't care less what it sounds like," Sirius replied, "You have this streak of making almost dying a habit, and I want to stop that now. This year, be more careful, Harry, please."

He was.

Or at least, he tried to be.

Harry decided to play dumb on Astronomy and ask Draco Malfoy for extra-curricular help, and it worked out perfectly. They spend some nights during the week in the Astronomy Tower, late at night watching the stars. Sometimes, even after curfew, hiding under Harry's invisibility cloak.

Harry even dropped a cheesy line on how Draco was the brightest star one night, and he blushed!

Those study sessions had become an excuse for them to spend more time together, getting to know each other instead of studying, and finally, Draco wasn't sneering at him every time Harry tried to do something nice for him. Harry even thought he was on his way to scoring a date with Draco Malfoy.

He was finally doing well in Potions, and Astronomy suddenly became one of his favorite subjects, too. Professor Rosier even gave in to Harry's pleas and started teaching him how to cast a Patronus during their free time.

It was a very busy year.

Everything was going great.

Until Harry broke his promise.

He crossed paths with Barty Crouch Jr.

And..., Peter Pettigrew, who everyone thought was dead.

The worst part? They interrupted his first official date with Draco Malfoy.

They decided to sneak to Hogsmeade by a secret passage Harry found on the Marauder's Map, a Christmas gift from the Weasley twins. Since Narcissa Malfoy didn't sign Draco's permission, Harry thought he could give him one visit as a gift.

On the subject of surprises, this one was the worst yet.

"HOW DARE YOU! YOU BETRAYED THEM, PETER!" Barty screamed angrily, "JAMES WAS ONE OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS! REGULUS TOO!"

Harry and Draco were hiding behind old furniture in Shrieking Shack, too afraid to even breathe and get caught. Everything here was creaky, and the slightest movement would catch anyone's attention.

From what Harry could see, Barty was terrifying. He was wearing a filthy Azkaban uniform, and he looked skinny in a sickly way. His hair was long and matted, uncared. He claimed to have spent the whole year hiding in Hogwarts somewhere called the Come-and-Go Room, afraid of getting caught by his father.

Right then, Harry knew that Barty was insane. Ever since Harry's encounter with dementors, he had been terribly afraid of them. For Merlin's sake, he even begged Professor Rosier to teach him how to beat them.

Barty Crouch Jr had spent twelve years tormented by them, and yet, he decided to hide in Hogwarts. Right now, the only place to host dementors besides Azkaban.

Dad Sirius was right. All of this was proof of Barty's insanity. Or bravery. Harry didn't know which one yet.

"Barty, please understand me!" Peter whimpered, bursting into tears, "I couldn't refuse the Dark Lord. I was going to die!"

"YOU SHOULD'VE!" yelled Barty, grabbing Peter by the neck, "If you didn't die on his hand, you'll die on mine, you fucking traitor. Regulus trusted you to protect his family, and you failed him, you utter piece of shit!"

Draco gasped, catching the attention of both men. Harry tried to put his hand to cover Draco's mouth, but it was too late. They found them.

"Harry," Peter whispered with tears in his eyes, "Look at you, just... just like your fathers."

"DON'T TALK ABOUT REGULUS AND JAMES IN FRONT OF ME!" Barty growled, throwing a jinx in Peter's direction. It wasn't enough to knock the man out, but he wasn't getting up. Barty decided to approach Harry carefully as if he were a dangerous animal. Harry thought it was ironic how Barty flinched his hand at the idea of touching Harry, scared, "I swear on my life, Harry. I would have never done anything to harm them. Regulus was like a brother to me. I... I can swear under the Imperius or Veritaserum, whatever it takes to prove I'm innocent!"

"Stay away from him, Barty!" Professor Rosier yelled, "You've already done enough."

Things suddenly got quiet if you ignored Peter's groans of pain.

Quickly, Barty turned to see face to face with Professor Rosier, who kept his wand pointed. Harry and Draco exchanged confused glances. Did they know each other?

"What are you doing here, love?" Barty asked softly, "They... they told me you died. You were dead, weren't you?"

Alright then. They did know each other.

"Stop talking, Barty, and start explaining," Professor Rosier hissed.

"You are alive. All these years thinking I was the only one left, and you..., you believe them. When they say I killed them, you believe them. Oh, Evan, how could you?"

For a brief second, Professor Rosier's hand faltered. Harry thought he would drop his wand, but if anything, the hold got stronger. Professor Rosier's face thundered, and he got closer, grabbing Barty's neck furiously.

"You were the Secret Keeper, Barty. DON'T LIE TO ME!" Professor Rosier yelled, "We all trusted you to keep them safe! They were supposed to survive this. Reg was the best of us, and he, he should be here!"

The moment Professor Rosier said those words, everything made sense. The way he acted around him, always wary of their interactions, their extra lessons, the lingering sadness.

Every time Professor Rosier saw him, he was probably seeing Regulus.

It must've hurt so bad, and yet.

Draco's hand found its way towards Harry, holding him steady.

"Evan, love, please!" Barty begged, "Look at that lying rat over there! Peter was the Secret Keeper, not me. He was the one who betrayed them, NOT ME! I would've never done anything to hurt him. Reggie was one of my best friends, you know that!"

The raw pain on Barty's face was something Harry couldn't face away from. He got on his knees, holding the edges of his robes till his knuckles turned white, and waited. He held his head down, holding the tears while waiting for Professor Rosier's reaction.

"What happened that night, Barty?" Professor Rosier finally asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

As far as Harry could understand, Barty Crouch Jr. and Peter Pettigrew exchanged positions the night when James and Regulus appointed their Secret Keeper. Sure, Barty was a reliable option, being Harry's godfather, and all that. But that put him in a dangerous position too, and Regulus wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Back then, Barty's father was the Head of the DMLE, and according to Barty, he was waiting for an excuse to throw him into Azkaban. Barty promised to be on constant alert, keeping his mind shield up all the time, but it would be too much. It simply couldn't work out.

Then, Peter offered himself to do it. To prove his bravery to them, he claimed. To one of his oldest and closest friends.

To keep them safe.

And thus, Peter was entrusted with being their Secret Keeper. No one will suspect him, he said too. He's going to do a great job, they were so sure of it.

A position he swore to perform at the best of his capacities.

He betrayed his position for the Dark Lord's loyalty.

Harry was disgusted.

"Crouch, are you telling the truth?" Harry finally asked. Clearly, Professor Rosier and Barty had undiscussed issues to deal with, but Harry deserved to know the truth, "Cause, if you're lying, I swear that...!"

"I'm not! You know I'm not, Harry!" He insisted, "If Peter isn't proof enough, I'm willing to do a trial in front of the whole Wizengamot, in front of my father even! I swear on it on my life. On your life, Evan. You were my most precious thing, and I thought it was just me. That there was no one else I could swear on. Pandora and Reg are dead. It was just me. I was the last one, and I shouldn't be. I wasn't supposed to be the last one. I'm so glad I'm not."

At that, Professor Rosier's stern posture started to calm. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and his face filled with sorrow. During this whole year, Professor Rosier proved to be one of the adults Harry could trust, and if he is willing to forgive Barty Crouch for something that wasn't his fault, then Harry would do it, too.

"Try telling that to Sirius," was the only thing Professor Rosier said.

Harry always thought that when Draco Malfoy would become his boyfriend, it would be because of a grand confession. After all, Harry was nothing if not a romantic at heart, and he knew Draco Malfoy deserved all the romance that existed.

Finding him at the bottom of the Black Lake, unconscious, and surrounded by threatening merpeople, made Harry realize he had been losing time lately. Draco Malfoy was the dearest person he had right now.

There have been lots of changes recently. Barty Crouch Jr, for example, was living with them during the summer. Harry thought his dad felt a tad guilty about the newfound discovery of Barty's innocence and let him stay with all of them, allowing him to spend time with Harry.

Having a godfather was fun, Harry found out. Barty was insane in a good way, willing to join Harry in any crazy outing and never keeping secrets from him. He also shared many embarrassing stories of his parents during their Hogwarts days. Harry enjoyed those stories the most. Some were outright funny, and others had them all in tears.

Grief never really went away, Harry learned. Life simply gets bigger around it.

As of lately, with all the rumors going around that with the return of Peter Pettigrew, it was just a matter of time for The Dark Lord to come back as well. The mere idea made Harry's stomach churn with dread. He tried not to think so hard about it, but everything raised suspicions. The last drop, for him, was being the second chosen champion of Hogwarts against all rules. That was a fucking setup. For what? Harry didn't even want to think about it.

Dad Remus was ready to tear up Hogwarts to pieces when he heard the news. Not even Dumbledore himself was able to calm him down until Professor Rosier told him he was going to help Harry win. Or at least survive the Tournament.

Professor Rosier wasn't trusting anyone either.

The war was already here. There was no point denying it.

And Harry wanted to spend every second with Draco before things got worse.

When they returned to the surface, Draco regained his conscience with a big gasp of air. Harry looked at him in awe. Sleekeazy didn't work underwater, so Draco's hair was all curly again. He was freezing, holding onto Harry's for warmth. They had to get out of the Black Lake as soon as possible, at the risk of catching hypothermia.

"Draco," Harry softly called.

"What happened? Harry, is everything alright?" Draco asked, confused, "I don't remember anything. Why are we outside?"

Harry didn't answer any of his questions. He simply cradled Draco's face with one hand, holding him closer. And kissed him.

Finally, Harry thought. I have you right where I wanted to.

He could later face the consequences of having kissed Draco Malfoy in front of the school, but right now, nothing else mattered to him. His only focus was Draco's lips, and oh, how soft they were.

During dinner, he gracefully accepted all the teasing of his fellow Gryffindors. Ron was so happy it finally happened and thanked over and over to Dumbledore for putting Draco at the bottom of the Black Lake, something he didn't appreciate. Harry has long learned the rivalry between Ron and Draco is something he can't stop, so might as well let it be.

Hermione sat down next to him, watching how Ron and Draco were escalating their fight.

"So, when's the wedding?" She asked jokingly.

Harry couldn't defend himself from all the stupid First-year comments he made about how he was going to marry Draco Malfoy and make him Draco Potter. It was a bit embarrassing now, but he doesn't regret it.

"No need to hurry up," Harry answered, "I like to think we have all the time in the world."

One time, when Harry was kneeling next to Remus in front of his parent's altar, he asked him why they got married so soon. They were both looking at the picture of James and Regulus in their wedding suits. In the picture, James held Regulus's back, bending him for a kiss. There were other people in the picture, too. His parent's friends, people who looked so happy for them. People who fought in the war and died.

"Well, they used to say it felt as if it was the right time," Dad Remus told him, "Sirius used to tease them so much for it. We all thought they were crazy, marrying straight out of Hogwarts, but..."

Turns out they were right, Harry thought. After all the waiting and courting they both did, in the end, they didn't have much time. Harry understood to some degree the need of wanting to spend the rest of your life with one person, not knowing how much time that is.

Then, Christmas happened.

Although Harry was tremendously enjoying going behind Umbridge's back teaching DADA, he needed a break. He promised all the students to bring some new spells to teach them, so he had to sneak into Dad Sirius's library again for some Defence books. They were covering the current curriculum for all the fifth years who didn't want to fail the O.W.L.S. but also, he had to balance some subjects from last year for the youngest students. Having a full class with four houses butting heads all the time was not for the faint of heart.

He still had two more weeks left to do so. Right now, his main concern was kneading dough for dessert: A delicious treacle tart that probably nobody else but him would enjoy. His dads decided to throw a Christmas Eve dinner, inviting all the Weasley family, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco, Hermione, and Professor Rosier. Harry was happy they were hosting a nice gathering for the holidays, but a part of him was wary of that. His dads were literally the biggest hermits in the Wizarding World.

He was about to start on the tarts when he caught a whispered conversation in the hallway between the adults.

"Nice way to ruin Christmas, Sirius," Barty scoffed, annoyed, "Can you at least announce it tomorrow?"

"Haven't you heard of the word discreet, asshole?" Sirius replied, "A Christmas dinner is not suspicious. We only need to announce that the Order is back, and then..."

"Just like the old times," Remus drawled, resting his shoulder against the wall. He looked so tired. "We will need to..."

"Can I join?"

All three heads turned to look at him.

"Absolutely no," Sirius answered.

"Why no?" Harry insisted, "I know Dad and Papa were part of it. We all know Voldemort is coming after me, so what's the point of keeping me out of it?"

Sirius looked affronted, as if Harry had revealed a grand secret they intended to keep longer. Well, too bad. This conversation was long due.

"Your parents were grown-ups when they joined, Harry," Remus explained, "You're still a student and a minor for starters. You're not joining."

"Maybe we can keep you updated, but other than that..." Barty started saying, but a glare from Sirius kept him shut.

"Didn't you hear the part when I said no? Harry is not joining. I don't care if Dumbledore himself wants you to join. It's not happening."

Sirius was getting angrier, and for the first time in forever, Harry was equally mad at him.

"Why are you so against it, Dad? You and Dad Remus are part of it! So it's alright for you to go and die for the greater good, but I can't?" Harry insisted, "It's only a matter of time until I'm part of it, you know!"

"And in the meantime, you'll be patiently waiting from afar."

There was a tone in Dad Sirius's voice that Harry didn't like, as if he was dealing with an unruly child who couldn't understand the severity of the situation. All these years in Hogwarts with adults ignoring his warnings, all the mocking he had endured so far under Umbridge's so-called teaching, and all the Prophet's questioning press articles, painting him as a liar. Harry has had enough of grown-ups who thought he was a mere child.

"I don't care if you tried to keep your little brother out of it, it didn't work out at the end! And it's not going to work with me!" Harry snapped. The scar pained him, as a blaze under his skin fed all his darkest thoughts, "And if I die fighting, then so be it! At least I will be with my real parents."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Harry wanted so badly to take them back.

He didn't mean it.

He wasn't thinking clearly.

It's just that he was so angry and hurting that...

Harry hid in the cupboard under the stairs.

It was full of dust, and he could barely fit, but it was the only space in the house that felt like being under the invisibility cloak. Once he made sure the door was closed and no one followed him, the tears started falling freely.

"Are you in there, kid?" Barty knocked on the door of the cupboard. "It's alright if you don't want to come out. I'll even pretend you're not here."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harry sobbed. "I swear I didn't want to say that! I don't know what came to me. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, kid. And trust me, Sirius knows too," Barty said, "This isn't his first rodeo handling rough teenagers. Even when he was a rough teenager himself, Regulus was worse. Someone needed to keep him in check."

At the mention of his Papa, Harry cried louder. He didn't want to be a rough teenager who needed handling. He just doesn't know where those bursts of anger come from. Sometimes it even feels as if he's carrying someone's anger on his back.

"I know right now you feel like all us grown-ups don't understand you," Barty said. "And you're right to some extent. During the first war, I felt the same. I hated my father. Still do, but back then, it was as if anything I did wasn't good enough."

Harry's sobs were gradually calming.

"I thought that, if I couldn't prove my worth to him, I would prove him right. At least to ashamed him," Barty kept saying, "So, I wanted to join the Death Eaters. The face of my father when he found out was my motivation. I wanted to fight anyone and destroy everything."

"What stopped you?" Harry asked, voice hoarse.

"Well, during one meeting, I saw your Papa," Barty confessed, "I know everyone says he had this cold look on his face, and he was able to hide his feelings and all that crap, but at that moment, I saw how terrified he was. He was a little kid surrounded by all these murderous grown-ups, so out of place. When he saw me, I realized he looked at me just the same."

Harry couldn't picture it. The image he had made of his Papa during all those years didn't fit at all with Barty's story, despite already knowing that the Black Family wanted one of his heirs to join Voldemort's side. His Papa had a kind heart, everyone said. He was so against the awful treatment of elves like Hermione, and during the war, he helped many Slytherin students so they didn't end up as Death Eaters.

"Sirius had to come to rescue us at the end," Barty concluded, his head falling against the cupboard wall with a thump, "It wasn't fair to him either. He was a kid, too. Being young is not a guilt you should be carrying, Harry. Let us protect you until it's your turn to fight."

"Am I interrupting?" A new voice asked.

Harry recognized it: It was Professor Meadowes, Hogwarts Potion Master. Although Harry had grown to recognize at least that Professor Meadowes wasn't intending to kill him or actively hurt him, he still was sure that she hated him.

She was a stern Professor with some fascinating war stories that students tended to fawn over. Despite being the Head of the Slytherin House, she always kept her door open to any student who needed help, and in the current war climate, she was an assuring presence that no blood discrimination would happen on her watch. Draco was fascinated by her and thus, Harry had learned to get on with her, too.

"Oh, it's you, Dorcas," Barty drawled in a tired voice, "Would you mind coming here and explain to Harry that, while we appreciate his efforts, we want to keep him alive a little longer?"

A silence stretched over all of them for a minute. Harry wanted to come out of the cupboard just to see the look on Professor Meadowes' face, hoping she wasn't mad or something equally worrisome. Since meeting her, Professor Meadowes seems to be constantly mad at Harry.

"Let me guess, he wants to join the Order?" she asked.

"My dear, what did you have with your tea that made you a Seer?"

Harry rubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears and slowly opened the cupboard door, falling right to Professor Meadowes' feet. She seemed unimpressed, but for a brief moment, the corner of her lip went up.

"Just like his father," she muttered quietly as if she intended to keep those words for herself, "Harry, if you are so sure you want to be a part of the Order, the least you could do is get Occlumency lessons first."

"Would you teach me?" Harry asked.

Again, there was silence.

Harry would've never asked for any extra lessons of any sort from Professor Meadowes, but at this point, he was willing to beg. He completely understands where Barty is coming from, and to a certain extent, he gets it. He is a child with zero fighting experience and a history of getting in dangerous situations and surviving by dumb luck. His dads and the rest of the grown-ups have experienced and lived through the war. They know better. Of course, they do.

In other words, Harry needs to prepare better than anyone else. Extra lessons, practice, training, everything. He has to be the best.

He won't let his dads go through the pain of losing a loved one again.

After that awful quarrel, Remus had two choices: going to Harry or Sirius. It was the first time Harry threw those words at them, and although it came from a place of pain and hurt, he knew Sirius was affected by it.

Thankfully, Barty chose for him and told him he would take care of the twerp, chasing him down the hallway. With one current worry out of his head, Remus could take care of Sirius and make sure he knew Harry didn't mean any of it.

He was a kid, and one with a heavy-duty on his shoulders. Bursts of anger and miscommunication were bound to happen sooner or later. He had been a good kid, so kind and thoughtful with everyone. For Merlin's beard, he was currently teaching DADA to all the students who didn't want to fail this year's course. Unfortunately, Evan was removed from his post to resume his duties as an Order member. Harry threw quite a fuss upon hearing the news, claiming he was bound to fail without his favorite teacher.

Remus finally found Sirius kneeling in front of James and Regulus's altar, holding an incense stick between his hands and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, probably reciting several prayers in his head or asking his brothers for some patience to not commit nephewcide. Remus decided not to break the silence but to grab another stick and light it up, kneeling carefully next to Sirius. It took some extra work to do so, with his bones popping and creaking. His knees weren't working like they used to.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius asked, not opening his eyes.

"Barty has him. With him at work, I'm sure we'll have him apologizing before our guests arrive," Remus replied with a funny smile, "We can avoid an awkward Christmas dinner."

"Funny," Sirius said sarcastically. Alright then, clearly, he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

They stayed in silence for another couple of minutes, the incense burning between their palms and leaving behind a strong lavender smell in their living room. Sirius kept his head low, praying with an intensity that Remus hadn't seen in a while. Between admiring him and staring at the pictures on the altar, Remus decided it was his turn to speak up.

"What's in that pretty head of yours, uhm?" He asked softly, "You know he didn't mean it. He's probably beating himself up in his room, regretting those words."

"I know, I know," Sirius insisted, "It's just that, he reminded me so much of Regulus. When he got angry, he was a wildfire, you know? He used furious words to burn everything in his path."

"He had a lot of anger inside him, love," Remus said, "At the end, he was healing. He was finding his place in the world, with his family and unafraid of your parents. He was doing well. It wasn't fair what happened to him. To them."

This time, Sirius didn't answer him right away. Remus could hear the sobs escaping his lungs, slowly making their way out while Sirius tried to catch a breath. Remus knew about lingering pain, about getting used to everything hurting and waking up the next day wishing you didn't. In that moment, kneeling next to the love of his life, he felt that pain again. That same hurt he hasn't stopped feeling ever since he arrived at Godric's Hollow that Halloween night.

Grief is a funny feeling, Remus learned over the years. You think you're doing so much better, and then something as little as a dumb quarrel can trigger all those emotions you wished you'd never felt in the first place. Remus put the incense sticks on a bowl on the altar and then engulfed Sirius in a hug.

"I miss them so much too, Moony," Sirius cried.

"I know me too. I miss them all the time," Remus whispered, stroking Sirius's hair.

"You're right, it wasn't fair. They should be here," he insisted, "With us. With Harry. I miss my little brother."

Remus kept holding him, crying quietly against his head, too. God, how much they miss them. Their grief could've filled oceans, so deep in hurt Remus wasn't sure sometimes where the pain started and where it ended. It seemed to keep going, forever and forever, threatening to feed from the happiest moments of their lives.

The only thing that kept them going most days was the little piece of James and Regulus left behind.

After a much-needed breakdown from both of them, Remus and Sirius kept holding each other while trying not to think about all the pending errands they needed to complete before having their guests over. It was still Christmas, after all.

"Thank Merlin I didn't do my eyeliner yet," Sirius laughed, voice hoarse from all the crying they both did, "I can't look like a proper mess. It's unbecoming of me."

Remus rolled his eyes fondly. There he is.

"First let me check that our dinner hasn't burned yet," Remus replied, "I hope Barty remembered to check on the ham, or else we're having charcoal."

They didn't move from the carpet.

"I know he didn't mean it. Of course, he didn't. It's Harry," Sirius started quietly saying, almost as a confession, "But I've always feared those words. It felt like a judgment from James and Regulus. I don't know if I'll be able to live with myself knowing I muck Harry up."

That made Remus chortle up a laugh. Of all the things that could possibly be going through Sirius's head, that had to be the funniest. He knows bad parenting is probably Sirius's worst insecurity, but after all those years with such a caring, kind, and lovely young boy he had raised and yet, he still believes he isn't doing a great job.

"You aren't mucking Harry up," Remus reassured him, "He was angry today and said something to hurt us, and he probably regrets it so much."

"It will probably happen again."

"It probably will," Remus conceded, "But it doesn't mean we're bad parents. Or that James and Regulus wouldn't have gone through this situation. We are trying our best, to keep that kid alive so he can enjoy a life without the war."

"So he can marry the Malfoy kid and keep pestering us on his relationship's woos," Sirius lamented, "Alright then. I'm feeling way better, Moony. Let's check on the ham first, and then we'll tell our kid things are alright."

They did exactly just that.

Thankfully, during the conundrum, Dorcas Meadowes and Molly Weasley arrived at their place. Dorcas was nowhere to be found, but Molly was already in the kitchen making sure all the food was salvageable. She had arrived a tad earlier than her husband and kids, so Sirius still had enough time to get ready as he claimed to be very underdressed for their evening.
Then, they found Barty holding Harry in his arms just outside the stairs's cupboard. He told them Dorcas had gone out for a smoke, and Harry was doing tons better.

He had apologized. Profusely, over and over.

He cried a little bit. Both Remus and Sirius teared up again with him.

They all held each other, reassuring him that everything was alright. They still loved him, even when he was being a pain in their arse. Harry was still their kid, as much as he was James and Regulus's.

Harry finished up his treacle tart. Remus checked his ham, and Sirius did his eyeliner on time.

So, this is Christmas.

Being in St. Mungos wasn't a new experience for Harry. When he was four, he was interned overnight for falling off a practice Quidditch broom in the backyard. Then, when he was seven, an awful case of dizziness due to a portkey made him visit the emergency ward after passing out. That is without counting all those Hogwarts incidents where Dad Remus transferred him to St. Mungos as soon as Madam Pomfrey allowed him. So, he is used to being a patient there.

However, he had never been a visitor before.

Dad Sirius hasn't woken up since the raid in the Ministry three days ago. The diagnosis is optimistic, thankfully, but the eerie feeling of him being under a stasis charm so he can recover quickly from all those dark jinxes and curses had put them all nervous.

He's supposed to be strong, to be able to withstand all the dark magic there is and come out of every battle victorious. That's the feeling Dad Sirius had always carried with him. He had survived being Walburga Black's son. He had been under the effect of an Unforgivable more than any other wizard. He had been surrounded by pain and hurt all this time, and yet, he always found it in himself to keep going.

Harry doesn't. Right now, he feels pretty much like giving up. How can he defeat Voldemort if he can't even keep his family safe?

"Stop blaming yourself, Harry, please," Dad Remus begged him for the thousandth time, "You should be resting too. It's quite late."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"Technically, I'm not alone," Dad Remus replied, pointing with his teacup toward Sirius's direction, "Your father is here too, and at least he's showered, unlike some teenager who won't even change clothes..."

"I don't want to leave you!"

"Oh, please, Harry. One shower and one nap don't mean you're leaving. And if it makes you feel better, we can switch tomorrow morning."

Contrary to what Dad Remus was probably thinking, Harry wasn't stupid. He was aware Dad Remus was tricking him into taking care of himself under the disguise that he would do the same. And in the grand scheme of things, there is nothing Harry wants more than having his dad well and alive. Both of them.

So, he would take one for the team.

"Alright, Dad. I'll come tomorrow morning then so we can switch," Harry said, standing up from the little reclining sofa he was napping on before. His bones were cracking and popping, in pain. "Is there anything you'll need?"

He took note of the list of supplies Dad Remus would need tomorrow morning and then headed off, not before hugging Dad Sirius carefully, avoiding all the bandages and injuries.
Harry had told Dad Remus he was going to shower and then sleep some more. He didn't say where.

So, after finding the closest Floo connection on St. Mungos and checking there was no one around, he quietly whispered Grimmauld's address and threw the powder. While he could head back home and rest, Harry knew himself better than to know he wasn't going to be able to, not with this many things in his head.

Grimmauld Place was Dad Sirius and Papa's childhood house, and Dad Sirius was vehemently vocal about how much he hated there since his parents were blood purists and supremacists. Now, since the Order was looking for a hideout from Death Eaters and the Ministry, Dad Sirius suggested using the old house. He was still the only remaining heir of the Black Family.

Unfortunately for Harry, who was extremely curious and hated being kept in the dark, his parents rarely visited the place. Dad Sirius claimed he hated his mother's portrait, who screams and screeches every time she sees him. There was also an aisle with rows of creepy house elves' heads that just put Harry on a nerve.

So, yeah.

They avoided visiting Grimmauld Place.

This might be the only chance Harry has to be there without Dad Remus breathing on his neck on how careful he has to be and to not touch anything that might be cursed. He can also finally see his Papa's bedroom, which he isn't exactly forbidden to be in, but Dad Sirius kept it locked for a reason he has yet to disclose.

When he arrived, the first person to greet him was Draco, who was reading on the couch next to the fireplace, and now Harry has broken his concentration. But when Draco's eyes lit in his direction, he knew it was all worth it.

"Harry! What are you doing here? Is Sirius doing better?" He shouts-whispers, leaving the book on the couch and hugging him immediately. The smell of lavender from his expensive shampoo is all Harry can think of right now, "We have been so worried! You didn't reply to my last letter."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Harry muttered, "Professor Meadowes has kept me busy in her last visits, and, well, these last days haven't been great."

"Are you doing okay? You know you don't have to act strong around me."

That was a loaded question.

Was he okay?

He didn't know where to start his fight against Voldemort.

His parents are hurting mentally and physically.

They're losing ranks, and Death Eaters are increasing in number.

He was always stressed, thinking: "How am I supposed to win this?"

Can I win?

Am I strong enough to do it?

I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough.

I'm not strong enough.

I'm not strong.

I'm not...

"I'm doing a lot better now that you're here, Draco," Harry whispered, kissing that warm spot behind Draco's ear that he loves so much, "Dad is also doing alright. The healers think he might wake up between tomorrow and the day after. But I'm in dire need of a nap."

Draco tugged both of his arms, pulling him closer.

"By all means, let's go to my room," Draco answered, grabbing Harry's hand and leading him towards his room.

They were both walking upstairs as carefully as possible, trying to avoid certain steps that creek under their weight. Harry was looking at the portraits of all his dead relatives from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Draco was using an old drawing room he transformed into a bedroom in the meantime, but he had made it clear he didn't mind staying there longer. He was an excellent decorator, and his style is a nice contrast to the rest of the frivolous luxury in the house, so Draco's bedroom ended up being his favorite one, too. This time, however, Harry couldn't help but glance twice at his Papa's bedroom. The door was a dark green with a small plaque that only read R.A.B.

Harry softly tugged at Draco's hand.

"Should we go in?" He asked.

"Where?"

Harry pointed at Papa's bedroom with his head.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, it'll be nice," he insisted, "I want to see what dark, deep secrets are lying around there. Don't you?"

Draco squinted his eyes, not believing a word he said.

"You just want somewhere else to shag since I told you we couldn't do it in my bedroom, is that it?"

Harry choked on his own spit, almost dropping Draco's hand. What was he thinking? In what world would it be okay for them to shag in his old Papa's bedroom? Dad Sirius and Dad Remus's bedroom was fair game. They did have some..., eh, useful supplies hidden there. But his Papa's bedroom? Harry might never get a boner again just with that thought.

"We aren't doing anything there, Draco!" Harry shout-whispered, "That's a level of nastiness I'm not willing to try!"

"Thank Merlin for that! With you, I don't know," Draco said, "I still don't know how you convinced me to wear that Slytherin skirt you claimed to find in..."

Harry covered Draco's mouth with his hands, cheeks turning red at the memory. There was no need for Draco to be airing their dirty underwear in the middle of the second floor, with Merlin's knows how many guests and extendable ears at work.

"Sweetheart, I really, really, just want to nap," Harry insisted, "Dad Remus and I have been awake for the last 26 hours. And I promised him to switch turns tomorrow morning so he can rest, too."

That did appease Draco a little bit, putting a shy smile on his face that made Harry melt.

"I'll take care of you! I'll grab some pajamas and my skincare. You try to open the door!" Draco said with a newfound enthusiasm.

Surprisingly, a quick Alohomora did the job just fine on opening the knob on Papa's bedroom. Harry threw a bunch of cleaning spells on the surfaces, trying to get rid of some of the dust that had been gathering for Merlin knows how many years.

At first impression, the bedroom was depressing. It reminded Harry of the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, full of paraphernalia in a wide range of shades of green. Plus, a dusty smell lingered in the air from the lack of cleaning in the last decade or so. It was nothing like Dad Sirius's old bedroom, full of muggle posters from rock bands and knick-knacks from his Hogwarts days. In comparison, Papa's room was bland and lacked personality, like a cheap motel room.

Draco walked straight in carrying different-sized bottles and a pair of pajamas that smelled faintly like lavender, freshly clean. He dropped all the stuff on the bed and turned around to inspect the room, just like Harry had been doing. He was unsurprisingly... unimpressed.

"So, this is the big secret? This looks just like any bedroom in the dungeons! Honestly, I feel like I'm in Hogwarts again," Draco complained, crossing his arms over his chest, "And it smells awful. Let's just go back to mine, Harry."

"Now, love, don't be like that," Harry said, "The fun part of finding secrets is to search for them. Let's see what we can find."

Twenty minutes later, Harry silently agreed with what Draco said before. No matter how many cleaning charms he threw, the smell persisted, and Papa liked his secrets so much there was nothing to be found. The most interesting thing that caught their attention was his wall full of newspaper cuts of articles from the First War and before. Most of them mentioned You-Know-Who.

With Draco complaining during the whole search, trying to apply creams and potions on Harry's skin, he quickly decided to give up and just go to sleep. Tomorrow, they could read every single article and come up with a reason why his Papa decided to keep his weird scrapbook on the wall.

Harry couldn't sleep.

He didn't get a wink of sleep, not even with Draco softly snoring next to him, with his head resting over his chest. Harry held him, trying to fall asleep but the thoughts in his head went back to those newspaper cuts.

Why did he keep them? Are they in a specific order, or was Papa simply pasting them as he found them? Are they a facade, for when he was still living with Death Eaters? Do they mean anything?

Dad Remus would kill him once he found out Harry never took a nap.

The first article was from the war, the moving photo from a destroyed storefront in Diagon Alley, and a headline saying: Horror strikes again on Diagon Alley! Harry couldn't fathom why his Papa decided to keep such a gruesome article on a collage next to his bed, but who was he to judge how people cope with war events?

Order back in the streets with the new Auror division on the DMLE.

This one Harry did know why his Papa decided to keep it. In the picture, at the very corner was Dad James in his shiny, new Auror uniform. According to the article, Alastor Moody was in charge of this new division. Its sole purpose was to capture as many Death Eaters as possible and to throw them in Azkaban.

There were some other people whom Harry recognized from pictures passed around during Order meetings: Marlene McKinnon, a witch who died during the war, and Longbottom's parents. They looked so young there, so hopeful and determined. Harry picked up the next article before letting any dark thoughts get into his head, but it didn't help: Raids on Knockturn Alley on the rise!

Why would Regulus Black, second heir of the Black Family, care for any of this news?

"What are you up to, Papa?" Harry quietly asked to the dark room, lighted only by his Lumos charm.

The next article was a funny one. The picture was from his godfather, Barty Crouch Jr. He was smiling from ear to ear, showing a purple bruise on his cheek, and batting his eyelashes to the photographer. He was being arrested by two Aurors, clearly amused by his behavior. Then, Barty Crouch Sn came to the photo, covering the camera. In the article, the writer questioned the rising detention of pureblood wizards, most of whom recently graduated from Hogwarts (And Slytherin). The headline was: Crouch Sn denies accusations of magic profiling on suspected Death Eater’s detentions.

So far, all the articles are related to war events or Death Eaters. After Dad Sirius was burned from the family tree and Papa became Regulus Potter, the Black Family proclaimed their loyalty to the Dark Lord. A loyalty cut shortly after the death of Walburga and Orion Black before the war ended. Maybe the reason why Papa had all these articles in his bed was to play pretend in that alliance, so his betrayal wasn't discovered. But the timeline didn't match with the events.

Surprisingly, the article next to the one of Barty was from a muggle newspaper. It was older than the rest of the articles, with a brownish color instead of gray, and covered in a protective charm. The picture didn't move, and it was just a small column that featured a crime: Riddle family murdered in their own home. Suspect is still on the loose.

Where did his Papa find all of this? It was from 1943, way before any of them were even born.

According to the news, the Riddle Family was murdered in their family home in Little Hangleton. The villagers found their bodies the next morning, much to their astonishment since no one heard anything during the night. However, many of them didn't shy themselves and expressed their disgust for the Riddle Family. The main suspect was the family gardener, a muggle named Frank Bryce.

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He looked around in his Papa's bedroom til he found an old notebook and some ink, and started writing down all the questions that were hopping in his head like loose chocolate frogs. He didn't care anymore if Dad Sirius or Dad Remus were going to be mad that he snuck in the bedroom, he needed answers and quickly.

The last two articles were Harry's last drop: First, a cut-off of the news article from The Daily Prophet announcing that: "Uganda National Quidditch Team on quarter-finals for the World Cup."

His Papa supported only the Montrose Magpies. This was a fact that hurted his Dad Sirius, as the number one supporter of Puddlemere United, and Ron, who for some reason, was still rooting for the Chudley Cannons. Neither of them, however, would keep, under any circumstances, a newspaper cut on the Uganda National Team, so why did his Papa do it?
Harry wrote that down, too.

Also, he added the last article on the collage, a proud announcement of "Xenophilius Lovegood, new editor in chief of The Quibbler." Well, Pandora Lovegood and Regulus Black were friends when they were alive. It was nice of his Papa to keep a memoir of the achievement of your friend's husband, but it didn't fit with the rest of the articles. He decided to write it down, too:

• Horror in Diagon Alley
• Order with new Auror Division
• Raids on Knockturn Alley
• Crouch Sn
• Riddle's murder
• Uganda National Quidditch Team
• Xenophilius Lovegood

It came to Harry like a Deja Vu. Suddenly, he was back at Hogwarts in his second year, somewhere hidden from the world in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets. In front of him was Tom Marvolo Riddle, showing him how he created an anagram from his name to "I am Lord Voldemort."

There was a reason why those newspapers were chosen and why his Papa ordered them in that way. They were carefully selected, and Harry refused to believe otherwise:

Horcrux

Harry had two possible answers in his head right now: Either the lack of sleep finally had gone through him, and now he was trying to make sense of made-up words, or he had accidentally discovered one of his Papa's secrets. Before he even made up his mind, Harry knew his answer. He tried to sneak out carefully so he didn't wake Draco up, and ran to the other side of the hallway towards Hermione's room.

All these years in the wizarding world had shown Harry something: Nothing is a coincidence.

"Hermione, psst, Hermione, are you awake?" Harry hissed, knocking on her door quietly, "I just saw your Lumos charm, c'mon, open up! I need help!"

"Are you in trouble, mate?" Ron asked, opening the door.

Harry... didn't even want to know. He was sure this was Hermione and Ginny's bedroom since they were the only girls currently living in Grimmauld.

"Don't scare him off, Ron!" Hermione hushed, "What seems to be the problem?"

For a second, Harry even forgot what he was doing there. His friends seemed very, ehm, busy at the moment. Any respectable friend would go back to their own bedroom and leave them to be and, uhm, enjoy the night.

"Get your mind out of the gutter and tell me what is going on, Harry," Hermione threatened him, glaring, "We were just studying."

After a quick peek from the door, Harry saw a bunch of open books thrown without finesse on the floor. All the excitement left his mind, realizing Harry was probably the only person who pursued a relationship in the middle of a war.

"I need your research abilities, I think I found something in Papa's bedroom," Harry explained in hush whispers, turning around in the hallway, "There's this word I found, and I'm pretty sure I've heard it before..."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, prompting Harry to continue. She was skeptical, and honestly, could Harry blame her? Papa's bedroom was the last place everyone thought of searching, considering how long it had been unused. Walburga Black had left both Sirius and Regulus's rooms as they left them. Logically, it wouldn't be possible to keep any war research there.

"What do you know about... Horcrux?"

Before Hermione could even answer, a hard thump from the floor upstairs was heard, and the quick pace of someone running downstairs. It was exactly what Harry hoped to avoid.

"Where did you hear that word?" Dorcas asked in a breathy voice. Her eyes were wide open in fear, and she grabbed the hem of her pajama above her heart, trying to steady her heartbeats.

Usually, Harry would focus on how hilarious the situation was. All these years, he was afraid of Professor Meadowes, and now she was in front of him wearing these cute, fuzzy pajamas with cartoon cats on them. But the seriousness in her voice and the fear hiding in her undertone made Harry unconsciously fearful, too.

"I believe my Papa knew more about them than me, Professor," Harry answered, showing her the notes he wrote on the headlines, "He kept these newspaper cuts... the first letter in each headline made that word."

Next thing he knew, Professor Meadowes and Hermione were crouching down in front of the newspaper collage, trying to look for more clues. Ron took his spot on the bed, fighting the sleep. Harry tried to keep Draco asleep, shushing him when they turned the lights on.

Unfortunately, neither Professor Meadowes nor Hermione is well known for their indiscretion and ability to keep their voices down. While Harry updated Draco on his discovery, Hermione cross-referenced every newspaper article while Professor Meadowes inspected its magic.

"Harry! You promised me you would nap," Draco said, "How long have you been awake now? Remus is going to kill me when he finds out you haven't slept!"

"Oh, please, he has himself to blame for that one," Harry replied, "We both knew that wasn't happening."

With all the charms and magic moving around the old paper, an article fell from its place. Harry realized it was one that he hadn't read. It was hiding behind the article from the muggle newspaper, the one talking about the murder of the Riddle family. This one was from The Daily Prophet, on the incarceration of Morfin Gaunt for the murder of a muggle family. It was a short piece, lacking information. The journalist who wrote it could compete with Rita Skeeter as the most biased writer, because they were defending Morfin Gaunt's stance, claiming the incarceration was unfair and done in self-defense since Morfin was going on about a stolen ring.

"Professor," Harry started saying, "Back when I said the, uhm, the word Horcrux..."

Professor Meadowes flinched.

"Yes, that reaction," Harry pointed, "Should we be more afraid than worried about it? What does it mean?"

Professor Meadowes didn't reply right away. She was sitting against the wall, her face lost on the images and the words filling the collage. It was the first time since they met that Harry could say Professor Meadowes looked tired. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders, one she had insisted on carrying silently.

"I'll say... definitely worried," she answered, "It's some of the most powerful and darkest magic out there. We don't throw around that word so freely, considering what one has to do to create them."

She didn't need to explain any further. Harry could picture it perfectly. Of all the awful, inhumane, and immoral things Voldemort has done to try to achieve immortality, Horcrux had to be the worst one yet. With sleep forgotten by everyone, they decided to use an empty tea room to try to crack down even further their research, even enlisting the help of Barty and Evan. When they arrived, Harry internally groaned. It seemed everyone in this house decided tonight to bunk in someone else's room cause Evan was using a huge t-shirt to hide some lovebites on his neck while Barty was shamelessly half-naked, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Regulus never mentioned anything about Horcruxes," Evan said, "But then again, it was hard to keep secrets in this house. There's probably no one who he could trust with such information."

"Any of his cousins?" asked Harry. Narcissa, who had been woken up too by the commotion, shook her head. If she didn't know, then Andromeda was probably kept in the dark, too.

Back to square one.

"What about Kreacher?" said Barty, jumping out of his seat, "He's the only one, you know, legally bound to keep a secret. If Regulus was going to share intel with anyone, it might be him."

"You have to be kidding me," Professor Meadowes huffed, "Regulus is smarter than that,"

"Pretty smart of him to trust his loyal house elf, if you ask me," Barty insisted. He drowned the rest of his cup in one gulp, "Think about it, Cas, no one would suspect a house elf, and Regulus could just order him to keep his secret."

"Regulus wouldn't do that. He doesn't go bossing elves around."

"Didn't," Evan gently corrected her, "He didn't do that. I have to agree with Dorcas. Regulus was the type of person to rather chew his own shoe before spilling his secrets to anyone."

That started a round of banter on the old Slytherin group of friends. They agreed Regulus liked to suffer in silence instead of asking for help. The only people he would've asked for something were James, Sirius, Barty, and Pandora. Out of that group of people, two were dead, one was in a coma, and Barty just found out the secret himself.

"I think it's worth it, asking Kreacher if he knows something!" Harry yelled, trying to get over the voices, "Where is he?"

"That, we don't know," Barty answered, "When Regulus ran away, he tried to free him from Walburga. He was still a member of the House of Black, so his authority should've been enough. However, we don't know when Kreacher actually left,"

The elf didn't live in Grimmauld anymore, something Dad Sirius was joyous about when he gave the place to the Order. He said that Kreacher was untrustworthy, he only followed Walburga's orders. His absence proved otherwise, but Harry didn't point it out.

That led to another discussion on the worthiness of starting a search mission for a house elf. Narcissa offered Dobby's services, claiming that a free elf would know where to look for a similar one of his kind. Professor Meadowes would ask the kitchen staff at Hogwarts if they knew anything about him while Barty, despite agreeing that Kreacher could be useful, claimed they should kidnap him first before trusting him. Hermione, who stayed quiet during the discussion, pinched Harry's arm trying to get his attention.

"I know someone you could ask," she whispered, "But I don't think they'll be too happy about it."

Oh.

The teenagers claimed that they were going to the kitchen to refill the coffee pot, a claim that was ignored by most adults who were busier discussing what they should do with their intel. In reality, Hermione and Draco sneaked them towards a dusty hall on the last floor of the house, towards the attic. Harry didn't question them, despite the churns on his stomach thinking of the amount of ghouls and rough boggarts there might be. The lights didn't work there, so they had to restore on carefully lit Lumos to avoid stepping on each other's toes.

The attic was full of gadgets and heirlooms that Harry couldn't care less about. They were just there to fill the room with dust and to prove what a bunch of hoarders his ancestors were. The only thing that caught his attention was an old portrait, covered with a blanket.

Harry knew immediately who it was.

Walburga Black was last painted wearing her most opulent and regal wizard robes, and her hair was done in a tight bun above her head, looking as scary and intimidating as Harry feared.

"HOW LOW THE HOUSE OF BLACK HAS FALLEN, WITH MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS TRESPASSING OUR NOBLE HOME?" Walburga yelled, horrified.

"Don't talk about my friends like that, Walburga," Harry yelled back, "I just came to ask you one question and one question only. I'll leave you in peace once I'm done."

Walburga kept silent, squinting her eyes at Harry. He felt uneasy under her gaze, struggling between acting more properly to gain her favor or keeping up his rebellious look to show her he was not afraid of her.

Look at me, Walburga, Harry thought, there is finally a member of The Black Family that can keep up with you. I'm not afraid.

As if Walburga could read his mind, she calmed herself and regained her composure, her back straightened again as if she had swallowed a ruler. Thank Merlin. The last thing Harry wanted right now was for the whole house to know he was up in the attic speaking with his dead grandmother's portrait. Hopefully, no one was suspecting yet why it was taking them so much time to refill the coffee pot.

"You're not James Potter," Walburga said.

"I'm not, but I'm his son. And Regulus, too." Harry explained, "For all intents and purposes... I'm your grandson. But I don't want to talk about that, I'm here to ask you about..."

"Where is he? Regulus..."

"He's dead. The Dark Lord killed him."

Harry didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, but time was running out, and he wasn't playing any games. Walburga could stay forever in this dark corner of her ancient house, wallowing in self-pity for her pureblood ways and thinking of the good old days, but Harry has more, pressuring matters to be fixed.

"I told him exactly what would happen if he eloped with that good-for-nothing of Potter," Walburga scoffed, "As always, I was proved right. Our Lord killed him for his insolence towards his proper family, I'm sure."

Ron had to restrain him so he didn't shred the portrait to pieces. Harry felt he could do it with his bare hands, destroy every single thread so Walburga could finally shut up forever. Never mind their plan, finding out where Kreacher went. She deserved worse than death.

"Don't talk about my parents at all, you old hag! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Harry yelled, not caring if they heard him downstairs. "I swear to Merlin, once I'm done with Voldemort I'm coming back to destroy what's left of you!"

The picture of Walburga stayed very still, giving the appearance of a normal, non-magical portrait. Ron didn't let Harry go yet, especially when he was still furiously snarling. Right now, with all the fury running in his blood like fire, Harry was no different than an encaged dragon.

How dare she?

All the suffering his parents went through living under her roof, with all her rules on proper wizarding ways and her unachievable high standards no one could meet. The punishments, the pain, the fear... and she still thought to the very end she did the right thing.

Fuck her.

"You wanted to ask something," Walburga quietly said, more subdued.

"What?"

"I won't repeat myself, child. Ask your question, and let me be at peace."

Harry was in front of an opportunity he knew he was never getting again. There was simply no way Dad Sirius wouldn't find out about this situation and this time, he would do good on his promise of locking the portrait forever. Or even better, Harry will also do good and destroy the portrait to make sure Walburga would never get another chance to inflict pain on anyone else, even as a lousy paint.

There were questions, though. Things only she could answer.

Why did you hurt my parents so much?

Were you happy every time Sirius and Regulus suffered?

Aren't there any more Blacks?

What do you know about Horcruxes? Did Voldemort ever discuss it with you?

"Where did Kreacher go?" Harry settled on asking.

Of all his questions, that one had the easiest answer.

Walburga raised her plucked eyebrow in disbelief, or something akin to that. For a moment, Harry thought she wasn't going to answer him, but Walburga held her head high and under the incredulous gaze of a bunch of rowdy Hogwarts teenagers, she explained what had been of Kreacher, Regulus' most beloved elf.

Despite what one could think, Harry loved weddings. Granted, he hasn't gone to many since he was raised by a bunch of hermits. But every once in a while, one of his dad's ex-classmates or an old friend would tie the knot and invite them. Harry would wear a pair of formal robes, and try to comb his hair before giving up, and then Dad Remus would tell him he's only allowed to have one glass of elf wine. Then, Dad Sirius would drink a whole pitch, and they had to leave early.

Weddings were fun.

Fleur and Bill's wedding was no exception. Since early in the morning, the Burrow was full to the brim with their friends, running around trying to get ready and making sure the preparations were finished on time. The tent was set on time, the food was warm and ready to serve, and everyone was doing the final touches to their looks.

Harry tried to sneak to Ron's bedroom with Draco but was stopped by Narcissa and Dad Sirius, who both claimed they didn't have time for any improper rendezvous. Harry ended up with Neville and Ron, talking shit about Ron's older relatives while trying to comb his hair before deciding to give up.

Everything was going alright.

There was not a single pair of dry eyes during the ceremony. Harry held Draco's hand during it, passing around his handkerchief so Draco could blow his nose after the vows. He saw from the corner of his eyes that Dad Sirius was doing the same, trying to conceal his tears hiding on Dad Remus' neck. Dad Remus felt his stare and for a moment, they both shared a look hidden from Dad Sirius and Draco, enjoying their display of softness.

Harry realized how much they needed this, a quiet moment for everyone to gather their breaths before returning to battle. Fleur and Bill's wedding was so much more than that. It was peace, a world with no war. For a second, Harry could pretend. He was good at that.

"You look contended," a new voice broke him from his thoughts. Luna was watching him intendedly. She sat next to him, the smell of sunflowers from her hair filling the space, "It's been a while since I saw you so calm,"

"It's been a couple of stressful years," Harry replied, "But it has to end, right?"

"It doesn't last forever, yes," Luna agreed, "I'm looking forward to what comes next,"

Harry too. He wanted nothing more than to start explaining everything he wanted to do once the war was over. About the things he will do with his dads, the places he will visit with Draco, and the new experiences that are waiting for him.

If he survives, of course.

A part of him thinks he won't.

Sitting with Luna brought Harry an awkward feeling of deja vu. His parents were friends, yet they didn't hang out much growing up. Xenophilius kept Luna away from pretty much everyone who wasn't him, and unconsciously, his dads were the same. If the circumstances were different, they would've probably been thick as thieves, just like their parents were. It brought a nostalgic sensation for him, and Harry could imagine that the older adults were probably looking at them the same, as if they were seeing ghosts.

"I'm pretty sure you'll do wonderful things, Luna," Harry said.

"You will, too! I can see it clearly," Luna replied, a smile wide on her face, "Death is not the only ending, you know?"

Before Harry had the chance to ask her how she knew, a Patronus interrupted the party.

The Ministry has fallen.

It was going to happen again.

With the Patronus, chaos arrived at the Burrow.

Caught in a whirl of people running around, Harry was trying to find his dads. They needed to go back to Grimmauld as soon as possible before the Death Eaters found them there. Pushing people around and throwing hexes at anyone masked, Harry was only able to find his two best friends, who were in the same predicament as him.

He didn't even think twice.

The three of them ran towards each other and before hesitating, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and felt the familiar pull of Apparition. He caught for a second the glimpse of blonde hair, of the lovely, lovely blonde hair in Draco's hair.

I'm sorry.

Harry wasn't even sure who he was apologizing to.

There was no other way.

They fell and stumbled in the middle of muggle London, near a tourist area that thankfully wasn't crowded. Despite the usual weather, the heavy downpour scared people from going out, but that meant they needed to find shelter soon.

"Where did you take us?" Ron asked Hermione, taking in his surroundings.

"I'm not quite sure," Hermione admitted, "I tried to think of somewhere where we could go unnoticed."

They were wearing formal wizarding robes, Harry thought. Unless Halloween was around the corner, they were probably the weirdest dress-up people on the streets right now.

"We need to go back to Grimmauld," Ron said, "My family... I need to see if they're alright. Oh, Merlin. There were Death Eaters at the wedding."

"Everyone is going to be alright," Harry insisted, pulling Ron into a semi-hug, "We'll go back, we just... we just...."

What should they do?

What should they do?

What should they do?

What should he do?

What...?

"Are you kids doing alright out there? What are you doing outside with no umbrella?" A woman yelled from one of the shops. "My God, you guys are drenched! C'mere, quickly!"

As if they were being pulled, the three of them ran towards the shop. Inside it was warm and cozy, the smell of fresh coffee filling the space. There was an upbeat Spanish song playing on one of the radios, but it was hard to tell where it came from since the whole place was surrounded by beautiful and colorful decorations.

"Let me get you some coffee, it looks like you could use a cup," The woman said, tying up her apron.

"We don't want to be a bother!" Hermione yelled.

"We forgot our wallets at home," Harry said.

"Thank you so much! I appreciate it," Ron answered and the woman acknowledged him only.

Harry couldn't rest. Anxiety was ticking like clock hands on his chest, thinking just how worried his dads were going to be if he didn't show up at Grimmauld right this second.

"Mary, I heard the door! Do we have customers? Should I pull the bread out of the oven right now...?" Another woman came from the back of the shop but stopped right in her tracks as soon as she saw them.

She was a wizard, Harry realized. He could feel her magic, oozing out of her as steam. She didn't seem to have a wand, but her hand did that gesture of reaching out that it was such a wizard thing.

"It's just some kids caught in the rain, Lils," The first woman, Mary, answered cheerfully. "They look like they could use some help. I have some fresh pandebono ready, let me get it."

Mary disappeared once she was behind the counter, leaving them with a redhead, powerful wizard. She looked distrustful, eyes squinting them up and down as if she was criticizing their clothing decisions. She reminded him a bit of Draco, with his judgy stare overseeing every detail. Only this time, Harry felt as if he was watched over, waiting for him to attack.

"How did you find us?" She asked with a harsh whisper.

"By accident, mostly." Hermione told her, "We were being chased, and, uh, we wanted somewhere safe."

"I know you, right?" Harry realized, "I've seen you before."

This time, Lils looked affronted. Harry wished there was a way for him to assure her he meant nothing wrong. He was mostly curious, because he was sure this woman had been in Hogwarts with his parents. She was a powerful wizard too, the kind that was able to power-up an entire city out of a Lumos charm. And she knew this too. If her frown didn't give her away, then it was the defensive posture she had had since Harry and his friends entered the cafe. She was ready to fight them if things came down to that.

"You, of all people, shouldn't have been able to find me," Lils said. "I told Sirius I wanted out."

"You know my dad?"

"The four of them, but especially James," Lils answered, quietly. "He was my best friend. My childhood friend, to be honest. He showed me everything about magic and I..."

A loud crash was heard from the back of the shop and this time, everyone pulled out their wands. Harry kept close to Hermione, just in case they needed to Apparate again. A few seconds later, Mary came out holding a tray of delicious-looking buns.

"Lily, I have told you several times to not leave the cleaning rags on the floor! I almost fell," Mary explained, placing the tray on an empty table, "Help yourselves, loves. The rain won't stop anytime soon and all of you should dry up before catching a cold! That's the last thing anyone needs this season."

"Good idea, love!" Lily yelled, kissing Mary's cheek soundly, "I have some extra towels upstairs, would you bring them down, please? I'll pour them a cup of your delicious coffee."

Mary didn't need to be told twice. Once again alone, Lily faced Harry and decided to tell the truth.

"Hope you guys like Colombian coffee," she said, "I'm going to tell you a long story."

Lily Evans was a muggle-born witch born and raised in London. She met James Potter by accident when they were kids, in a park near a wizarding community unknown to Lily.

"He was the first person to realize I was a witch," Lily told Harry with a smile, handing them three cups of coffee. "He was so kind about it, too. Told me everything I should know before going to Hogwarts, and introduced me to all his friends. We even bought our wands together."

At some point Mary came back with a bunch of warm towels. Harry took his and realized that unwittingly, Mary had casted a warming charm on them. So, she was a witch too. Hermione thanked them both for the towels, and just before she was about to start a whole conversation about non-verbal magic with Mary, Lily interrupted them. She sent Mary to get some umbrellas so the kids could get home soon.

"I called their parents, but they're worried sick," Lily told her, "They should hurry up back home."

Mary was a godsend. She simply reminded Lily about a batch of cocadas that were cooling down, in case they wanted something else to nibble while waiting. The story kept going. James met his friends in Gryffindor and Lily found some friendships, too. The Gryffindor girls were lovely to hang around, but she also made friends in other houses, including Slytherin.

"When Regulus started studying at Hogwarts, God! Those were the funniest days." Lily recalled, "Sirius was such a noisiest piece of shit, Regulus couldn't be alone for one second before he would go and try to find him, just to see what he was doing!"

Dorcas was one of her Slytherin friends. Lily adored her, and they were very close. According to Lily, she was one of her closest friends.

"She's doing good," Harry told her, "She's our potions professor and the Head of House in Slytherin."

"You always complained about her, though," Ron interrupted him between bites, mouth full of cocadas and pandebono. "Harry is scared of her."

"She's a very intimidating woman!" Harry tried to explain, but Lily just laughed it off.

They were a bunch of good friends. They grew up, and so did the war. The stories weren't funny anymore. They were more concerned over whether to fight or not than being worried over N.E.W.T.S. Harry knew that all too well.

"So, we all signed up to be part of the Auror Force," Lily said, "James and Sirius, Mary, Marlene and me. Everyone told us how dangerous it was, but as I saw it, I had only two choices: either I did nothing and died, or I died trying. So I picked the bravest one."

Harry could feel the way the story was about to turn.

"We all signed up for a mission in the Ministry, at the Department of Mysteries. We thought it was a routine watch, but when we arrived we were soon cornered. It was an ambush." For a second, Lily stopped talking. Her eyes were lost as if she was back there. Sirius was the same, every time he told Harry a story from before he stopped in the middle of a sentence and then, he simply wasn't there anymore. Harry grabbed Lily's hand.

"You don't have to tell us, Lily," Harry said, as kindly as he could. "Whatever it was, whatever happened, it's done. You're here, you're safe. It's alright."

"Everything went wrong, so fast..." Lily whispered. "There was a prophecy we had to guard, and the Death Eaters wanted it. Mary and I grabbed it while James and Sirius were being a distraction ploy. Marlene was waiting for us in a safe house of the Order, but then..."

They were betrayed. Back then, they didn't know how or who filtered their intel to the Death Eaters, but it confirmed the idea that there was a traitor among the Order. Peter Pettigrew had told The Dark Lord what was going to happen that night. How they worked as a group, how they should keep an eye on Mary and Lily, and worst of all, which one of the safe houses they were running to.

If the Department of Mysteries was an ambush, the fight on Marlene's safe house was a slaughter.

Lily's voice painted them a crude image of what happened that night and yet, Harry couldn't picture it. The amount of death and blood she was describing was something Harry wished he never had to ever experience.

"The rest of the Order arrived too late. The Death Eaters stole the prophecy, the one where... Well, Harry, you know which one." Lily let out a sad sigh, "Dorcas vowed to kill the Dark Lord and Mary, well, she tried to Obliviate herself. I ended up doing it for her, but I was so selfish. So, so selfish."

Harry had seen selfishness all throughout his life.

Peter Pettigrew was selfish, selling out the lives of his best friends to the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix Lestrange was selfish, too. She pledges allegiance to a man who wants to murder her sisters, just for validation that her blood is pure enough.

Harry, himself, is selfish. There is always a dark part inside of him that constantly threatens him. Unknowingly, Harry is feeding it with his insecurities and anger, making him selfish. Recently, it’s the thought of keeping Draco hidden and safe, away from this war and from any curious eyes that linger a second too much on him.

If Draco asked him to run away with him, away from the wizarding world and from the responsibilities on his shoulder, to stay with him safe and sound in a corner of France as he always dreamed of, Harry wouldn’t even think twice.

He gets it.

The coffee shop.

The normal, muggle lifestyle.

Being business owners, away from magic and wizards and all of that sort.

For some people, acts of love are selfish.

"After all my tirades of proving myself and wanting to fight, I ended up quitting," Lily admitted, "I ran away with Mary, pretending things were fine. There was no wizarding world for us. I thought that maybe one day I could come back, but then James and Regulus died, I just... I just... felt like I had no place to return.”

Lily looked away from him, but the tears still were falling down. Hermione quickly stood up and hugged her, trying to comfort her. Harry stayed on his seat, holding his cup of coffee that had long turned cold. In that moment, filled with opposite feelings, Harry realized that he was mostly grateful. Lily’s story had shown him a side of the war he had been protected from his whole life. He was the Chosen One from a prophecy he didn’t ask to be a part of. His parents died to keep him safe, and then he spent his whole life running towards danger. He could’ve become bitter and angry, like Voldemort did.

And even so, Harry has been surrounded by so much goodness and kindness he hadn’t questioned if things could’ve been better. He was simply so glad and grateful that his dads were there next to him, shielding him from the dark reality that war is.

"You know, Lily, my dad Remus is always saying that I live my life as if I was carrying someone's guilt on my shoulders," Harry explained, "I don't know if it's the knowledge of knowing that I have to fight... him, or just the fact that I was the one who survived that night, but it's a guilt I've been carrying my whole life. I don't think it's fair that you're living your life with a similar guilt."

The gobsmacked look on Lily's face was a tad funny, Harry had to admit, but he wanted to make his point reach her.

"We are not to blame for wanting simple things in life," He continued, putting his hand on top of hers too, "You didn't run away, you did something far braver than anyone else could've. I think the only person who should feel any guilt is You Know Who."

It wasn’t selfish, what Lily did.

Being in Gryffindor, Harry learned that bravery comes in different forms and it's not always the easiest solution. People had been telling Harry how brave he was since he was a baby, but he had never felt it. What was it that he did that was so brave for everyone else?

He had been witness to the greatest acts of bravery, and Lily Evans was now one of them, too. Harry sometimes wished he could have that type of bravery in him, the one that required you to put yourself above the greater good. The one that came with self-love.

"The rain has stopped," Ron said, casting a Tempus charm, "Mate, we're going to be in big trouble now."

"Thank Merlin then that you guys are Gryffindors, uh?" Lily laughed, "Off you go, guys. A worrisome Sirius Black is something I don't wish even to my worst enemy."

That afternoon, Harry made a promise to Lily Evans.

Once the war was over, he would come back with his dads and sit down with her to have a cup of that delicious Colombian coffee. They'll recall together all those stories Harry hasn't heard before and they'll be fine.

It was something to look forward to.

One of the things Harry was the most proud of during his time as a student, was Dumbledore's Army. Hermione, Ron and he were able to put the houses' animosity aside and gathered a large group of students with the same purpose: to learn how to defend themselves.

Seventh-year students realized that the younger students were more than capable of matching them during a duel, so underestimating them was wrong. The first-year students discovered rather quickly that actual defense was nothing like during class. They wouldn't have time to remember the correct spell and to practice before casting.

When Hermione proposed Dumbledore's Army, the most important precept was to learn actual Defense so they wouldn't fluke the O.W.L.S. They both played fools of the actual reason why they needed an actual course on Defense. It was one of those things that, if you didn’t say it aloud, maybe it wouldn’t happen. Harry wished profusely that no one would need to put in use any of the defensive spells they were practicing. Hogwarts was meant to be a safe haven for any wizard. No matter their blood, Hogwarts would always be safe.

He was wrong.

Running inside the halls, Harry stumbled across several of his classmates fighting for their lives. They were mostly a blur in his eyes, but Harry could hear all the casted spells, all the cries of pain and the laughs. The laughs of the Death Eaters who were enjoying fighting children.

At the end of the day, that's what they are. Children.

It took Harry a lot of time to realize it.

He remembered one time his godfather told him that being young is not a guilt he should be carrying. He didn’t understand back then why he wasn't allowed to be a part of the greater good, of the adults who were fighting against evil. Harry felt it was a waste of time, considering that sooner or later he would end up fighting.

He was always going to end up here.

This time, his guilt grew with every classmate that fell to the ground and stopped breathing. Every child that died in the hands of a Death Eater was a death he was going to carry.

He had to stop him.

This has to end now.

Harry was running towards the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. Nigel Wolpert, a younger Gryffindor student, had told him that Professor Meadowes needed reinforcements. She was by herself, trying to keep all the underage students of Hogwarts safe.

Ducking the spells thrown at him and hitting back, Harry kept running. Every breath had his lungs burning and his legs threatened to give up with one more step, but he needed to get there as fast as possible. Someone needed to warn Professor Meadowes that Voldemort and Nagini were on their way towards her.

Despite growing up with somewhat religious parents, Harry wasn’t the praying-type of person. This time, however, he was praying to the same God that took his parents from him to stop Voldemort from killing a dungeon full of children. They were innocent in this conflict, born during a time he wasn’t even alive to see.

Harry knew it was futile. He was going against an enemy that had no conscience. With history as his witness, Voldemort had proven him he wasn’t above killing children just to make a point.

Please, let them be alive.

Would Voldemort kill them? Was Professor Meadowes going to stop him?

Is she going to be alright?

Harry made it to the dungeons, not knowing if it was too late or not.

The door of the common rooms was closed, protected under a blood spell that Dorcas Meadowes had performed. She was trying to stand up, resting against the door. With how dark it was, Harry thought for a second that Voldermort didn’t make it, since there was not a trace of him anywhere.

Except the blood.

Dorcas Meadowes was pressing a cloth against her neck, where blood was gushing out of a deep injury across the skin. Harry quickly went to her side, putting more pressure on her neck.

"Professor, try not to speak," Harry immediately ordered, "You're going to be fine, it's okay. This is just a scratch, right? That's what you always say."

Dorcas let out a chortling laugh, spitting some blood.

"Are... the kids okay?" Dorcas asked, before throwing up more blood, "He didn't... hurt them?"

"No, he didn't," Harry replied. At this point, he knew tears were running down his face, but he didn't find it in himself to try to keep them inside. He was tired, "They're going to be fine."

"That's good," Dorcas whispered, "I have... something to tell you."

"For Merlin's fucking sake, Professor, that can't wait! Don't speak at all! I want you... I want you to be okay," Harry yelled, uncaring if the kids or anyone passing by heard him.

He hoped someone did.

The whole wizarding world must know that Professor Dorcas Meadowes valiantly went against Voldemort, in defense of the youngest Hogwarts students.

And she had won.

"You're just... like him," Dorcas said, raising her hand to push one curl behind his ear, "My Regulus."

All the anger and fight left Harry's body with those words.

He wasn't going to be able to save her.

Dorcas pulled a silver tiara out of her robes’ pocket. She left it in Harry’s lap, pulling it towards him.

“I told him,” she admitted with a satisfied smile, “That it was Regulus and me who discovered his secret.”

Harry didn’t want Professor Meadowes to keep talking. He wanted her to stand up, like she always did, and to take her to the Great Hall for medical attention as soon as possible. There was still time, wasn’t it?

But her skin was getting colder and she was losing strength, barely able to even rest. It was Harry’s job to give her a last moment of peace. He held her forearms and sat them down, trying to ignore the puddle of blood that was forming under them.

“There is a Pensieve on… Dumbledore’s office,” Dorcas whispered, “Take my tears.”

“Professor, I can’t leave you here,” Harry said, “After everything you have done for me, this is the one thing I can’t do. Please, please, I beg you. Let me be with you.”

“I’m not alone,” Dorcas insisted, “And you have no time… to lose. Run, please.”

Harry had seen that look before. The glassy eyes, tears running down paled cheeks and a lost glimpse.

On his dad's face. On Lily’s, too.

She wasn't speaking to him.

At that moment, Dorcas Meadowes wasn’t even with him anymore. She could’ve been anywhere in the world, at any chosen time. But the strength in which she was holding him, and the fear stricken in her eyes spoke louder than her whispers. Harry couldn’t make her feel safe, because she wasn’t anywhere near free from danger.

“You’ll see them soon,” Harry assured her, “Both Regulus and Marlene. That’s who you wanted to see, right? They’re alright, just waiting for you.”

“Oh, they’re here, right?” She asked him.

“They are, Dorcas, you did good. You have been the bravest of all of us.” Harry comforted her.

Dorcas Meadowes was Hogwarts Potion Master and Head of Slytherin, beloved Professor of many generations of students who walked out of her classrooms. She was a loved friend and a resourceful ally.

The bravest professor Harry had ever met.

She died that night, after defending her youngest students. She made fun of Voldemort before facing him and told him his biggest fear was about to come true.

She was now with Regulus Black, her friend and Marlene McKinnon, the only one she had ever loved.

Harry was raised under certain principles.

To love his family. To keep his promises. To stay healthy and safe.

He always tried to comply with his principles and he prided himself on being responsible for his promises, fulfilling them most of the time.

A coffee with Lily and Mary after the war sounded so impossible right now.

He remembered vividly all the details of Lily's story. Her being such a good storyteller helped, for sure, but Harry would never forget the gruesome bloodbath at the hands of the Death Eaters that changed her life mostly, because he didn't want to go through something like that.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Harry wasn't going to survive the Battle of Hogwarts.

He was his own self-prophecy. Harry wanted to laugh a bit when Voldemort threw, once again, a killing curse right at his chest.

This is it, he thought.

Just like playing with a time-turner, things were always fitting in the right places.

Harry always knew he was going to die under Voldemort’s hands.

Death was kind to him, at least. It lulled him with a soft hum, trying to make him stay asleep a little longer. It was stroking his hair with such care that Harry didn’t care anymore where he was or what was happening, he was just appreciating the gentleness with which it was taking care of him

"How are you feeling, Haz?" a soft voice asked him, one that Harry didn't recognize, "You arrived here so quickly. I was expecting you so much later."

At that, Harry stood up. He was resting on a blanket in a meadow he vaguely recognized. To his back, it was Godric's Hollow. Harry knows that was his parent’s house during the war, but it had stayed unused after their death.

So, this must be a dream.

His head had been resting on someone else's lap. When Harry faced the stranger who was keeping him company, he realized this person was someone he wished he knew so well. He was just like all the stories described him, with those dark waves and storm-gray eyes, it was impossible not to recognize him.

"Papa..." he whispered.

"Hello, Harry," Regulus Black answered, "Look at you, sweetheart, so grown-up. And Merlin, that hair. You are so beautiful, son."

Harry immediately crumbled up, jumping straight for a hug he had waited his whole life for. The sobs were wrecking his body, trying to claw out of his throat painfully, but it didn't matter. His papa had embraced him in a warm cuddle that helped him remain steady.

"I missed you so, so much," Harry cried, "You and Dad both. I've been so tired. Everything has been too much."

"I can only imagine," His papa replied, "You did an amazing job, Harry. Far better than anyone else could've done in your position. I'm so proud of you."

"We both are," A new voice added. Harry didn't need to look twice to know who it belonged to, "Would you look at him, my love? He's my twin!"

"He has my eyes," Regulus quickly retorted, "But yes, dear, I blame you for that hair. I'm so sorry, Harry. You deserved so much better."

Harry knew he wasn't talking about the hair. There was a subtle implication in his words, one that Harry understood perfectly.

He deserved to have both sets of parents with him.

James and Regulus Black deserved to watch their son start muggle elementary school and receive his Hogwarts letter when he turned eleven. To be next to him when they go shopping at Diagon Alley for his supplies and hear about his crush on Draco Malfoy. To meet his friends, cheer on him at his Quidditch matches, and stand next to him in every step he had taken so far in his life.

It was unfair.

"Dad Remus and Dad Sirius did a good job," Harry said, "They tried so hard to make you guys proud."

"They did, Haz," James answered, "Tall order they received, and they fulfilled better than anyone else could. Trying to keep you safe all these years wasn't an easy job."

"And you certainly didn't make it easy," Regulus reprimanded him. "Chasing around Voldemort since your first day at Hogwarts. Oh, baby, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Harry automatically replied.

Regulus laughed at that, and Merlin, that was a beautiful sound. Papa's laugh was melodic, quiet giggles that Harry felt proud to be the reason behind. All the stories made sense now, he thought, about the Slytherin boy with a heart of stone and the Gryffindor boy with a touch that melted everything on its way.

"You don't have to worry about anything right now, Haz," James said, "You can stay a little longer. Or even more, if you want to rest."

Harry felt comfortable right there, hidden from the world in his Papa's arms, with his Dad hugging them both. He could stay there forever so easily, he thought. Being in this meadow, feeling the breeze against his skin and just surrounded by love and sunshine.

However, the weight of what had been said to him lay tickly over him, making him uncomfortable. He realized at that moment what was truly going on. The piece inside of him that belonged to Voldemort is gone, finally. He is mortal once more.

But Harry isn't there to do any killing. He's here right now, with his fathers holding him and being the comfort he so desperately needs.

He needs to go back, he knows so. But does he want to?

"What... What will happen? If I stay here, I mean," Harry asked.

"Well, I can't know for sure, but I believe Neville will fulfill the prophecy," Regulus started saying, "Voldemort will die,"

"What about my dads?"

"Knowing them, Sirius and Remus will leave London," James replied, "Probably go to France and take Draco with them. Away from the wizarding world."

It was an eerie sensation knowing how the future would play out without Harry. He felt relief knowing that everyone was going to be mostly okay once Voldemort was gone, yet Harry couldn't bear to leave like that. So much death and suffering have happened already. It's not fair to those who stay behind to have to keep mourning only because Harry wanted an easy way out. As if reading his thoughts, James spoke up to him softly:

"I believe you already know this, Harry, but whatever happens, it's not your responsibility to carry a guilt that it's not yours," he said, "Sirius and Remus, and everyone you care about will be fine. Haven't they been so all these years?"

Harry stayed silent, subduing his tears. He recalled his conversation with Lily Evans, about how she felt guilty for leaving the wizarding world instead of keeping on fighting. He couldn't help but wonder if his family would feel the same about him. Would they be mad he didn't try harder to stay alive? Would they be relieved that he was at peace?

Sirius and Remus had done everything to keep Harry safe since that Halloween night when the people who loved him the most had to leave. They have been doing everything just for Harry, making sure he could live a life James and Regulus would've been proud of.
Harry knew that if he decided to make this his last moment, things would be alright, wouldn't they?

The guilt on his shoulder would fade, and his only worry would be wondering when he would see them again.

Then, he remembered that glimpse of lovely, lovely blonde hair.

There was one person in this world who needed him more than anything.

Harry had given Draco a piece of his heart and, in exchange, he had taken one of his for himself, too. Harry has been in love with him since he was eleven and met him at Diagon Alley. He loved him when Draco prissy thing that ignored him during first year. He loved him during their first-interrupted date, and when they danced together at Yule Ball.

Every single thing about their relationship was made of magic and if you told Harry they were fated to meet in every life, he’ll believe you. Harry was made out of love, raised surrounded by it and grew up to share it with the person he chose.

Draco was that person.

Harry couldn’t let him go, no when this was the one thing he had fought for.

“I want to go back,” Harry whispered, tears drowning his words.

“Is that so?” Regulus held Harry’s face in his hand, giving him a kiss on his forehead. He muttered the next words against his skin, “That’s alright, sweetheart. You're going to do so good.”

“We’ll see each other again, right?” Harry asked, not wanting to let go, yet.

“Of course we will, we are always with you,” James assured him. He rested his chin over Harry’s head, squeezing him tight, “We love you, Harry. And the ones who loved us never leave us.”

One more moment, Harry silently begged.

He will come back. He’ll kill Voldemort, sweep Draco off his feet, hug Ron and Hermione and then he’ll let his dads embrace him and go overprotective on him, checking for injuries and damage. He’ll do it all.

He just wants this hug to last a little longer.

It was during a Halloween night where Sirius Black’s life changed completely.

By that point, Sirius thought he was born to protect his little brother, to be James Potter’s confidant and to fall in love with Remus Lupin. He was made of all the acts of affection he had for others and he grew within them. That’s how his life was supposed to go and he was surprisingly fine by it.

Voldemort took that from him.

It’s been years since that night and his heart still aches when he thinks of everyone he had lost. There are certain things in life you simply know how to do. For Sirius, how to be a big brother was one of those things that came naturally to him. He didn’t need to follow instructions or to imitate other people, he just knew. What he needed to learn from scratch was how not to be one anymore. And no one could teach him that.

Then, he went from an indulgent uncle whose only task was to spoil his nephew to a father. Someone who set rules and curfews. Again, he had no one to teach him how to be one, but Sirius likes to think he learned that a lot better. He had the help of the other half of his heart and together, they raised Harry into a fine man that his fathers would be proud of.

There is beauty in grief, he found out.

You learn how to take care of scars and fill them with these beautiful memories that numb the pain. Sirius’ scars were full of Harry, of all his little quirks and aches. From every moment with him. Sirius is aware that he wouldn’t have survived his grief without Harry.

Harry had been, unconsciously, a teacher to Sirius. He taught him how to overcome his sadness and to change his diapers. To distinguish between different baby’s cries and to give dating advice. Sirius did so, all willingly, because his love for Harry was his teacher in life and Sirius wanted to learn everything Harry needed.

He thought that, by this point in life, Sirius was no longer a student. That life had taught him everything he needed to know.

There was one more lesson though.

When Hagrid came carrying Harry in his arms, Sirius revived that Halloween night.
All the pain and sadness he had buried underneath the skin was pouring out again, and Sirius can’t control it anymore.

The death of his child was a situation no one had prepared him for.

This wasn’t a situation he could solve by adding a picture of Harry next to his parents and praying every time he felt sad. Sirius just knew if he did so he would never stand up again. He will have to spend the rest of his life on his knees, waiting for the merciful God to take him too.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort yelled, proud and delighted at the news.

First, there was silence at the news. Harry was laid down on the ground, his eyes firmly closed and his body weightless.

Was he injured? Sirius wanted to ask, Did he suffer?

But he couldn’t speak any words. The only thing he was able to let out was a shattering scream. He felt someone’s arms surrounded him and he knew Remus had him, but this was too much.

He somehow was able to survive his brothers’ death.

But his Harry? Sirius was ready to die right there and then.

Not him, he thought, holding Remus’ arms like a lifeline, not my baby again.

Voldemort kept yelling, drawling his words in an ecstatic manner. He thought he had won.

But not yet.

He mustered all the strength he could to stand up, holding his wand firmly. He looked straight into Voldemort’s ruby eyes and vowed to kill him.

Then, in a swift motion Draco ran towards Voldemort and threw his wand at Harry’s body. It was such a strange thing to do that Sirius couldn’t make sense of it, until Harry grabbed Draco’s wand in the air and threw a jinx at Voldemort, running at Draco’s and creating a distance between them.

It was chaos after that.

For all the knack Sirius had at telling stories, he couldn’t remember any single detail that matters of the Battle of Hogwarts. He saw magic and death in the one place where those things don’t go at hand. He fought alongside Remus and then lost vision of him for one second. Then, they met up in the battleground and with the reassurance that they were still breathing, they kept going.

Harry was alive.

He was alright, so far. Alive and breathing.

His family was still complete.

He repeated the mantra in his head like a prayer. Over and over again, even if it was becoming a bit tedious. It helped him concentrate. All his courage had a vocal point of focus and it was his family.

It has always been.

So once it was all over, Sirius sat down in the Great Hall, surrounded by other survivors whose adrenaline was wearing off and they were hit by the realization that tonight was going to stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Sirius did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He asked for a cigar and lit it up with the tip of his wand. While blowing up the clouds of smoke, he tried to grasp in disbelief that this was finally all over.

He did it, he told his brothers. Our son did it. Aren’t you proud of him?

“Where have you been, Padfoot?” Remus asked him angrily, “I’ve been worried sick for you! The kids were… are you smoking?”

“A small one won’t kill me,” Sirius replied, “Sit down with me, Moony. I’ll turn it off.”

But Remus didn’t let him do that. He took the cigar straight out of Sirius’ mouth and dragged the smoke. He then sat down, but didn’t return the cigar. Well, it has been a while for both of them. Sirius would allow the indulgence, too.

“He did it,” Sirius said.

“He sure did.”

“He almost killed me back there, pretending to be dead.”

“Not only you, Padfoot. I swear that my heart stopped beating.”

They didn’t say anything more. Sirius asked a kid who was passing by for another cigar and he ended up giving them his whole box. Well, small miracles do tend to happen once every while.

Remus rested his head on Sirius’ knee, closing his eyes. Sirius stroked his hair slowly, trying to savor this moment of peace they found in. He shouldn’t allow them to be so relaxed when there’s still so much to do. People around them were yelling to find medical supplies, to clear the area for the makeshift stretchers and to list all the survivors. Students were crying, professors were running around trying to comfort them, to help them. As members of the Order, Sirius and Remus should be doing the same.

But they didn’t. They kept smoking.

“So, Draco, these two are the biggest hypocrites ever. You see, I’m not allowed to smoke or drink before turning eighteen but they can smokechain when they think no one is seeing them,” Harry said loudly, making Draco chuckle.

The two of them were holding hands, looking a bit worse for wear. Draco’s face was covered with band-aids and someone (probably Harry) had bandaged his head and now Draco’s hair was up in every direction, like a sea urchin. Harry, however, had a myriad of injuries he probably refused to treat to give others the chance to get medical aid first.

“Draco, be a dear please and grab the first medical aid you see,” Remus asked him. Draco nodded with his head and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek before running away. “And you, sit down. We’ll give you a smoke once your injuries are treated.”

“Are you for real?” He asked.

“No, I’m Sirius.” Sirius laughed, “Come here, Harry. Let me hold you a bit.”

Harry didn’t even complain when Sirius engulfed him in a hug, hiding his face behind Harry’s neck. He didn’t want to cry, trying his best to be strong for his kid who had just gone through what was probably the most traumatic experience of his life.

“You know what, Dad?” Harry softly asked.

“What, Harry?”

“I saw them both, for a moment,” He said, “You were right. Papa was so beautiful. And Dad was so kind. They’re alright. They said they were proud of us.”

That did it for them.

When Draco came back with the medical kit, he found the little family all in tears. Harry was holding Sirius, letting him cry and grieve what he suppressed for years. Remus was crying because the loves of his life were doing so and Harry was relieved that, despite everything, he made the right decision.

Sirius didn’t even think twice before pulling Draco’s arm and making him join their hug. And then Draco started crying, too.

Maybe that was the only part of the war Sirius needed to remember. The rest was meant for history books children will read in the Hogwarts classroom, so they’ll look outside the windows and wonder if it happened exactly as it was written.

But those little parts of the story, the important ones, were those that Sirius kept in his heart as new lessons he needed to learn. Or maybe to teach, even.

He never thought that one day, a year after the war, Sirius Black would be sitting in a Colombian coffee shop by South Tottenham, run by his two friends. He would be nursing a cup of delicious coffee, savoring each sip while watching the whole show in front of him.

Barty and Evan would be painfully, awkwarding sitting with the rest of them. There were still a lot of unsaid feelings of betrayal and hurt between them, but Sirius knew it was useless to push them into talking when they weren’t ready yet. Thankfully, they’ll have the whole time in the world for that.

Molly would be fussing over his children, scolding them when they’ll make fun of Ron and Hermione for being such a shy couple. Then, Ron would stand up and defend them even if the teasing didn't stop. After that, Molly and Mary would sit down and exchange recipes between stories. Stories that won’t make Mary feel guilty because she can’t remember them.

Harry and Draco would be sitting quietly in a corner, with no desire to participate in the group’s antics. Draco would whisper something in Harry's ear and he’ll laugh, then he would put a wild curl behind Draco’s ear and they’ll kiss, unaware if the rest of the place was making fun of them or cheering for them. They wouldn’t care for that.

And Remus and Sirius? Well, someone needs to say thank you to the dead and all that. So, they would sit down in front of the altar they had made all those years ago. With a heavy weight in his heart, they have a couple of more pictures next to the portrait of Regulus and James, but Sirius has learned how to live with grief.

They would be fine.