All credit for Harry Potter, the world the story takes place in, and the characters belong to JK Rowling.
The young raven haired child ran joyfully down the large hallway, weaving in and out of the black robed students walking the other way. He was late! Uncle Moony and Padfoot had told him to meet them back at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as soon as class ended, and that was almost eight minutes ago! He knew he should not have taken that third cup of tea with Hagrid…
Harry Potter was your average seven year old. He liked to have fun, he got in trouble a lot, he loved his stuffed deer…and he lived in a large castle called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were he considered just about every teacher a family member and almost all the students were his friends.
Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and even when it wasn't a full moon he had the senses of a wolf. His eyes were sensitive and sharper than normal, allowing him to be able to see in the dark. His taste was more powerful, which came in handy with his chocolate obsession. His hearing was what enabled him to do so well in school. It had really come in use when he was stuck in the back of the classroom surrounded by the loud and immature idiots he called his best friends. His sense of smell was second to none. He was able to smell almost everything, which was what had led him to discovering his old friend.
He had been out visiting with the Headmaster, who believed he needed to get out and interact with people more often. They'd come to the home of the Weasley family, Arthur, Molly, and their seven children: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. The Weasley house, otherwise known as the Burrow. The building itself might once have been an old stone pigpen, which had several stories attached to it. Multiple chimneys dotted the roof of the house, and the entire building was most likely held up by magic due to its crazy construction.
It was here that he smelled the once familiar scent of the rat…his old pack mate. A sent that was suppose to have been gone for a little over two years. Peter Pettigrew was suppose to have died on November 1, 1981. The day after their friend Sirius Black had betray the Potters to Voldemort after being made their Secret Keeper. Wormtail…he was alive? That had to be impossible. Black had destroyed him…hadn't he? All they'd found was a finger… How was he alive? But there was his scent…and scents don't lie.
"Um…Professor?" the premature gray haired man asked, interrupting a conversation between the Headmaster and Arthur Weasley. "I don't mean to disrupt your chat, but this is important." His tone was the tip-off that something was very wrong.
"What is it Remus?" Dumbledore asked cautiously, his voice still calm.
"Professor…It's Peter. For some reason I can smell his scent all over one of the upper rooms, as if he lived there. But that's impossible, right? He'd dead."
This put the patriarch of the red-haired clan on alert. From his expression, one could tell that he had no idea someone was in his house and that he was worried for his family's safety.
Wordlessly, the two older men followed the werewolf up the stairs to the second floor. It was in the room of the third eldest Weasley family, Percy, that his nose led him. In the sun lay the familiar form of a rat. Wormtail. Alive when he was suppose to be dead, supposedly killed by Sirius...
"He's alive…" he whispered allowed.
The other two men looked at him curiously, unsure of what to say. He motioned for them to follow him out of the room. Once out, he began to explain. How in school his friends had found out his secret. How they'd become Animagi to help his through his transformations and maybe make them more bearable. The truth behind the Marauder's nicknames. How the rat that Percy kept as a pet was in fact Wormtail.
For two years he had hidden.
But why would an innocent man hide? Unless he was not truly innocent…
Sirius Black looked around his small cell, ignoring the screams of the other inmates. It was terrible here…but it wasn't any less than he disserved. It wasn't suppose to be like this. Prongs and Lily-flower were suppose to be alive, safely hidden away in Godric's Hollow. Little Harry was suppose to be with them, loved by his family. He and the other Marauders were suppose to be there for him as Uncles, the ones he could come to when he couldn't go to his father…
It was his fault he was gone…if only he hadn't suggested Pettigrew be made Secret Keeper in his place. Why couldn't he have trusted Moony?
Tears began to well up in his eyes. He missed them so much, not that this place helped. It was hard to remember someone when all your happy memories of them were stolen from you. Under his full time guard of Dementors, the only memories he had left of the Potters and Remus were the ones where he had wished he was dead for betraying them. It was hard on one's sanity to be forced to see over and over how he had revealed Remus's secret to Snape and almost got him expelled. James laying lifeless on the floor of the blown apart cottage. Lily's emerald green eyes wide-open, but seeing nothing.
He cursed Voldemort for murdering his best friend. He cursed Wormtail for betraying James and Lily. He cursed himself for recommending the rat in the first place. He should of realized that Peter was the traitor. His Animagus form was a rat after all… But how does one know that one is a turncoat when there is no indications? Peter had been a wonderful friend. He hadn't the brightest of their group, but he had been kind and always so easy to talk to…
How blind they'd all been not to see past him. And everyone though it had been him that had been the infiltrator of the Order…
So caught up was he in his self loathing that he didn't even realize that the door to his cell had been opened. He was alerted of it when the rusty door clanked against the wall. Looking up, he was gifted with the sight of two Dementors and Alistor "Mad-Eye" Moody, head of the Auror Division and his old friend.
"Black…" the grisly old man said in way of greeting. He stepped into the cell, followed by two more Aurors and another Dementor. Two more old familiar faces. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Thomas Johnson.
"Mad-Eye.." he answered, his voice hoarse from disuse, "What's going on?"
The question was directed to Moody, but it was Kingsley that answered. "New evidence has turned up in your case. A trial has been approved.," the young Auror confided in him as they bound his hands behind his back.
Without another word, they led him out of the cell and into a stone hallway. Almost instantly he felt warmth seeping into him for the first time in who knows how long…The quick action of the Patronus charm.
His guard led him through the labyrinth of Azkaban and passed many more cells holding the scum of the Wizarding world. Many of the inmates were muttering to themselves, the luck that go mad within a few weeks of arriving. Those he would have been among if he hadn't known he was innocent. Soon they emerged from the prison's depths and he felt fresh air on his face again instead of the stuff of the Dementors that smelled of decay and death. Their effect wasn't so bad out here…
They pulled him onto a boat which carried them the twenty-five miles to the mainland. From their, they apparated to the familiar hallways outside the old Ministry courtrooms. He'd been here many times, buy it had been on the other side of the law.
Waiting for them was Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, another pair of Dementors, and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones. "Sirius," the Headmaster began, "It looks like we shall soon see if you are guilty or not." The old man might of said more, but his escort pushed pasted the group and pulled him into the antechamber used to house prisoners while the court assembled. They could only wait now.
"Hey Mad-Eye?" he began cautiously, "If I get off…do you think there is any way I could have my old job back?" This question caused a want to be jabbed into his back.
After a few minutes silence, he figured that was all the answer he was going to get. But with a sigh, Moody said, "We'll see Black… it depends on a whole lot of questions getting answered today. A whole lot of questions…"
From there the room fell quiet. After sometime there was a gong heard, a signal. The door was opened part of the way and a goblet was thrust through. Johnson grabbed it and held it to his lips with a command to drink. He caught a whiff of it before it was forced down his throat. No odor…Veritaserum. They weren't taking any chances were they?
After they were sure he'd swallowed the truth potion, he was pushed into yet another hallway. Another Dementor was on waiting for him, the now familiar cold creeping into him. They motioned for him to walk on. Doing so, he soon found himself in the middle of the large amphitheater like courtroom. Hands grabbed him and pulled him forward. Forced into the single chair in the center of the room, he felt the chains come to life and bind him down.
Looking up and around, he was the many curious faces of the Wizengamot surrounding him as well as those of the audience who'd come to see his hearing.
"We are here today to find out the truth of what happen November 1, 1981, as well as to discover the true allegiance of one Sirius Black," the Minister's voice boomed out around the room.
The trial had begun.
"The charges against the accused are as followed: Being a Death Eater and follower loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Infiltrating the Ministry of Magic as an Auror and passing him information. Betraying the location of Lily and James Potter to him, thus causing their deaths on the night of October 31, 1981. Murdering exactly twelve Muggles and the Wizard Peter Pettigrew on November 1, 1981, and nearly revealing our existence to the Muggle world."
The room was silent.
"Now, you have been given Veritaserum, is that correct?"
"Yes," he found himself calling out in answer. The words seemed to fly from his mouth, enabling him unable to stop it.
"You are Sirius Orion Black, formerly of Raven Cottage in Yorkshire, England, also known as Azkaban Prisoner KY-396?"
"Are you now or have you ever been a follower of or in anyway a sympathizer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
That caused the muttering to break out. Wizengamot members turned to each other and began whispering excitedly until they were shushed for the next question.
"Did you betray the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Again, excited whispering broke out.
"What happen on the night of October 31, 1981, as well as the morning of November 1, 1981?"
He opened his mouth to tell them the truth of that night, and then to wait for the verdict.
"On the night in question, I stopped in to check on Pettigrew. He was in hiding, for it was he, not I, that was the Secret Keeper for Lily and James. I had talked them into making it him…argued that it should be him because everyone knew how close James and I were. I would have been the first one Voldemort came after."
He paused in his story as everyone gasped at the unflinching way he said the name. Then he continued.
"He was gone and there was no sine of a struggle. I knew something must have happen, so I hurried to Godric's Hollow. When I arrived, the house had been destroyed. Hagrid was there, getting their bodies and little Harry out. I asked him to give me Harry seeing as I'm his Godfather…but he refused. I lent him my motorbike to take Harry to Dumbledore… and I went after the traitor. I cornered him on the next morning on November 1, and confronted him on a Muggle street. He shouted for everyone to hear that I had betrayed my friends…Before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with a wand he had hidden behind his back, then cut off his tow, transformed, and escaped down into the sewers."
The muttering intensified when he fell silent. One of the assembled stood up and asked, "What do you mean, 'he transformed?'"
"He's an illegal Animagus. A rat."
More whispering. With this pause in the questioning, he took the time to glance at the audience. His favorite cousin Andromeda, her husband Ted, and their pink-haired daughter Nymphadora. She would be in her first year at Hogwarts by now. His other cousin Narcissa, who he hated, her husband Lucius Malfoy, and their son Draco. The little brat would be the same age as Harry now… His mother (of all people), and their old house-elf. Remus…
The werewolf's eyes were on him and as he looked up, they met his. There was some unidentifiable emotion in the older brown orbs. Pain? Hate? Betrayal? Confusion? Hopefulness? He couldn't tell.
In any event, his old friend looked more haggard that he remembered. There was more gray in his sandy brown hair. He stood slightly hunched over, as if he carried a lot of weight on his shoulders. There were lines carved into his face, evidence that he used to laugh frequently… but had not so much as smile in some time. There were new scars on his face, the newest of which hadn't completely healed. It must be just after a full moon…
After what seemed like forever, Fudge stood up again.
"Mr. Black, what you have told us confirms the evidence we have lately received in your case. An eye witness account not previously know from one Peter Waldo Pettigrew, found in hiding less than a month ago. Furthermore, he has admitted to both the murder of the Muggles, being a Death Eater, and betraying the Potters as their Secret Keeper. It is with this being said that the Ministry offers you 15,000 Galleons for each of the years you were wrongfully imprisoned and a full pardon. Case dismissed."
With this, the room fell burst into conversation as the assembled Witches and Wizards began to mingle and talk about the short and rather disappointing trial. But Sirius didn't move. Not even when the chains removed themselves. He was to busy looking in shock at the place where the Minister had just pronounced him a free man.
They'd found Pettigrew…
He was free…
Excitedly, he turned back towards the faces of his family. Andromeda was smiling broadly across a tear streaked face. Narcissa and his bitch of a mother were glaring down at him, furious that he had escaped what they seemed to feel was the proper punishment for his "actions" towards shaming the Black family name. Minerva, like Andromeda, was crying tears of joy. Dumbledore had on a large grin. This large grin was most unlike the headmaster, who usually displayed a slightly odd whimsical sense of humor… But out of all the familiar faces, he sought one in particular. Remus.
The premature gray man was looking down on him still… but the unidentifiable emotions of earlier were gone from his face. They were replaced with a large and excited grin, allowing the young boy he truly was to shine through.
Remus allowed himself a small smile as the emotions flickered quickly across his newly released friend's face. First the shock, then confusion, then the realization that he was a free man and finally excitement. Happiness. As if a dieing man had just been told he was not truly going to die, but instead live a long and full life. He was glad for his friend… but he knew he needed to confront the dog Animagus. From what he could see, Sirius was not the person he used to be. Loss, grief, guilt and Azkaban had changed the once playful boy in ways he probably would never know.
Slowly, he headed toward the one he called friend again. Before he knew it, he was in front of the newly released man. They stared at each other wordlessly before the ex-convict opened his mouth.
"Remus, listen… I'm sorry. It was my fault that you weren't picked…I though you were the spy…When I saw their house destroyed and their bodies…" he trailed off, "You're lucky Remus. You never had to see their bodies…" he paused again.
The werewolf didn't say anything, just nodded. He smiled sadly, internally reveling in the quiet joy he felt, of one who cannot quite believe his luck. He could understand where his pack member was coming from, and he knew that if he were in his position he would have come to the same conclusion. For now, he ignored the fact that all the anger and betrayal he had felt towards Sirius must now be transferred onto Peter. That could be dealt with later, for now he would enjoy having Sirius back. Quietly he grabbed the shoulders of his depressed friend.
"It's alright Pads. None of us would have ever though Peter was the snitch…it's not your fault! It's over now. You're free, the rat is going to get what's coming to him, and it's time for you to move on with your life."
Sirius nodded silently, a new look of determination on his face. "Moony, my old friend… You are absolutely right! And I know the first thing I'm going to do."
The sandy haired man looked at him curiously.
"I'm going to get custody of Harry and raise him like Prongs and Lily-flower would have wanted."
While the cheery old Professor was happy Sirius was innocent and now free, he did not look forward to the visit the ex-convict would soon undoubtedly be paying him or the request he would undoubtedly make. To know the whereabouts of one Harry James Potter, otherwise known as the Boy Who Lived. While he would give anything to tell the man what he would want to know, he knew he couldn't. It was important that Harry stay with his Muggle relatives for his own safety. Lily's protection was only in play if he stayed with her sister, her blood.
When he had first placed the newly orphaned one year old with the Dursleys, he had been sure to keep a close watch on the boy. He'd placed a squib nearby to look after him, as well as made frequent visits there himself. What he had saw had nearly left him heartbroken enough to the point of removing the boy from their care.
Instead of one of the two bedrooms left over in the house, they stuck him on an old mattress in the cupboard under the stairs. They starved him of both the food a toddler needs to grow strong, and the love they need to receive while being nurtured. They gave him only their oversized son's cast offs to wear. They hit him when he cried or asked questions. As soon as he was able to keep his grip on a rag, they had the little two year old working. Polishing, dusting, cleaning the floors and windows…
As Minerva had said that faithful night, they truly were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable.
But, sadly, it was for the boy's own good. After all, it was that protection that kept him safe from Tom and his followers…
He honestly sometimes thought it would be better for the little boy to be taken from that house. Although it would leave him vulnerable to attack, he could at least be happy perhaps with a family... There had been several offers over the years…
While he thought about it, there came a knocking on the door.
"Come in…" he called out warily.
And in came the very person he'd been waiting for, along with his oldest friend the werewolf.
"Sirius, Remus! What a pleasant surprise," he said, his tone suddenly cheerful.
The scar faced sandy haired man looked apologetic, while the thin faced shaggy black man only looked determined.
"Albus," Black jumped straight to the point, not even acknowledging the greeting, "Where's Harry?"
As the headmaster studied the two men, contemplating telling them the location of the child and therefore removing him from the only home he'd ever known, the boy in question was begging whatever god was out there to get him out of here. He hated it in at number 4, Privet Drive.
He had been sent to his cupboard…again. He hadn't even done anything! He'd just found an old toy of Dudley's that the mean fatty never even played with and claimed it as his own. Dudley had seen him with it and demanded it for himself. He had loved that toy…a stuffed stag he'd named Prongs. He didn't know where the name had come from, but it was familiar somehow. And that wasn't the only thing he could recall.
Sometimes in his dreams, he saw things. Things that seemed to be fading with time. A red haired green eyed woman laughing joyfully at something two men were doing…one with black unruly hair and hazel eyes, and one with long silky raven locks pulled back in a ponytail with silver eyes. A man with kind brown eyes and sandy hair…but with a face riddled with scars. Sometimes the hazel eyed one that looked so much like him would take him up on a broom and they would fly. That had been fun…to bad it was just a dream…wasn't it? Sometimes the hazel eyed man got together with the silver eyed man and the kind scar faced one and they turned into animals. A stag, a scary looking dog, and a fierce wolf…but they were all gentle with him.
The names Prongs, Padfoot, and Moony were always in his mind when he was woken up from those dreams. He wished they were real. He wished they'd come and rescue him, then they could be as happy in real life as they were in his dreams. But he was a freak, and freaks didn't deserve to be happy. They didn't deserve toys either. He knew, his uncle had told him so.
As he lay in the dark (the last light bulb had burnt out and they only gave him one a year) he thought with longing of the stag toy stuffed animal. It had helped keep the nightmares away. Whenever he didn't have it, the same dream always plagued him. A flash of green light, a really scary laugh, and a pair of screams he was sure were the hazel eyed man and the red haired woman.
Because of that, he now feared to go to sleep. If he went to sleep, he'd have the scary dream. It he had it, then he would wake up crying, thus waking up his Aunt and Uncle. If they woke up, he would be punished. He really wished he wasn't here anymore, or he had his stag back…
The professor considered the two men before him, as well as thought back to an offer made long ago by none other than the boy's godmother.
"He's safe," the long haired headmaster said over his clasped hands, "for now. Before I tell you, I need your word on something."
The two men before him shared a confused glance before looking back at him.
"The boy's godmother asked me to allow her to raise young Mr. Potter some years ago, but I refused. I believed at the time that there was no better place for him that where he has been for the last few years. From recent reports I've receive, I think differently now. I've been considering removing him from his present location and he was to go to her if I did. If he was to go to you, which I dare say is what his parents would have wanted, she would be heartbroken as she has no longed to look after him. My request is that you share the burden of raising him with her. A boy needs a mother after all."
The two men shared a confused glance again. They obviously hadn't been aware that their was a godmother to young Harry. After all, the boy's parents had only alerted him of the fact of her designated role to his knowledge.
"Um…sure, but…who is she?" Remus said uneasily. He was obviously concerned that she might know of his condition and not allow him to visit the boy.
The Headmaster smiled at them.
"You both know her," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "It's Professor McGonagall."
The surprisingly large number of students left at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday were mostly out on the grounds, taking advantage of the snow and frozen lake. All were stopped in their tracks as they heard a loud yell:
It was the pounding that woke him up. The weird thing was that it was the middle of the night. Who could be calling at this hour? He heard the incoherent mutterings of his Uncle Vernon as he pounded down the stairs, raining dust down from the bottom of the stairs with each step onto his nephews head. Many a morning he had been woken up like that.
The heavily mustached man, woken from a very sound sleep, was very angry. No sane person was awake at 2:00 in the morning…except perhaps the little freak. Whoever it was was about to get a piece of his mind!
Yanking the door open in mid pound, he bristled, "What in the world is the matter with you to be banging on the bloody door at this hour? Do you not know what time it is?"
This was all said before he got a proper look at his four guests. The three men in long robes in shades of black, brown, and amethyst, one wearing a tall pointed hat. The woman in ones of emerald green. A long piece of wood was in the hands of the woman, and it was shining at the tip. None of them were smiling.
"Good evening Mr. Dursley. We've come for young Mr. Potter," the man in amethyst said, the light of the woman's wand reflecting off his half moon spectacles.
Had he heard right? They were here for him? But that couldn't be right…could it? He must have heard wrong.
Out of his line of sight, Vernon had got a ghastly shade of white. "I don't know what you are talking about," he spluttered, "There is no one by that name here! Leave at once and never come near me or my family again!"
Safe in his cupboard, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming and the sound of the locks being thrown.
"Freaks…at least they had the decency to come when it was dark…" he heard the man muttering to himself as he walked back up the stairs.
And then it happen. The thing that would change his world… Outside, he heard a loud blast. He also saw a flash of red light in the slit of empty air between the cupboard door bottom and the floor. Where had those come from! Cursing was heard above him, along with running feet, and the screams of his fat cousin who'd been woken up.
"I'm only going to say this once Dursley…GIVE US HARRY YOU STUPID MUGGLE!"
That caused him to jerk…and hit his head on the low ceiling of what passed as his bedroom. Muffling a cry with his hand, he started rubbing his now sore head. Then he noticed the silence outside. Earlier, their had been cries, curses, yelling, and all sorts of whatnot. Now there was nothing. You could have heard a pin drop.
"Professor…" a new voice trailed off, "Did you hear something just now?"
The new voice sounded familiar, almost…comforting. So did the voice of the person who yelled. He didn't know where he had heard them before…it was almost as if they were from a dream of something…
"As a matter of fact, I did not. Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction from which you heard it?" the first voice said, presumably the professor.
He quickly tried to make himself as small as possible. He'd get in trouble if he wasn't asleep, and that might earn him a slap or two.
Then the locks could be heard rattling, and the door swung open…
Sirius glared at the somewhat short, fat Muggle before him that refused to give him his godson. What was this guy's problem? According to Dumbledore the Dursleys didn't even like him, you'd think they'd jump at a chance to get rid of him. But surprise, surprise…
Then Remus heard the thump and led them to the cupboard under the stairs. Who needs two locks and a deadbolt to hold a cabinet shut?
"There's breathing in there…" Remus muttered, a frown crossing his face. He looked up at Dursley. Sparing a look up at him to, he saw that the man was scared. What could possibly be so bad that they had to lock it up.
Minerva waved her wand, still lip up, over the locks. They rattled as they undid themselves and the door swung open to reveal the small space within. It held a small camp bed, a light bulb hanging from the ceiling, some toys on a small shelf, and clothes lying at the foot of the bed. And in the bed… curled up to look as small as possible in the corner was a small haired boy that looked almost exactly like James had at such a young age… He was small and skinny, which made him look younger than three. His thatch of untidy jet-black hair flopped down over his lightning shaped scar and almond shaped eyes that were the exact same shape of green as his mother's that looked up in fear.
The two younger men and the woman all turned in anger at the still present Muggle, who also coward in fear upon receiving their combined gazes.
"DURSLEY! WHY IS HE SLEEPING IN A CUPBOARD!" the werewolf roared, going for his wand.
But he was beat to it. Just as his hand went for the slender piece of wood, a jet of green light flashed past him and headed directly toward the cowering man, who was replaced by a bright pink stoat.
Slowly the two men followed the trail the flash of magic had taken… and was met by the sight of none other than Minerva McGonagall, the stern head of Gryffindor who wouldn't even blink if she had to take points off of her own house, with her wand pointed at said, now floating, stoat and a look of hatred on her face. Definitely not the Minnie they were used to!
But the bad part was… she was scaring the little one…
Harry was scared. The weirdly dressed people had come to get him, they'd yanked his cupboard door open, and now they were just standing there! The mean looking woman was pointing a stick at his uncle with a look of hatred on her face, this surprised him. Usually he was the one that expressions like that were directed at. The sandy haired man was also looking at his uncle with dislike.
It was the other two that confused him the most. The one with the long silver hair and beard was looking at him with concern, and the black haired one with the familiar grey eyes was looking at him what could only be described as love. WHAT WAS GOING ON HERE!
More importantly, why did he feel like he knew all of them and could trust them? True the younger two looked a lot like the ones who turned into the wolf and the dog from his dreams…but they were only figments of his imagination…right?
The one that resembled the dog kneeled down in front of him, wedging himself partially into the small space that passed as his bedroom.
"Harry? It's alright," the man whispered, holding out his hands toward him. It was like he was offering him a hug… He didn't know what to do. "Harry," he asked, his voice gentle, "Do you want to come out of here?"
He stiffened and shrunk away. "Harry?" the man froze, his arms still outstretched. Slowly, the little boy crawled toward him and let himself be pulled out of the cupboard. Almost as soon as he was out, he struggled to get down. When his feet were on the floor, he quickly backed away from the four strangers in the hallway.
They were quite odd looking. Everyone one of them, not just the woman, looked like they were wearing a dress. Harry had to suppress a giggle. It was kind of a funny sight.
"Harry," the man who looked like the dog said again, this time stuttering a little. "I-I'm your godfather. I knew your mum and dad, and they wanted me to take you if anything happened to them," he explained, kneeling down so as to be at the little boy's eye level. He gestured to the hawk like lady, who although was still pointing the stick she was now smiling adoringly at him. "This is your godmother…"
Harry didn't know what to say to that. He had family…other than the Dursleys? They'd said they'd come for him…did that mean his prayers had been answered and they were going to take him away?
"Does that mean I have to leave?" he slowly whispered in his three year olds speech.
The man looked confused for a moment, before clearing his throat. "Your mum and dad wanted us to take you, if anything happened to them. That means you get to live with us…if you want to of course. It's completely up to you."
Want to? Of course he wanted to! He wanted to get away from his mean relatives… The man in front of him hadn't stopped smiling the whole time he'd talked to him, which an was unusual experience for him. The other three were also grinning. He liked it when people smiled at him…
Shyly, he returned the smiles. This caused the men to smile even bigger and look at him with expressions full of love. There was no way they couldn't be them…they'd looked at him the same way.
"Uncle Padfoot…" he whispered, before throwing himself around the man's neck. He was almost as surprised by his actions as the black haired man was. After he had slowly brought his hands around him and pulled him into a crushing embrace, Harry pulled away bashfully. He took in the broad grin on Padfoot's gaunt face, shyly returning it again.
He felt himself being swung up in one motion and placed on the man's hip. He froze in surprise, but the man apparently chose to ignore it.
"So you remember me, huh Prongslet?" Padfoot said cheerfully. He pointed to the scar faced one. "Do you remember him?"
Eagerly, he nodded. "Uncle Moony!"
He reached out toward the shocked man and managed to partially hug him from the arms of the first Marauder.
"Aunt do you remember Professor Dumbledore and Aunt Minnie?"
He shook his head sadly. They must have been important if he was suppose to remember them.
"That's alright little one," Moony soothed him, gently stroking his hair. "It's been awhile since you saw them, so we can't expect you to. Just wait for a little while and you'll know them again."
From there, they didn't stay long in the house that had been his home for as long as he could remember (which wasn't long.)
They tried to get him to claim his things from the cupboard, but he refused all of it. He wanted to put everything from Privet Drive behind him if he was going to leave forever. The only thing he wanted to claim was Prongs, which was currently being held hostage in his cousin's room.
It was funny to watch his aunt's expression when Padfoot had burst into the room with Harry in his arms and claim the toy from her son's grasp, Harry mused.
He had his arms wrapped around Sirius' neck as the door to 4 Privet Drive swung shut behind them. He couldn't help but smile. It was nice to be loved, even if it was probably only a dream. Where else would these wonderful people have come from? It was the only thing he could think of for his prayers to get answered, his uncle being turned into a furry little animal, and getting Prongs back. Nothing wonderful like that could ever happen to a freak.
"Prongslet?" Minerva asked curiously as they descended the front porch steps, a look of dread starting to farm on her face.
"He's Prongs' son. Therefore he is Prongslet." Sirius stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, a grin spreading across his own face. In his hands, he held the future of the Marauders.
A/N: Start of new story. Good? Bad? Give me feedback here! This will only be a twoshot or a threeshot, so you've been warned. Also, i've got no idea how a three year old talks, so Harry talks like a normal person in this. sorry...
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