Chapter Text
Sirius Black had realized he wasn’t getting a trial two years after he had been thrown into Azkaban and had promptly begun to plot his escape.
Perhaps, if things were different, he’d have succumbed to despair for another decade until thoughts of revenge fueled him to slip away. But Sirius figured out within a week of being in this hellhole that the dementors mostly left him alone if he was a dog, and he used that to his full advantage. He remembered Harry, and he loved Harry, and James and Lily had wanted him to be around when Harry grew up, so he would do his damned best to fulfill their wishes.
It took him six months to escape, but he finally managed it.
The swim from the island to the mainland was long and cold, but Sirius couldn’t give up. He had a promise to fulfill, to his best friend and brother in all but blood, to be there for his son. And by the Lady, he would give it his all until his last breath.
He had a plan, you see. He would find Peter, prove his innocence in the trial he would force them to give him, and then he would help raise Harry, telling him tales of the Marauders and his parents, teaching him how to ride a broom and how to be a good person the way James and Lily would have wanted.
He didn’t want to uproot Harry from wherever he was. He was probably with Alice Longbottom and her husband Frank, along with their small son Neville. Alice was his Godmother, after all, she was next in line to take custody after Sirius himself. If for some reason, he wasn’t with her, then he was probably with Remus, or Minnie, or Marlene, or any of their other friends.
Still, Sirius had a bad feeling. Peter probably wasn’t going anywhere for a while; it would be another week and a half before the next human guards would come by his cell and discover he had escaped. He had time to check on Harry and make sure he was alright with Alice and Frank before he carried out the rest of his plan.
Harry was not with Alice and Frank.
In fact, they were both in St. Mungos’ Janice Thickey Ward and had been since the night after Sirius had been locked in Azkaban. Remus was MIA, Minnie didn’t have Harry either, and Marlene had died not long after Alice and Frank had been hospitalized.
None of their friends had him. He was still alive, according to the papers, but no one knew his location. Which meant he wasn’t in the wizarding world at all. Which left the muggle side of the family.
Rose and Henry Evans had both died the year before James and Lily had, Rose of cancer and Henry of a broken heart not long after.
Which left Lily’s sister. Petunia.
Petunia, who had made Lily cry more often than not at Hogwarts. Petunia, who had nearly ruined James and Lily’s wedding out of her bitterness. Petunia, who had screamed at Lily at their parents' funeral and had made Lily come home in tears for an entirely different reason than mourning her parents. Petunia, who Sirius knew for a fucking fact was specifically forbidden from having any contact with Harry in Lily’s will.
Sirius hoped he was wrong, but when had he ever been that lucky?
And when he found him, found his three-year-old godson weeding the garden, alone, wearing clothes twice his size without water? When he saw Petunia screech at the child that he was a freak and smack him for not doing it perfectly? When she ordered him to go inside and start dinner, declaring that he should hope he didn’t burn it or his uncle would be very angry?
All of Sirius’ previous plans went out the window.
Harry couldn’t stay here, not even long enough for Sirius to find Peter and prove his innocence.
So Sirius scrapped the old plan and began to hatch a new one.
He couldn’t stay in Europe, not as a fugitive. They’d all be looking for him here, he’d never get a moment's peace, and Harry deserved better than a life on the run.
He’d been to America, once, with James and their Mum and Dad when he was 16. They’d visited New Salem in Massachusetts, a large, completely magical town. It would be the perfect place for Harry to grow up.
The Americans offered political asylum if you could prove you were being unfairly persecuted. A little veritaserum and Sirius would be free as soon as he was across the ocean.
It was getting there that was a problem.
He didn’t exactly have time to figure it out.
Two days after Sirius began watching the house as Padfoot, waiting for his opening, he got it and had little choice but to take it.
Vernon’s sister, Marge, had come to visit, with her nasty little rottweiler. The dog chased little Harry into a tree, and the toddler lost his balance and fell with a sickening crack.
Sirius acted without thinking, chasing the rottweiler away from his godson and inspecting him.
Harry’s head was bleeding.
Sirius, even after only a few days in their vicinity, knew the Dursleys wouldn’t get Harry proper medical attention, so it was up to him.
Sirius transformed back into himself, and used the wand he’d stolen from some poor bastard who didn’t watch it closely enough, grabbed Harry, and apparated with all his might, across the Atlantic, and into the magical hospital in New York that James had had to go to when he had a bad reaction to the international portkey, where he was barely able to shove Harry at a healer and rasp “Help him” before promptly passing out.
He woke up chained to the bed, but after requesting Veritaserum and telling them the whole story, about what really happened on Halloween of 1981, how he had never gotten a trial, how he had found Harry, how Harry had gotten hurt, they called in an official of the MACUSA government, and after repeating the process he was granted political asylum, thank the Lady.
The healers, after treating him for his own magical core drainage (apparating across the ocean, especially with a wand that wasn’t his, shouldn’t have been possible. But Sirius had escaped Azkaban for Harry, so what was one more impossible feat for his godson?) told him that Harry had been healed, but might have amnesia from the trauma.
After Sirius explained what he had seen happen to Harry at the Dursleys, though, they tentatively said it might be for the best if he didn’t remember the abuse.
Harry had been in a coma for a week, and in that time Britain had finally discovered that Sirius escaped, and Sirius and the MACUSA representative (Amanda, her name was, a lovely woman) had come up with a new identity for himself and Harry.
Rigel and Heracles Black. Rigel’s older brother, Corvus (though he had preferred his middle name, James), and his wife Lillian had died two and a half years ago, leaving custody of Heracles, or Harry, as they called him, to his Uncle Rigel.
Sirius had laughed bitterly when he realized he’d have to keep the last name he hated so much, even now, if he wanted to keep access to the Black accounts and funds. Which he needed to get settled in.
At least he would be able to spoil Harry.
When Harry finally woke up, he did indeed have amnesia. Sirius explained the fake story he and Amanda had come up with, and nothing else. Harry was three, after all. It wouldn’t do to confuse him with two different stories of his life.
He’d tell him when he was older, Sirius assured himself, when he would understand.
That day ended up being far later than Sirius had planned.
*
Before Sirius knew it, his timid three-year-old godson had turned into a precocious six-year-old.
Harry had made friends at the local park, Annie and Jacob and Klaus and Becky, and the five of them were thick as thieves and were attending his sixth birthday party.
“Daddy!” Harry called. “Becky’s Mommy says we should do presents!”
The first time Harry had called him daddy, Sirius had been conflicted. Sirius was, arguably, the reason Harry no longer had James. If he had never suggested Peter be the secret keeper instead…
He shouldn’t think that way, his therapist said. He couldn’t have known that Peter was the traitor. He had merely trusted a friend, that wasn’t on him.
He still held guilt over it though.
But he owed it to James to be whatever his son needed him to be. And if Harry needed a father, and wanted Sirius to fill that spot, then he would do it.
So he had smiled at his godson, now son, and responded like it was the easiest thing in the world.
(It wasn’t. But for Harry, he would bear it, and maybe, one day it would be.)
Sirius smiled at his son. “Does she now?” He asked.
Harry nodded very seriously while fiddling with the amulet that hid his scar from everyone, not that he knew that bit, which was adorable on his little chubby face.
(Sirius tried very hard to not remember how gaunt Harry had been when he had first gained custody of him. He was a healthy weight now, his cheeks were chubby and you couldn’t count his ribs anymore, and Sirius had to hold onto that.)
“Are you sure it’s not you saying that?” Sirius prodded with a smile. Harry had certainly inherited James’ mischief.
“Just because I agree with her doesn't mean she didn’t say it,” Harry replied.
Sirius laughed. “Alright then, presents it is, and the cake after, yes?”
The children cheered.
*
“You have everything? Your cauldron? Your pens and notebooks? Your uniform? Your- “
“Dad,” Harry groaned. “Yes, I have everything. I triple-checked.”
“I just worry, Prongslet,” Sirius sighed, then began to tear up before launching himself at his son. “My baby’s growing up!”
“Daaaaaad, You’re embarrassing me!” Harry hissed.
Sirius chuckled wetly before letting go. “Write to me every other day, alright?”
Harry smiled softly. “Alright… I’ll miss you dad”
“I’ll miss you too, pup. Now go show Ilvermorny who’s boss.”
Harry grinned. “Will do.”
The next night, Sirius received a letter. Harry had been sorted into Pukwudgie, Annie and Jacob with him, while Becky had gone into Wampus and Klaus had gone into Horned Serpent. He had also received his wand, which was Blackthorn and Horned Serpent Horn, an interesting combination certainly, but that wasn’t what made Sirius pause.
“I’ve made the unfortunate acquaintance of a boy named Luca Capitano,” Harry had written, and he only got formal when he was especially irritated. “He can only be described as an arrogant toerag.”
Lily had called James the same thing before James had matured and won her heart.
By the Lady.
Sirius groaned as he introduced his head to his dining room table.
He needed a drink.
*
Luca stood behind him as Sirius stirred the stew he was making for dinner.
It had been nine years since that letter, and Sirius had been absolutely correct about how Luca and Harry’s relationship would go. Harry had slowly thawed towards Luca, and by their sixth year, they were dating. And now, judging by Luca’s nervousness, he wanted Sirius’ blessing to ask for Harry’s hand in marriage.
“I won’t bite, Luca,” Sirius said with humor, and Luca jumped.
See, it was no secret that Sirius was powerful and dangerous, the few friendly duels he’d been a part of had proved that rather soundly. And very protective over his baby boy. If Sirius didn’t already approve of him 100%, Luca would have very good reason to be afraid.
“Mr. Black, sir, I was- well, I was wondering-” Luca stuttered.
Sirius turned to face him and raised an eyebrow with a smile. The man ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and took a deep breath.
“I would like your blessing to ask Harry to marry me, Mr. Black.”
He already had it, of course, but what was the point of being a father if he couldn’t make the man sweat?
“What would you do if I said no?” Sirius asked evenly.
Luca squared his shoulders like the Wapus he had been before he graduated. “I would ask him anyway because it’s his choice.”
“Then why are you asking me?” Sirius replied.
“Because Harry loves you, and your approval would mean a lot to him.”
Sirius smiled. Good answer.
Sirius walked forward, placing his hands on Luca’s shoulders. “You have my blessing.” Sirius smiled. Luca slumped in relief. “And for the love of Lady Magic, stop with this ‘Mr. Black’ nonsense. You’re marrying into this family, you might as well call me Rigel.”
“He hasn’t said yes yet,” Luca said, blue eyes filling with anxiety. Sirius laughed, not unkindly.
“He will.”
*
Harry paced around the suite, dressed in white, fiddling with the amulet as was his habit when he was nervous.
“What if he thinks he’s making a mistake? What if I get up there and he runs away? What if he doesn’t but he regrets it? What if-”
Sirius reached out to gently grab his arm and stop him from pacing. “Harry,” he said sternly, “That boy has been in love with you since he was 11 years old, and I think you’ve been in love with him just as long. Do you really think I would have approved of this marriage wholeheartedly if I didn’t think he was perfect for you?”
Harry took a deep breath and closed his green eyes, a perfect reflection of Lily’s. “No, you overprotective bastard.”
“Exactly. Everything will be fine, it’s all going to go perfectly, he will be waiting for you at the altar and you’re going to cry tears of happiness and it will be the greatest day of your life until you bless me with grandchildren.”
Harry squawked and turned red as he smacked Sirius on the arm and Sirius laughed.
Annie, Harry’s maid of honor, who had left the room with the rest of Harry’s party while Harry was panicking, poked her head in through the door. “We’re lining up!”
Harry took a deep breath and placed his hand in the crook of Sirius’ arm so Sirius could walk him down the aisle.
It should be James doing this, Sirius thought sadly for a moment. But James wasn’t here, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t Sirius’ fault.
He was sure that James and Lily were looking down on them from the other side of the Veil and smiling just as wide as he was.
“Come on, Prongslet,” Sirius said as he prepared to hand his baby boy away to the man who would soon be his husband. “Let’s get you married.”
*
Sirius got his wish for a grandchild a year and a half later.
Annie had served as Harry and Luca’s surrogate, and she was currently in labor. Harry and Luca, were, of course, flipping their absolute shit, while Sirius took pictures for prosperity and tried very hard not to drown in the memories of him, James and Remus doing the same thing when Lily was giving birth to Harry.
(He tried very hard not to think of Remus, these days. Remus doubtless thought that he was a traitor, that he had killed all three of the Potters, James and Lily in 1981 and then broke out of Azkaban to finish the job with Harry, like the rest of the world did, and that hurt. But he loved him still, just as much as he had back in Hogwarts. He remembers nights spent kissing softly in the dorm with the bed curtains drawn, picnics by the lake, and the apartment that had been theirs before everything went to hell.
He wanted so badly to reach out, to explain, to see if there was still a chance for them. But he had Harry to think about now. He wouldn’t risk his son for anything. Not even closure for the things that kept him up at night.)
When the healer came out of the room and smiled at them, pronouncing it a girl, Harry and Luca rushed into the room.
Annie looked exhausted, her curly red hair loose from her braid, her brown eyes crinkling in a smile as she handed the bundle in her arms to Harry, who looked at the baby in wonder. Luca came up behind him, hands on Harry’s arms, smiling down at their daughter.
“So?” Sirius asked. “What’s her name?” Harry smiled, not looking away from the precious girl in his arms.
“Cassioepia,” He said. “Cassioepia Rigel Capitano-Black.”
Sirius’ heart felt fit to burst.
*
Here’s the thing.
Sirius may have been a Gryffindor, but in many ways, he was a coward. This was one of them.
He’d never quite gotten around to telling Harry the truth.
As far as Harry knew, Sirius was his Uncle Rigel who had raised him from the age of one after the death of his birth parents. As far as Harry knew, his full name was Heracles James Capitano-Black, and Harry James Potter was a distant murder victim across the sea. As far as Harry knew, he had fallen out of a tree while playing in the yard at the age of three, and that’s why he didn’t have any memories before then.
At first, Harry was too young. When that excuse ran out, Sirius didn’t want Harry to be rightfully upset with him for the death of his birth parents. When Sirius’ therapist had finally gotten around that hurdle, It was too late. He had kept the truth from Harry all his life, and there was never a good time to tell him.
Sirius had always thought he’d have more time.
Now here he was, lying on a hospital bed after he had been hit by a car going 70 miles an hour on his motorcycle, and he knew that time had run out.
Harry was there, gripping his hand as Luca took one look at him and quickly led little four-year-old Cassie away before she could see the mess that had been made of her grandfather.
“Dad,” Harry choked. “You’re- you’re gonna be okay dad, I-”
“Harry,” Sirius rasped. “Get me a vial.”
Harry looked at him in confusion but did as he was told.
“Pull the memories out of my head, pronglet. There’s-” Sirius groaned in pain. “There are things you need to know.”
“Then tell me yourself after you’re healed,” Harry said desperately.
“Just- Just let me have this assurance. I will tell you, Harry, I promise, I should have told you years ago, but- but just in case. Please.”
Harry looked at him in fear, before doing as he asked. Sirius put everything into that vial- who he was, who Harry was, what had really happened all those years ago. He put some memories of James and Lily in there too, because Harry deserved to know how alike he and Luca were to his birth parents.
The healers came in to take him into surgery, and Sirius looked at Harry in desperation. “Please understand, Harry- Everything I’ve done, I did to protect you.”
Harry stared after him with tear-filled, confused eyes. They were the last thing Sirius Black saw as they put him under.
*
“Padfoot,” James said, smiling at him next to Lily. They didn’t look a day over 21 when they’d died. Sirius, by contrast, was 45.
“Thank you,” his brother in all but blood said, “For taking care of our son.”
And Sirius Black smiled through the tears in his eyes.