In the morning, the Prophet was full of stories of Sirius' freedom. The ex-convict delighted in reading them aloud over breakfast, gleefully repeating the parts that shed suspicion on Dumbledore's involvement in the Potters' wills.
"I want to marry Amelia Bones," Sirius declared, and Charlie kicked his shin halfheartedly.
"Oi!" he protested. Sirius just laughed, dancing out of kicking range.
"Come on, can you blame me? The way she just brought out those facts, right in front of the old goat, and managed to make it all part of my own case! Fucking masterful."
"It was brilliant," Charlie agreed. Then he reached out, grabbing Sirius by the wrist and yanking him down into his lap. "But you're not marrying her."
"Make me a better offer," Sirius challenged. Charlie just winked.
"Maybe I will."
"I'm going to leave before I vomit," Snape declared, getting to his feet. Remus laughed.
"Don't forget to come up for lunch," he teased, bidding his partner goodbye.
"So what do you want to do with your first day as a free man, then?" Harry asked, beaming at his godfather.
"Well, now it's all over the paper, I suppose we should see what the public reaction will be," Sirius suggested, still grinning. "Anyone up for a trip to Diagon?"
"You mean we have to be seen in public with you?" Charlie mock-complained. Sirius just laughed, kissing him firmly.
"Get used to it, Weasley," he drawled. "I can go anywhere I want, now! I've got fifteen years of catching up to do!"
"I'll come with you, as long as you stop doing that," Harry said, gesturing to the pair of them, and Sirius barked a laugh.
"I suppose it has been a very long time since I witnessed the Public Spectacle of Sirius Black," Remus mused, shaking his head. "But I can't be out too long; I promised Severus I'd go over some adjustments he's making to the Wolfsbane this afternoon."
"You're going to leave me with the lovebirds?" Harry yelped in dismay. Charlie snorted, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
"I'll drop Bill a line, see if he wants to join us," he assured. That perked Harry up, and he finished his breakfast quickly, heading upstairs to get changed for the day. On his desk, the letter from Draco was open, having been re-read a dozen times the evening before; the Slytherin boy was absolutely fine, but they were just laying low while Narcissa sorted out some legal business leftover from Lucius' death. He promised Harry he'd visit soon, and Harry could hardly wait.
When he returned to the entrance hall, the three adults were dressed in robes. Sirius was in fine form, his hair silky and tied back in a low ponytail, looking every bit the Pureblood Lord he was. His eyes were shining in a way that made Harry's heart swell with happiness for him.
"Let's go!" he declared brightly, practically dragging Charlie towards the door. Remus and Harry followed at a much more sedate pace, though Harry could see mischief hiding in Remus' amber gaze; he was looking forward to shocking the public just as much as the rest of them.
Indeed, when Sirius apparated into Diagon Alley, there was a small burst of screams. Then people remembered the Prophet headline, and just stared at the four of them, wide-eyed.
Sirius didn't falter for a second at the scrutiny, and to his credit, neither did Charlie. The redhead tangled his fingers with Sirius', offering his partner a sunny smile. "Where to first, sweetheart?"
"Gringotts, I think," Sirius declared. "Make sure the accounts are all in order."
They were given a wide berth up the alley, people stopping to stare and whisper as soon as they saw them. It was weird, for Harry, being the centre of attention due to someone else's presence. Was this what his friends felt like?
They all paused at the sight of the lurid purple building declaring itself to be Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "Fucking brilliant," Sirius declared proudly. "Oh, we're definitely going there next. But I need money first."
They hurried to the white marble building at the end of the alley, and Harry spotted a familiar head of red hair waiting outside. Bill waved at them, reaching out to clap Sirius on the shoulder. "How does it feel?"
"Incredible," Sirius declared vehemently, beaming. "I need to check my accounts."
"I thought you might; I set up a meeting for you," Bill told him. "With Farlig; he's the goblin Harry put in charge of all his accounts, which included the Black accounts at the time. He wants to know if you'd prefer to switch back to your old account manager."
"Nah; if Harry likes him, that's good enough for me," Sirius assured, to Harry's quiet relief. They passed by the goblins guarding the bank and into the main entrance hall. Bill led them straight through to one of the offices, flashing a Gringotts pass as he walked. Harry was only partially surprised to see Gorrak in the office as well as Farlig; both goblins bowed, and Harry bowed back, offering the customary greetings.
"The Nation's congratulations on your freedom, Lord Black," Farlig said. "I understand you wish to review the Black accounts?"
Harry left him to it, shuffling over with Bill and Gorrak. "How is progress going?" he asked. To his shock, the Weasley and the goblin shared a toothy grin.
"That's one of the reasons I asked Gorrak here, actually," Bill started. "I don't know where Snape got that book, but it's exactly what we needed. We know how to get the horcrux out of you."
Harry stared at him, the words echoing in his brain. "I— really?"
"We can perform the ritual as soon as you are ready, Mr Potter," Gorrak confirmed.
Harry's heart soared — and quickly fell, once a thought occurred to him. "I can't, yet," he realised, feeling sick. "The visions… I can't stop having them. I've already saved lives with them, I can't risk that going away." Without the horcrux, he would no longer have the connection to Voldemort's mind. There would be no early warning if anything should happen again like it had almost happened to the Bones', or to Mr Weasley last Christmas.
Bill's brow furrowed. "It's dangerous to keep it, Harry. He could send you false visions to trap you; he's already tried it once. The longer he knows about the connection, the higher the chance he might figure out what it really is."
"I know, but I just… I need a little more time." He just needed to see how bad things were going to get. How many other people he could save. "How long does the ritual take to prepare?"
"Half an hour," Gorrak responded. "We could even do it right now, if you wished."
"I can't," Harry insisted sadly.
"I don't like this, Harry." Bill was frowning. "Having that thing inside you… it's not good for you."
"It's been there fifteen years almost, what's a few more months going to make?" Harry retorted. "I promise, as soon as it looks like things need to change — if it gets dangerous, or he becomes too aware — I'll have it removed. But… I can do good things with it, right now." His lips twisted bitterly. "It's not like I can kill him even if we do destroy it. We still don't know where the rest are, if he has any more."
"The cursebreaking team have been doing some research on that front, as well," Gorrak supplied. "We believe with confidence that it is impossible for any more than nine horcruxes to be made without the soul dissolving entirely. So at the very least, there is an upper limit."
That wasn't nearly as comforting as Harry would like it to be. "Is there a way of tracking them?"
Gorrak and Bill shook their heads. "We've been trying to figure out where the rest might be," Bill assured. "But considering where the ones we know about were, we don't have much to go on."
Harry bit his lip in thought. The diary had been with Lucius Malfoy, and the locket… either Voldemort had left it in Grimmauld Place, or he'd given it to Regulus Black.
"What about with his other followers?" he suggested. "That seems to be what he did with them; giving them to other people to look after." He was struck with a thought, and frowned. "Is there a way to search the vaults of his Death Eaters? I know the contents is private and everything," he added quickly. "But if you're, like, cataloguing or whatever. Surely you could take a look?"
The pair frowned, Bill glancing at Gorrak for authority on the matter. Slowly, a sharklike grin crossed the goblin's face. "It is true that what wizards choose to store in their vaults is at their discretion," he began. "However, the Nation has laws. Including the law that no living being is to be contained within a vault." His dark eyes flashed viciously. "I believe a horcrux could be considered a living being, of a sort. It would be entirely within Gringotts policy to remove such an object from its vault for violation of goblin law." He turned to Harry, nodding decisively. "We shall see it done. If there is a horcrux within this bank, we will find it."
"Brilliant." Harry's stomach clenched, hardly daring to hope it might be that simple.
When he looked back to Sirius, his godfather was bent over the desk, wielding a sharp grey quill over an ancient looking piece of parchment. Considering Gorrak and Bill were already deep in discussion over which vaults to check, Harry sidled over to the desk, peering at it curiously. "What are you up to?"
"Oh, y'know," Sirius replied airily. "Just a little family tree maintenance."
Harry's eyes widened, and he looked closer. Sirius' name on the tree now glowed bright gold, showing him to be the current head of the family. A few rows over, in fresh black ink, was Andromeda Black Tonks. Sirius had only needed to write her name; as the magic accepted her reintroduction to the family, ink sprawled out, creating lines to link her to her husband Edward Tonks, and her child Nymphadora Tonks. Sirius nodded in satisfaction, then put the quill down, reaching for a blood red one lying next to the family tree.
Without hesitation, he struck a line through the name of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, murmuring something in Latin that Harry didn't quite catch. There was a flare of magic, a tug within Harry's core, and then Bellatrix's name faded on the paper until it was little more than a scar of faded ink, her connections to her family dissolved.
"Merlin, that felt good," Sirius declared, smirking. Farlig grinned, rolling up the family tree at Sirius' order.
"I will have the full accounts of the Black holdings sent to Curse-breaker Weasley to bring to you," he declared.
"Would you send him the Potter and Peverell holdings, too?" Harry requested. "He can look at them, right? Since he's my guardian?" If Sirius could get the deed to the Pottery, that would make their sanctuary even more secure.
"It will be done," Farlig assured. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Lord Black?"
"There should be a pensieve, in the Potter vaults," Sirius said. "Would you have it brought up, please? With Harry's permission."
"Yes," Harry blurted immediately. "Please." He flushed, but Farlig just smiled and nodded, writing a note which vanished immediately.
"I know I said we'd go through the whole vault together, pup," Sirius said, squeezing his shoulder. "But I don't think today's the day for it, yeah? We'll come back another time."
Harry wasn't about to make Sirius spend his first day of freedom holed up in a Gringotts vault underground. They had plenty of time for that, in future.
"Sounds good," he agreed.
While they waited for the pensieve to be delivered, Sirius got set up with a new bank card and money purse, and was able to authorise them for Harry, too. "Don't spend it all in one place," he said teasingly when Harry pocketed his card, as if it would be possible to spend the whole Potter fortune in one lifetime, let alone one place.
The pensieve brought up from the vaults was a beautiful piece of carved obsidian, and Harry was surprised when a small wooden box was placed beside it. "The note on the pensieve instructed these to be used together," the goblin messenger who had brought them up explained. Sirius reached for the box, and he sucked in a sharp breath when he opened it. "Oh, Monty," he breathed. Remus froze.
"Monty?"
"He left memories," Sirius explained quietly. "For James and Lily. For us."
"…Oh." The two Marauders stared at each other for a long moment, and no one else spoke; there was nothing they could say. Then Remus cleared his throat, wiping hastily at his eyes. "Well, then. We can look through those later. Thank you," he added to the messenger, who bowed and retreated at Farlig's hand gesture.
"I think that's everything, then," Sirius said, voice a little hoarse. "Thank you, Farlig. You've been a friend to my godson, and I hope our relationship is long and prosperous."
"I am glad to guard your family's wealth, Lord Black," Farlig replied firmly.
Harry bid both goblins goodbye and the five of them left the bank, Sirius getting goggled at once more.
"I think that's about enough staring for one day, for me," Remus decided. "Pass me the pensieve, Padfoot. I'll take it home safely." He ruffled Harry's hair. "Be safe, cub." Then he looked at Bill, and smirked. "Keep these three out of trouble, will you? I don't trust either of them to be able to say no to Sirius today."
Bill laughed, while Charlie blushed. "I'll do my best," he promised. "See you, Remus."
The werewolf went to find a quiet spot to apparate from, and when Harry turned back, he was unsurprised to see Sirius' gaze set on the twins' shop.
"Looks like we're off to visit Fred and George," Charlie mused, sighing. Sirius just grabbed him by the hand and set off.
Harry and Bill kept up easily; Harry was keen to see the shop, too. There was a huge crowd outside it, though it parted with a sort of terrified awe at the sight of Sirius Black.
"At last!" the call came from nowhere, and suddenly Harry felt hands on his shoulders; he would've jumped, had it not been so familiar.
"We were starting to think you didn't love us anymore," Fred sniffed, tweaking Harry's ear.
"And you!" George said, rounding on Charlie. "Here I thought I was going to be the disgrace to the family with my pureblood Slytherin boyfriend. But you just had to go and one-up me with bloody Sirius Black!" He looked quite put-out, and Charlie laughed.
"Have to take the opportunities when they come, little brother," he replied, slamming a hand over George's mouth before the younger Weasley could make some inappropriate joke out of it. Charlie made a disgusted face, pulling his hand away and wiping slobber on George's robe. "Don't lick me, you don't know where that hand has been."
"I can make a few solid guesses," George retorted dryly.
"This place is amazing," Sirius declared in awe, looking round-eyed at everything the joke shop had to offer. Indeed, it was a riot of colour; Harry could see several things he recognised from the past year at school — including a whole display full of Skiving Snackboxes — but there were even more brand new items; the twins had been incredibly busy in the last few months.
"I can show you around if you like," Fred offered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Marauder discount on whatever strikes your fancy."
"Except Charlie, you're paying full price for him," George joked, and Sirius snorted.
"Happy to," he replied with a wink.
"And you can just grab what you like, Harrikins," Fred added. "Your money's no good in here."
"Don't argue with us," George insisted, placing a finger over Harry's lips. Harry took a leaf out of his book, and licked it. George just laughed. "Now you definitely don't know where that's been lately."
Thinking over the possibilities, Harry mock-gagged.
"I'll try not to take offence at that, Potter." It was Blaise, approaching from the direction of the till. Harry stared at him.
"I thought you were in Italy!"
"Decided to stay and help the twins with the initial summer rush," the Slytherin explained. "Angie's here, too." He gestured back at the till, where Angelina was ringing up a cluster of kids for an incredible stack of prank goods. "Bit cosy in the flat with the four of us, but it could be worse. It's good to see you, though; I was starting to feel outnumbered by lions."
Harry blinked at him. "Blaise, I'm also a lion," he pointed out, amused. Blaise waved a dismissive hand.
"Barely."
That drew a laugh from Bill, and Blaise eyed him over. "You must be the eldest brother. Well met, Lord Prewett."
"Well met, Heir Zabini," Bill replied in turn, then offered a hand to shake. "Welcome to the madhouse, I suppose. Seems a bit late to warn you away from it."
Blaise chuckled, casting fond eyes towards George, who was eagerly demonstrating something to Sirius. "Quite," he agreed. "I hope we'll soon have a chance to get to know each other somewhere… quieter." As if on cue, an explosion of bright green smoke went up from somewhere in the back of the room. Blaise sighed. "Excuse me a moment." He started to squeeze through the crowd, headed in the direction of the mess.
"Looks like he fits right in," Bill joked. "Come on, let's see what they're selling Sirius on."
Harry and Bill shuffled their way over to where the twins were regaling Sirius and Charlie with the story of the Fireworks Extravaganza at Hogwarts. "I'll show you the memory when we get home," Harry promised the pair, grinning. "We just picked up a pensieve from my family vault," he added to the twins in explanation.
"Wicked," they replied, beaming.
"You'll have to show us all the stuff that went on after we left," Fred begged. "See if we can get some inspiration."
"And those origami eggs you did," George added, eyes bright. "Blaise told me about it. You've been holding out on us, Potter."
"We'll sort dinner at Grimmauld one night," Harry assured. "Memories and brainstorming. You can give me some ideas to keep the legacy alive now you're gone, too."
The twins nodded eagerly.
Sirius was off investigating again, and Harry was quite happy to leave Charlie to chase him around. Aware of Bill keeping close, Harry did some exploring of his own. The twins really were geniuses, with some of their stuff.
"This section is cool," Bill said, gesturing to a smaller section off to the side. "It's all defensive stuff. Pre-charged shield spells, stunners, that sort of stuff. Noise decoys — and this Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, it's really incredible." He pointed at the little jet black rocks. "Do I want to know what you did that the twins won't take your money? Or are you really just the favourite brother?" Bill asked, looking amused. Harry laughed, and told him; there was hardly need to keep it a secret now, after all.
"Wow," Bill said, grinning. "I'll have to tell Fleur, she'll get a real kick out of that."
"How's she doing, anyway? I hope I get to see her this summer."
Bill's smile turned a little goofy at the mention of his fiancée. "She's great. Part of the Order officially, now. We'll figure out our next weekend off, have lunch together or something."
"When's the wedding?" Harry asked, tossing a couple of the Decoy Detonators into his basket with the Darkness Powder.
"Haven't pinned a date down yet. But we're not in a rush; I need to find us a house, and Fleur wants to be done with her internship and onto the apprentice programme before we're married. It's, ah, a more secure job — better hours, less chance of gallivanting about with something weird and dangerous. We're pretty keen to try for kids, as soon as we're married, so we want to make sure that'll all work out." He blushed faintly at the admission, and Harry stared at him, wide eyed.
"That soon? Really?"
Bill nodded. "We both want a family. Just got to get the essentials squared away; marriage, house, apprenticeship. After that… well, we'll figure out the rest when we get there, yeah?" He was grinning, clearly eager for that future. Harry could see him with a little red-haired baby in his arms — or even a little blonde baby, if the veela blood ran true.
"You'll be brilliant parents." He'd seen Bill with all his younger siblings, and the way Fleur doted on Gabrielle. Any kids of theirs would be incredibly lucky.
"Thanks, Harry," Bill said, beaming. "You'll have a lot of competition for favourite uncle, though. Better start brainstorming now," he joked.
They found their way towards the till, and Harry set his basket down. Angelina stared at him flatly. "No can do, Potter," she declared. "Fred's told me you don't pay here."
"Oh come on, Angie," Harry whined. "I can't just take all this stuff!"
"Quit being such a bloody Gryffindor, Potter," Blaise drawled. "You're better than that."
That just made Harry roll his eyes, and eventually he was forced to stand aside so the person behind him in the queue could pay. Blaise grabbed him gently by the elbow, directing him into the back room. "How did everything go last week?" he asked, voice low and urgent. It took Harry a moment to figure out what he was referring to.
"Oh, that. Yeah, went smoothly. Everyone you sent my way is where they should be. Haven't you heard from Theo?"
Blaise shook his head. "I think he got too focused worrying about Susan, after the attack was reported in the paper. I only know he's fine because she told me." He scoffed. "Lovestruck little idiot that he is."
"Pot, kettle," Harry retorted, smirking.
"Don't start fights you won't win, Potter," came Blaise's immediate retort. "I've seen you and Draco."
Harry had to concede there.
"Speaking of, I assume you've heard about what happened at the Manor?"
Harry wasn't sure how Blaise had heard, but he nodded all the same. "Mrs Malfoy claimed Lucius' proxy seats before Sirius' trial yesterday," he explained. "I think her votes in his favour were the only reason he won, actually." If all those seats had been down as abstaining, it might not have been enough.
"She's certainly making her stance clear," Blaise agreed, impressed. "I've heard a few rumours, down Knockturn way; there were a few darker families under a bit of pressure to join up, but several of them seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, with all their belongings. Current theory is they've moved in with the Malfoys."
Harry's eyebrows rose; Draco's letter hadn't said anything about that. "What makes you think that?"
"They're all women from Mrs Malfoy's social circle — women with family members in His service, but who have never pledged themselves. A few men, too. And their kids of course. I can't think of anything else that would have such a prominent collection of dark socialites vanishing all at the same time."
"Hopefully it's not for more sinister reasons." If Narcissa was rescuing people who were stuck in the same position she once had been, more power to her. "I should get to see Draco soon; I'll give him your regards, and see if I can get some answers for you."
"Please do. I'll send you some names, too — Mrs Malfoy may be able to look into them. They're kids I know are struggling, but they're not in the position to help themselves. If she can do anything…" Blaise's face was drawn, and Harry nodded.
Even if Narcissa couldn't do anything, maybe Harry could, or even Snape.
The curtain to the back room was suddenly pulled back, and George peered in at them, smirking. "Oi, go back to your own snake, Potter," he teased. "This one's taken." He slung an arm around Blaise's waist, kissing him.
"You can keep him," Harry replied lightly. "I just had some information."
"About your boy?" George's brows furrowed in concern. "Heard the Manor's gone dark."
"He's fine," Harry assured. "His mum came to Sirius' trial. We'll tell you about it later; it was amazing, you should've seen Dumbledore's face! But she passed on a letter, and Draco's safe. Hoping to visit soon."
That made George crack a smile. "Glad to hear it." There was a shout from the other side of the curtain, and George nudged Blaise forward. "Come on, you two. Come join the party."
'The party' turned out to be watching Sirius pay for a truly obscene amount of Weasley products, a look of childlike glee on his face. Harry sighed. "Remus is going to hate us," he said to Charlie, who just laughed, looking back at his partner indulgently.
"Probably," he agreed. "But it's worth it. Look how happy he is." Then his eyes turned mischievous. "Besides, we'll just blame Bill. He's the one supposed to be telling us no."
They both looked over to Bill, who was chatting away with Angelina about something or another, not even blinking at the amount Sirius was buying.
"Works for me."
Eventually, Sirius was finished, all his purchases shrunk down into a bag. "We'll owl you about dinner plans," Harry promised, ducking Fred's attempt to ruffle his hair — only for Angelina to get him instead.
"See that you do," George insisted, kissing his cheek. "Don't be a stranger, kid."
After a long round of goodbyes, they were finally stepping back out into the alley. "Is that all you wanted, Padfoot?"
Sirius turned to him, grinning in a way that had dread gathering in the pit of Harry's stomach. "Oh, pup," he said brightly, "I'm just getting started."
.-.-.-.
It turned out that shopping with Sirius Black was an endurance event. By the time they made their way back to Seren Du, Sirius had dragged them into what felt like every shop in the alley — it was even more of a shopping spree than Harry had gone on in the summer before his third year, when he'd been there alone! Bill bailed at around one in the afternoon, while Charlie and Harry were stuck with him until they finally returned home a little after five, laden down with bags. They found Remus in the living room, looking amused at the sight of them.
"You knew," Harry accused, collapsing down on the sofa. "You knew how bad it would be."
"Of course I knew," Remus confirmed. "I grew up with the bugger. I can imagine he's only gotten worse after fifteen years without access to shops in person. Why do you think I left after Gringotts?" He reached out, patting Harry's cheek consolingly. "How many new outfits did you end up with?"
"Twelve," Harry replied. "With a promise to go muggle clothes shopping sometime."
"For him or for you?"
"Both."
Remus glanced over at Sirius, who was stroking Charlie's hair while the redhead sprawled out on the sofa, as exhausted as Harry. "I'd make those two separate trips, and let those two get Sirius' clothes by themselves," he advised. "Unless you want to know things about your godfather you may regret learning."
Harry screwed up his nose in disgust. "Noted."
"Oh, come on, you two; it wasn't that bad," Sirius insisted cheerily. He was hardly even winded; Harry wondered if he was just riding on the high of finally being able to go out and be around other people.
"You're even worse than shopping with Tonks," Charlie groaned. "Maybe I should send the two of you off together next time."
Sirius looked delighted at the prospect.
"Why don't you go take a nap, Harry," Remus suggested, squeezing his ankle. "Put away the mountain of things I'm sure Sirius bought you. We'll call you when it's dinner time." His face softened. "Then we can get the pensieve out after?"
Harry brightened up; that sounded like a perfect plan to him.
.-.-.
After dinner, Charlie begged off, saying he was still tired from the shopping spree. Harry suspected he just didn't want to intrude in their little trip down memory lane, but that was fine with him.
The four of them — Harry, Sirius, Remus and Snape — gathered in the upstairs living room, where the pensieve was sat on the table. Beside it was the box containing the memory vials from Harry's grandfather.
"I haven't watched any of them, yet," Remus said. "I wanted to wait for you to get home."
There were five vials in the box; one for James, one for Lily, one for the pair of them together, one for Sirius, and another simply labelled 'our boys'.
"What do we do about these three?" Harry asked, gesturing to the ones for his parents. Sirius and Remus shared a long, considering look.
"Leave them, I think," Sirius decided. "Whatever Monty and Phee wanted to say to them… that's not for us to intrude on."
Part of Harry wanted to argue — those were his grandparents' memories, and he wanted to know them! — But a bigger part of him wasn't sure he had the capacity to watch his dead grandparents leave a message for his dead parents, one they would never get to hear.
"Okay, then."
Sirius reached for the 'our boys' memory, pouring it into the pensieve. "Come on, then, Moons," he said, voice choked. Together, they placed their hands in the liquid, getting sucked into the memory.
Harry had never seen someone else use a pensieve before. It was strange, seeing them blank-eyed and bent over the bowl. Watching them unnerved him, so he looked away, turning to Snape instead. "Did you, uh… did you know my other grandparents?" he asked tentatively. "My Evans grandparents?"
Slowly, Snape nodded.
"Mr and Mrs Evans — Mark and Rose, though I could never bring myself to call them by their first names no matter how many times they asked. They were… incredibly kind individuals. Every Friday, Mr Evans would stop in at the chip shop on his way home from work. He always made sure to buy enough for me to have some, and they'd insist I stay for dinner, and to watch Come Dancing on telly. Mrs Evans used to be a ballroom dancer, in her youth."
Harry hung on his every word, watching the nostalgia cloud dark eyes. "They knew what things were like, with my family, and they always tried to help the best they could. I think… it confused them, once they found out about magic, wondering why my mother stayed. But I was always welcome at their house, even when I was not welcome at my own."
"I— Remus said, once… Mum's dad died in your sixth year."
Snape nodded. "He was hit by a car on his walk to the shops. Drunk driver," he explained, and God, that made Petunia's lie about how Lily and James died all the more painful. "Mrs Evans didn't last much longer, without him. She saw us graduate, and she was at the wedding, but… she passed in her sleep, only weeks before Lily found out she was pregnant with you. She was only fifty five. Broken heart, they said."
"That's so sad." Petunia had never talked about her parents. Harry had only ever seen one picture of them in the house; a photo with Petunia, looking around eighteen or so, sat beneath a Congratulations banner at a dinner table somewhere. Harry had always assumed it was to celebrate her graduating school.
"You never would have gone to Petunia, if Mrs Evans had been alive," Snape remarked.
Harry was saved having to figure out a response by Remus and Sirius returning to their bodies. Both of them were crying. "Are you alright?" Harry asked, eyeing them worriedly. Remus turned straight to Snape, burying his face in the man's black shirt. Snape blinked for a moment, but cradled him close, long fingers running through Remus' hair.
Sirius sat beside Harry with his hands clenched, tears streaming down his cheeks. Harry leaned into him. "Do you need me to get Charlie?" he broached, but Sirius shook his head, pulling Harry into a hug.
"No. I'm good. I… Merlin, pup, I wish you could've known your grandparents. Finer people you'd never find in this world."
Harry let Sirius hug him, his own heart aching. So much family he would never know.
It took several minutes for the pair to compose themselves, and even when they turned back to the pensieve Sirius had a white-knuckled grip on Harry's hand. "Think I'm gonna leave that other vial for another day," he said, voice hoarse. "Two in one go might be a bit much."
"We can do this another time," Harry offered, but Sirius shook his head.
"No, no; you promised you'd show us those shenanigans you got up to," he said, mustering a smile. "Why don't you put your first year in. The stone."
Harry wasn't sure it was the best idea for two emotionally fragile people to watch the events with Quirrell, but it was too late to turn back now. After some instruction from Snape on how to remove the memories, Harry set them in the pensieve. "I, uh, I think I'll come with you," he said uneasily. It would be interesting, watching it back with everything he knew now.
And so the four of them plunged into the pensieve, right into the moment Harry and his friends tried to convince Professor McGonagall that Snape was going after the stone.
"You thought it was me?" Snape asked, looking bewildered. Harry blushed.
"You were sort-of scary back then," he pointed out. "Definitely seemed more evil than Quirrell."
"Never mind that, look how tiny you were!" Sirius cut in, stepping up close to eleven year-old Harry Potter.
It made Harry wince, looking back at his younger self. How had no one seen his rail-thin frame, his battered glasses, the clothes that swamped him. How had everyone looked at him and thought him a perfectly happy, healthy child?
But that was the least of his worries when they headed for the third floor corridor.
The series of challenges ahead of the stone hadn't seemed nearly so terrifying when he'd faced them the first time around. Watching the three little first years on the chess board, watching Ron get flung off the board… Harry could understand the looks of fury on both his godfathers' faces. Even Snape was paler than usual, his jaw clenched tight. Though he did smirk a little when they reached his potion puzzle.
Harry regretted his decision to go with them when they came to the part where Quirrell unravelled his turban. Seeing the grotesque face of Voldemort made his stomach churn — and he almost lost his dinner when Quirrell burned to ashes beneath his hands. The memory went black as eleven year-old Harry fell unconscious, and they were ejected from the pensieve. A long silence stretched between them.
"I'm going to murder Albus Dumbledore," Sirius growled vehemently. "Setting that up for a bunch of bloody first years!"
"So you, ah, don't want to see my second year, then?" Harry asked hopefully. Sirius narrowed his eyes at him.
"Put it in, pup."
Harry obediently reclaimed his first year memory and replaced it with his second, though he declined the trip this time. He wasn't in the mood for seeing teenage Tom Riddle try and win him over with how similar they were.
His knee bounced anxiously as the three adults were inside the memory, and he yelped as soon as they were out; Sirius had immediately grabbed him in a strangling hug. "You could've died," he muttered into Harry's hair. "You could've died before I ever even met you!"
"But I didn't!" Harry pointed out, arms trapped at his sides. "I'm still here, Pads. Things got better after that year!"
"You say that," Remus drawled, looking very much like he'd like to give Harry a hug himself. "But we still haven't seen the graveyard. If you're up for it."
Harry swallowed thickly. "I— I suppose."
"Last one, then we'll show you some good memories, promise," Sirius rasped, reluctantly letting Harry go.
Harry took a deep breath, and replaced the memories. He definitely wasn't going with them on this one.
The wait was excruciating. But it was worse to see the looks in their eyes when they came out of the memory; that haunted, horrified, pitying look. "Oh, pup," Sirius breathed. Harry shook his head.
"I'm fine," he insisted. Sirius' lips pursed, but to Harry's utter relief, there was no interrogation.
He'd done his grieving for Cedric. He wasn't sure he could stand to reopen that wound.
"Take it back, we'll give you one each," Sirius instructed. Harry did so, the memory somehow even sharper now it was in his mind once more. He forced it away, watching Remus place his wand to his temple.
"I thought this would be a good one to start with." He dropped the memory in the basin, and offered Harry a smile. "Go on, cub."
Heart pounding against his ribs, Harry lowered his hand to the silver liquid.
He immediately recognised his surroundings; it was a Gryffindor dormitory. There were only four beds in this one, and two of them were extraordinarily messy. But Harry wasn't looking at that.
His gaze was stuck on the four boys in the middle of the room.
The Marauders, all together. They looked around twelve or so — James Potter looked heartbreakingly familiar, though he was taller and less scrawny than Harry had been at that age. He was staring at little Remus Lupin, who had a look of utter horror on his face. "We've figured it out," James declared, sounding incredibly pleased with himself. "You're a werewolf, aren't you?"
"What?" Remus yelped, voice cracking. "I— of course not! Dumbledore wouldn't let a— a monster like that in a school!"
"You don't have to lie to us, Remus," Sirius insisted earnestly. There was a fading bruise around the rim of his eye, and Harry wondered if it was a prank gone wrong or something more sinister.
"Yeah," little Peter Pettigrew agreed, voice shaking. Harry's stomach burned with anger, even though this version of Peter had done nothing wrong. "We— we won't tell anyone!"
"It makes sense, though. You're always gone on the full moon — there's no way you need to visit your aunt that much," James continued. "You've always got those weird scratches after, too. You got a rash when you touched the silver cauldron in Potions the other week. And I saw your eyes glow when you got really angry at Snivellus."
Remus' face went bright red, and Harry wondered if even at this age, anger had not been the emotion James had sensed. Then, he burst into tears. "I— I'm not going to hurt anyone," he sobbed. "Please, I'll go to Dumbledore, I'll go home. You won't have to room with me anymore. Just— just don't tell the Ministry! They'll lock me up!"
Harry saw James and Sirius share a look of horrified alarm, and immediately the two were bundling the blond boy in a hug. "Don't be stupid! We aren't going to tell anyone!" Sirius said. "And we don't want you to leave!"
"You're our friend, Rem!" James agreed, reaching back to yank Pettigrew into the group cuddle pile. "So what if you have a bit of a furry problem?"
The sound that came from Remus was halfway between a laugh and a hiccup. "It's a bit more than that, James," he retorted, still crying. "I turn into a huge bloodthirsty beast once a month!"
"You're two whole inches shorter than me, Lupin," Sirius reminded him. "I bet you're not that huge, even as a wolf."
"Besides, if Dumbledore knows, then I'm sure it's alright," Pettigrew added.
Remus wriggled his way out of the hug, staring at the trio incredulously, cheeks still damp with tears. "You— you don't mind? You won't tell anyone?"
"It'll be our secret," James promised, beaming. "You're not getting rid of us that easily, Remus Lupin. We're best friends."
"Forever," Sirius added with a decisive nod.
Harry saw the wide, wondrous smile cross young Remus' face, and then the memory began to fade, and he was back in the living room once more, a smile on his own face. Remus looked at him expectantly.
"You were all so tiny and adorable! When was that, second year?"
"End of first," Remus supplied, retrieving his memory with a fond grin. "I thought for sure it would be my last, too. But they kept my secret, no matter what."
"We told you, best friends forever," Sirius insisted, grinning. "My turn, now! Don't worry, Harry; the rat's not in this one." He plucked a memory from his head, dropping it into the pensieve. "Go on, pup."
So once again, Harry plunged into a memory.
This time he found himself in the living room at the Pottery, decorated for Christmas. Three of the four Marauders were sprawled on a huge Persian rug on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. This time, Harry put them at about seventeen or so; older than they had been in the memory of tormenting Snape, but still students. Christmas of their sixth year, or maybe even seventh. "I hope Lily likes the gift I sent her," James sighed, and Sirius let out a groan.
"You'll find out when we get back to school," he droned, kicking James' hip lightly. "Can you stop thinking about her for five whole minutes, Prongs?"
"We all know he can't," Remus said dryly. He sat up, his shaggy hair flopping into his eyes. It was definitely the 70s, even by their wizarding fashion; all three had impressive feathered mops of hair, though Sirius' was cut more stylishly than the other two. Then again, Sirius was also wearing eyeliner, and a red tartan kilt.
"You boys look far too sedentary for my liking." Harry's breath caught in his throat; in the doorway stood a beautiful Indian woman, her face lined with age but her eyes bright and warm. "I'm always suspicious when you sit still for too long."
"We're bored, Mum," James whined. The woman — Euphemia Potter — laughed lightly. Harry's heart stuttered.
"Well, we can't have that," she teased. "Perhaps your visitor might liven you up a bit."
All three boys stared at her. "Visitor?" Sirius asked, confused. "It's not Pete, is it? He's supposed to be in Germany."
"No, it's not Peter."
Euphemia stepped aside, and Harry gasped; there was Lily Evans, green eyes shining so like Harry's own, a few flakes of snow melting on the shoulders of her dark blue jumper. She waved shyly, then laughed as James pitched head-first into the chair leg in his hurry to stand up.
"Lily Flower!" He rushed over to her, taking her by the hands. "I thought you were with your family?"
"I had a fight with my sister," Lily replied, her voice sending shivers down Harry's spine — still as Brummie as she had been as a child, but softer; more like the woman he would hear in his dreams, begging for his life to be spared. "She's brought her fiancé over for Christmas and he's just the worst, I couldn't stand being there any longer. So I told Mum I was going out for a bit, and… you did say I could visit, if I had the chance. I'm sorry I didn't give you any warning."
Suddenly, James was sweeping her up into his arms, spinning her around with a shout of joy. "Best surprise ever," he declared, kissing the tip of her nose. "Lily can stay for dinner, right, Mum?"
"Of course, dear," Euphemia agreed. "Lily, you're always welcome here. It's no trouble to set the table for one other; the elves cook for an army just to feed Sirius!"
"I'm a growing boy!" Sirius protested indignantly, while Lily giggled.
"Yes, and I wish you'd stop; you're taller than Monty now," Euphemia teased. "Any more and we'll have to make the fireplace bigger so you don't crack your head flooing home."
Harry saw the way Sirius' cheeks flushed, just a little, like he still wasn't used to thinking of the Pottery as home. Harry knew the feeling.
James slung an arm around Lily's waist, then froze. "Lils," he said slowly, "is that snow on your jumper?"
"Yeah? Did you not notice it's chucking down outside?" the redhead asked, bemused. James' brown eyes went round behind his glasses.
"Really? How long's it been snowing, Mum?"
"Look for yourself."
Harry followed his father to the window, looking out into the darkening garden to see nothing but a blanket of white. James yelped excitedly. "Why didn't you tell us!"
"Forgive me for thinking you were old enough to figure it out," Euphemia replied dryly.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Prongsy?" Sirius asked, and with a wave of his wand his kilt became a pair of tartan wool trousers, tucking themselves into his biker boots.
"I'm always thinking what you're thinking, Padfoot," James retorted in a very Weasley-twins-esque way. Lily snorted.
"I hope not, or I've got a lot of questions about your feelings towards Polly Ashton," she joked, and James wrapped her in a bear hug.
"You know I only have eyes for you, my love."
While this was going on, Remus and Sirius were summoning and transfiguring hats and scarves, covering themselves in warming charms. After a solid fifteen seconds of watching James and Lily stare into each other's eyes, Sirius tossed a balled up pair of gloves at James' head. "Oi, lovebirds, are we making snowmen or what?"
James and Lily looked at each other, gaining identical competitive grins. "You're on," Lily declared in challenge.
The memory continued through the four of them rushing outside, first building snowmen together — James and Lily versus Sirius and Remus — then, when Sirius declared Lily too good at snowmen and body-slammed their effort, into the vicious snowball fight that followed — James and Sirius versus Remus and Lily, when Remus agreed that Sirius had cheated in the snowman contest and James had jumped to defend his best friend's honour. It only ended when a voice called them in for dinner, and Harry could hardly see through his tears as he finally got his first glimpse of Fleamont Potter. If possible, Harry saw more of himself in his grandfather than his father; Fleamont was lithe like Harry, while James was a bit broader in the shoulders. Sirius was indeed taller than the Potter patriarch, though he still glowed with delight when Fleamont ruffled his hair on his way past him when setting the table.
James was on his best behaviour; there wasn't a trace of the arrogant boy who had flipped Severus Snape upside down after their OWL exam. He was funny, and still a little big-headed, but Lily happily deflated his ego when necessary. Sirius, too, was more mature, more like the Sirius Harry knew. Remus was ever the same, watching it all with fond eyes and an indulgent smile, occasionally piping up with a quip that had the whole table in fits of laughter.
And through it all, James and Lily stared at each other like there was no better sight in the whole world.
Harry was crying when the memory finally ended, and he hugged Sirius tightly, smiling against the man's shoulder. "Thank you," he breathed, his heart so full he felt like it might burst. It hurt, knowing that he had missed out on family dinners like that, with his grandparents and parents and Sirius and Remus around. But just to see them like that to begin with, together and happy… it was more than Harry ever could have dreamed of.
"I… I have a memory to offer as well, if you would like," Snape said, more hesitant than Harry had heard him before. Harry wiped his face, nodding eagerly. He would take every scrap of memories he could get — he knew it would be a good one. Snape wasn't in the mood to show him how awful James Potter could be, not right now. Not today.
Sirius reclaimed his memory, and Harry tried to steady his breathing while Snape gathered his own, setting it in the swirling liquid. "It isn't very long, but… she would want you to see it."
Harry braced himself, and dove in.
They were sat outside a cafe. Muggle, by the looks of it; a little run-down, the paint peeling on the sign. It was a gloriously sunny day, and there was Severus Snape, dressed all in black with his sleeves buttoned to his wrists.
And sat opposite him was a heavily pregnant Lily Evans. Harry goggled at her; his mother, in her maternity sundress, sandal-clad feet propped up on Snape's denim-clad leg. "I hate this, Sev," she groaned loudly. "Be bloody grateful you can't get pregnant."
"Believe me, I am, frequently," Snape assured dryly. "You haven't long to go, Lily. Three weeks, now?"
"Two and a half," Lily replied. "Not that I'm counting every day or anything. And that's assuming the little bugger comes out on time; if he's anything like his father, he'll be a week late just to make a point."
Snape's face darkened ever so briefly at the mention of James Potter, but it was gone when Lily looked up again. "But that's the thing, Severus — in three weeks, it won't just be this awful huge belly and swollen feet and leg cramps and the constant need to piss, and all the rest of it. It'll be an actual baby! A baby that me and James are responsible for!"
"I'm sure you'd prefer not to hear my thoughts on Potter's parenting ability," Snape drawled. "But you've nothing to worry about, Lily. You'll be a wonderful mother."
The smile Lily gave him was blindingly bright. "I hope so. I just… I don't know what to do! Tunie's no help — she just told me that giving birth is the most painful and terrifying thing in the world, and I'll never feel the same down there again."
Snape looked a little green at the idea. "Considering the picture you showed me of that small whale she birthed, I'm not surprised."
Lily laughed, even as she glared at him. "Sev! That's mean. He's my nephew, and he's wonderful. Even if he is half Vernon's."
"It's the half that's Tunie's I'm more worried about," Snape groused, eyes flashing. Lily laughed harder.
"I swear to Christ, Sev — stop making me laugh, I'll wet myself!" she scolded, and that made Snape laugh, a slightly rusty sound, like he wasn't used to making it. Then Lily's eyes softened. "I know— I know I've complained about being pregnant the whole time, and I still haven't done the birth part and it might be the worst thing in the world. But… you know I'm still happy to carry for you and Remus, right? If you want that. You just have to ask."
The humour died from Snape's face, along with the little colour to his skin. "Don't be ridiculous, Lily," he snapped. "Remus and I can't even keep ourselves together, let alone a child." His lips pursed as Lily opened her mouth to respond. "Don't. It's… just don't. Not today." Two sets of green eyes watched the man scratch at his left forearm, beneath his shirt sleeve.
"Just focus on the one you're carrying," Snape added, sadness forced from his tone. "You know damn well Potter will want a second, as well."
"He'd wait if I asked him to," Lily said easily. "We've got to figure out the first one. James is still struggling with the whole nappy-changing thing, and I can't make heads nor tails of half the stuff in that book of child-rearing charms Molly Weasley recommended me." Suddenly, her eyes were welling with tears. "I wish Mum was here. She'd sort me out."
"She would," Snape agreed, reaching over to place a pale hand over Lily's on the table. "But you'll manage on your own. You and Potter."
Lily sighed, turning her fingers over under Snape's to hold his hand. "When I'm not the size of a whale, I swear, I'm gonna sit the pair of you down and force you to hash it all out until you can at the very least be civil to each other. Remus'll help me."
"That's not necessary, Lily—"
"Yes it is," she insisted. "James called dibs on Sirius as the godfather for this one, but I've got you down for the next, so you'll have to be able to stand being in the same room as James by then. Y'know. Baby steps." Her smile was fond, her hand squeezing his. "You have to teach all my kids how to be good at Potions. And how to lie, when they need to — me and Jim can't lie for shit. And you can put the fear of God into the little blighters when they aren't listening to their mum and dad."
"I… I'll try, Lily," he promised. "But you know it's more complicated than that. The war—"
"Fuck the war," Lily said firmly. "I know, it's the worst time to have a kid, and anything could happen. I know we're on different sides of this bloody thing," she added with a sharp gaze. "But I also know that you, Severus Snape, are a good man, and you're gonna bloody love my kid. I know I'm gonna love my kid." She looked down at her bump, stroking it gently with her free hand. "I already love him so much, Sev, and he's not even born yet," she whispered. "But it's terrifying, knowing what's coming. And I need to know my best friend is at least going to try to get along with my family, when things are better."
"Remus is your best friend," Snape tried half-heartedly, only to be fixed with a glare.
"He will be if you keep talking like that, mister," she warned. Snape faltered under her gaze, then managed a small smile.
"You're going to be a brilliant mother, Lils," he assured her quietly. "That boy is lucky to have you."
She beamed at him, her other hand still stroking her bump. "I hope so," she murmured. Then, with what looked like considerable effort, she let go of Snape's hand and hauled herself to her feet. "I'm getting another slice of cake," she declared. "Only got a few more weeks with the excuse of eating for two, I'm going to make the most of it!"
Snape watched her go, his hand once more going to his left forearm, his eyes dropping to the hidden Mark with a look of disgust. And then the memory faded, and Harry was sat on the sofa once more.
"I… wow." He'd learned so much in that one memory, Harry could hardly comprehend it all. Snape's jaw tightened fractionally. "Thank you for showing me that, Professor. It's… yeah." He managed a smile, even as tears trickled down his face. "You kept your promise, though. Mostly." Snape blinked at him, perplexed. "You did teach me to be good at Potions," Harry pointed out. "Maybe not how to lie, but how to be better at lying. And you sure as hell put the fear of God into me, several times."
A beat, and then that rusty laugh again — even more of a foreign noise now. "I suppose you're right," Snape admitted, a strange glint in his eyes.
Harry was utterly drained from the emotions he'd experienced in the last few hours, and from the looks of the three men around him, they weren't far off either. "I think I'm going to bed," he declared, leaning into Sirius for a hug. "It's been a long day."
"Too right," Sirius agreed, kissing his forehead. "Sleep tight, pup. And the pensieve will be here, if you want to watch more memories another time. You just have to ask."
Harry knew that one day he would ask for the difficult memories; the times when James was a prick, and Lily hated him. But right now he wanted to ride on the warm fuzzy feeling of the memories he'd been shown so far.
He got up, hugging Remus tightly. Then, gathering his bravery, he hugged Snape, too. "Mum was right," he whispered, making sure he was looking right at the Slytherin, unflinching. "You're a good man, Severus Snape," he echoed her words, watching dark eyes widen.
"I… I try to be. For her. And for you." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "For this family."
Harry stepped back, hands falling from the man's sides, and after a short nod he turned to leave the room, heading for bed. He wished he could curl up in Draco's arms, cry it out with someone who didn't have their own grief to bear for Lily and James Potter. But it was okay; even if he did cry, he knew that when he fell asleep, he would dream of his family. At it would be wonderful.