When I Think About the Moments (That I Never Got to Spend With You)

"And that is why Harry was returned to his family's home this summer. I sincerely thank you all for respecting my request to restrict communication with him while he is hiding in the muggle world."

Sirius blinked in shock, not fully understanding what he was hearing. His godson, who had just gone through a highly traumatic experience was apparently sent back to his Aunt and Uncle, where he'd most likely receive absolutely no care or comfort. Sirius hadn't been able to get many details about the Dursleys out of Harry. Harry was always cagey whenever Sirius had cautiously brought them up. Still, he hadn't liked the few crumbs of information that Harry had dropped over the years. Most mentions of Harry's life before Hogwarts had caused a sinking feeling in Sirius's stomach and a rise in guilt over running after Peter all those years ago, leading to Harry being shoved off on Petunia in the first place. If only he had stayed with Harry, they would…

No, this isn't the time to think about old regrets.

Sirius gave a slight shake of his head to clear his thoughts and focused back on the Order meeting. They were in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, with the old crowd and a few recent recruits spread around his table. He glanced around the room, hoping he'd see someone else with the same concerns as him, but no one seemed like they were about to disagree with Albus. Some even nodded as if they agreed that a distressed fourteen-year-old should be cut off from his friends and an already pretty limited support system. As if they thought that returning to the house that Harry did everything he could to avoid even talking about was the best thing for him. Albus had explained the blood protections already to Sirius. He'd explained how crucial they were in keeping Harry safe from Voldemort and his followers and that Harry needed to stay with those of Lily's blood. That reasoning was acceptable while Sirius was still on the run and living in and out of caves and abandoned houses, but it didn't make sense now. Grimmauld Place was practically a fortress, thanks to his paranoid ancestors. It was also a forgotten fortress after Sirius permitted Albus to place the Fidelius charm on the property. No one would think to come here, and even if they did, they wouldn't get through the wards without a prolonged siege.

Albus had finished looking around the room and twinkling at everyone over his glasses and was glancing down at the parchment he was using as an agenda for the meeting. it appeared he was ready to move on to the next order of business. No one else was going to speak up on Harry's behalf, so Sirius leaned forwards and spoke quickly.

"Sorry, Albus, but I'm not sure I understand why it's so important for Harry to return to the Dursleys. He would be safe here, and he'll need support after what he's just experienced. Couldn't he come here for the summer, especially if the Weasley's and Herminone will be moving in next week?"

Sirius quickly interjected before Albus could move on, "I'd think he'd be safer here than in Surrey anyway; here, he'd be kept in the house with all of us able to watch over him. At the Dursley's, he could always leave the protection of the blood wards, and there wouldn't be any wixen there able to help if a Death Eater found him."

Albus smiled at him kindly, not appearing to give any real thought to Sirius' request to bring Harry to Grimmauld before replying, "Unfortunately, Harry must return home. We've discussed the unique protection that Privet Drive offers Harry and why they must be maintained. That is not something open for debate. However, you make a good point about his safety if he leaves the blood wards. Why don't we institute a watch schedule to ensure a member of the order is nearby Privet Drive at all times."

Albus started to discuss a rotation schedule, but Sirius couldn't let this go. "Albus, Harry was just kidnapped, stood next to a friend as he was murdered, and then witnessed the murderer of his parents come back to life. He barely made it back to us, and you want to shove him off to Surrey alone, with relatives he doesn't like spending time with? And you've told everyone not to speak to him while he's there."

Sirius looked around the room again, hoping to find anyone who would agree with him. A few looked troubled by his raised points, particularly Remus and Molly Weasly, but no one spoke up. He looked back to Albus, praying to Mother Magic that he would have seen some sense.

Unfortunately, Albus's expression had not changed. He watched Sirius patiently, another person might have said he was invoking a grandfatherly image, but the only grandfather Sirius had known was Arcturus Black, who was a mean son-of-a-crup, and had never looked at anyone so kindly as Albus was currently.

"Sirius, come now. Harry is strong. He is one of the strongest individuals I have ever met. Harry will come out of this experience firm in his resolve to stand against Voldemort. I don't think he would appreciate you considering him weakened due to the events in Little Hangleton. I'm sure Harry would prefer to spend the summer in Surrey where he can get out in the fresh air. He'll have a much more enjoyable summer there than being locked up in Grimmauld Place, surrounded by the dark magic and dangerous items your family has collected over the years. He will be safe and happy with his Aunt and Uncle, and I'll hear no more on the topic."

Without waiting for any more discussion, Albus swiftly moved on, calling for volunteers to be stationed on Privet Drive again. Sirius sat there in shock and felt slapped down just for doing his best to look out for Harry. Keeping his eyes down, he fiddled with the teacup in front of him, feeling his frustration mounting. He hadn't meant to imply that Harry was weak.

But wouldn't anyone be struggling after what Harry had gone through?

Sirius hadn't even experienced what Harry did. He wasn't taken to the graveyard, or tied down, or forced to give blood in a ritual to resurrect his enemy, and then tortured and made to duel said enemy. But just hearing about what happened had given Sirius nightmares, his brain conjuring up images of everything Harry had suffered that night.

If only I had never gone to Azkaban, Harry would be here with me. I'd have custody of him, and no one, certainly not Albus Dumbledore, could tell me differently. Why does Albus get to decide anyway? Who made him the final decision maker for Harry's life?

Actually...that was a good question. Why does Albus get to make all decisions regarding Harry's home life?

Sirius knew Albus hadn't been included on the list of guardians James and Lily had left before they died, nor was he the executor of their will. When Albus had received the intelligence saying Voldemort was targeting the Potters, James had gone almost immediately to his solicitor on Cordial Ally and Gringotts on Diagon to ensure their affairs were in order.

"Just in case," James had said with a shrug, "Moldy-pants won't even be able to find us once the Fidelius is in place!"

When he said it, he had been smiling. Those were the early days. It was easy to pretend that it was no big deal, acting like he didn't need to worry about things like wills. Still, the detailed instructions and information Lily and James left behind indicated how seriously they viewed the task. Sirius didn't remember all the details left in the paperwork; he knew Harry was supposed to go to him if something happened to Lily and James, but multiple people had been included as backup options, none of them being Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

So why had Harry ended up there? And why does Albus get to make decisions for Harry as if he is Harry's guardian.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard someone say his name. The Order meeting had continued without him while he stared into his lukewarm tea. They had moved on to discussing the cleaning and improvement of Grimmauld Place. Sirius glanced up quickly, realizing Molly had been trying to get his attention to ask about bedrooms her family could use.

"Sorry, Molly, any rooms are fine. I just ask you to leave my room alone and the room next to it." Molly nodded in response before looking away and continuing to speak on what would be needed to make Grimmauld habitable again.

Sirius felt the usual pang of grief-anger-betrayal-guilt that he usually did whenever he remembered his younger brother. His first time seeing his long-dead brother's room since running away at sixteen had nearly bowled him over in grief. Without crossing the threshold, Sirius had carefully closed the door to avoid disturbing Regulus's things or even the dust that had settled over the years and promptly decided to never go back into that bedroom.

Sirius looked up again as the table and chairs next to him started moving. The Order members were standing up and quietly chatting as they moved to the kitchen door and began walking upstairs to leave. He hadn't realized the meeting had ended, nor that he had been lost in thought for so long.

Shouldn't be surprised. All I do is get stuck in my head these days. Sirius thought ruefully; ever since Azkaban, it was hard for him to stay fully present for longer than a few minutes at a time. It was a common symptom of long-term Dementor exposure.

Well, common to those very few who manage to get released from Azkaban before the harsh environment and those soul-suckers kill them.

Sirius thought maybe a skilled mind-healer could help. He had visited one for a few years after he first started living with the Potters. After blurting out a few too many details of his previous home life to convince Fleamont and Euphemia not to send him home, they had encouraged him to see a mind healer to work through the abuse his parents had put him through.

Not that considering it does me any good now, of course. No mind healer would be willing to meet privately with the crazed mass murderer and Dark Lord supporter Sirius Black. He thought to himself with an amused huff. Maybe one would do good for Harry, though. Merlin knows he needs someone to talk him through what he has been forced to endure.

But that brought him back to the issue of Harry being stuck with the awful Dursleys all over again. Now that Dumbledore had made his decision, Sirius didn't think he'd be able to talk him around to anything else. Seeing as no one else had sided with Sirius during the meeting, it didn't seem like he'd get any support from anyone else in the Order. Sirius looked up around the room again, unsurprised to find the rest of the group had left without anyone bothering to speak with him. Sirius stood and cleaned the table off with a wave of his wand, sending mugs and the kettle to the sink to start the washing up and tucking chairs in as he moved to the doorway. He thought he'd sit with Buckbeak while pondering the issue of Harry's guardianship and try to think of a reason to bring Harry to Grimmauld that Dumbledore might agree on.

Sirius started up the stairs, creeping past the curtains that hid his mother's portrait, before pausing before the second-floor study. The study had been his father's, traditionally belonging to Lord Black. Sirius stood outside the room, staring at the solid oak door. Hundreds of memories rushed back to him of the space within.

When he was younger, before he proved just how much of a disappointment he was to his parents, there were happy moments in this room. Curling up in the corner of the couch reading while his father completed paperwork, hiding under the desk when Regulus could be coaxed away from the library to play hide-and-seek, even those early lessons from his father on the traditions and history of the House of Black he could look back on with happiness. The later memories had caused him to ignore the study since returning to Grimmauld Place. Orion and Walburga had always punished him in the study. He thought maybe they liked the sense of authority it provided them. He thought they must have told themselves that disciplining their child to the point of abuse couldn't be wrong if it were necessary for the good of the House of Black.

But now, Sirius paused outside the study. He knew that the hidden entrance to Grimmauld's Ward Stone would be within the room. Although its primary function was to act as the tether for the countless wards laid overtop each other during the hundreds of years the Black Family had called it home, the small room the Ward Stone was housed in was also the primary Ritual Room for the House of Black. It was one of the few places a Black Heir could claim the Lordship without needing the current Lord present and taking an active part in the inheritance ritual.

If he were the Lord, Sirius would have control of the entire Black fortune and have significantly more influence over the wards and protections here at Grimmauld. As Lord, he could contact the family solicitor and expect a certain amount of loyalty and discretion that, as a renounced former Heir, he hadn't been willing to count on in the two years since escaping Azkaban. Maybe if Sirius could speak with the solicitor, he could find a way to clear his name. Then he'd be able to be Harry's guardian the way James and Lily had wanted him to be. Merlin, if he was Lord, maybe he could even get Kreacher to behave better, he thought with a laugh.

Sirius reached out and laid his hand on the doorknob and felt the Black magic sweep over him. It wasn't that powerful right now, nothing compared to what Sirius remembered as a child. The Family Magic was mostly dormant without a Lord, with the family practically decimated and the ancestral house in disrepair. He could only feel it when he focused on the wards and other passive magic in place around Grimmauld. But here, on the entryway to the Lord's Study, the magic was more substantial.

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this. Sirius had whole-heartedly disavowed anything and everything to do with the House of Black for nearly twenty years. The responsibilities and traditions he had grown up learning had happily been left in his past after running from his parents and moving in with James. It wasn't just the Pureblood ideology and multiple family members siding with the Dark Lord that had caused him to leave. By nature of being the Black Heir, he had expectations and duties laid on his shoulders from before he was walking. Until he went to Hogwarts and experienced his first bit of freedom, Sirius had lived with the weight of his family and societal expectations on his shoulders and felt smothered by them daily. Running away at sixteen and essentially abdicating his title had been an attempt to free himself. The irony of landing himself locked up in Azkaban just five years after freeing himself was not lost on Sirius now.

Do I really want to do this? Sign myself back up for all the bullshite that goes along with being a Wixen Lord? And Lord Black at that?

No, no, he really, really did not want to become Lord Black. But for Harry...for Harry, Sirius would do just about anything. With that thought, Sirius turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to the study quickly before any more doubts could enter his mind.

The room was dimly light but not nearly as dusty as the rest of the house. Sirius doubted Kreacher paid any more attention to this room than the others; it was more likely a charm placed years ago, or the family magic kept the space clean. After taking a few steps forward, Sirius took a moment to look around the room and refamiliarize himself with the room. The desk was directly across from the entrance, a behemoth carved oak desk intended to intimidate anyone meeting with the Lord sitting behind it. To the right was the fireplace, surrounded by bookcases filled to bursting with ancient tomes. A comfortable sofa was facing the fireplace, making for a cozy space for the Lord to relax with a glass of firewhisky. To the left of the desk was a wall of false windows, charmed to show the image of a still lake. At night, the clear sky would reflect upon the lake and give the impression of a window full of stars. Sirius remembered hours spent staring out at the stars in front of those windows. When he was a young child, it was a nightly ritual to sneak in and sit on the floor with Regulus, racing to find their Stars and try and look for any of the stars and constellations his favorite family members were named after.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius padded farther into the room before turning around and facing the wall behind him. Covering this wall, the wall that would face a Lord Black while sitting at their desk, was a multitude of portraits. Like the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, the Blacks of old had wanted to ensure all future Lords had the guidance of their predecessors. An early Black Lord started the tradition to have a portrait painted reasonably early in a Lord's tenure to be hung after his death in the study.

Luckily, it appeared that most of the former Black Lords were sleeping. Unluckily, Sirius's father, Orion, wasn't one of the sleeping Lords. Orion was staring at Sirius with one eyebrow already raised by the time Sirius made eye contact.

"Well, I see you've finally found sense and returned home, Sirius. What a shame you had to be imprisoned in Azkaban and reviled by the entirety of the British Wizarding Society before doing so." Orion said with a sniff and a definite tone of derision in his voice.

Sirius straightened his back and forced all emotion from his face. If he had to have this conversation, he'd keep it as short as possible and do his best to avoid the pitfalls that a conversation with his dead father's portrait would undoubtedly involve. "Hello, Father. I'd say it's good to see you, but I think we both know that would be a lie."

"Hmph. What do you think you're doing in the Lord's Study. I remember quite clearly you saying you'd never return to this home and swearing that you'd avoid every member of the Family for the rest of your days. Have you come crawling back now? I hope you haven't sunk low enough to ransack the house for goods to pawn?"

A few other Lords had woken and watched Sirius with various expressions. Some were outright suspicious, some looked on with neutral faces, and others (the older ones, Sirius noted) just looked bored with the proceedings.

Sirius looked back to his father's portrait and took another calming breath, "I've come to claim the Lordship," he stated, ignoring his father's widening eyes and slight gasp and the shocked rustling of other portraits, "there are no others who could or would claim it. Regulus is long dead, Andromeda is uninterested, Bellatrix is imprisoned, and Narcissa is married in another Ancient and Noble House. The rest of the direct line has passed. There are no others of the blood with a stronger claim than mine."

He could tell his father wanted to speak more, along with several other Lords who had leaned forward while he was speaking and opened their mouths to respond as soon as he finished. Still, Sirius quickly turned on his heel and walked behind the desk without waiting for any further conversation. On the right-hand side of the desk, within reach when sitting and hidden within the decorative woodwork, was a small, carved crow. Sirius drew his wand, placed the tip against the crow's beak, and waited.

Slowly, the crow turned its head and looked at Sirius for a few moments before opening its beak and letting out a croaking caw. He felt a rumble in the floor and walls of the study and looked over to see one of the wall panels next to the windows had swung open. Again, without pausing and allowing himself to reconsider, Sirius strode forward, ignoring the still cawing crow and the multiple portraits attempting to speak with him. As he passed the opening into the Ritual room, all noise from the study was cut off, and the temperature dropped by at least 15 degrees. Despite it seeming to be on the second floor, this was a magical pocket room. In truth, it was located at the heart of Grimmauld Place, surrounded by thick walls and a multitude of wards and spells to keep it protected. A muggle bomb could go off next door, razing the exterior of Grimmauld to the ground, but anyone within the Ritual Room wouldn't even be able to feel the vibrations.

The Ward Stone was in the center of the room, but for now, Sirius ignored this. Instead, he moved to the East facing wall and used his wand to make a small cut across his left palm. It had been years since Sirius learned this ritual and nearly as many years since he last thought there was ever a chance he'd have to do it, but still, he remembered very clearly the process for claiming the Lordship. Sirius closed his eyes, allowing himself one moment to remind himself why he was doing this. He thought of Harry.

Harry at just a few minutes old in Godric's Hollow. Lily exhausted on the bed, nearly asleep already. The midwife quietly cleaning up somewhere else in the room. And James, holding a little bundle of blankets and baby. James looking at him with an expression Sirius had never seen before, his hazel eyes nearly glowing with love and happiness and pride. James saying, "Hey Pads, meet Harry James. Your godson." before gently placing the bundle in his arms. Sirius had looked down at the tiny little thing in his hands and felt his entire world shift. Suddenly, this little person was the absolute center of his life. Sirius had never felt such an all-encompassing love before, and it brought tears to his eyes. This little human was brand new to the world, but Sirius already knew that he would have such a wonderful life. With parents like James and Lily and honorary uncles in Sirius, Remus, and Peter, how could Harry have anything but a life filled with love, laughter, and the kind of magic that goes beyond what is taught at Hogwarts?

Sirius opened his eyes again, remembering how much love and hope he had for Harry on that hot day nearly fifteen years ago. Without intending to, Sirius thought of Harry the last time he had seen him after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Injured, and traumatized, and clearly so, so tired. Sirius's assurances to himself that Harry would be so loved by his parents and three uncles on the day of his birth had proved entirely untrue. Although his parents surely loved Harry from beyond the grave, they couldn't be here for him. And as for Harry's uncles...one imprisoned after abandoning Harry, one totally absent from Harry's life until he was thirteen, and the last, the rat, the betrayer of the Potters. Sirius felt determination fill him again; nearly every adult had let Harry down in his life. If Sirius could make a difference in Harry's life by becoming Lord Black, then by God, Sirius would do so. And if it didn't help at all... well, it probably wouldn't make anything worse.

Sirus moved his left hand, which had been cupped to keep his blood from spilling and splayed it against the wall in front of him. At the same time, he clenched his right hand around his wand and held it in front of his sternum, his wand pointing straight up to the ceiling.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, swear to Mother Magic that I wish to ascend to Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I pledge allegiance to the House above all others. I swear to protect and shelter all those of The Blood who seek protection. I swear to enrich the Family Magic and ensure it continues on for future generations."

Sirius hated this next part. Not what he was actually doing, as he had known for years that Sirius wanted to leave everything he had to his little Prongslet, but rather that he hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry about it first and get his permission. But without letting himself pause and disrupt the oath, he continued, "I swear in good faith to continue the family line, and so name my heir Harry James Potter, son of James Potter, great grandson of Dorea Potter née Black. On my honor and magic do I swear, and if I may break this oath, may magic itself forsake me for all honor will have left me.

A rush of magic swept from the tip of his wand, made exponentially stronger by the nature of the Ritual Room. The wave swept out through the still-open door into the study and continued on through the rest of Grimmauld Place. It didn't leave a noticeable trace behind, but there was a sense of awakening in Grimmauld Place. As if a great, sleeping beast had lazily opened one eye.

But the wave continued on past the exterior walls of Grimmauld Place, past the outermost wards that kept the property utterly hidden from both the muggles nearby and any Wixen who might stumble across it. Rather than the expanding ripple with Sirius as its center point, once the tide of magic had crossed Grimmauld's furthest ward, it became targeted and moved in only one direction. In a matter of minutes, it reached its final destination.